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moonlitdesertdreams · 1 month

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Mine (All Mine)

Request: None A/N: Please enjoy some short smut and possessive!cooper. Nothing important otherwise :) Tags: Fallout, Cooper Howard, Cooper Howard x F!Reader, Cooper Howard x You, Ghoul x Reader WARNINGS: Canon-Typical language and violence, attempted SA, P in V sex, Cooper licking blood, 18+ MINORS DNI! Summary: Cooper doesn't share what's his, and he sure as hell doesn't let anyone take it by force.

Word Count: 2.4k+

(Gif Credit to @victoryrifle)

“Keep walkin’!”

You stumble over the rusty leg irons binding your feet. The slave trader yapping in your ear proceeds to shove you once again, but you bite your tongue.

Nothing could ever just go according to plan.

Running low on both Vials and sustenance, you’d led a hacking Cooper into the nearest town. It was desolate, but what town wasn’t in this age? You weren’t planning on staying long anyway; you just needed to get Cooper somewhere relatively safe and barter with whoever happened to be running the pharmacy that day.

Too bad the entire town was run by Slavers, up to and including the old Mister Handy running its dingy medical outpost. You were sedated and down before the inkling to fight ever came along, left to wake up in a wood cage with your hands and feet bound.

You went hoarse from screaming pointlessly at your captors. Your wooden prison was sat carelessly in the open, unbearable heat beating down. The whipping wind ensured that sand found its way into every crevice. There was no doubt your skin was scorched from the sun.

And they left you there, until the sun set and you could hear the roar of a raucous crowd from the town center.

Cooper was back there somewhere, probably having hacked up a lung in the empty shell of a house you’d broken into on the outskirts of town. You were careful to board the door back up when you left, and hoped no one had retraced your steps.

“I said move! You fuckin’ deaf?” A Slaver grabs you painfully by the ear and yanks. “Bein’ deaf drops your price.”

The other women you’re chained to - in a single file line behind you with very little slack on the chains - cower in fear. You glare at the man and decide headbutting him is the best course of action, knocking your skull into the soft part of his nose.

“Wish I was so I didn’t have to hear you run your mouth.”

The Slaver cracks his most-likely broken nose back into place and smirks. “Maybe I’ll buy you myself. Teach you a damn lesson.”

He turns away then, letting the rest of the guards lead you down a narrow alley between two buildings. Creaky wooden stairs greet you, and you step up them without hesitation. If nothing else, you’d give the Slavers no sense of satisfaction by putting fear on display.

The town square has been converted into a makeshift stage and audience area, where tens of people sit, stand and holler as you’re all led on stage. They all hold small signs with numbers, and it doesn’t take you long to realize it’s an auction.

They start with the woman farthest to your left, yelling out how many caps they deemed her worthy of. It continues down the row until the auctioneer, who you realize had four eyes total on his face, stops in front of you.

“Mint condition, this one is.” He yells into the crowd and slaps a firm hand onto your shoulder. “How many caps for her?”

You try to keep up with the people throwing numbers out, but there’s too many faces and not enough ambient light to see them all. Eventually the auctioneer moves away, and you’re left to stand there. The other women are given the same treatment, until each of them is labeled with a price and effectively sold to the highest bidder.

The auctioneer makes an announcement about cap exchange as the crowd is dissipating, but you’re still bound in chains. Your eyes dart around, looking for any unbecoming figures that come towards you. Men meet with the auctioneer one by one, and are slowly allowed to leave with their prizes. The women are a mix of cryers and defiers, some simply accepting their fate with tears in their eyes while others scream and thrash as they’re dragged off.

You look to the auctioneer when it’s only you left, trying to figure out what was going on. One slaver makes his way to you, grabbing at the iron cuffs to unlock them.

“Nah, man. Leave her cuffed.”

The slaver in front of you grins at the one who’d spoken. Coincidentally, the same whose nose you’d broken minutes ago. He steps into your field of view, and you realize he wasn’t bluffing when he said he’d buy you. Ice-cold terror flows through your veins at the helplessness of being cuffed, but you refuse to show it.

“Nasty, huh? Just how I like 'em’.”

Broken Nose grabs you by the collar and yanks you close enough that you can smell the teeth rotting out of his mouth. “Oh, I’m gonna like it. That’s for sure.”

In what is probably a poor choice, you spit in his face. Just like the headbut, it was impulsive and split-second. You don’t regret it, but you realize it’s not a great idea. Regardless, you weren’t about to go down without a fight.

Unfortunately for you, now he’s not worried about damaging goods before a sale. The slaver backhands you, and the force sends you tumbling to the ground. You’re struggling to your hands and knees, tangled in ridiculously long chains and fumbling with your cuffs. Broken Nose kneels in front of you and grabs you by the neck.

“Need a lesson in manners, huh?” He growls.

You take your first good look at him. He’s probably ten years older than yourself, with yellowing teeth and greasy black hair that hangs in a stringy manner around his face. The bridge of his nose is bruised, yellow and purple all over. Dried blood is still caked around his mouth.

“Fuck you.”

He finally snaps, and grabs a hold of the chains. You’re dragged off the stage and pushed into the darkness of the alleyway. One fist latches into your hair, and the other replaces itself around your throat.

“We’ll start here.” He shakes you, bringing your face within centimeters of his. “When I say something, you fuckin’ listen!”

You’re on the ground before you know it, and large hands grab at the old leather belt around your waist. You kick and thrash to the best of your ability while bound, screaming like a banshee. The slaver manages to pin you down and crawl over top, one hand fumbling with the zipper of his pants while the other holds your cuffed wrists down. The sound of belts jangling encourages you to fight more, and you thrash upwards. He might be bigger than you, but he’s a sloppy fighter and lets one of your wrists slip free.

Without hesitation, you swing the iron cuff and chain as hard as you can into his face.

“Agh! You’re a dead bitch, you know that?” He stumbles to the side, leaning against a building for support and clutching his now-bleeding forehead. His pants hang loose, dirty boxers on display.

You’re on your back, covered in both your blood and his. Your chest heaves, and you stare down your would-be assaulter.

“Y’know, I missed that last exchange.” A familiar drawl echoes from the back of the alley. “You mind repeatin’ it, boy?”

The Slaver snorts. “You want some? Go ahead and try. She’d be better off in the fuckin’ ground.”

“Oh, I don’t think I’d have to try.” Spurs clank down the empty alleyway from behind you, “Somethin’ tells me she’d come willingly.”

The Ghoul stands firm in his place, hand hovering over his gun like an old western standoff. Your head drops to the ground in relief. The slaver, though, looks more and more irritated by the moment. He glares at the Ghoul who’s now only a few feet behind you.

“Fuckin’ ghoul.” Broken Nose growls, and pulls a pistol. “Why don’t you get lost?”

Cooper takes a few more steps forward, sidestepping your body. The Slaver keeps the gun level with him. “‘Fraid I can’t do that.”

“Oh yeah?” The slaver gestures wildly with his pistol. “Why’s that?”

The Ghoul darts forward like a puma, ducking the shot that’s fired at him. You see a knife glint in the dim light, and hear it cut through flesh.

“‘Cause nobody touches what’s mine.”

A flash of heat shoots through you in spite of the circumstances. You watch Broken Nose fall to the ground, barely alive as blood gushes from a gash across his neck. Cooper’s knife drops from his hand, falling to blood-stained dirt. He turns to you slowly.

“You alright?”

He’s covered in blood, obviously pissed off, and has never been more attractive.

“Fantastic.” You breathe. The fiery determination and blatant possessiveness on display by the Ghoul shoot bolts of want straight to your cunt.

The Ghoul steps over Broken Nose’s legs to get to you. His eyes are dark, but do a once over to check you for injuries.

“He touch you?” Cooper’s drawl is thick. So much so that it almost twists his words into a snarl.

You push yourself to sit up. “Not anywhere delicate.”

Cooper hums and uses your chains to pull you up. Your legs are sore from kicking, and arms raw from the cuffs. “Whatta ‘bout this?”

You look down as he reaches to you and fiddles with the unfastened belt. His hands linger at the button of your jeans, tugging at the fabric.

“Oh, he tried.” You shiver as Cooper’s fingers dance over the skin of your stomach. “But I wouldn’t let him.”

His leather gloves fist into your shirt and yank you close. You trip over the chains and fall into his chest.

“Damn right.” His breath washes over your ear. “Nobody touches you like that but me.”

You’d be lying if you said wetness didn’t gather between your legs faster than a speeding bullet. Cooper’s eyes jotted town towards your dangling belt once more before he used your bounds to spin you back against the wall. One of his knees jammed between your thighs, and his hands landed heavily on either side of your head.

You wet your lips as he hovers mere centimeters away. The Ghoul’s eyes are transfixed on your chest and stomach, where your white tank top is bared and covered in red stains. He lowers a hand to brush up your stomach, between your breasts and through rivulets of crimson. It’s immediately stuck into his mouth, and you moan shakily as his tongue darts out to taste your attacker’s blood.

Cooper turns his head and spits. “Slavers always taste foul.”

You readjust yourself on his knee to send pleasant waves of heat to your core. “Cooper Howard?”

He looks down at you, hat brim drawn low on his brow and desire burning bright in his eyes. There’s a bulge visible just below his belt that makes you salivate.

“What could you possibly want, darlin’?” His marred face leans in close, lips brushing your ears. Teeth nip at your earlobe, “Couldn’t be to fuck right here in the open where you was attacked by some other fella, now is it?”

Now, you know that sentence should give you pause.

However, this world is fucked beyond belief.

You whimper out your answer, and the Ghoul continues his steady ministrations down your neck and in that sensitive spot behind your ear. With your hands bound, you can’t do much more than tangle your fingers in his shirt and hold.

When he resurfaces, your neck is wet with saliva and sweat.

“I’ll take care of you, babydoll.” He purrs. “Right here, right now. You just gotta do one thing for me.”

You fist your hand in his shirt, but are surprised to find the cuffs slipping away after he fumbles with them for a moment. A quick glance shows him pocketing a key, but you’re too worked up to focus on one thing for too long.

“What do I gotta do?”

You really don’t mean to sound so desperate, but something about Cooper always has you heated and dripping as soon as he initiates anything intimate.

“Just tell me.” He grunts as you tug at his belt with newly freed hands. “Who do you belong to?”

Oh, you’re fucked.

“You. Fuck, I belong to you.” You gasp as you free him from his pants. “I want you to use me to get off.”

A scarred hand wraps tight around your neck and forces your head upwards. “Damn straight.”

It takes no time to yank your pants low enough for him to enter you. You’ve flipped so your front side is pinned to the building, legs spread. Cooper takes long, slow thrusts at first before picking up the pace. Large, strong hands hold your hips steady. You brace yourself with your hands, moaning in time with his thrusts. He’s stable throughout, only growling pet names into your ear when you let out a whine. The Ghoul begins to stagger when he’s close, and it’s not long before you feel his release coating your walls and dripping out onto the dirt.

You don’t realize how unstable and sore your legs are until he’s sliding out of you, filthy noises following. His cock pulses against your swollen slit before you fully collapse.

“Easy now.” Cooper catches you, one hand attempting to fasten himself back into his jeans, “Seems that we gotta go back to camp, huh?”

Your mind is alight with want for him, and you whine in his absence. “Coop, please.”

“Oh no need to beg, sugar.” He fixes your pants as well, “I plan on taking good care of you when we get there.”

Back at camp, he fulfills his promise and more.

You beg and plead for your release, and it’s granted with enthusiasm.

And after it’s done, you both ache for sleep, to rest sore muscles and heal new bruises. Some from fights, and others from passion. A blanket of stars coerces you to shut your eyes, and you’re helpless to resist. This night could have ended much differently - namely, with a bullet in your head- so you think about how grateful you are to have the legendary Ghoul at your side, protecting you on your shared journey for the truth. Willing to fight through his own suffering and dependencies to keep you safe in spite of his rocky exterior.

You like to think he’s a big teddy bear, but you didn’t dare put it out into the world while in his vicinity.

The thoughts are fleeting, and you fall into oblivion while tucked into the side of vengeance itself. It’s a place many others, even in this hellscape of a Wasteland, wouldn’t dare to get near.

The big, bad Ghoul.

And he’s all mine.

thanks for reading, much love ❤

Read More: Fallout Masterlist

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evilminji · 6 months

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(O.O ) The PONDERING is back!

You know Walker?

One of the Zone's literal ACAB? We are shown in one episode, that real world items? Against The Rules(tm).

Now, that COULD just be HIM being An Asshole? But let's be real! Unlikely. Rules/Laws get made for a REASON, generally. Usually because someone ruined it for everyone by being an asshole. Taking things too far.

You start OUT with the obvious Rules. Like "Don't Tear the Zone Apart." And "No Genocide of Literally Everything Forever You Fighty Little Assholes" but over time? You have too add stuff. Like "George is Forbidden to use the fax machine and he knows why" and "Ice Lairs and Fire Lairs have to be X distance apart AND YOU KNOW WHY"

And? IS there a central Governing body, regulating the Zone Rules? Nope! Pariah's in nappy time! BUT the manic, Iron fisted, Obsessions of THE LAW across time and space are sure willing to step up and help keep order. It... KINDA works!

And they MOSTLY have the same-ish Rules!

Like NO FUCKIN LIVING WORLD STUFF. Because? To GET such contraband? You'd have to break containment of the Zone, go THROUGH a random ass natural portal, that may or may NOT be safe, may or may NOT ever RECONNECT to the Zone, to literally terrorize the unsuspecting living souls (assuming you can FIND any), on the other side, JUST to drag that shitty candy bar back home.

Leaking ectoplasm the whole time. Poisoning the air, land, and sea. Making NEW ghosts where there might not have been any. Effectively making you their deadbeat parent. Which is premeditated child abandonment. And you DEFINITELY didn't PAY for those objects. Thief.

So, NO. No Living World Shit.

BUT!

Like city states! The Area of influence each Law Man(tm) has? While wide and sprawling? Does NOT perfectly mesh together like puzzle pieces! There ARE dead zones. Lawless, "unclaimed" areas.

Which? Are not so unclaimed.

For just as The Law has it's Obsession? So too, has the Underworld. Shaddy casinos and auctions. Black markets run like street fairs. What some Ghost Weed? They can hook you up, man. Vinnie over there was a Runner during Prohibition. He knows where ALL the classy joints are.

He can hook you up with some REAL nice Living World collectibles.

From All Over.

And? I bet it's that LAST bit? That REALLY sparks Danny's interest. He saved the guy from the GIW, who may or may not have busted him trying to... uuuuh... LIBERATE, some fine scotch for the bar back Zone side. Who's to say, really? Regardless, Vinnie? Pays his debts, you here.

Beside... the feral little gremlin kinda scares him. Good quality to have, no question, but maybe cool it with the biting? You don't know where they BEEN. You'll get a disease.

Now... all you gotta do, see, is... *mutters* *map scribbling* *bad idea enabling*

Which? Constantine! League Members of your choosing! Like a field trip from hell! Some how in the SINGLE shadiest den of Obvious Criminals you ever did see. The sky is green and they aren't in their dimension anymore. Circle up! NOW. Young Justice shoved to the INSIDE of the circle, adult heros on the outside.

Constantine? Knows where they are and wishs he didn't. He... he's not sure he CAN get them back. Going to try obviously. But no one panic. Don't show fear. DON'T TOUCH ANYTHING. Start walking.

Danny? Loading up the speeder~ Christmas gifts for daaaays~~☆ Everyone is Salty but respectful, cause anti-ghost tech meant they couldn't steal it. They did TRY. But... fair play, kid. Nice ride.

Only? Right before he gets in to leave? Some vibrating blur shoots over? Talking fast and followed by an older blur? Oh hey, humans. Like... ALIVE humans. Sup?

@the-witchhunter @hdgnj @nerdpoe @hypewinter @mutable-manifestation

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dc x dp prompt #danny phantom #justice league's very bad no good just awful road trip #danny does some Crime Shopping #at the Crime store #he got alternate dimension boy band stuff for Jazz #his mom's getting this cool lazer sword #dcxdp #minji's ponderings

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rninies · 1 month

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✮ she looks just like a dream

౨ৎ sunday x reader. fluff, fem!reader, ceo!sunday is really hot idc, inspired by tears of themis marius card (iykyk), sunday might be ooc im sorry </3 — wc: 2,836

notes. guys i love sunday i want him so bad please

you hold on to the folds of your dress as you look around at the throng of people around you. two days ago, sunday extended an invitation to you to come to a charity auction he would be hosting tonight. one of his assistants had picked you up soon after you had finished with your paperwork, and here you are, taking in the wondrous architecture of a famous resort’s lobby.

everything looks so expensive here, you think, a grim expression on your face. rich people do have it easy, huh.

“please wait here a moment,” his assistant tells you. “i’ll get your registration finalized for you.”

“thank you.” you smile at him, watching her round the corner and leave you alone. again. you desperately want to give sunday a call, but you know he must be busy greeting guests and taking care of the preparations, so with a heavy sigh, you decide against it.

as you watch the stream of wealthy-looking people come in, a conversation catches your interest.

“who does sunday think he is? ordering people around like that!” you turn your head to see two people, seemingly a bit older than you, talking to each other. “i’ve been in the family's corporations longer than him, so there’s nothing to be afraid of!”

you are just about to approach them, but his assistant bustles back with papers. “your registration is done. come with me, i’ll lead you to the venue.” you turn your head back, about to protest, but causing a scene would be more than you bargained for, so you reluctantly follow him into the elevator.

an awkward silence engulfs the metal box you both are standing in before the assistant breaks it. “you don’t have to worry about what he said. he’s been like this for a long time.”

“eh?” you chirp, shocked. “y-you heard that?”

“yes,” he chuckles. “it’s quite common, i would say. i’m quite used to hearing those awful remarks they say about master sunday. he said he doesn’t mind, anyway, so it’s no use trying to defend him.”

you smile a bit at that. typical, indifferent sunday. “yeah… that’s true,” you murmur as the elevator comes to a halt. when you step out, you immediately feel overwhelmed by the flood of people greeting you.

maybe it’s because you’re used to only seeing a few people in the law firm and the fact that you don’t go out to parties often that you feel nauseous at the sight of the overcrowded room. you tried searching for sunday through the mass, but your height makes it harder for you to see above people’s heads.

you eventually spot him reclining in a chair, talking to a few people you recognize as the VIPs of the event. he looks like he isn’t going to finish any time soon, so you wave your hand and mouth that you’ll be waiting for him as sunday glances at you. your boyfriend gives you a small smile before turning his attention back to the group.

there is something different about sunday on this occasion, you decide. you’re used to seeing him in suits at important events, but the fact that his family crest is embossed on the suit makes it so much different. he looks so… different.

“y/n?” sunday's voice knocks you out of your daydream and back into reality. “why do you look so dazed? do i look so attractive that you aren’t able to take your eyes off me?”

your face flushes red, quickly turning away. “w-what are you talking about? you don’t look attractive. i was simply thinking about what drink to get,” you say, regaining your composure. though, you aren’t able to deny the fact that sunday is indeed attractive, even in his normal attire.

curse him and his family genes, you think to yourself.

“eh? love, why are you so mean to me these days?” sunday whines, his infamous puppy dog eyes coming into play. he always uses them on you, knowing they have such an effect on you. there isn’t a single moment in which the use of his puppy dog eyes doesn't make you tell the truth or agree to something he suggested. you, however, learned how to resist sunday's temptations.

“never mind that, mr. sunday,” you remark, a twinkle in your eyes as you look up at him. “if you were busy, you didn’t have to come to me. it looks like people are still wanting to talk to you,” you say, looking around at the throng almost surrounding you both. sunday gives a little chuckle.

“mm, that’s true. i’m quite famous, aren’t i?” sunday returns rather smugly, making you frown. “i’m just kidding! either way, i’m pretty sure they already understand that if I am currently talking to you, i don’t want to be disturbed because no one is trying to disturb-”

“excuse me, master sunday,” sunday's assistant appears, cutting sunday off abruptly. “there’s someone here who’d like to speak to you.”

the heir of the family sighs. “you really had to choose the worst timing,” he grumbles, running a hand through his hair. “okay, i’ll be back, so stay put,” sunday continues, leaving to follow his assistant. you watch him until he’s out of sight, getting up to choose a drink. refreshers in every shade of color are laid out on the table that you almost don’t know which to pick.

“are you having trouble choosing a drink, my lady?” an unfamiliar voice emerges behind you, and turning around you realize that it is one of the men complaining about sunday in the lobby. “you don’t look too familiar with these drinks so how about you let me help you, hm?”

you cringe slightly at the attempt to flirt, but you offer him a smile in hopes of being polite. “oh, um, no thank you. i can get someone else to help me.”

the man shows no signs of leaving you alone, making you even more uncomfortable. “are you sure? all of the staff are busy as of the moment, so i can help.”

i might as well accept his offer. he doesn’t look like he’ll take no as an answer, you grimace before forcing a pleasant smile on your face. “okay, sure. which drink should-”

“ah, there you are!” sunday materializes, wrapping a hand around your waist and leaning over you. “i’ve been looking all over for you, sweetheart,” he drawls, you raise an eyebrow at the use of the new pet name. you soon catch up with the fact that he’s trying to help you out of this awkward situation.

“sunday! sorry for disappearing. i got thirsty and wanted to get something to drink so here i am,” you take a look at the man beside you, who lets out a ‘tch’ with a scowl on his face and leaves, allowing you to let your breath go. “thanks, sunday. he wouldn’t leave me alone ever since i got to this table.”

“yuki, huh,” sunday mutters, arm still around you. “he’s always been trying to get on my nerves. ever since i was revealed to be the heir to family corporation, that is.”

“really?” you query, surprise crossing over your face. “i overheard him- oh!” an exclamation leaves your sentence hanging as a waiter accidentally bumps into you, spilling the drinks he was carrying onto your dress.

“ah! i am so sorry, madam!” the waiter panics, whipping out a few napkins in an attempt to wipe away the mess on your dress. “i wasn’t watching my step, please forgive me!” he looks even more nervous when he glimpses sunday standing beside you with a minuscule frown on his face.

“hey, hey! it’s okay! this happens a lot during parties anyway,” your try at calming the waiter down wasn’t working, so you nudge sunday to help you reassure the former.

“ow!” sunday hisses, tenderly rubbing the area you elbowed. “i-it’s okay. just be more careful of where you’re going next time, okay?”

“yes!” the waiter squeaks out and leaves, but not before gracing you with another ‘sorry!’ for his mistake. as soon as he disappears, a small pout envelops your face.

“aw, now what am i supposed to do?” you wonder, patting your stained dress with a few more tissues sunday offers you. “I don’t have any spare clothes.”

“hehe,” sunday's little laugh catches your attention, and you furrow your eyebrows in reply. “you, my lady, are in luck because you have the sunday as your boyfriend and he’s always prepared for emergencies like this. come on, let’s go to the guest room.”

“why are we going there?” you question. you’re used to sunday and his little surprises, but you never imagined that he would have a spare change of clothes lying around for you to wear.

“to get you to change, of course!” sunday responds enthusiastically, grabbing a hold of your hand. he finds his assistant first, though, “if anyone asks where i am, tell them i have an important matter to take care of.”

you let out a giggle. “really? important matter? how is this important?”

“that’s because you’re always the most important in my eyes,” sunday tells you with his boyish grin, and he says with such ease that your cheeks are dusted pretty pink. you smile to yourself, a giddy grin, feeling as if it were only you and sunday in the world.

“okay, here we are,” sunday says as you arrive at a room, unlocking it with a gold-clasped key he procures from his pocket. “you can go ahead and change. i’ll wait out here.”

you nod in agreement, entering the room and shutting the door behind you. your gaze immediately falls upon a strikingly gorgeous violet dress laid out on the bed before you, adorned with layers and layers of deep purple that glows under the soft moonlight; complimenting the necklace spread out beside it.

at first glance, it seems like a normal necklace anyone could find in jewelry stores, but as you step forward to take a closer look, you let out a soft gasp: your name is engraved on it. you pick it up, noting how the necklace itself feels expensive.

though, you suppose, you should be used to expensive gifts from sunday. the man had been doing this even before they were dating. you let out a fond sigh; a small smile on your face as you take your dirty dress off to change into the one sunday had prepared.

sunday didn’t have to wait long for you, for you soon opens the door. sunday eyes widen, staring at you in the dress and the necklace he had bought two weeks previously. you look stunning.

you look like you had just stepped out of a fantasy royal novel.

a princess.

you look just like a dream. the prettiest girl sunday has ever seen.

“sunday? hello?” you wave a hand in front of his face, pulling him out of his daydream. “h-how do i look?”

“gorgeous,” sunday isn’t able to say anything other than that; his mind malfunctioning faster than his coffee machine had done this morning. “it-it looks really nice on you. i mean, of course it does, i was the one who chose that dress anyway.”

you press a quick, gentle kiss on sunday's lips, causing sunday to freeze on the spot for the second time that evening. “thank you, sunday. i loved the necklace too, by the way.”

sunday gives you a small smile and another peck on the cheek. “let’s go. the auction is about to start soon,” he says, extending his hand to you and feeling his heart flutter as you take it.

the room they had left is filled with even more people, and if you were being honest, it was suffocating you. you take a seat close to the brightly decorated stage, watching sunday take control of the whole room.

“everyone, welcome to the second charity auction event hosted by the family corporation!” sunday exclaims joyously, as the people in the venue applaud politely. “i won’t be taking too much time for tonight’s opening ceremony, so, without further ado, let the event start!” sunday bows, and signals to the auctioneer to take the lead as he returns to your side.

the auction, with quite a few bidders raising the prices of objects you think shouldn’t cost more than a few hundred dollars, goes smoothly until it reaches the last object.

“alright, our last item for tonight! an amethyst hairpin starting at the cost of one thousand dollars!” the auctioneer states, waiting for bids.

“two thousand!” a hand emerges from the crowd.

“tch… three thousand!”

“three thousand five hundred!”

“four thousand!”

“ten thousand,” sunday interrupts smoothly, shocking both you and the audience. you stare wide-eyed at him, in disbelief that he would bid that much in an auction you didn’t expect him to participate in.

“ten thousand dollars from mr. sunday! going once,” counting down, the auctioneer stares around, but no one seems ready to object. “going twice… sold to mr. sunday at ten thousand dollars!” applause erupts from the audience, congratulating sunday for obtaining the hairpin. you clap as well, figuring out who sunday would spend that much money on a hairpin for (though, to be honest, you already have a feeling who it’s for).

you soon find out though - his assistant soon brings the hairpin over to sunday, who inspects it closely, smiling as he hands it over to you. “here, it’s for you.”

“eh?!” you cry out, in shock, that sunday would be giving you something worth more than your whole apartment. “wh-what do you mean? i thought- wait, huh?!”

sunday only laughs gaily at your reaction, eliciting the attention of bystanders. “why are you so shocked? the necklace you’re wearing costs almost as much as this hairpin. plus, this is a thank-you gift. i know you don’t really like going to big events like this but you still came.”

“of course i did,” you beam softly. “you’re my boyfriend after all - wouldn’t miss any of your events for the world. now, did you want to place the hairpin on me?”

sunday nods, sliding the hairpin slowly into your beautiful hair. the light shade of purple the hairpin reflects matches the dress you had on, and the sight makes sunday's heart fill with joy.

there’s something about you that feels different in sunday's eyes. you look so… dazzling and gorgeous that he fumbles for words to express himself.

“hm, it matches you very well as expected,” sunday says, a soft tone engulfing his usual cheeky voice. “now then, would you like to escape, my lady?”

“huh?” the sound barely leaves your mouth before sunday drags you away from the auction site, quickly getting into an elevator and pressing the doors shut before anyone could catch up to them. as soon as it opens again at the lobby, sunday makes a beeline for the exit, you thankfully not tripping on your heels.

sunday spots an empty park up ahead, and as expected sunday dashes across to it, letting go of your hand as you both drop to the grass.

you both lie in silence for a few moments, panting, before bursting into sweet laughter that interrupts the solace of the quiet evening.

“that… was probably one of the most epic moments i had… since forever!” sunday exclaims, turning to you with happiness painted over his face. “i was surprised you didn’t try protesting in the elevator.”

“how could i?” you return, out of breath. “i wanted to get out of there… as well. as much as i liked being with you in the family's events, i’d rather have it this way. just the two of us.”

“hm. just the two of us, huh? aw, you flatter me, baby,” sunday coos at you. he suddenly sits up, fumbling through the folds of his suit and sighing in relief when he holds his phone up. “oh, thank god. i thought i left my phone back there,” giving you a small smile, a familiar song starts playing. “would you like to dance, my lady?”

you take his smooth, outstretched hand, placing both hands on his broad shoulders while sunday places one of his hands on your waist.

you both aren’t doing anything special, barely any experience in dancing, and yet your bodies flow gracefully to the tune of the gentle song across the chilly night wind, dancing slowly under the glow of the moon.

with your foreheads pressed against each other’s, you lock eyes, basking in the beautiful moment together. relaxing never came easy to you both, given your incredibly busy schedules, but once given the chance, you both will take it in a heartbeat.

the familiar worries of being rude don’t cross your mind at all, realizing that you’re too focused on sunday. slow dancing in the dark with only the moon to light their dance floor, away from the chatter of the crowd. absolutely perfect.

the song quickly comes to an end, ending your lover’s dance with a small brush of lips.

“i love you so much, sunday” you whisper softly.

“i love you more, love,” sunday replies, the ghost of a grin upon his lips.

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grandline-fics · 2 months

Note

I can’t get the idea of Killer having a crush on a Straw Hat out of my head. What do you think would actually make him act on it? Or I guess how would he? (Pretending he actually would) 💖🖤 thank you in advance

DESCRIPTION: You’re a member of the Strawhats and he has a crush on you

WARNINGS: some minor story spoilers but other than that, none

CHARACTERS: Killer

WORDS: 695

A/N: Thank you for the request. This was my first time writing for Killer and I don't know where I was going with this but hopefully you like what I came up with for this

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST

———————

When the Kid pirates first started making a name for themselves, they became interested in the other rookie rivals that they would be sharing the spotlight with. Naturally the likes of Law, Luffy and Zoro stood out the most to Killer as the ones to keep an eye on. Then the stories of Strawhat Luffy and his ever growing crew of unique and interesting members kept circulating and then when you joined the crew, Killer took note of your introduction bounty. While you weren’t quite considered among the Supernova’s it was still enough to pique his interest.

It made him want to know more. It wasn’t exactly hard for his wish to come true; given who your crew was there was a story about you all and your adventures in the papers practically every week. Kid found his vice-captain’s interest in you amusing and even would go so far as to tease Killer about his crush, which was always furiously denied. It was just being thorough about the strength of possible rivals that they could run into in the future. Then the opportunity to see you and your crew in the flesh presented itself when they landed on Sabaody and all hell broke loose in the auction-house.

You hadn’t really known much about Kid, Killer or the crew until that incident. In the middle of an attack, you flipped in the air and sailed down towards the masked pirate. To avoid hurting him, you hooked your leg around his waist and turned, knocking him to the floor with you landing on top on him. The impact was enough to lift his mask slightly and reveal his face to you and you grinned down at him. “Sorry about that, handsome.” You apologised while pulling his mask down into place.

While you didn’t get why he’d hide his features, you guessed he had a reason for it. Suddenly you heard a Marine rushing towards you for a followup attack and threw your weapon up to block it. Quickly you dealt with them and got to your feet to let Killer finally stand. From behind you, Nami called your name which meant it was time to go. As you ran you looked over your shoulder to throw a lazy wave to Killer. “Let’s do this again sometime!”

As appealing as that offer sounded to Killer, who was finally beginning to admit to himself after that meeting that he just maybe did have a crush on you the chance didn’t get to come up again until two years later when your paths crossed in Wano. Under the glow of the lanterns and in the middle of the lively atmosphere of a land finally celebrating their freedom you stood and watched in amusement as the captain of the Kid Pirates was in the middle of a shouting match with your captain and Law of the Heart Pirates. When you saw Killer about to approach the group in the hopes of calming his captain you subtly took his attention by stepping beside him. “You’re better leaving them to it. Those three are like little kids, they’ll tire themselves out eventually. Enjoy the night off for once.” When Killer turned to face him you smiled and handed him a drink. “Here, to make up for our less than conventional introduction in Sabaody.”

“You remember that?” Killer asked, slightly stunned. It had been two years and it had been so brief, he doubted the encounter had left such an impression for you. He could only watch behind his mask as your grin widened, your eyes sparkling at the memory, effectively proving him wrong.

“Course I remember, definitely wouldn’t forget a face like yours in a hurry.” Killer tensed slightly when you winked and took a sip of your own drink. Killer considered your earlier statement and glanced to see the three Captains had finally calmed their squabbling at least for the time being. He supposed enjoying himself with your company wouldn’t be such a bad thing. After all, it had been two years in the waiting and who knew how long it would be before your paths crossed again after tonight.

#one piece #one piece imagines #one piece fic #one piece x you #one piece x reader #one piece scenario #killer #killer x reader #killer x you #one piece killer #killer one piece #killer op #massacre soldier killer #op killer #one piece fanfiction

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milliesdiary · 2 years

Text

𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐓, 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐍

𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭; you and aemond targaryen grew up together. as a pair of royal children, you shared smiles, feasts, and hushed talks of duties — until a physical altercation changed your relationship forever. after six years, you find that the young boy has become a fiery man and your betrothed. seeing each other again is difficult, but dealing with old feelings is harder.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠; aemond targaryen x princess!reader

𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬; arranged marriage, descriptions of past violence (physical fight between young aemond and reader)

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞; to be as inclusive as possible, i do not mention the reader’s parents’ descent. i also do not specify the reader’s skin tone, body type, eye/hair color, or hair texture (braids are used but they contribute to most hotd hairstyles). enjoy!

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭; pic 1 — pic 2 — pic 3

“𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐊, 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐑.”

Those were your father’s words when you asked why you had to marry Aemond Targaryen.

Perhaps it was to be expected. As the daughter of a king in Westeros, you found that power was a constant battle to be fought and that you would not be shielded from the crossfire. In order to ensure a stable, unchallenged reign, you were to be wed to another child of royal descent — which meant being auctioned off to the most powerful house your father could get in touch with.

It also meant being fucked, then laying in a birthing bed and living a life of what you considered to be imprisonment. And due to your family’s faithful history with the Targaryens, the wielders of dragons, and the king’s desire for ancestral power, for elite grandchildren... it shouldn’t really be a surprise, should it?

You don't wish to argue with your father, but you don't want your frustration to go unnoticed either. Although your feelings have no real impact at the end of the day, there is value in them. They matter.

But why him?

You may have dreamt of being married to a charismatic Baratheon or a seductive Velaryon. Someone who would pledge to take you on a tour of the realm's most intricate castles and verdant gardens, stealing kisses and embraces.

Things cannot be so simple, can they?

You begged to call off your betrothal to Aemond, claiming that you would not get along, though your mother seemed to think otherwise with her rekindled political ties to the Targaryens. It was no use. Your parents had their minds set.

This is the world you are condemned to, in which, despite yourself, you must somehow live.

And now you are expected to meet your old friend after all these years, after that terrifying, horrific night. The night Aemond stole Vhagar, how he was beaten, how you contributed, how he left scarred for life.

The memory is still fresh in your mind. Six years ago.

One night, long after dusk, you heard arguing in the dragon pit. Curious, you approached the scene only to find Aemond in a stand-off with his nephews and nieces. He spoke of treacherous things, but was effectively shut down by Baela and Rhaena’s assaults.

It wasn’t long before Jace and Luke both engaged in the conflict. They could not be stopped. Violent, uncontrollable rage could be heard in the loud cracks of knuckles meeting flesh and bone. Jace attacked Aemond at some point — a terrible idea — because Aemond took a swipe at him and sent him into the dirt, leaving you just... standing in shock, fear, mouth agape.

When Aemond grabbed Luke by the front of his tunic and prepared to bash his face in with a stone, you were no longer frozen. An anger brash and hot consumed you, and before you knew it, you reacted on impulse.

You ran over and pushed Aemond in the chest, effectively launching him to the ground. The boy looked up in shock to see who appeared; you remember watching the look of surprise on his face, and then the betrayal that flashed across his eyes. Before he could even speak, you had him pinned to the dirt and slammed your fist into the bridge of his nose.

His head snapped back up to look at you after that. For a moment, he stared at you wide-eyed, before his face screwed into an expression of rage. It must had been a mix of fury and instinct, because Aemond retaliated.

Quickly, he shoved you off of him and threw a punch your way. The harsh force of it struck your cheek, painful, hard enough that you heard something crack. You were knocked over and ended up with your face pressed against the sandy pit.

You can’t recall what happened after that. There was a bunch of screaming, and then the rushed footsteps of guards who had heard the commotion. Someone had gripped your shoulders to urge you to your feet, and you almost fell forward again when everything blurred into blotches of red. The rest of the night was almost traumatic with the Queen challenging Rhaenyra, and your parents vowing to never bring you back to House Targaryen again.

The greed for power over the years must have revoked that plan.

You’re still not ready — not ready to confront the reality of what has become of your friendship. It hurts to even think of Aemond being impassive toward you, as you’re sure you will be to him.

You’re not even sure what he looks like now, but you have heard stories of the man he has become.

He doesn’t need a weapon anymore. He is a weapon.

Which begs the question: how much change can a person endure before turning into someone else completely, before it is almost considered murder?

You feel sorry for the rest of castle servants and commoners; they didn’t get to experience him the way you did. They didn’t get to see what you saw when you were with him. Gods, he was perfect.

Although it was probably your parents and the Queen who encouraged you and Aemond to meet all those years ago, they were delighted to learn that you were friends. Your father had just been crowned king, and it was necessary to meet the other Houses in the realm after doing such. You and Aemond just seemed to click after that.

You two had identical souls, the only children who understood one another in a life that ate people alive. He never teased you for hating the duties that came with being a princess, and you never teased him for not having a dragon. When you were unified, you were more powerful.

It’s funny how things can turn out.

Now, because the marriage in King’s Landing is next moon, you will be attending a feast tonight to see your betrothed: sitting at the same table as Aemond to dine, speaking about marriage, engaging in talks of bearing children.

It’s all too much.

Enduring change can hurt. It's frightening and adds to the lengthy array of things that make you scared. But that does not mean that it should be deemed unnecessary or ignored. You understand that.

Still, you curse this life as you step out of the carriage and onto the land of Dragonstone, peering up at the palace ahead of you. You curse it to hell.

The second you step into the Targaryen household, you realize that you are not really sure what to expect. It has been so many years. You are not prepared for this, not in the slightest.

And you certainly aren’t prepared to have the Queen greet you at the palace door instead of the knights.

It seems like a decade since you last saw her in the flesh as opposed to your memories. Her face is the exact same somehow, as if she had long conquered the battle of aging, and her brown hair is sweeped into a wavy half-up style. The emerald dress she wears sparkles with sequins, draping over her beautifully and accentuating the strings of gold jewlery along her neck. A small smile upturns the corner of her lips, and she seems pleased. Sympathetic.

It must appear that you’re somewhere far away in thought — which is relatively true, you suppose — because Alicent says your name in greeting to grasp your attention. With a smile, you dip your head in a bow.

“Your Grace.”

Alicent lets out a breath of... is it relief? She moves toward you quickly, enveloping you into a bear hug. You let her. You know what she’s trying to do.

She’s trying to reduce the rift that has grown over the years of being kept at a distance. Her embrace is a white flag, a message of peace, a silent apology. It’s successful.

“You have grown into a fine woman, my dear,” Alicent says softly into your shoulder.

The words conjure a strange knot in your chest; they hurt, but not out of hate or animosity. They hurt because they make you nostalgic, make you realize how much you missed House Targaryen. Your eyes prickle with the onset of almost-tears which you blink away rapidly.

And you reckon that today, in spite of Alicent's weight in your arms, you're going to have to consider what you want regarding the future. Talk about it with Aemond.

This is not about your mother, father, or the current state of your House anymore. This concerns you and your future husband.

Alicent pulls away after a few long moments, setting her hands upon your shoulders as she looks you up and down. “Your gown is lovely,” she says fondly, the statement lilted by her accent. “It suits you. Your House has always been exceptional when it comes to fashion.”

She’s right about that; your hand-maidens have always been sure to dress you beautifully. Today was no exception.

You’re wearing a silky fitted dress, made with an airy chiffon that fades from a silvery white to a dark, shadowy hem. Sparkling silver vine details adorn the chest, drawing attention to your breasts, along with a gem-stone belt that hugs your waist. A white cape is fastened around your shoulders, accentuating the graceful flow of the gown and nearly sweeping the floor. The necklace hanging from your throat gleams — a moonstone gem — and although it’s gorgeous, your hair almost always gets tangled in it. To prevent it from happening, your servants have started pulling your hair back into a half-up dutch braid crown, not a single strand out of place. It takes hours, but the end result is worth it.

You’re practically glowing.

You offer her a kind smile as you see her eyes light up. Your stomach churns and the nape of your neck prickles, but this woman has the same open expression that Aemond had when you first met him. It brings you a jittery sort of optimism.

“Thank you,” you say bashfully, dipping your head in thanks. Alicent then beckons over your father from where he stands behind you, two armored-knights stationed by his side.

“It has been too long, Your Grace,” your father says, plastering a polite smile onto his aged face. Alicent returns it with one of her own.

“It has,” she agrees. “The King would dearly desire to be here, but he regrettably cannot due to his health.” She must not be willing to say much else on the topic, because her face drops. She turns on a heel to face the hallway then, holding her arm out for you to grab. “Shall we proceed to the feast?”

Upon entering the dining room, it’s exactly how you remembered it to be.

Warm light fills the space; swathes of bronze and gold from the setting sun dip through the windows on one side, illuminating every crevice of the room. The food is already splayed out along the table, where Halaena and Aegon sit in their respective chairs. Aegon gives you a perverted look over, seemingly surprised at how much you’ve changed. If he senses your disgust, he doesn't express it. He’d likely find delight in it anyway.

On the contrary, Halaena beams and jumps up to give you a massive hug. It fills you with such a great warmth. You’ve missed this. She was always like a sister to you.

Halaena comments on your dress and makes a pathetic attempt to mold her joyful smile into something more polite by saying, "You look beautiful, Princess."

Of course, she fails horribly, and you compliment her back. She pulls away with a giggle and loops her arm around yours to lead you to a seat — and then you see him.

There, Aemond is seated at the end of the table, leaning back in the chair with practiced poise. Cool, composed, unmoving.

You lock eyes.

Aemond’s hair is his crowning glory; diamond-white, perfectly straight, and soft as sin as it sweeps along the edge of his jaw. The long strands drape over his broad shoulders, a stark contrast against the black high-neck tunic he’s wearing. Silver buckles pull the leather taught across his wide chest, definitely tailored to fit his well-built frame.

And his face... Gods, his face. It looks so much more different than you could have ever imagined.

He has the type of profile that marble sculptors carve: a razor-sharp jawline and high cheekbones, lips drawn into a serious expression and one eye a gleaming blue. The other is covered by an eyepatch, and you have to swallow the lump in your throat when you see the deep-set scar that stretches along his face.

You understand it now: the Gods didn't drive away darkness when light was made. Instead they created the color obsidian, ravens, and a person known as Aemond Targaryen. A wild, fiery man sculpted from the elements.

Aemond stares on back, and you can see how he takes a heavy breath. His eye scans you up and down, studying the silk gown, your braided hair, and every curve of your body. For a brief moment, he focuses on your breasts — almost as if he’s realized you’ve grown into a beautiful woman: more mature, more composed, fertile and ready for the taking. Something dark rests in the twist of his lips before he brings his attention back onto your face. Your cheeks feel impossibly hot.

It looks like he wants to say something, but bites it back with a slight nod of his head in greeting.

The earth seems to pause and cease its spinning. Your heart slams frantically against your ribcage, like a pendulum or a hare trapped in a cage, lungs refusing to completely submit to your breathing. Slowly, you tread over to the chair adjacent to him and sit down in it.

He feels the shift in the atmosphere too. Same place. Same family. Different you.

“Princess,” Aemond finally says. His voice is so much deeper now, smooth and rich with that accent of his. It has your stomach flipping.

You take a slow breath and urge yourself to glance at him, because you know you'll hate yourself later if you don't. You will stare into that intense eye of his, even if it kills you. You’re sick of all your regrets.

“My Prince,” you respond, trying to control the tremor in your voice by busying yourself with your fork. If Aemond notices, he doesn’t comment on it. “It has been awhile.”

Aemond hums in acknowledgement. “You are surprised by what you see, I presume.”

"And why do you say that?"

“You were staring,” Aemond says coolly. You can feel a heat climb up your cheeks — was it that obvious? “Though I cannot say I blame you,” he adds, finally picking up his utensils and cutting into his meat with a fork and knife.

"You are rather confident, My Prince," you murmur under a breath. “Have you not gained restraint over the years?”

"That is a virtue I am hardly accused of possessing. Don't pout, Princess, it ruins the shape of that pretty mouth.”

You remain silent, blinking at Aemond dumbly while trying to think of a response. He must be able to tell of your embarrassment, because his eye gleams with a feeling too intense to be stated in words. The best word to describe it is pride. Stupid pride.

“We are not married,” you respond in a rush. “Yet you speak dangerously.”

Aemond only stares at you, analyzing your expression, the ends of his lips slightly curled. You take the moment of silence to stuff your mouth with the delicious food in front of you, trying your hardest not to glance back up at him.

The clock is ticking. When will the shouting start, you wonder. How long before there are tears, recriminations, and pain?

A part of you wants to talk about the fun you and him had as kids, but you would feel guilty for bringing it up. Who’s to say that Aemond thinks fondly of those times anymore? Have the good memories been tarnished by the bad? Are they now piles of debris, comprised of grit, black dust, and ever-vanishing with time?

Does he even want to talk about the past at all? You could explain your viewpoint, how you reacted on fear, anger, and impulse that night — and he does deserve to know, because if you were in his place, you would care. You would care to know why the one person you trusted contributed to your downfall.

But … but now is not the right time. Not when your father is indulging in a chat with the Queen, or when Halaena is enjoying her food as Aegon drowns himself in wine. Especially during a supper that is supposed to be joyful and unmarked by the shadows of what’s happened.

Some things are better left unsaid.

So you remain quiet, attempting to listen in on any conversation available.

“Tell me; how do you feel about the betrothal?” Aemond suddenly asks. It takes you aback.

You work up the confidence to look at him again, searching for anything concrete, but all you see are ripples of emotions you don't understand. Swallowing thickly, you bring your attention to your goblet and press the metal to your lips, sipping down some wine. You’re going to need it.

“It was to be expected,” is all you say. Setting your cup down, you clear your throat. “And what are your thoughts?”

Aemond says nothing right away, placing his cutlery onto his plate as his face melts back into a cool expression. You steel yourself for whatever retort he may toss at you.

It doesn’t come.

Instead, his tone is steady when he speaks again. “Marrying you is my duty, Princess. I do not intend to stray from it."

“Well then.” You give him a polite nod. “Your family is very lucky to have someone so dedicated to the cause.”

“I take it that you understand your duty as well,” he says. “And it’s significance.”

“Of course. I’ll do what must be done.”

You watch the bob of Aemond’s throat as he swallows. He looks off into the fireplace that sits across the room, seemingly in thought. Just when you think he’s done talking to you for the night, he speaks, voice almost musical.

“Did you perhaps find a man of interest over the years?”

It’s a question that has your mind reeling and both eyes flying up to him. He’s not looking at you though; his stare remains on the dancing flames, expression scarily neutral. Despite that, you can see the distaste on his lips.

“W-why?” you ask, before steeling your surprise and resorting to humor. “Afraid I might replace you?”

“It is a fair question,” Aemond states. The man leans further back in his chair, the wood squeaking under his weight as he presses for an answer. “I would prefer to know if my wife will be engaging in secret escapades with a low-born.”

Truthfully, you don’t know what to say. Aemond asking about your past love life wasn’t on the agenda for today.

You debate telling him that you still thought about him all these years. That you never thought of another man, or searched for a suitor. Yet the words stick in your throat, and the thought of his handsome face screwing up in protest makes you sick.

The silence urges Aemond to spare a glance your way. His stare alone could have you on your knees, dark and vindictive; you see the spirit of the dragon in his blood, and imagine that’s why you always found him — find him — so much more magnetic than anyone else.

You change the subject.

“Once we marry, you are to be associated with my House forever.” Before he can question the switch in topic, you quickly add, “It will not be good for your image. I love my parents, but they only think about status these days. People may think you are marrying me for strength. To gain power.”

Aemond seems to mull this over. If he agrees, you wouldn’t know; he has trained his face to remain neutral. It tells you nothing. “Then let it be.”

You tilt your head at him now, a slight frown blooming upon your mouth. “So I am to marry a prince who does not pay any mind to what his subjects think of him?”

“A tragedy that is,” Aemond says sarcastically. He crosses his legs and rests an arm on the table, staring down at you from the bridge of his nose. “I am grateful that our roles are not switched, for I would have dove headfirst into the Dragon Pit had I been in your place.”

“You should have your tongue removed for that,” you say boldy, half-joking.

"My body is yours. Do what you will.”

You’re honestly surprised at his answer. It’s not supposed to be dirty, no, but there is hidden intent behind it. It plants some interesting images in your head. Aemond’s cold eye is still on you now, chilly and unrelenting. You are vaguely aware of how he taps his fingers along the wood of the table, awaiting your reply.

“Do not say such things,” you almost stutter. “Your name cannot protect you forever.”

“The name you will be taking?”

Your mouth slightly agape, you can only stare at him. Aemond turns his attention back to his food, lifting his cup to his mouth; but before he takes a drink, you catch his gaze flit over to meet yours. It almost looks like he’s fighting a smirk, the way his lower lip seems to quiver.

It feels like he’s taunting you. Testing you. You don’t like it, not at all. And even still… it reminds you of the days you used to gently tease each other. A fond memory.

You can’t bring yourself to actually be mad.

“Does something humor you, My Prince?” you ask anyway, egged on by him. You try to sound upset, but fall short; a tinge of glee laces your tone.

“Hmm,” Aemond quietly hums, setting his goblet down. You think you can see the ghost of a smile on his face: barely there, almost invisible. “Not a thing.”

Much to your delight, the dinner went well. Better than expected.

You had engaged in conversation with Halaena after awhile, listening to her stories of the bugs she has caught over the years and what they do. In return, you tell her of the things you have done which she listens to with an unbridled joy and sparkling eyes.

Aemond had watched everything in silence. Not an angry sort of quiet, but one where there are no words that have to be said. If anything, he seemed sort of pleased with how well you and his beloved sister were getting along.

Now it was late, with the sky having melted into a navy-black, pitted with the dappled light of stars and wisps of clouds. You have been thinking of Aemond ever since you made it back to your chambers earlier, changing into your night gown and undoing the braid in your hair. Although you tried your best to repress the gnawing feeling, there was one thing you knew you must do.

You need to talk to Aemond.

There is no dodging the elephant in the room. You need to sort out boundaries, talk about the wedding, children.

So, gathering as much courage you could possibly muster, you slip out of your bedroom and pad down the corridors. One thing you notice is that the Red Keep is remarkably calm at night compared to how active it is during the daylight hours. Tranquil, almost. The only noise you hear are the echoes of your feet on the stone floors.

You reach the entrance of Aemond’s chamber quickly, remembering exactly where it was from when you were kids. Taking a deep breath, you rap your knuckles on the wooden door.

You wonder how much courage it will take to engage in casual conversation with Aemond again, something that has never given you trouble with him as a child. A worry you experienced with other people but not with him. Never with him. When will you be able to speak to him about normal things?

Nothing happens for a couple moments. But just when you are about to knock again, the door swings open to reveal Aemond on the other side.

There’s no more of that boyish charm.

Aemond holds himself taller now; his shoulders look broader, his back looks straighter, and his head is held higher. He appears serious, yet also perplexed, probably wondering why exactly you are showing up to greet him in the middle of the night. He must notice that you are in your night clothes, judging by how his attention turns to the flow of your silk gown. “Trouble sleeping, Princess?”

“Do you … wish to discuss some things?” you suggest gently, which brings Aemond’s eye from your body and onto your face again.

“It is unavoidable, is it not?”

“Yes,” you agree. Aemond hums.

He opens the door wide then, gesturing with a hand for you to walk in.

Walking into his room slowly, he closes the door behind you before standing beside the fireplace, clearly falling deep in thought. A part of you wants to give up and abandon ship, but before you can even take a single step, Aemond turns his head to meet your eyes.

You offer him a rare smile which he responds to with a look of suspicion, clearly picking up on your agenda for coming here. “You wish to speak about the wedding, I presume,” he finally says. You nod.

“Humor me, then, Princess. What will you need in this marriage?”

“It’s not what I need,” you tell him softly, crossing your arms over your chest in thought, thumbs stroking at smooth fabric. “It’s what I want. For the future.”

“And what would that be?” Aemond replies, the fireplace’s flames painting swirls of orange and yellow upon the razor-edged plains of his face.

“I want to have freedom. I do not wish to be condemned to the palace all day. I also want to keep our children out of as many political affairs as possible. The court is no place for kids.”

“Already pondering the idea of children?” Aemond taunts.

It’s a struggle for you to keep your composure at that. You’re actually a bit embarrassed. "If we are to be wed, we are expected to produce as many children as possible. To spread the Targaryen name. It is not abnormal to plan these sort of things out.”

“Perhaps,” Aemond states simply. “I admire your resolve, Princess, but you speak of something that cannot be done.”

You try to ward a potential frown from spoiling your face. “You are the Prince. I am sure you can figure out something. Or are you not as clever as I have heard?”

Aemond gives a small smirk. His tone conveys some form of appreciation which makes you feel proud. “You have high expectations of me, then.”

“I suppose,” you admit.

“I have the same high expectations for you.”

You fight back the shyness that his statement causes, but you doubt you’re as successful in appearing deadpan like him. “And?”

“And,” Aemond continues lowly, “You have upheld them and more.”

You nearly choke, both surprised and flattered by the answer. Aemond can tell; he has a dark amusement in his profile, which you flick your gaze down to avoid. It is hard to ignore him for long though: Gods, he's just so gorgeous.

He’s the balance between elegance and danger. Distant because of his righteousness, and having such a moral fortitude that he is beautiful in a seductive and forbidden way.

You curse him. Curse him for having hair as fair as snow and eyes the shade of Lobelia flowers. Curse him for having the grace of a panther and skillful, slender hands.

That’s when you get the feeling that Aemond is just waiting for the right moment to unload what's been going on in his life. You beat him to it.

“How have you been?” you murmur. It seems to catch him by surprise with the way his lips slightly part and his brow softens into a straight line. He pauses and turns beside the fireplace, one hand propped against the stone.

When Aemond says nothing, you add more boldly, “Did you miss me, My Prince?”

He glances over his shoulder then and just stares, soaking in every piece of you he can. Each feature of his face is adorned with conviction. Your skin begins to tingle, goosebumps dancing along your spine, radiating outward to your exposed arms with a hair-raising energy.

“You ruined me,” is all he says.

You notice that he's trying to withdraw from the situation — not physically because he's firmly planted in place — but rather by burying any emotional aspects of himself. His face is awash with frustration, distress, and contempt.

“I have done nothing to you, My Prince,” you defend.

Aemond’s eye swivels to you slowly. That once-familiar stare is suddenly unnerving, forcing your breath to halt in your throat and your body to freeze like a frightened animal. You are ready. You know what he is going to say. But it still rips into you and burns as fiercely as barbed wire coiled around your heart, twisted until the organ may burst.

“You betrayed me.”

“I did not,” you say, voice shaking. “You were out of line. You stole Vhagar and proceeded to toss insults around. Hurt your nephews and nieces.”

“I was doing what must be done. The Valeryans had their chance to claim Vhagar,” Aemond retorts. “Is it my fault that they waited so long? That my nephews are not proud of their name?”

“Everyone was angry because the second you got a dragon, you acted like you were better than them. You humiliated them. And now?” You take one heaving breath, your entire body trembling. “People are afraid of you. I have heard the rumors of how you can be when you train with others. It’s not training with you. If you had a sharper edge to your sword, they would be attending their own funeral; you know it, I know it, they know it. You bully others just like you were. Does that make you proud?”

For the first time since you’ve reunited, you glimpse a hint of hostility in Aemond’s eye. He is obviously making an effort to appear composed and unbothered to impress you. But you’ve hit a nerve and his gaze hardens to glare daggers at you.

“So that is all?” Aemond proclaims harshly. His tone is wolfish now. “You have come here to remind me of my proclaimed wrong-doings? To spit in my face everything you have been wanting to say all these years?”

“When did you become so bitter? So hateful?” You stare at him wildly, profile twisted into something turbulent. “I was just protecting the people I consider my family!”

It must trigger something in Aemond. The words knock down those walls of his, burst the damn, sending that fury inside him whirling, coaxing him to raise his voice and finally yell:

“I was your family!”

The only way to express the sensation that explodes inside your chest is to imagine walking slowly on a broken window. So slowly that you can feel every bit of glass pierce and glide upward into the heel of your foot, each step digging red, horrific lines into your skin.

The tempest in your soul has officially burnt out.

And here, with your blood thundering through your body and drumming an even rhythm upon his, Aemond is just a boy. A vulnerable boy that could be stopped by a sharp enough blade, as long as its your hand on the hilt.

Those words Aemond said — they were ones of anger, yet none had the intent to injure or bruise. You should know how approach him, except you don’t. You need to say something that can release you from the desolate and ominous silence that fills the room.

“I’m sorry,” you eventually whisper.

You expect Aemond to retaliate. To fight back, defend his honor. He doesn’t though. Instead, he fixes his gaze onto your profile and speaks.

“I used to think the Targaryen name was descending into one ruled by hatred. I presumed it was our doing, that the blood feud ruined all that was honorable,” Aemond says gravely. “But I have been hateful for a long time.”

You know what he means.

His nephews. The ordeal with the pig. Being dragonless and teased by his peers for it. Feeling like the odd one out, overlooked by others by his incompetent brother’s potential future reign. It all invoked an anger in him that he buried — until it was dug up by family and unleashed one night, black-red and hot and stinging.

But it’s not the complete truth.

“You weren’t hateful,” you say slowly. “Not to me.”

It’s scary: you expected that to spark something inside of him, to wither the hurricane brewing. But Aemond is so calm in the throes of shock that it's as though any breeze would be nothing more than a breath whispering over him. There is no tremor in his jaw, no twitching in his shoulders, and not a single tear on his ivory cheeks. Nobody blinks.

You told yourself that no words could heal the broken trust between you. Despite that, they continue to tumble out. “I understand if we cannot go back to the way it was before. That’s alright … well, it’s not, but I understand why. I really do. And—”

“Who am I to you after so many years?”

You don't immediately understand what Aemond asked, and it takes a moment for it to process. But then you do realize, and it comes with a painful stab in the chest and a wince, because Aemond thinks you loathe him, and he shouldn’t … he shouldn’t be thinking like that because it could not be further from the truth.

You really want to have a break down. Not one that has you going mad, throwing shit and screaming, but perhaps a cry with panting breaths and shivering and a few tears. One that is completely internal and rips you apart from the inside out.

When you look up, Aemond is directly in front of you. He had bridged the gap at some point. You just keep staring and staring — because there is nothing else you can do but ogle him as if he were the most extraordinary thing you have ever seen. Finally, you speak.

“You’re Aemond,” comes your response. Small, meek. “You’re Aemond.”

The middle of your core stings then, like the fireworks that laid dormant there had finally been set aflame, torching every artery — as if the weight of the man’s stare was too much, as if being looked at by Aemond was unbearable.

And it is, you suppose. But not in a bad way; unbearable in that you wanted him. You wanted to meld your friendship so bad that it hurt. You're preoccupied with the way your subconscious shouts the truth: you adore him endlessly.

You cannot hold back anymore.

You kiss Aemond Targaryen with everything you have, drenching every worry of yours and love for him onto his lips, knowing that you … you are acting appropriately this time. This feels good. This is right.

Aemond releases a low, deep grunt as a surprised response, urging you on. You kiss him fiercely, to taste the warmth of his mouth, and feel stars erupt and dissipate behind your closed eyes. He swallows down the desperate sigh that spills out of your mouth as you steady his pointed jaw with both of your hands.

There’s the ridge of his scar under your thumb, the drumming of the blood in your jugular, and the softness of his platinum hair as you move to twine your fingers in it. There’s the sweep of his hands — sliding over your hips, waist, ribs — soothing burning skin as he reels you closer against him.

It feels like an eternity before your lips separate with the slightest sound. You rest your hands on Aemond’s wide shoulders, pressing your foreheads together between trembling exhalations.

“I could never hate you,” you assure, squeezing the leather of his tunic in your hands as your noses brush together. Aemond has a palm on the nape of your neck, holding you in place with the heaving rise and fall of his chest, gazing at you like you’re something celestial. His one eye, so intense and blue and electric.

You don’t want to let go. Not when the edges of Aemond’s lips coyly turn upward and he tilts his head to kiss your neck quietly, followed by more kisses that are sprinkled across your collarbone like a vow or a promise. You let out a shaky sigh and he finally pulls back, his voice deep and rich but soft. So, so soft.

“Ride Vhagar with me. See what it means to be with a Targaryen.”

You look up at him in surprise. “Right now?”

“Tomorrow,” he corrects.

“I have never ridden a dragon—”

“And?”

“I do not know how.”

“No one knows how to ride a dragon until they ride a dragon.”

Your expression must soften, because Aemond’s does in return. There’s a few seconds where neither of you say anything, until his calloused fingers come to settle on your cheek.

“I will see you tomorrow at dawn, Princess.”

At a loss for words, you offer him a weak nod, breath coming out as a stutter. Aemond trains his eye on you, searching for a single bit of protest. When he comes up empty, he leans down to whisper close to your lips, hot breath puffing along your chin. “Be ready for me.”

In that beautiful, terrifying moment, there’s an epiphany. A realization.

An understanding that maybe... just maybe ... this can be fixed. This rift, these burnt bridges of the past. You can see the yearning in Aemond too: he wants the same thing.

It can be mended. Your friendship, your trust, your love — the feelings are still there between the two of you.

Bent, but not broken.

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen x you #hotd fic #hotd aemond #prince aemond #aemond one eye #aemond oneshot #aemond targaryen one shot #millie’s works — 📓

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eetherealgoddess · 2 months

Note

Can we get another hybird fic?

ꨄOur Pet Humanꨄ

Oneshot - Yandere Hybrid Au

❦You’re a human surviving in the world of hybrids❦

Sano Manjiro, Hanemiya Kazutora, Sanzu Haruchiyo, & Haitani Brothers x Reader

❣︎Also, the other bonten members (except mochi) are in this story❣︎

Not fully proofread!

Japanese language is red

MY TR FANDOM WORKS ARE ONLY ON TUMBLR & AO3 UNDER EETHEREALGODDESS! REPORT IF YOU SEE IT POSTED UNDER ANYONE ELSE BUT ME!!!

I apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

Notice:

✩Y/n is 18+. I picture her as a black female but you can see her however.

✩Some parts of the story may not be realistic or factual. After all, this is a work of fiction.

✩Although it's a dark 'romance,' I do not condone any of the behavior displayed.

✩Dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit sexual content, etc.

✩There may be scenes that involve non con and/ or dubcon so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable

✩That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Enjoy!

Our Pet Human

You ignore the filthy fumes sneaking into your nostrils as you use your hands to dig through the piles of trash lying inside the dumpster. You tear open a bag or two as you go, searching for any kind of food you could get your paws on. You ignore the pain forming in your stomach from the lack of nutrients, sweat falling down your forehead as half of your body is hanging inside the compartment. The last meal you consumed was from the company you were transferred to, auctioned off to the highest bidder just for the cycle to repeat.

At the time you were so focused on escaping that you forgot to think about the long term effects like food supply, shelter, clothing, etc. You snatch the half eaten treat and push against the dumpster until you’re on your feet. You shove the delicacy in your mouth quickly before chewing fast, a few crumbs falling from your face. You wipe your mouth using the back of your wrist. You drop your body to the concrete next to the dumpster, pulling your knees under your chin. You lie your arms across as you lean your head over, face resting against your legs.

You reminisce about the time in which you lived normally when humans were at the top of the hierarchy. Hybrids were a recent creation, only having been a result of an experimentation your species studied. By chance, they were able to manipulate the scientists into believing that they would make the perfect pets. Time went on as the hybrids were bought and sold, mostly by the rich. Once there were plenty out of their cages, they took over by force.

Blood was everywhere as chaos filled the streets. One by one families and individuals who owned the species were slaughtered just as the hybrids figured out their own control system, mimicking the humans idea by selling humans to anyone who’d buy depending on the ‘quality.’ As a human, you could be sold as a pet, servant, maid, heat guide, or even food. You could’ve been sold as anything though after you were caught and switched from country to country, you had enough. You didn’t agree with the idea when humans ruled and you definitely don’t agree with how things are now.

You lift your head slightly before eyeing the bruises and cuts that lathered your arms and legs. There is a medium sized tear on your grimy shirt, displaying some of the marks on your torso. You sigh before brainstorming your next move. Pulled out of your head, you hear footsteps coming near. Your eyes widen as you cover your mouth. You look around swiftly, noticing your lack of escape routes as you use your other arm to tighten the grip around your legs, the feeling of being stuck prominent.

Fuck, why did my stupid ass rest here?

You could only remain stationary as the footsteps grew louder, indicating the close vicinity of the stranger. You make an attempt at making yourself smaller as you scoot closer to the corner where the dumpster and wall meet, your back against the large object as you continue to hold your knees against your chest. You were nervous of the hybrid’s ability to sniff out the prey, hoping that the garbage smell will cover your natural scent.

Your breath hitches as you look straight ahead, the footsteps halting in front of the dumpster, slightly diagonal to where you’re hiding. You hear a low hum before the footsteps return though the sound seems to shrink as a minute passes. You slowly peak from the side of the garbage and eye the figure walking back in the direction they came. You eye his tall torso and broad shoulders, the white leopard printed tail swaying behind him as he slowly strides away, a hand running through his short lilac locks, bringing your attention to the ears that have the same print as his tail.

You release a sigh before turning back into your position, only to release a gasp as sharp blue eyes fill your vision. The pink haired man snatched your arm before you could react, his blonde yet spotted ears falling back as his tail thrashed. His claws pierce your skin which caused a sharp pain to shoot up your arm. He pulls you to eye level as you grimace.

“What do you think you’re doing here, human?” The jaguar says in a language you don’t understand. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you explain, “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

He stares at you for a moment before a grin reaches his expression. The purple suited man drags you along, following the same path as the leopard from before.

You struggle in his grip as he pulls you along seeming to do no damage as he didn’t release his hold. You gasp as he squeezed your wrist painfully. You pull your other arm back and land a fist on his shoulder before aiming at his head, only for him to dodge it and grab your fist, yanking you to fall on your knees in front of him. He released you before grabbing your chin and pulling you forward as he leaned over.

“Behave.” He states in your language, giving you a stern look. His sharp gaze pierced your soul as you suck your teeth in annoyance.

“Then let me go.” You demand. An eyebrow raised on his face as he smirked.

“We’re gonna fix that mouth of yours.” He released your chin before snatching you by the collar and pulling you along once more. You allow him to act this time, not wanting to push your luck and become his next meal. You’re forced to head towards the large building. Once you enter, your orbs meet with purple.

“Hm. I thought I smelled a pesky little vermin.” A sly grin falls upon the familiar male’s face as he observes you. You glare at his insult, planning a retort though another hybrid beat you to it.

“All I smell is garbage. Is that where you found this thing, Sanzu?” The male standing to the right of the short haired man, his ears and tail matching that of the taller male. Purple bangs hover over his eyes as he gives you a blank stare, his hands hidden inside of his pockets. You eye the matching symbol on his neck and guess that the two purple eyed men must be siblings. He turns his attention to the pink haired jaguar after the last sentence, his tail hanging low, twitching at the end.

“I brought a gift for Mikey.” Sanzu gives a pleased smile as he walks to the elevator, continuing to force you along as the brothers follow along.

“Shouldn’t you give it a bath first? I’m curious to see it all cleaned up.” The taller man leaned his back against the wall of the elevator. You could only switch your gaze back and forth as you couldn’t decipher their conversation, giving up and turning away with your own arms crossed. After the shorter leopard pressed a button, you felt the room move upward.

Once you make it to the correct floor, you all walk off once the elevator doors slide open. The hand on your collar moves to one of your wrists as you’re guided to a door at the end of the hall, stumbling behind the three pigmented men. Just as the two brothers walked in, Sanzu halts before making an entrance, glancing at you before pursing his lips and turning around, walking in the opposite direction.

“Where are we going?” You question in confusion. He ignored you as you were dragged once more down the hall and back to the elevator.

Once you reach a floor higher, you’re forced out of the elevator as you take in the surroundings of what seems to be a common area. Once he reaches the bathroom, he places his hands on your shoulders and forces you to sit on the toilet. Just as you were about to question him, he walks out, slamming and locking the door behind him.

After a moment of silence, the lock is turned and a human woman walks in. You watch as she walks to the bathtub, turning the faucet on and setting all the necessities in place.

“H-hey I can bathe myself, you know?” You grasp her attention by tapping her shoulder after you had shot up from your seat. You pause when she turns to look at you with bloodshot eyes.

“P-please, just… j-just allow me to complete my task, Ms.” Her voice trembled as she eyed you with pure terror in her eyes.

You eye her for a moment with bewilderment. You observe the scars and bruises you hadn’t noticed when she first walked in. You know that hybrids are usually terrible when it comes to properly caring for the human species. You snarled as your hands turned to fists. You quietly nod and begin to undress once everything is ready.

She gives you privacy as you climb into the large tub, the suds covering your body as you lean against the back of the surface. Although you wished for a shower, you knew anything was better than wearing the same dirty clothes for any longer.

After the process was over, you were guided to a bedroom. Your eyes widen at the display lying on the bed. A black ruffled collar sat on the comforter as well as a black leash. On closer inspection the collar had a mixture of red and black ruffled lace as well as a red heart hanging as the identification tag.

“No fucking way.” You breathe out. You were upset and angry, not having expected any better from the hybrid species but also missed the sense of freedom you had for a while before getting caught once more. You went through so much just to return being some stupid pet for these abominations.

The woman flinched as you snatched the collar and leash, throwing them to the ground and releasing a few curses. You only stopped when you heard a whimper behind you, thinking you had accidentally scared the fellow human you turn your body around only to be met with an unfamiliar male. Your body jolted in surprise.

The man observes the situation as you return the same gaze, eyeing the tiger tattoo that caught your attention, your eyes moving up to his facial features that consist of a beauty mark right under his eye as well as large golden eyes boring into you. His hair falls down, two blonde strands in front of his face and black locks falling behind, slightly covering the tattoo. You glance at the tiger printed ears at the top of his head. He tsked after waving the woman off and slowly shaking his head, walking towards you, his tail high with a small hook at the end.

“That wasn’t very nice. Don’t you think you should be a little more grateful?” He placed his hands in his pockets as he awaits a response, shifting his gaze to the accessories lying on the floor. He crouched down and grabbed the items, placing them back on the bed.

You couldn’t fully read him. He seems as though he is a laid back guy but considering the reaction the other human had, you knew not to push your luck with your words. You knew it could get you in some trouble.

After silence fills the room, he gently taps his lap as one of his ears that stood up slightly twitched. He gives you a smile as he waits for you to move. You look down where his hand is before glaring at his face. You shook your head. An eyebrow raises as a frown falls on his face, his ears slightly pulled back before returning to their placement.

“What’s your name?” You pause in contemplation before answering.

“Y/n.” He hums as he nods. Suddenly, he seizes your wrist before pulling you on top of him, forcing your knees on each side of his lap as your weight sinks on the bed. You eye him with wide eyes as he gazes up at you, arms snaking around your waist as you're forced in place. Your hands meet his shoulders to steady yourself.

“I don’t want to be mean, Y/n.” He starts off, shifting his attention to the collar and leash before turning back to you. “You see, this kind of behavior is unacceptable.” You hold back a shiver as a cold hand places itself under your shirt and on your lower back.

“I’m giving you a chance to take your punishment like the good girl I know you can be.” One of his hands moves to your chin, claws poking your skin. He gives you a closed eye smile before saying, “So don’t test my patience, okay?”

You didn’t know how to respond, not wanting to conform and also not wanting to test this guy’s boundaries. It was at this moment you realized that you have no clue who these hybrids are and what they’re capable of. You gag on the inside as you obey, nodding in response to let him know you’re listening.

“Awe, you’re already being so good for me.” He beamed while caressing your cheek. “How about I let you off with a warning?” You hold back the disgusted look that wanted to fall on your face, thankful that you weren't going to receive whatever he had in store for you.

He grabs the collar before securing it around your neck, as well as hooking the leash. “My name is Kazutora but you’re gonna call me Master anyway. I just want you to know the difference between me and the others.” He pats your thigh before gently pushing you off of him, your feet connecting to the floor.

He pulls you along by the leash, walking to the elevator and entering once the doors opened. After you reach the designated floor, he pulls you down the familiar hall and to the door that the man you remembered to be ‘Sanzu’ hadn’t allowed you to walk into.

Once you enter, you see a long table in the middle of the room, along with six other men sitting at the table. You couldn’t help but feel intimidated when all the sharp gazes shift to you. The aura of the room was suffocating, your instincts kicking in as your body tightened up. You knew just by the look of everyone in the room, you were amongst some of the most dangerous hybrids.

A platinum haired male released a huff, his ears pressed against his head as well as his tail low though twitching at the end. His fingers meet his temple as he rubs along.

“Do you know how much this thing is going to cost to take care of it?” The cheetah hybrid growled, glaring at the pink haired jaguar who smirked in return.

“It’s not like we don’t have enough money, Koko.”

“That’s not the point.” He hissed, fangs bare as his tail slowly thrashed.

“I think it’ll be good having it around” The older Haitani states as he takes a sip of his glass.

“That’s because you only want to fuck it, you don’t have me fooled.” The man with a scar over his eye chuckled, a cigarette hanging outside of the corner of his mouth. You guessed his relation is somehow with the man with scars on his mouth considering the same pattern they have plastered on their ears and tail.

“So what, Takeomi? What else is it good for besides a heat guide?” The younger Haitani questions, one ear flat as the other sticks up as well as his cheek leaning on the palm of his hand. As everyone converses, Kazutora pulls you along to awkwardly stand next to his seat as he sits down at the table.

“It doesn’t matter what any of you think. It’s up to our boss.” The great dane says, a stern look on his face as he sits with a leg crossed over the other. His arms are crossed as he leans against the back of the chair, his black tail still as his ears hang from his head. His heterochromia eyes slanted as a look of irritation crossed his face. Once the boss was mentioned, everyone except you shifted their gaze to the white haired lion that sat at the end of the table.

You had no clue what was going on, having not understood a word though only understanding everyone’s tense body language when you followed their gazes to a short man with dark eyes. He stares ahead as you observe his features, his ears sticking straight up, though from your angle you couldn’t see his tail. Finally, his dark orbs meet yours, catching you off guard and forcing you to look away considering the eye contact.

Before he says anything, the door swings open, revealing a random man who resembles the features of a bear and the human woman you met earlier dragged in by the bicep. You watch with your eyebrows furrowed as he tossed her into the room, her hands stopping her face from meeting the floor followed along with a grunt.

He stood back against the door with his arms crossed as he eyed the situation, awaiting instructions. She trembles against the floor, looking back and forth between the men and you in fear. A look of confusion crossed your face as you watched the display.

“Ran.” The lion says, nodding over to the woman. A smile crossed the tall leopard’s face as his ears and tail perked up.

“Yes, sir.” He says, standing from his seat as an object in his hand is revealed. You eye the silver weapon that seems to get longer after he flicks his wrist.

“N-no, please! I-I’m sorry!” The woman cries out, crawling back as she cowers down. You gasp as the realization clicks on what he’s about to do with the baton.

You make an attempt to run towards her shaking figure, only to be reminded of the collar around your neck as Kazutora yanks your leash back.

“Sit.” He yanks once more, a harsher tug that forces you to fall backwards on your derrière.

“Fuck!” You hiss in pain only for a stinging sensation on your cheek to appear as your head is forced the opposite way. A hand on your chin pulls your face towards his as he leans over in his chair.

“I should hear no bad words coming from that mouth.” He gives you a bored look before returning his gaze to the display. You pant as you look over at the human woman in concern.

“P-please don’t do thi-!” A loud crack echoed throughout the room, followed by another and another along with the woman’s grunts. You stare wide eyed as his arm pulls back before slamming down on the woman’s back. She limps to the ground, barely awake as her body twitches. You watch as blood leaks out of her mouth, oozing on the floor as her head lies down.

He lands another harsh hit to her back using both hands on the handle before landing another once more. Your own hands shake as they reach your ears once you shut your eyes tightly. You hope that it’ll be over soon, though you don’t know if she’ll survive. With a last resounding crack, the purple eyed man finally stops his assault and steps back. He flips the body using his foot though she only fell back into place, the side of her face against the floor as her stomach is attached to the ground.

Just as you opened your eyes and removed your hands, you gaze at her lifeless form. A looming darkness hovers over you as your stomach feels itself drop, bringing your knees to your chest as a few tears begin to fall. Your lip quivers as you observe her still body.

To think that I saw her only just a while ago alive and walking.

Footsteps could be heard in the quiet room, the lion stepping forth and halting when he stood next to the corpse. He crouched down, grabbing the collar of her shirt and standing up, her body hanging from his hold. The platinum haired male shifted his gaze to you.

“Let this be a lesson, Y/n.” You glared when he dropped the body and walked to his seat.

“Dismissed.”

You stared at the bowl sitting on the floor from where you sat in the dining room of their shared penthouse. It was supposed to be a full human meal but resembled the containers of wet food you’d get for your regular cats you had before the take over. This was a common way for hybrids to feed their humans. It depends on the owner whether or not you’re allowed to eat with your hands.

“Why are you not eating, Y/n?” Ran questions from where he sits on the chair next to you. Looking up at him and back to the bowl, you frowned.

“I can’t eat like this.” In fact, you never had to before. When you were with the initial abductors they would just throw a bowl in the cages but wouldn’t stay to watch so you’d just eat with your hands like a normal human.

“You’re lucky to be fed at all.” Rin rolled his eyes as he grabbed your bowl.

Ran tsked before leaning over, catching you off guard and pulling your body onto his lap. Rin passed the bowl to his brother and leaned back in his seat, using a lighter to burn the end of a blunt before setting it to his mouth.

You look at Ran with wide eyes as you shift uncomfortably on his lap. His chest rumbled from his deep chuckle.

“Don’t be so rude, brother. The kitty only wanted to be fed.” Your face heats up in embarrassment.

“That’s far from what I wanted!” A harsh smack on your thigh caused you to wince.

“Do we need to buy a muzzle for it?” Rin questioned as he pulls another hit before blowing the smoke out in your direction.

“That wouldn’t be a terrible idea.” Ran says as he uses chopsticks to pick up a piece of your food, bringing it to your lips.You hesitate out of pride, turning your head in the process as you couldn’t shake the feeling of humiliation.

“Should I use my baton?” Ran questions you. The memory of what the woman went through earlier crossed your mind, causing a shiver to slither up your spine before you parted your lips. Bringing his chopsticks to your lips once more, you opened your mouth wider to give better access before closing your lips around the utensil.

It had been a few weeks since you were taken in by Bonten as a pet. You lie still as you eye the ceiling, laying on your designated palette next to Mikey’s bed. Although you were able to adapt, you still couldn’t get used to their unpredictable and violent ways. At least you knew what you were getting when you were at the company before.

The contrast between some of their treatment and punishments were unsettling. Not to mention how demeaning it is to be treated as some animal when only just a few years back you lived a normal life. You look down and eye the fresh marks on your skin, remembering the baton making contact with your dermis as well as Sanzu using his katana. Kazutora usually spanks you and you’d think it wouldn’t be so bad, yet his hand uses so much force that it’s actually quite painful and makes it hard to sit for long periods of time.

Rin finds various ways to discipline you such as forcing you to kneel in rice, popping a joint or two out of place before popping it back, etc. You haven’t angered Mikey yet and fortunately the others leave you be so you don’t see them much at all.

“Y/n.” A voice took you out of your thoughts and caused you to eye the bed. “Come.”

Your eyebrows furrow at the demand. You’ve never been allowed in anyone’s bed up until this point so the command threw you in for a loop. Slowly sitting up, you picked yourself off of the floor and climbed on the bed, your own eyes meeting closed lids before you’re pulled into an embrace.

Your back meets Mikey’s chest as you both lay fetal position, him spooning you. You could only stare wide eyed across from where you lay when you felt a rumble, hearing a pur near your ear as his tail wraps around your thigh. Time passed before you both fell into a deep slumber, creating the unsaid habit as the cycle repeats.

A few months pass and a new human gets hired as one of the staff who are used to clean, cook, and complete the everyday tasks at hand. Because the majority of hybrids you were around, there were very few humans. Having been exhausted with your circumstances, you became a close friend to the new guy, creating a bond that you haven’t felt in a long time. Whenever the ‘masters’ would go on a mission, you’d be left on your lonesome until you would untie yourself from the post and leave your spot.

You would search for your friend, Eiichi until you found him and would help the male clean faster so you both could hang out as normal people, something neither of you had done in a long time. You began to spend so much time together that you would find yourself smiling at nothing whenever he was away, having to explain yourself as a result of your odd behavior, usually coming up with a lie.

You enjoyed each other’s company so much that you decided to brainstorm an escape plan together, ready to escape this world and live off grid. It was wishful thinking but the sooner you left this penthouse, the better. As you both leaned over the counter, caught the other’s eye as you stared for a moment. It had been a while since you had received genuine care from another human being. The gap in between both of you almost came to a close until you were yanked back by the collar of your shirt.

“So dirty.” The jaguar hissed before quickly stabbing Eiichi’s hand against the counter using a dagger. The human male yells out in pain as you’re grabbed by the neck and lifted from the floor. Rin’s eyes narrow as a smile appears on his face along with his ears flat against his head. His tail thrashes around violently.

“I just needed an excuse to go harder on you.” He says as you struggle to unwrap the fingers that are blocking your airway. Your feet dangle in the air as you hear another blood curdling shriek from Eiichi as Sanzu twists the weapon in the wound while glaring at the weaker man.

“Who said you can touch what belongs to Bonten, you fucking rat?” Sanzu growled before his claws protruded, pulling his arm back and slicing through Eiichi’s back.

Eiichi released a howl of agony as he leaned over the counter, his other fist connecting to the surface as his own nails dug into the palm of his trembling hand. Tears stream down his face as he looks up in your direction.

“L-let her go!” He grunts, his head hovering over his bloody hand. You struggle harder and you lose more air, your vision blurring out gradually as your body weakens.

“Since when did you call the shots?” Rin questions before he walks to where he’s standing across from Eiichi in a closer space. He released your neck, allowing you to drop. He snatches your waist before you could fully fall on the ground, coughing and chasing your breath. He eyes Eiichi before grabbing your chin harshly and forcing your lips to meet his. Your eyes widen as Rin’s other hand wraps around your bruised neck once more though to pull you into the kiss closer.

Once he was finished roughly kissing your lips, he moved the hand on your neck to the back of your head and wrapped the other arm around your waist, moving his head down your neck as you quietly pant while avoiding eye contact with the other men. You would’ve bit him if it wasn’t risking your life. His lips leave a tingling sensation to linger on each spot of your skin his mouth assaults. He stares Eiichi in the eyes the entire time, who could only stare back in agony and anger.

“See that?” Sanzu whispers near Eiichi’s ear. “See how she's taking it?”

When the human didn’t respond, Sanzu twisted the dagger once more before snatching it out, causing a drawn out grunt to leave Eiichi’s lips. You try to pull back but Rin’s hold was painfully tight.

“Answer me.” He hissed, his ears falling back as his tail mocked Rin’s thrashing. Eiichi nods violently, followed by a desperate, “Yes!”

“What’s going on here?” A voice came from the elevator, Ran walking in as well as Kazutora walking behind with their ears perked up. They had on amused expressions, staring at the display as they walked towards the busy executives.

“Tell em.” Rin demands looking into your eyes while your noses almost meet, pulling you back just enough to shift your gaze to the tiger and leopard.

“W-we were gonna kiss.” You say softly, nervous of the reactions considering how the first two executives responded. Kazutora sighs as Ran walks to the other side of you, opposite of his brother.

“Awe, kitty if you just wanted a kiss why didn’t you say so?” He cooed before leaning over and resting his chin on your shoulder.

“I thought you were a good girl, Y/n.” Kazutora frowns before crossing his arms and walking around the counter to where Eiichi is leaning over.

He uses one hand to grip the back of Eiichi’s collar before pulling his arm back and landing a bone crunching punch on his face, causing the poor human to fall over on the floor, blood splattering everywhere. You gasp as you yell his name before Ran wraps a hand half way under your chin and neck and forces you to look up, your head resting on his chest as he looks down at you.

“All you have to do is ask, Y/n. I don’t mind being the human touch you need.” He chuckled as Sanzu and Kazutora took turns beating and kicking Eiichi. A fist connects with his face as a foot connects with his stomach and so on. The floor is a bloody mess as well as the granite counter.

“Stop fucking hurting him!” You push against Rin’s chest as Ran releases your neck. Suddenly the room goes quiet as a new set of footsteps could be heard entering the room.

The lion eases into the room with a blank look on his face, pondering the display as he motions for everyone to follow. Everyone begins to move towards their boss, you turning around to try and check on Eiichi, only to see Kazutora use Sanzu’s dagger to puncture it through Eiichi’s back. You gasp as you try to break free of the Haitani brother’s hold.

“N-no!” You shriek as tears stream down your face, Rin picking you up in the process and throwing you over his shoulder to force you along.

You all walk onto a large bedroom, one that you haven't seen before. Before you could get a good look, you were tossed on the bed. Mikey took his seat on one of the accented sofas across from the bed. Everyone else stood at attention while waiting for instructions. You made poor attempts to prevent yourself from crying considering the only human friend you had just got murdered by your recklessness.

“Since you found her, do what you will.” Your eyes widen at Mikey’s statement. Before you could react, you felt arms wrap around your waist before you’re pulled in between someone’s legs from behind, sliding you against their chest.

“I’ve been waiting for this moment, Kitty.” Ran whispers before he places kisses against your ear. The rumbling in his chest is evident of a pur causing you to jolt and try to remove his arms, only to get distracted by a force on your chin. Sanzu lowers his face, meeting his lips with yours as he kisses you passionately. His head slightly moves along with his lips as you feel a hand sneaking under your shirt.

Kazutora’s hand slithers up your stomach, using his fingers to caress your healing scars before slowly making his way to one of your breasts, all the while gazing at your face. You feel a squeeze on your thigh by Rin before he slides up to meet your core, only for you to move your legs and close his hand in between your thighs. You yank your head back from Sanzu.

“N-no! Eiichi!” You hear a couple of huffs before Rin tears your legs apart, Kazutora locking one in place with his arm. The older Haitani slides his hand down your thigh before diving into your pants. Sanzu moves a hand to lift your shirt slightly and places his hand on your other breast. You feel a finger sliding against your clit through your panties. It felt so conflicting to be horrified for your own safety, as well as mourning a death all the while feeling a sense of pleasure from the culprits who caused your pain in the first place. You truly didn’t know how to respond besides failing miserably at struggling against their holds.

One of the hands on your breasts disappears just as Sanzu reaches in his pocket. Pulling out a small baggie with a pink pill, he pours it in the palm of his hand before bending over on the nightstand and crushing half of it. He placed one on his tongue before grabbing your chin once more.

“Open up.” He squeezes your cheeks harshly to force your jaw open. He sets the last piece on his tongue before leaning over and connecting the slightly dissolved pill with your own tongue. Tightening his grip, he pulled you forward.

“Swallow it.” He released his tight grasp once you complied. A few minutes pass as they continue their groping, your body feeling the same as before until you begin to feel heavy. You could feel yourself leaning more against Ran as your body falls back.

“There ya go, kitty. Just relax.” His raspy voice purrs along with his finger making slow yet firm circles around your nub. A wet substance slowly oozes out of your vagina as the stimulation causes you to moan quietly. You lean your head back against his chest as sweat beads around the lining of your forehead.

“E-Eiichi…” You whine out as the memories overcome your mind, the drug in your system causing you to feel as though you’re flying through your mind, reliving the moment as tears begin to stream down your face.

“Hey.” You hear a soft voice as a palm covers your cheek, gently forcing you to make eye contact with Kazutora.

“Focus on me.” He all but whispers before he leans in, latching his mouth to yours as his lips move against yours. Feeling drowsy and drawn in, you return the gesture, lost in a trance and only focusing on him. The softness felt really nice against your own lips, the drug intensifying the motion. His thumb caressed your cheek as a purr rumbled from his chest. His claw lightly grazing your skin caused a shiver throughout your body.

You were so focused on the moment with Kazutora that you hadn’t noticed how Rin pulled your pants off or how Sanzu ripped your shirt and even pulled your arms out of your sleeves. You hadn’t realized that you were bare chested and only covered up with a pair of lace panties Kokonoi bought. It wasn’t until you felt movement against your clit once more, as well as something wet against one of your nipples.

Ran switched to rolling your other nipple between his index and thumb causing a shock throughout your body as you felt the pressure build from Rin intricately using his thumb to rub along your clit through your panties, his other hand spreading your left fold to gain better access, and Sanzu flicking his tongue against your nipple while holding it firmly, closing his lips around to give little sensitive pecks as well as sucking the bud.

It was overwhelming. Focused solely on their touches, you hadn’t heard your own moaning. You felt pathetic, coming undone and vulnerability revealed to all these beasts who treat you as though you're below them. It’s embarrassing. Your high made it all the more worse as you began to get distracted with your thoughts causing a bittersweet feeling to take on considering all the hands on you. The movement on your clit halts as a weight on the bed disappears for a moment.

“I’m going to try something.” Rin says as he walks from the nightstand to the bed, your half lidded gaze eyeing the suction vibrator in his hand once Kazutora released your face. Rin sets the object down before removing your panties, getting into position.

“Kinky.” Ran smirked, licking behind the rim of your ear before Rin pulled your body down slightly.

“Alright, Bunny open wide!” Rin beams with a closed eyed mischievous smile.

Kazutora and Sanzu take it upon themselves to pull your legs open wider. Rin leans into position before he presses the button until it reaches a medium setting. Using his index and thumb, he spreads your labia before setting the circular end around your clit. Your body immediately tensed, your hips lifted as your head fell back. You bite your lip as your hands grip Ran’s thighs.

“Damn, that’s so hot.” Rin breathes out, watching more juice flowing out of your vagina.

Mikey felt a tightness in his pants as he sat manspread while leaned back. His hand slowly slides over his own thigh before he palms his bulge, tightening his grip just enough to add a painless pressure to ease his throbbing erection. The whole display of you sprawled out naked between his men while responding to the sensual acts in such a filthy manner is enticingly sweet to his mesmerized yet tired gaze.

Rin removes the vibrator to allow you a small moment of relief, your breathing hard as you pant, limbs trembling. You watch as he turns the setting higher, shaking your head.

“No, no, no! Wait!” He ignored you and set the buzzing end back around your swollen bud. The buzzing sensation connecting with your clit could only be explained as an electrifying stimulation. It’s so intense that your body freezes as your hips lift once more, your nails digging through the fabric covering Ran’s skin as you grunt. Just as you thought it couldn’t get any more intense, the tiger and jaguar hybrids leaned over and latched their tongues against your nipples.

The drug heightened your sensitivity so you could barely think properly, your hips beginning to grind against the toy causing your clit to rub against the inside of the puckered end harder considering Rin moves the vibrator with your motion, meeting the base of your clit with the end of the opening.

“So fucking filthy.” Sanzu hissed after releasing your nipple.

“My king, can I?” His attention shifts to Mikey, awaiting permission to proceed with his request.

“You and Rin.” Mikey states considering they were the two who found her having escaped the bedroom and almost kissing Eiichi.

Ran and Kazutora groan before they pull themselves away from you. Their cocks are throbbing tight against their pants and they’re ready to feel your warmth engulfing them. It’s frustrating but at least it’ll be their turn at some point tonight.

Your body drops back on the bed as Rin removes the vibrator, edging you before setting it on the nightstand. Sanzu repositions you to where he’s lying under you, positioning his cock to your wet entrance. Lifting his hips, he used his hands to guide your hips down, your pussy slowly engulfing his thick girth, both of you releasing a moan as the head reached the g-spot as your thighs hit the base of his erection. The drug felt like an aphrodisiac, making everything feel ten times more intense though you knew that wasn’t its purpose.

He guides you to buck your hips against him slowly so you could adjust to his size to make everything easier. He pressed a hand against your upper back, pulling you to press your breasts against his chest. His legs spread under you, making space for Rin to crouch above you from behind. He rubbed the lube between his fingers against his cock, having already prepared while you and Sanzu became adjusted. You felt a firm pressure entering you from behind, your eyebrows furrowing as you grunt in pain.

“N-no! Take it out! I-it hurts!” You cry out, tears streaming down your face as you angrily fist Sanzu’s chest.

“Shh. Shhh.” He grabbed the back of your hand and placed it against his neck.

“Squeeze when you feel pain.” Your fingers wrapped snugly around his throat. You hadn’t wanted to comply, but the pain was so uncomfortable that you tighten your grip around his neck with a scrunched nose.

“Fuck.” He moans as a red hue appears on his face, his lips apart as his eyes flutter shut. He bit his lip right before thrusting into you deeper. His blue orbs bore into you with a glimmer in his eyes, his claws piercing the skin on your thighs.

His hips lifting caused a contrast between pleasure and pain. Rin pushes deeper as the pain of your tightness eases for him. He groaned before leaning over more and balancing himself against the bed. His hips move back before they push forward, repeating the process as his cock rubbed against your anal walls, creating a stinging fullness that added to the girthy cock inside of your pussy, rubbing along your vaginal walls as well as firmly kissing your cervix.

Your mouth hung open as your eyes rolled into the back of your head, using your legs to help push against their thrusts. Curses, moans, and whimpers echoed throughout the room as well as the rocking of the bed. The men on the side had their own hand wrapped around their cock, leaking because of the display in front of them.

The smacking of skin increases as they speed upthe pace, forming harsher thrusts as they all bring themselves closer to the edge. You couldn’t focus on anything but feeling full and being surrounded by breathy sounds of pleasure. Your eyebrows furrowed as the pit in your stomach rises, biting your lip as you all rutt harder against each other.

“Shit.” Kazutora hissed as his hand reached the base of his cock before pulling his hand around the head and focusing on the stimulation at the tip of his erection.

Ran’s hair falls on his face from sweat, his head lowered with his mouth parted as he rubs his closed hand against his throbbing length. He repeats the motion at a steady pace before speeding the process. Mikey has one hand flat on the base of his cock while the other one grips his girth, rubbing up and down but in a circular motion at a slower pace.

Finally reaching your peak, you felt the rise fall as your body convulsed, orgasming hard as a loud moan left your mouth. The men follow not long after, their loads releasing as they press themselves deep inside you before riding out their orgasms, moaning near your ears as they breathe heavily.

The men on the sidelines shot ropes as their own bodies tensed, rubbing out their orgasms as they made a mess on their own pants. Curses could be heard throughout the room as they finished up, their cocks re - erecting not long after.

“Y/n.” Mikey says as he pants. “Come clean me up.”

The night continued on as you had orgasm after orgasm from the men taking their turns with your body. The night was heavenly for your fix in the moment, lapping up the attention and pleasure desperately. It wasn’t until your collar was hooked around your neck, followed with a cuff on your ankle that you realized the reality of your placement here. It reminded you of how much of a worthless animal you are to them.

Who knew that one night of passion could turn into multiple nights of you becoming some drugged up sex toy for their own pleasure. Their heats were the worst, becoming so rough with you as if they’re releasing their pent up rage. You couldn’t stop thinking of Eiichi. The way he made you feel normal again and the haunting memory of how he died. You found yourself more and more depressed and eager for a chance of true release.

A year passed and there was a night where you found out about a type of drug from one of the human staff members. It used to be a legal medication specifically made for cat hybrids to consume and become less aggressive and more docile. It also helped them fall asleep faster. Whenever you received the medication, you gave it to the human cook you became friends with who dropped a pill in each of their drinks during dinner before they made it back.

When they consumed the drug, it was quite entertaining. You sat on the couch in the living room instead of the floor while Mikey rubbed his face against your neck as he straddled you, nuzzling against your skin with his ears forward. Sanzu sat beside you sniffing the opposite side of your neck, ears straight up as he licks the skin. You feel Kazutora nuzzling against one of your legs with his arms wrapped around the limb. Ran is knocked out next to you, sleeping in a fetal position with his feet closest to you, tail lying over his own hip. Rin sits with his legs wrapped around your other leg while licking the skin on the back of his hand, grooming himself.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at their clinginess though when you realized your reality you began to think that there was nothing funny about this situation. You called one of their oblivious guards, who thought they just took a new drug they had provided themselves, to walk in to help you remove themselves so everyone can go to bed. When the hybrid snake tried to grab your arm, Mikey’s eyes sharpened before he hissed and used his claws to scratch the snake’s face. His tail rattled in response as he hissed in pain, his hands holding his bloody face as you eye the display in bewilderment.

This will definitely make it easier to escape.

Ran woke up from the commotion just as all of the cats bared their fangs ready to attack as their tails thrashed and ears flattened on their heads. Narrowing their eyes they all dash away from their spots, pouncing on the guard as he yells out in pain. You eye the display but don’t bother to help, waiting patiently as they finish though you look away from the disturbing scene and cover your ears. After they slaughter the man to death, they sleepily walk away, walking with you as you guide them to each of their bedrooms.

After all was done, they were knocked out cold from the drug. You gathered a random bag with necessities and threw the collar you had set on the nightstand in a trash can. You climbed out from the back of the first story’s window, beginning the journey to your new life.

The next day came crashing for the men, Sanzu being the first to know of your absence. Chaos reigned throughout the morning meeting as they took their rage out on irrelevant staff members and guards, wreaking havoc on those who let you slip from their radar. The other executives only stared at the display with blank looks as they watched, only thinking about their next move to find you for the sake of their boss’s and fellow executives’ sanity.

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wood-white-writer · 8 months

Text

“Didn’t mean to make your heart Blue” || [2/…]

- OPLA! Buggy x F!Reader

"Do-mi-ti, why not me? Why not me?"

— Mitski, "Washing Machine Heart"

Pairing: Buggy the Clown (Live Action) x F!Reader

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Summary: You were an apprentice of Gol D. Roger’s crew in your youth, long before his eventual demise. Along with the Red-Haired Shanks and Buggy, you were a formidable trio; the embodiment of a new generation of pirates yet to come. But times changed, and so did you and your friends. Years have passed since you last saw Buggy following the dispute that you thought ended your friendship. When you finally reunite with the blue-haired menace you once considered your closest friend, it’s under less than “friendly” circumstance.

Warnings: Fem!Reader, Canon Typical Violence, Slight Canon Divergence, Buggy is an asshole, The reader used to go by "Cross-Hairs" in the past, hot tension, resentment and love, flashbacks, Reader is strong AF

A/N: Buggy's behavior in this chapter kinda gives off Yandere-vibes, but he's not. He's just really desperate, and a general asshole, (and lonely).

He's dead.

Gol D. Roger, captain of the Roger pirates, your captain, is dead. Pierced through the back by the Marines like a pig for slaughter, a death unworthy for someone of his rank. He deserved to live a long life, drunk on rum, surrounded by his friends and crewmates, before being finally laid to rest in a casket and shipped off with the waves as per tradition.

As chaos ensues and all hell breaks loose, his corpse remains on the same stand where he met his end, left to roast in the warm sun. At the very least, he did not leave this world without flipping one last bird at the Marines.

His final words leave such a domino effect upon the witnesses, one that will last for years to come. Sailors, pirates, men, women, and children all head toward the vast oceans in a hurry, ships pushing off the docks at record speed as they prepare to hunt for his legacy. To claim his title for their own. A title he earned and subsequently put up for auction.

The Marines were hoping that his death would mean the end of Piracy, but as though fate itself had something else to say about it, it had the exact opposite effect.

You're not moving with the swarm of people. The race goes on, but you do not.

You're still standing in the same spot as you were when you watched the officers drive their spears through your captain's back, having ceased to function as you saw the man who practically raised you, succumb to the same fate that claims all in the end.

Even as people are pushing their way past you, shoving you in God-knows how many directions on their way to the oceans, you can't find it in you to move on your own accord.

The world has gone deafly quiet now, everyone else is gone, and you're its sole occupant now. Despite the unrest going around, and the wind that brushes against your neck, Roger's last words echo in your ears like the whispers of a ghost.

"Wealth. Fame. Power. I found everything this world has to offer. Free yourselves! Take to the seas! My treasure is yours to find!"

Someone - whether accidentally or not - thrusts against your stomach, and you take a tumble to the ground. The world finally perforates your consciousness, yet it leaves you exposed to its chaos. You attempt to stand up, but the ongoing movements from all around halt your efforts.

You raise your arms to shield your face from further damage, suffering several pairs of feet and a handful of scratches from the crowd. Nothing too bad, but you don't dare to try and get up just yet. Your initial plan is to just stay put until the storm is over.

That is, until you hear a voice calling your name from somewhere in the crowd, muffled by the ruckus, but still audible for you to make out among the many others.

"COME ON! HURRY!"

You're hastily pulled up to your feet and collide face-first into a chest. Looking up, you only manage to register Buggy's hand tightly clenched around yours in a near-painful hold as he pushes you both through the ongoing crowd.

While trying to navigate through the masses, you raise your head to gaze at his face.

Not unlike your own, his eyes are stained with tears.

------

Nothing is in its correct shape when you blink your eyes open. For starters, the room is spinning at an incredible speed, and for seconds, there is twice of everything. Two coats are hanging on the rack just on the edge of your vision, the same color and length and everything. You discover you have two pairs of hands and feet as you sit up, and at least over a dozen iron bars are separating you from the rest of the room.

In a minute or two, your sight establishes yourself. The world has become one again, but to your chagrin, you discover that the number of bars caging you remains the same.

Shaking off the dizziness and nausea that accompanies your waking, you get up to your knees and discover that, once again, you're fucking trapped. This time, it's in a metal cage hanging off the floor by a hook and chain, swinging you lightly back and forth with each fraction of movement you commit yourself to.

Exhausted from simply waking up, you clash your forehead against the bars. "Shit."

"Well, good to know that your colorful vocabulary remains the same."

You snap your eyes up to see Buggy striding into the room, and your gaze immediately narrows.

"And your eyes." His right hand dislodges itself from his wrist and hovers over to you with an outstretched finger, where it lands right in the space between your eyes. "Sharp as ever, if not even sharper. Careful, you could kill someone with those."

"Wishful thinking," you murmur indignantly and raise your hand to wave off the offending appendage. Like a fly will with sugar, it merely withdraws for a few inches before returning to the same spot.

You elect to ignore it as best as you can.

He feigns a horrified gasp at your words and clutches his chest with his remaining hand. "Such harsh words! I thought we were friends, you and I. I mean, what kind of friend would threaten the other with their life so cruelly?"

Friends? That's rich coming from him. You haven't considered him as such since the day he left. You won't even dignify that with a response, and so you merely turn your head to the side and rest your cheek against the bars.

His voice lowers a few octaves, enough for you to differentiate between the real him and the act he puts on for a performance. "Then again, what kind of 'friend' leaves the other behind?" His footsteps come closer, each one weighing heavier than the last. "What kind of 'friend' abandons the other?"

Your eye twitches, but you still refuse to look at him, much less speak to him.

"What?" the Showman farce has by now ended and been buried as he takes one last step forward. "Nothing to say? I'd thought that after twenty years, you'd be happy to see this handsome face."

As much as you want to admit that, yes, the years have done wonders on his face and he most definitely would've been categorized as 'handsome' in your dictionary, you don't.

"What do you want me to say?" You tilt your head marginally to the side so that merely one eye is aimed at him. "That it's good to see you? That I've missed you?" Even though both of those statements are true to some extent, he doesn’t need to know that.

"Well, I could go for all of the above if you insist on being cordial, but for starters, an apology might suffice enough on its own." If you weren't already looking at him, you'd think that he’s joking. He isn't. He’s as serious as a heart attack, and he’s not smiling this time. All you can think at the moment is that it's strange not to see a clown smile.

"An apology?" You withdraw the impulse to scoff. "What, exactly, do I have to apologize for?"

He doesn’t answer right away. In fact, he doesn’t do or say anything at all. You can't even hear him breathing, and it’s twice as eerie as his general demeanor. It's a foreboding omen that signifies he's on the edge of his temper like a bomb sizzling just before it goes off.

"What do you have to apologize for?" he echoes.

That's all the warnings you get before the cage rattles with enough force to knock you back against the other side of the cage. Buggy's hand curls around the iron bars with such vehemence that it almost looks like he's about to break them right off the hinges.

He leans forward until his nose barely brushes against the cold steel placed between you, his bright-blue eyes near-bloodshot with the way they glower. Even now, with the few feet between you, you find yourself almost drowning in those blue irises of his.

"You left me. You betrayed me!" he shouts loud enough for his voice to reverberate throughout the room, all thoughts of maintaining his composure thrown out the window the moment you inadvertently admitted your own cluelessness. "Just like all the others! Shanks, now I could've predicted that, but you?"

His hand dislodges yet again to point an accusatory finger at you, but it maintains a safe distance this time. Probably afraid of what you'll try to do with it if you get your hands on it.

You have to give yourself some credit. You've not lost your temper once since you ended up here. In your adolescence, you would've torn him a new one fo the trouble, but you can't be bothered this time around. You’d have thought two decades of separation would’ve led to some pent-up fury like it has done to him, but all you feel is … well, nothing.

Nothing yet, anyhow.

"What you did to me, now that was cruel. That was something I did not expect, but you did it, and for what?" The cage continues to shake as his fingers dig into the rods. This time, you observe, he’s keeping his head slightly tilted downwards, rendering you unable to detect his eyes. "For Red-Haired fucking SHANKS!"

With all the movement going on in your limited space, you’re jolted forth again like a ball and cling to the front bars with your hand positioned right above his. Even with the gloves and the short distance keeping you separated, you can feel the scorching heat emitting from him.

How long has it been since you were last this close to him? It was underneath the stars, you unexpectedly recall. You were clinging to him, crying your heart out as the death of your captain had finally been processed. He was holding you close, whispering something you could not make out at the time.

It was during a time when it was just you, him, and Shanks. The three of you, against the rest of the world, ready to live up to Gol's legacy and become the Pirates of the New Age. With Shanks’ leadership, your strength, and Buggy’s general unpredictability, nothing could stop you.

But now you're here, a captive. No longer a friend, no longer a...

It never went that far, anyhow. No use bringing it up now when it’s hardly relevant.

When Buggy’s raspy breaths slow down and his hold on the iron rods lessens, you decide to finally speak.

"You're the one who left, Buggy," you say, your words laced with such apparent apathy that no one would’ve guessed what you’re feeling. In reality, you want to scream until his ears literally pop.

Your chest constricts just to say it out loud, but you won't even stop and address the tremble that threatens to claim your voice the more you go into it. "I went with Shanks, because who else was I supposed to go with? The Roger Pirates were spread to the fucking corners of the earth, Gol D. Roger was dead, and you left. I had no one except for him. You closed that door, not me."

Silence reigns loudly upon you as you're left there, nearly breathless after your little rant despite having kept your voice even throughout it. You feel pathetic, childlike, small. People say that admitting something is the first step towards overcoming it, but you feel neither achieved or relieved of any burdens.

You just feel ... small. As small as you were the day he disappeared from your life.

Buggy doesn't say anything, his countenance empty of any tell-tale signs regarding what he might be feeling. It's almost ironic. The man who used to wear his emotions on his sleeves, the same expressive man who used to spend hours bragging about his capacities and capabilities on the Oro Jackson, has now been rendered mute like a mime instead of a jester.

His eyes find yours again after an unknown amount of time, only now, it's not just bitterness and resentment you have to salvage from them. For a second, just a brief flash of the moment, there's something else. Something vulnerable.

It goes as quickly as it came.

He shoves himself from the cage, his indecipherable gaze – now laced with both anger and regret – lingering on you before he starts pacing around the room, having calmed down from his outburst but being no less agitated by the turn of events.

"What are you talking about?" he demands, sounding a tad more curious now than accusatory. "You were already going to leave with Shanks before I booked it, I just beat you to it."

This time, it's your turn to point an accusatory finger toward him, lowering your voice just enough for him to hear you recount the most painful memory you have, save for Gol D.'s death. The memory you had spent almost two decades trying to bury deep down inside you.

"The last thing you told me was that you wished that you'd never even met me, and then you fucking left me behind to go do who the fuck knows what. Which, apparently,— " You gesture to your surroundings with a dismissive wave of your hand. "— Includes enslaving people and keeping them in cages."

"Hey, people are allowed to have side-gigs!" he retorts, almost boyishly as if you didn't just have a serious argument moments ago. "Don't judge me! You used to steal shit when we were kids, but you didn't hear me bitching about it!"

You roll your eyes. Some things don't change, that being the childish bickering, not the enslaving and caging bit. Your lip inclines upwards for just a second, and it declines just as quickly. You lean back against the other wall of your cage and heave a breath, tired of it all

"Speaking of kids," he rests his arms atop a crate to his left. "What's up with you and Rubber-Boy over there? Luffy, was it?"

Your lip drops to a scowl. Looks like the kid's Devil Fruit powers have come to light, one fruit eater to another. "What about him?"

Buggy smirks and pulls out a knife from inside his coat. He turns it playfully in his hand, balancing the sharp edge at the tip of his finger as though in deep thought. "He yours or something? 'Cause, I gotta admit, I never took you as the white-picket-fence type."

He’s joking, right?

Right?

"He's not mine.”

The look that befalls his face almost seems like … relief? He’s quick to mask it though with a half-assed smirk.

"No?" He tips his head to each side and lets the knife lie on the crate. "You sure as hell seem protective over him, and I know for a fact that not just anyone earns the favor of the legendary Cross-Hairs.” He puts a hand under his chin, feigning a motion of deep thinking. “What'd he do? Save your life? You found him in the trash? Or did you shag up with his daddy or something?"

You raise an eyebrow. "I made a promise."

At the mention of this, he promptly ceases with his ridiculous guesses and his words turn sharp. "To whom?"

"None of your fucking business." You're pretty sure that if he learns that you made that promise to none other than Shanks, he'd unleash a different kind of hell not even the death of Roger could hope to spark.

Rather than pushing the matter, he shrugs with an air of indifference. "I just find it funny, that's all." He chuckles, but his tone lacks any visible sense of comicalness. "You, one of the most notorious pirates to ever cross the East-Blue, disappeared for a decade to do what, exactly? Look after a simple-minded brat who talks shit about becoming King of the Pirates."

He snaps his attention back to you and moves closer to the cage again, crouching on his knees to gaze up at you instead. "Sorry not sorry to burst that little bubble, but that title will belong to me. Once I get the map your stretchy little runt has hidden, I will find the One Piece. I will become King. I will be known, and I will be loved."

("You were loved,") a part of you wants to tell him. The part that still lingers in your shared past. ("You were always loved.")

But you keep your mouth shut.

He perceives your silence as a sign to continue. "You know, despite everything that happened, I'm opening my heart to forgiveness, for old times’ sake."

"Forgiveness?"

He smiles, but this one, you discover, is genuine. At least, in comparison to all the other ones he's flashed you beforehand. It's a lukewarm feeling, but familiar. You're almost tempted to reach through the bars and feel his cheeks, trace the edges of his lips, and smudge away the red make-up just to know if it is real or just a figment of your imagination.

"If you convince Rubber-Boy to hand over that map of the Grand Line, I might consider opening a special spot in my crew, just for you. I know better than anyone what you're capable of. Hell, it'll be just like old times, like nothing ever changed. You and me, against the rest of the world."

Slowly, he reaches his hand up and towards you through the bars, palm open for you to take.

"Don't you miss it?" he whispers, wistfully. "I do. Save for the One Piece, it's been the one thing I've wanted more than anything else."

You blink, and a feeling settles over your chest. Not uncomfortable per se, but not kind either. Like being enveloped by a warm yet tight blanket, staving you off the cold but suffocating you all the same.

Your dream. You remember your dream. The one you thought gone forever, now seemingly resurfacing from the depths in your heart where it initially drowned. To travel and explore the seas, the three of you by each other’s sides until the very end. That’s all you’ve ever wanted.

Now, Buggy is opening up the possibility of that dream coming back to life again.

You're tempted to take his hand, feel the warmth that once held you so openly when you were younger.

You raise your hand to him ever so slightly.

"Fuck, Rubber Boy can come too for all I care.” He proceeds to add. “He's a special case, and there's nothing I appreciate more than special ones."

Your hand stops and promptly withdraws.

Buggy raises his eyebrows in shock, his fingers curling as they were about to grasp at yours only to find empty air. "What? What is it? What's wrong?"

Luffy.

You shake your head. "He won't give up. He won't give up on his dream."

"What, Rubber-Boy?" he scowls like the name itself tastes like bitter venom on his tongue. "He's just a stupid kid, he'll grow out of it. Once he sees that there's no way he would last in the Grand Line on his own, he'll get in line."

You take a deep breath, preparing for the confrontation that's about to come with your next words. "He won't, and no power or authority on this earth is ever going to be able to change that."

A flash of hurt crosses his facial features, only for a second, yet it feels like longer. Then, it stops, and all that's left is the same bitterness he showed that very day.

Snarling, Buggy pulls his hand back and gets back up on his feet. “I should’ve expected this. You never choose me!" he flares and pulls both his hands to his chest, gesturing to himself. "It's always someone els- Always someone fucking else. First Shanks, then this damn brat! Why?" He briefly pauses, as if weighing his next words. "What did they ever do that was so special that you decided to stick around for them that I didn't do?"

You’ve just about had enough of his self-pitying attitude.

"I never 'chose' Shanks!" you hiss back at him. "It was never a choice. Why was I supposed to 'choose' anyone for that matter? What made you reach the conclusion that there had to be a choice at all?!"

He parts his jaws to answer with what you can only expect to be yet another sneer when the curtains behind him parts, and a member of the troupe enters. A dark-skinned man with a Mohawk of sorts, with filed teeth resembling a shark more than a man.

"Boss, the kid ain't saying nothin' about the map." The man ("Sharptooth", you decide to call him for now) says with a deep twinge of aggravation. "We're already at nearly thirty-damn-feet, and all the little shit does is fuckin' laugh at us."

Buggy does not even turn to address the man, his attention solely at you, but you can tell he's irritated by this interruption.

"Sharptooth" turns to you, having just realized you’re here. A sinister grin spreads along his cheeks, and he licks his upper teeth lecherously. "What do we do 'bout her? Is she up on the menu yet? I'm starvin'."

You crouch down, one hand positioned between your knees like a predator ready to lunge at the slightest movement. Truth be told, despite your reputation, killing someone has never been one of life's greatest joys for you, and it's been a while since you last committed a murder. However, the years have done little to weaken you, and you're not afraid to get your hands dirty if the situation demands it.

You'll be sure to let him know first-hand that if he dares to try anything.

"No," Buggy replies, voice void of any tangible emotions. "She'll snap your neck like a twig before you can get within a foot of her." He turns to face the disappointed performer, and before the latter knows it, a severed hand clamps around his throat and dangles him above the ground with what you can only expect to be a bruising grip. "I am, on the other hand, not limited by such proximity."

The man's face begins to pale as the blood flow to his brain is cut short, but the grip does not lessen at all.

Buggy speaks like he’s having a normal conversation. "She stays here, and no one, and I mean no one, is going to touch her. Understood?" His soft say leaves no room for opposition.

You watch as "Sharptooth" struggles to form a coherent sentence as he desperately clings to the hand keeping him afloat. "Y-Yes si— Yes, Captain. W-We won't!"

With a bored swish, the hand shoves the performer back a good two feet, where he crashes to the ground and clutches his neck in search of air.

"Splendid!" Buggy attaches his wrist back and claps his hands together, his Show Man act replenished. "Now, be sure to tell the others of that little fact, and while you're at it,—" he draws his palms away from one another in a straight motion. "Add another five feet."

The crew member wastes no time shuffling from the ground and all but books it out of there.

Buggy heaves a deep and dramatic sigh, exaggeratedly slumping his shoulders, and swings back to you again.

"Supporting casts, am I right?"

You don't bother with a reply.

He takes this with a lackadaisical shrug. "Now, as much as I'd like to continue this intriguing, little tête-à-tête, I'm afraid I'm needed elsewhere. The show must go on, but I’ll come back before you know it."

It doesn't matter when he'll be back. You don't plan on waiting for him. You've already waited twenty long years, and as your temper simmers evenly under your skin, you intend to get one thing across.

"Just remember this, Buggy,"

You lean against the bars, pressed so tightly that it feels like your body is about to push through the narrow gaps. "If you do anything to the kid, anything at all, and you can consider our past six feet under. I'll come after you, and when I'm finished,—"

Fist clenched; you deliver a solid strike to the bar that rattles throughout the room to the point where it feels like even the ground is quacking from the force. Buggy jumps a few steps back in retreat, and when he looks up again, his breath halts.

Where there was once a straight bar keeping you contained, there's now a prominent curve pointing out towards him. Not nearly large enough for you to squeeze through, but it's there, nonetheless.

When you lower your fist, knuckles red but intact, you finish your warning. "— Not even your Devil-Fruit powers will manage to keep you intact."

His eyes flicker between you and the now-deformed iron bar. Unexpectedly, he only stares, neither returning a threat nor even a joke to ease the tension. He doesn’t say anything at all, and the absence of words leaves nothing up to interpretation.

Buggy knows better than anyone that you don't make half-assed threats. Never you. Once you’ve set your eyes on a target, you don’t rest. He recalls the look of pure bloodlust in your eyes from back when you were young. It was neither cruel nor sadistic, but it felt cold to witness. Ice incarnate.

A predator just following its prime instincts.

Whenever someone posed a problem to either you or your crew mates, you would counter it with a threat. It didn't matter how bold-faced it sounded, you always made sure to see it through.

As a teenager, he begrudgingly thought that it was hot as hell. You were. Watching the way your eyes would almost glower as you made good on your promises, it did things to him.

Now, even when he's on the receiving end of it, it still does.

He can't deny that the feeling hasn't diminished. For what it’s worth, it means that you’ll keep your focus on him. He’ll have your eyes, all for his own now. Those very eyes, always so sleek and ready to cut and by God, he realizes at that moment just how fucking much he’s missed them.

How much he’s missed you.

“Well,” he says as he makes his way to the exit. “I guess I’ll see you in the front row.”

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crackedpumpkin · 3 months

Text

𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬 | 𝟎𝟑 |

[ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 ] | [ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ] | [ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ]

The last time anyone picked you up was when you were getting your butt kicked by your previous master. He’d grabbed you by the waist, easily lifting you and slamming you back down onto the floor in a swift manoeuvre.

This is exactly the reason why you’re unable to fathom someone carrying you without the intention to fight or harm you. You stare grumpily at Cole’s face, legs dangling off his arm as he carries you to the ambulance.

“I’m fine, y’know. You can put me down now.”

He barely spares you a glance, scanning the crowd for any more injured people. “You’ve sprained your ankle — must’ve been when you fell in that pit. You should get it checked out.”

“Oh, so now you show me concern?” Your sarcastic jab doesn’t go unnoticed, his brows furrowing under his hood.

“What’re you even talking about?” Scoffing, you roll your eyes at the audacity of this man. Luckily, he didn’t hear what you’d uttered before about him being your soulmate and whatever.

In the meantime, the paramedics had checked on other guests who had mumbled grievances about the auction being cancelled. On the other hand, the mayor had personally announced that they would hold it again soon after checking the museum thoroughly to avoid an incident like this again.

You’re surprised when Cole decides to remain with you, citing his duties as a ninja to come to the aid of any injured citizens. The other four are on a makeshift stage set up by the mayor’s team, standing proud and tall as he speaks.

“And lastly, I would like to thank the ninja for once again, being the heroes we need. Additionally, they will be doing another meet-and-greet on the new auction date.” He pauses, noticing someone gesturing to him to hand over the mic to another. “Additionally, it seems that Ms Hamla has something to say.”

Your stepmother walks onto the stage without a single hair out of place, still in her emerald gown. Your eyes narrow in suspicion from where you’re sitting on the chair Cole had managed to score for you.

“What’s she doing…?” Your mutter doesn’t go unnoticed, Cole turning to look at you with curiosity in his gaze. His eyes flit between your glare and the famous writer on stage, before voicing his question.

“Do you know her personally?”

Laughing, a hint of bitterness gives away exactly how you feel about that. “You could say that,” You answer vaguely.

“Hello, citizens of Ninjago. First of all, thank you to the ninjas for evacuating everyone safely and securing the status of the threat. Truly from the bottom of my heart,” Her eyes somehow find yours from the stage. You hold a steady, yet defiant gaze. “Thank you,” She finishes softly, finally looking away.

“I will be here again on the new date of the charity auction,” She continues, her strong voice carrying the weight of her words effectively, “and I will also be selling a limited edition of a new book I’m writing, titled: ‘You Complete Me’. All proceeds will go to charity. I hope you will be able to make it.”

Scoffing, you brush off the odd look the paramedic gives you before he finishes bandaging your ankle. Chatters break out amongst the audience, everyone’s invested excitement helping fuel the eagerness of the mayor’s team.

She better not be expecting you to come again, though. Once is more than the amount you’re willing to do for her. Your vision is blocked by a pair of concerned eyes, Cole having knelt to check on your ankle.

“I’m fine,” You repeat with a sigh, letting him scan the now bandaged ankle. Wincing when he presses down on a sore spot, you quickly mask it with an annoyed purse of your lips. “If you keep doing that, I might end up hospitalised.”

“Fine,” He quickly drops your ankle, sucking a sharp breath through his teeth at your glare. “Sorry…” The tinge of guilt in his smile makes you feel a little bad for being so mean, but the very thought of confronting him about anything makes you feel squeamish inside.

Pausing, you recall the hooded figure you saw in the room he’d found you in. Do any of them know…? The scroll they held looked valuable, and if there’s anything you’ve learnt from watching detective shows and reading mystery novels, it’s that it’s never a good sign to leave any stone unturned.

“Hey,” you begin, faltering slightly when he looks up at you with a doe-like gaze. You ignore it, pushing past the way your stupid heart kind of squeezes. “Earlier in the exhibition room, there was someone. They had a scroll in their hands and it looked pretty important.”

“Well, maybe it’s just a common thief. We get some of those around these parts.” He replies lightheartedly.

“The scroll was glowing.” Now that got his attention. The disbelief in his eyes is more than enough for you to crack an amused grin, tilting your head to the side as you observe the cogs in his brain starting to turn.

“Glowing?” He repeats.

You nod. “Glowing.” Now having his full attention, you begin telling him about your encounter, and how the stranger had fled through the skylight with the weird gauntlet they had. He listens to every word with intrigue, the space between his brows creasing more and more until a full frown is on his face.

“Thanks for telling me this,” He says once you’re done, standing back up and dusting off the specks of dirt on his gi, “I’ll be sure to alert the others. Can I have your number?” You hesitate, raising a sceptical brow.

He pauses, shoulders tense as he tries to clarify his intentions. “It’s so that we can ask you some follow-up questions if we have any, and maybe you can provide Zane with a description so he can do a sketch.”

So much for never seeing each other again.

“Fine,” you shrug, keying in your number on the phone he hands you and adding your name. He takes it back and gives it a quick call. You pull out your phone as it rings, swiping left to pick up the call before holding it to your ear and going, “Truth or dare?”

“Neither, unfortunately,” he chuckles, pocketing his phone after hanging up. “Thanks for the info. You can send me the medical bill for your ankle, the ninja fund will cover it.”

“Ninja fund?” You repeat incredulously. If there were an award for the worst names of a foundation or charity, you’d give it to him, no questions asked.

He turns with a grin. “Ninja fund.”

You hesitate for a split second before making a decision. “Let’s not meet again, Cole.” His back stiffens, his steps slowing to a halt, clearly having heard you. He turns slowly, eyes wide like a deer in headlights as the realisation dawns on him that you know that he knows.

“I’ll- uh, do my best, random citizen!” He replies robotically, lifting his arm in an awkward salute before taking off to where the rest of his teammates are. You watch his retreating back with a half-smile, filled with pure amusement.

“There you are!” You’re ambushed by a sudden hug, the shock fading as you lean into your father’s embrace. The judge’s wig he still has on tickles your nose a little, but you repress the sneeze that threatens to ruin the moment.

He pulls away, firmly planting on your shoulders as he checks you over for injuries. “I was looking all over the place for you. Did anyone hurt you-” His eyes finally land on your bandaged ankle, looking up with a huge frown.

The sheepish chuckle that slips past your lips doesn’t help your case. “That’s it. We’re going home now.”

“What about her?” You reluctantly nod over to Emily who’s getting swarmed by reporters, her calm composure somehow irking you even more than Cole did.

“She’ll be fine,” His eyes soften when he looks over at her. The sight makes you feel queasy, looking down at your shoes and fiddling with your cuticles, picking away at them. “Come on,” He helps you up, placing an arm under your shoulder and walking with you to the car.

“Also,” He adds upon closing the car doors after helping you in, “Your classes are supposed to start next week. So till then, no going out until you’re better.” He holds up a finger, stopping you in your tracks as you part your lips to protest. You slouch in your seat instead with an annoyed frown, glaring out the window. A thought occurs to you, inhaling sharply when you realise something crucial.

You forgot to get the rest of the ninjas’ autographs.

— — — — —

School is boring. That’s a fact you’ll never grow accustomed to. Classes are typical, with few lectures that grab your attention. Professors are mostly chill, though there’s a Miss Grenadine in every school it seems.

All the pain in your sprained ankle had faded in about a week, two days after classes started. Luckily, this meant that Dad wouldn’t drop you off at school every day anymore, and you’d be able to take the bus or train as usual.

However, the time taken for your ankle to fully recover meant that you were mostly cooped up at home with nothing to do except decorate or rearrange your bedroom however you liked. Dad had painted your room a soft grey and installed a few pieces of IKEA furniture you’d bought online.

Your room began to feel more cosy, more like your own personal space. Before you moved, you were too lazy to redecorate and kept the pastel blue walls you’d painted when you were seven years old.

Now though, you’re trekking out of the university with your tote bag and an iced latte in hand, trying to beat the heat by taking refuge in the shadows of tall buildings around. Your laptop is dangerously exposed in the bag, occasionally hitting your arm as you walk down the street.

Your phone begins to vibrate, playing the opening lines of a trot song that Nico had made you put in as a penalty for losing a bet. You’d grown used to the cheesy tune over time, no longer bothered by it and actually embracing how cringy it sounds.

“What up?” You greet nonchalantly, hearing your dad’s soft chuckle on the other end.

“Hey munchkin, just wanted to check if you’re on the way to the monastery.”

“Yeah, I think I’ll reach home by eight. Want anything?”

Your dad hums over the phone, pondering. “No, I’ll be fine. I’ll get dinner for Emily. Make sure you don’t stay out too late though, you’re not used to the city layout yet.” He was supposed to drive you to the monastery, but a sudden work emergency needed his presence and he had to let you go by yourself instead.

To be fair, it did require a bit of persuasion on your side. He relented after a while and sent you the location. You just didn’t know that it’d be absolutely sweltering in the afternoon. Spotting a boba store only a few feet away, you quickly end the conversation.

“No problem, I’ll see you tonight! Bye!” The monotonous dial greets your ears upon hanging up, approaching the bored staff member who’s chilling at the cashier. “Hi, can I get an Earl Grey milk tea?”

She keys in the order with lazy fingers, practically jabbing at the screen and telling you the price. Warily taking out the cash in your wallet, you hand it to her with a small smile. The boba is made quickly enough to your surprise, the staff member’s swift movements leave you impressed when she hands you the packaged cup with a blank stare and goodbye.

Sweet, sweet relief.

That’s exactly what hits your tongue when you take a sip, gulping down almost a third of the drink before finding some semblance of self-control. This won’t do. You need to get there faster than walking under the hot sun.

Flagging down a taxi takes only mere seconds, leaving you astounded by the sheer amount of drivers who halted in front of you before demanding that you should choose them.

City life is intimidating.

You choose to go with a friendly uncle who wasn’t as aggressive as the rest, sitting in the back and sighing in relief as the air-conditioning hits. “Where to?” He asks, shutting the car door.

“Uh,” you double-check your phone, “The monastery of Spinjitsu please.” He gives a single nod, beginning the drive. You relax your upper body, tilting your head sideways to ease your tense neck. The smooth drive kinda makes you a little drowsy, but mainly relieved that you’re no longer exposed to the heat.

Would your new teacher be young and agile, or old and wise? Wondering about the different possibilities of what he might teach you does make you feel sceptical. After all, Emily’s the one who signed you up for it without your consent.

Either way, you’re actually kind of excited to meet this new teacher of yours.

— — — — —

“There is no fucking way I’m climbing up this many steps.” you stare in disbelief at the stretch ahead, unable to even see a glimpse of the foretold monastery your phone directs you to.

The distance is unbelievable, let alone the amount of cardio this would mean for you. Sure, you’re somewhat fit from the occasional jogging and kendo, but this? You’re not sure you’ll make it up there alive.

Maybe there’s a lift or wheelchair platform…?

You look around hopefully, only to be utterly crushed by the absence of any potential aid. Shaking your head with a sigh, you mentally prepare yourself for the journey ahead. Luckily, you have your drink in hand, so perhaps doing this under the sun won’t be as bad as you think.

Fifteen minutes later, you very much regret choosing today of all days to check this off the to-do list. Gritting your teeth, you turn around and take a break, collapsing on the step and catching your breath.

You’d made it halfway so far, but the sun’s relentless heat continuously beats down on your back, practically sweating through the already thin material of your black tank top. Regret fills you with the memory of an identical tank top in white hanging in your wardrobe back home, the current colour absorbing even more heat than it should.

You’d taken off the chic outer layer and stuffed it into your tote bag, though it’s becoming heavier with each step up the mountain. “Out of all places, they chose a mountain,” You mutter heatedly, gulping down the rest of your now warm drink.

After a few more moments of rest, you pick yourself back up, groaning as the joints in your hips pop loudly. “I swear, when I get there, they better have a towel or something…” If they didn’t, you’d be damned sure to get your hands on some water at least.

Encouraged by the thought, you pick up the pace.

Twenty minutes later, you finally reach the huge, ornate doors that stand tall above you. Sweat drips down the sides of your face, and your shirt soaked with sweat. God knows how your armpits feel.

You barely have the strength to push the doors wide open, opting instead for a simple knock. There’s no response. You’re practically on your knees, hands placed flat on the ground from exhaustion.

Just as you lift a limp arm to knock once more, the door opens.

“...Can I help you…?”

Looking up, your eyes widen upon seeing a familiar face. The Ice Ninja mirrors your reaction, kneeling and offering you a hand. “Come in, let’s get you something cold.”

Summoning enough strength to nod, you grab his hand and pull yourself up. Tiredness hinders your normal movements but certainly isn’t enough to keep a snarky comment from escaping your mouth.

“You guys ever thought about relocation?”

— — — — —

A shower and quick change of clothes kindly provided by Zane leave you a whole new person. Towelling your hair dry, you hand Zane the towel he lent from the supply closet. “Thanks, Zane, I don’t think I could’ve survived any training, much less meet Master Wu as I was earlier.”

He chuckles, neatly folding the towel. “It’s quite alright. I understand our location may not be the best, which is why we always have a guest room and shower available for those who visit.”

Depositing the towel into a random laundry basket in the hallway, he continues to guide you through the area. “Those are Nya’s clothes, by the way. She doesn’t mind if you take them; they’re usually meant for beachwear. What brings you here?”

“I’m supposed to be a new student. Emily signed me up for lessons here, since I had to quit my previous dojo when we moved to the city,” You explain, pausing to stare at the courtyard with intrigue.

“Oh? What did you do there?” Zane asks, stopping with you. The children who take lessons at the monastery run amok in the courtyard with joy, practising their moves and playing games cheerfully. You’re simply amazed at how they’re able to tolerate the heat. “The walls are built with technology that keeps the interior cool,” he explains, sensing your curiosity.

“That’s a dream come true,” You sigh wistfully, wishing that it was installed into the mountains so that your journey here wasn’t so treacherous. “I used to learn Kendo.” You resume your walk, answering his earlier question.

“Kendo is difficult. It’s very admirable that you’ve learnt it, and are continuing to learn other styles of self-defence.” He brings you to a large room with a tea set neatly laid out on a table in the middle, soft mats covering the wooden floor. “Master Wu will be with you shortly.” You smile in response, giving him your thanks as you sit down.

Once he closes the door, you take a sip of the tea in front of you. They’d been so kind as to already put ice cubes inside your cup, and leave a cooler filled with more drink alternatives like soda to the side.

Say what you will about the ninja and their team, but they know how to treat their guests.

The wooden doors are rather beautiful, you note. Few beams of sunlight pass through, giving the room an almost ethereal glow. Upon placing a hand on the carpet, you notice the coolness seeping through. They must’ve installed something underneath.

Withdrawing your hand and taking another sip, you let out a happy hum at the relief that greets your butt. Impressed doesn't begin to cover how you feel. The atmosphere is tranquil, and you begin to absentmindedly watch the water streaming down a small waterfall in the corner of the room.

The sound of a door sliding open jolts you to your senses, fumbling to put down your teacup. Standing up to greet whoever’s walked in, you’re surprised to see an old man holding a cane staring at you from the doorway.

Is he your new teacher?

“Master Wu…?” You trail off cautiously, not wanting to offend the man in case he’s someone else entirely. He enters the room, sliding the door back into place before turning to assess you.

His gaze is filled with clarity and knowledge, scanning your arms and legs as if knowing how to read even the subtlest scars on your elbows made from blocking your previous teacher’s blows. “I take it that you are Emily’s daughter?”

“Step-daughter,” You correct, though the immediate tensing of your shoulders doesn’t escape his notice. He chooses not to address it, sitting down opposite you and pouring himself a steaming cup of tea instead. “You’re Master Wu, right?”

“Indeed I am if you choose to continue with your lessons.” He takes a single sip, his behaviour akin to wine tasting as he frowns at the tea in his cup. Ascertaining that it’s up to standard, he continues to sip away while keeping a thoughtful eye on you. “I take it that the climb was tiring?”

Heat tinges your cheeks, though you’re unsure as to why you’re so embarrassed. After all, it’s not like you dedicate your time to hiking up a mountain every day. “Yeah. I take it that you guys haven’t thought about installing a lift?” As soon as the words leave your mouth, you cover it in shock.

Damn your impulsiveness, you curse yourself mentally. Your dad already warned you about keeping your mouth shut at times like this. Your previous master even lectured you on it when you said goodbye. You sneak a peek at Master Wu, hoping that you haven’t offended one of the most powerful men in Ninjago City, literally and figuratively.

Instead, he regards you with an emotionless stare. You hold your breath, awaiting a rejection. However, he cracks a smile, rendering you speechless. “We will begin our lessons next Wednesday after your lessons. You can coordinate with Pixal on the schedule.” He picks himself off the floor, dusting off any dirt that had gotten on his robe before exiting the room.

The door slides shut, and your hands fall to your lap. Disbelief is all you can register, replaying a frame-by-frame of your interaction with him and trying to figure out what he found so amusing. Does this signal good news or bad?

“Did everything go well?” You look up to see Zane poking his head in through the doorway. Once he spots the pure astonishment on your face, he chuckles, sitting down in front of you. “He was smiling when he left, so I’m sure it went well.”

“I…I don’t know. I think I pissed him off?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t think so. He rarely smiles, so you should take it as a compliment.” His reassurance soothes your nerves somewhat, and you manage to muster a smile.

“Thanks again for your help Zane,” you say gratefully, walking back through the hallways. He stops by the kitchen to grab a bag with your clothes inside, handing it back to you. The very girl you borrowed clothes from is in the kitchen, eyeing you with intrigue.

“The outfit looks good on you.” You recognise her face from the newspaper, an embarrassed flush on your cheeks when you feel underdressed in front of Nya and her gi. “You can keep it. I’m Nya.”

You shake the hand she holds out to you, heart warmed by her kind smile. “Thanks for the clothes. I was pretty much drenched by the time I got up here,” you laugh. She grins at your joking words. “Are you sure I can keep these though? I mean, they do belong to you after all.”

“I’m sure,” she easily waves it off, grabbing your hands with an excited glint in her eyes. “I’m just glad there’s gonna be another girl around! How old are you, anyway?”

“She’s Cole’s age,” Zane chimes in. You cast him a wary look, surprised that he even knew. Well, that and the fact that you’re still getting used to your soulmate being the literal earth ninja. Luckily, it seems that he hasn’t told anyone here yet about the connection between you both.

“Oh, that’s cool! You’re like an older sister then,” She says happily. “Well, don’t let me stop you from going home to rest. I heard you had an injury not too long ago from the charity auction. Do you feel better now?”

You swivel your ankle with a grin showing it off proudly. “Got it moving and all too.”

“That’s a relief! Zane, you should bring her home. I’d ask Jay but…he and Kai are currently preoccupied,” she trails off, pointing to the other connected room that’s out of sight, a few yells and what seems to be game sound effects reveal what they're up to.

“Anyway, I gotta get back in there with snacks. It was nice meeting you, I hope we get to hang out soon!” You wave goodbye, watching her leave with a bowl of chips in one hand, a bottle of soda in the other, and another bowl of salsa balancing precariously on top of her head.

Ninja things, you reckon.

“So, how do you know my age, exactly?”

“Pixal studied up on you. Please don’t be offended, we didn’t dig too deep. We just do it in case a villain tries to slip into the monastery in disguise.” Zane holds his hands up, the innocence in his eyes drawing a laugh out of you.

“It’s fine. We’re good. Plus, I get it. I’d do that too. It’s hard to trust anyone.”

His shoulders sag with relief, guiding you past the doors and to a space on the side of the monastery. “Please step back,” He instructs. You quickly move a few feet away, unsure of what ninja stuff he might be up to.

A single wave of his arms summons a huge dragon with blue flames that cover its entire being. It roars in greeting, moving its head down to nudge Zane playfully. He chuckles, hopping atop the saddle on its back.

You’re frozen in place not by fright or terror, but by pure amazement at the being before you. You’d only heard tales like this in stories or legends, so to see an actual mythical being right in front of you is quite frankly mind-blowing. A multitude of questions race through your mind, only for a single one to stand out among the others.

“Do you like, not feel heat? Y’know, being a robot and all.” He pauses, seemingly amused by your question. He ponders an answer, a hand cupping his chin in thought.

“I suppose not, as I have an automated cooling system designed to regulate my temperature so I don’t explode.” He replies simply, reaching his hand down to help you up. “Now, where do you live?”

You part your lips, not giving it much thought when you say your address. Realisation dawns on you when you see the expectant look on his face, your lips pulling into a beam filled with utter glee. “Am I going to ride Fridgey back home??”

He cocks his head, bewildered by the sudden name. “Fridgey, because he’s cold? Like a fridge? Whatever, let’s go!!” You dismiss any questions as you eagerly grab his outstretched hand, awed by how high up you are. Thankfully, the dragon is cold to the touch, an assumption you’d made based purely on Zane’s element.

“I suppose ‘Fridgey’ is a somewhat suitable name.”

“Somewhat? It’s perfect!” You laugh maniacally when he takes off, holding tight to the sides of the saddle as you soar through the sky on a dragon’s back. When else would you ever be able to experience this? “Today is the best. day. ever!!!!”You whoop, daring to lift a single arm to feel the clouds.

Euphoria floods your veins, ignoring the concerned looks Zane sends your way. Breathing in the chilly evening breeze sends a rush of delight down your spine as if injected with morphine.

Nothing can get you down now, not even the soft rock music that begins to play in the back of your mind.

— — — — —

A knock on your bedroom door makes you turn, thankful to be distracted from your assignment. Opening it, however, multiplies the stress tenfold. Emily stands at your door dressed in her usual nightgown, pulling the cardigan around her in an attempt to calm down.

You remain silent, giving her the bare minimum courtesy of not slamming the door in her face at the very least. Waiting proves futile, however, and you’re unable to hold back your eye roll as she drags out what she’s trying to say.

The slight motion of you starting to close the door seems to bring her to her senses, finally revealing her intentions. “How are you feeling? I was so busy during the past few days setting up a new date for the charity fundraiser that I didn’t have the time to check on you.” She asks quickly, perhaps sensing your impatience.

“I’m fine. Look, I’m busy doing my assignments, so what did you want to ask? Besides, my ankle already healed a couple of days ago, so you’re kinda late to the party.” Sarcasm coats each word, unbothered by the hurt that flits across her face.

“I’m sorry…” She says quietly. You sigh, crossing your arms and leaning against the doorway, keeping the door open. It’s an unspoken sign that you’re willing to hear her out, whatever it may be.

She realises this, her eyes lighting up as she seizes the chance. “Do you remember the book I mentioned during the speech? ‘You Complete Me’?” You nod, raising a brow. She moves a concealed hand from behind her back, holding out an object to you.

“I, uh, saved you a copy.” You stare at the book in her hands, recognising the name on the cover as the very book she’s talking about. “I know it’s not your usual genre, but I was hoping maybe you could give it a read sometime…?” Her voice trails off hopefully, looking at you with an almost pleading gaze.

You mull over your options. Accept it and shove it somewhere in your room? Or reject it and get scolded by your dad?

Option one it is.

“Thanks.” You say shortly, taking the book. Delight fills her face, practically beaming when you do. She claps her hands together excitedly. “Let me know what you think when you’re done!” You wave off her words, closing the door behind you.

She’s too happy to be hurt by your actions, and her footsteps bound down the stairs with an enthusiastic note. Sighing, you push the book into a random bookshelf, mentally deleting the memory from your head.

Maybe you can sell it to get some money. You shake off the thought. She’d probably hear about it somehow, and that means your dad would know. You didn’t like the potential argument that would follow.

The book shall remain holed up for all eternity, you decide.

Collapsing back into your bed, you waste no time unlocking your tablet and checking your calendar for tomorrow’s appointments. A visit to the dentist, a quick stop at Papa’s Cakeria, then a quick session at the cafe nearby to finish the assignment you leave unfinished on your desk.

The bakery’s name makes you pause, a finger hovering over the black-coloured tag. Of course, you had to be reminded of your soulmate, now of all times. As if having his music occasionally filling your head still wasn’t horrible, the fact that you’d been overly cautious not to run into him again is a nightmare in itself.

The ninja is always around and about, and you’d already run into Zane a couple of times including earlier today. You’d met Jay once when he helped you get your purse back after a thief tried to run off with it. Well, you say helped, but in reality, he showed up just as you tackled the thief, using a random stick to beat him to a crap.

Thankfully, it seems that Cole is always updated about your location, making sure he’s never in the vicinity. Listening to music helps to gauge the distance, and though you’d never admit it out loud, you’re thankful for this soulmate ‘feature’.

Now though, the memory of your interaction during that night haunts you. Try as you might, you can’t deny that the pan au chocolat was one of the best you’d ever had. You pull up their menu, excitement flooding your veins when you see that they sell a multitude of different cakes, including red velvet. Luckily, orders can be made in person, and the fact that your dad’s birthday is coming up is the perfect excuse to order more.

He did say that you could use his name to speed up an order as a fellow cake enthusiast…

Biting your lip in thought, you decide to take a chance. Besides, what’s the worst that could happen? You’ve already made your disdain for each other evident anyway. It’s just a one-off thing.

Musketeer [ 10:00 PM ]: Hey, it’s your soulmate here. Was just wondering if the offer to speed up an order at Papa’s Cakeria is still valid?

There. Sent. You place your phone screen-side down, unwilling to submit to impatience for his reply. A ding alerts you to a new notification, abandoning all resolve and snatching it up eagerly.

Cake Enthusiast [ 10:03 PM ]: Yeah, of course. I promised after all, even if it’s you

You raise an offended brow, your temper flaring up again as you decide whether to keep being nice. Unfortunately, your love for pastries wins out.

Musketeer [ 10:03 PM ]: That’s a relief. I need to speed up an order for my dad’s birthday cake, and I was wondering if you’d be able to help me with that

You watch the floating bubbles on the screen that indicate him typing a reply, growing frustrated when it takes longer than expected. Is he going to help you or not?

Cake Enthusiast [ 10:07 PM ]: yea sure. What time are you heading there?

Frowning, you type a response, not thinking much of it.

Musketeer [ 10:07 PM ]: idk like 2pm?

Cake Enthusiast [ 10:08 PM ]: ok

Musketeer [ 10:08 PM ]: wait howre you going to help me speed it up??

Cake Enthusiast [ 10:08 PM ]: youll see tmr

“You’ll see tomorrow?” You mutter in bewilderment, about to type a response. However, stubborn pride gets in the way, and you turn off your phone instead, placing it on your bedside table. A chime indicates another message, but you refuse to check it.

Plopping your head onto the pillow with a huff, you try to quell the frustration you can feel building within you. It’s incredible how a short text exchange can get you so worked up over nothing.

“Calm down, he’s already agreed. You’ll get your pastries soon…” You chant to yourself in the form of a mantra, finally calming down fully. Whatever. You’ll find out tomorrow, you suppose. And if not…There’s always your new friend Zane who can pass on a message in your stead.

Satisfied with the thought of potentially exacting revenge, you begin to drift off with a smile.

Only to be interrupted by more soft jazz in your head.

— — — — —

“You’re back.”

Jay pauses his game, glancing over at his friend who’s just gotten out of the shower after returning from patrol. Cole raises a brow, adjusting the towel that hangs low on his waist. He grabs another, starting the process of drying his hair.

“I didn’t get any supper this time if that’s what you’re gonna ask.” He tosses the towel he used to dry his hair at Jay, the latter letting out a screech when it lands on his face. He chuckles, taking his time to scroll through his phone.

“That’s not what I was gonna ask, thank you very much,” Jay huffs, dropping the towel on the floor with a disgusted frown. An excited glint in his eyes is all Cole needs to see before realising that he probably wanted to talk or gossip about something. Probably gossip.

So, he puts down his phone and stares expectantly, waiting silently for his friend to start speaking. True enough, Jay immediately starts to talk about how Nya met someone new, and Master Wu taking in another student. However, the name that slips from Jay’s mouth is the last thing he expects.

“Who?” Jay repeats your name once more with a tilt of his head, not thinking much of it until he sees the baffled look in Cole’s eyes.

“Why? Do you know her?”

“Know her-?!” Cole stops himself from speaking, dragging a hand down his face with a frustrated groan. Every single day without fail he’d keep a wary lookout for your presence, and the moment a single note was played in his mind he’d flee from the area. “N-no, I don’t know her.”

You didn’t want him around, and it was made abundantly clear. But now, as a student of Master Wu, he’d probably get at least some of the ninjas including him to meet her!

Talk about a worst-case scenario.

He’d had just about enough. How is he supposed to get on with his life now? He sighs, wringing his head in his hands and completely forgetting that Jay’s still in the room with him.

“What’s with him?” He recognises the voice as Nya’s, lifting his head to stare blankly at her. Jay shrugs, choosing to resume his game instead of dealing with Cole’s possible mental breakdown.

“At least put some clothes on, damn.” She tosses a shirt at him. He puts it on without comment, running a hand through his damp hair as he tries to figure out how to deal with the bomb that Jay’s brought him.

“Anyway, guess what?” Nya’s chirpy voice distracts him for a moment. “I met someone new today! She’s supposed to be Master Wu’s new student. She seems pretty cool, and Zane said that she’s your age, Cole!”

Screw this. Maybe that invitation for a vacation from Vania is still valid. I could stay there for a week. Maybe a month.

Why is he even feeling this frustrated anyway? He’d done nothing to deserve this. Sure, he was a little rude or cold when you first met, but he had good reason to do so. Besides, he’s pretty sure he’s more than made up for it by quite literally saving your life.

Right?

“Cole? Did you hear me?” Jay shakes his head, nudging Nya’s side as she glances at him with concern.

“I already told him about it, but he pretty much short-circuited when I said her name,” Jay snorts. “You’d think she’s her ex or something-”

“She’s not my ex,” Cole deadpans, glaring at Jay from the corner of his eyes. “She’s just…someone I met before.”

“Ohhh….She’s an ex alright,” Nya whispers loudly with a nod.

Giving up, Cole heads back to his room instead. Trying to reason with them would be futile. His phone buzzes limply, the screen damp from the remaining shower water on his arms. Laying on his bed, he unlocks his phone and scrolls through social media, smiling at a thank you video a few people had made for the ninja.

The image of your figure standing close to him that night at the charity auction flashes through his mind. He tries to push it aside, but his mind keeps drifting to your sly gaze, and the playful smile that played on your lips during your conversation.

The same smile that vanished once you made eye contact with him as the Earth Ninja.

The phone drops to his chest, placing a hand on his face and rubbing it in hopes of curing it of the intolerable pang that resonates at the memory. He never needed a soulmate before, and he definitely didn’t need one now.

The soft fabric of the black shirt settles on his chest, bringing him some form of comfort as he wrestles with his thoughts. If Master Wu’s already accepted you, it just signals an inevitable meeting.

May as well start trying to be amicable somehow, so that no one can figure out the connection between you both.

But how?

As he tries to find a solution that would ease all his worries, the phone vibrates loudly. Picking it up, a text notification from you makes his heart drop. He slams the phone back down onto his chest, eyes wide.

Is this a sign?

Musketeer [ 10:00 PM ]: Hey, it’s your soulmate here. Was just wondering if the offer to speed up an order at Papa’s Cakeria is still valid?

Oh, that’s right. He processes the message, remembering that he had promised before the whole theft incident took place. He sends a quick agreement, though rereading it makes him wince.

Musketeer [ 10:03 PM ]: That’s a relief. I need to speed up an order for my dad’s birthday cake, and I was wondering if you’d be able to help me with that

Cake Enthusiast [ 10:03 PM ]: ok

He deletes the message, trying different variations of agreement before finally settling on one that he decides isn’t hostile-sounding or rude. Pausing, an idea hits him. His fingers hover above the screen, barely touching the keypad. The moment of hesitation doesn’t last long, however, when he finds himself typing a response and sending it faster than he can process.

Cake Enthusiast [ 10:07 PM ]: yea sure. What time are you heading there?

Musketeer [ 10:07 PM ]: idk like 2pm?

Is he really about to take the risk? What if you grow to hate him even more? He sighs. What is there to lose? If you leave, so be it. If you never see each other again, so be it. At the very least, maybe you’d be able to reach some form of an agreement to keep things civil between you two.

Cake Enthusiast [ 10:08 PM ]: ok

Musketeer [ 10:08 PM ]: wait howre you going to help me speed it up??

Cake Enthusiast [ 10:08 PM ]: youll see tmr

He sends another thumbs up before placing the phone on his bedside table to charge. Looks like he’ll be postponing tomorrow’s patrol.

#ninjago #lego ninjago #cole brookestone #cole brookstone x reader #cole x reader #ninjago x reader #cole ninjago #lego ninjago x reader #cole brookstone x female reader #cole brookstone #ninjago cole

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baek-at-it-again95 · 6 months

Text

We Know

Pairings: park seonghwa x fem reader x choi san

genres/content: action, agent au, mafia au? rivalry, leader bang chan, angry seonghwa, y/n is san's weakness lol

Warnings: profanity, violence, weapons, suggestive content!! please take care of yourselves <3

A/N: I am nervous about this one y'all 😳 I've never written something like this before, but it ended up being so fun! This is for my friends, @milfks and L, who had these wonderful ideas! Love you two lots <3

Synopsis: Tonight's mission is in your hands, and you're eager to prove that you're capable of handling it on your own. Unfortunately, your plans are interrupted a bit sooner than you expected.

***

"I've got eyes on him," you mumble, pretending to fix your diamond earring as you adjust your earpiece. Surveying from the platform of the mansion's grand staircase, your eyes follow a man in a black suit as he turns the corner and disappears down a far hallway.

Chan's sigh rings in your earpiece. "Be careful."

"I can handle myself. Trust me."

"I trust you, Y/N. You know that. It's everyone else that I don't trust. It's your first time unaccompanied," Chan says.

"Like I said, I can handle it. Besides, the boys are always out by themselves and they're just fine." If you could see Chan right now, you know he'd be pinching the bridge of his nose out of stress, holding back from giving you a lecture on why your situation is different from theirs. You know his concern is out of love, and he would blame himself if anything were ever to happen to you. But this is your chance to prove yourself. Tonight, you'll be participating in an auction to get your hands on the Cromer, a powerful artifact that can control time. It's been rumored that ATEEZ has their sights set on it as well, so Chan had you do as much research on them as possible. Unfortunately for you, they're quite good at covering their tracks and keeping their identities under wraps. You know only a few of their names and faces, so you'll need to be extra careful about your approach to this.

The auction will begin in about an hour, and you'd rather not hear a lecture from Chan. "I'm going in," you whisper. Your black dress flatters your figure perfectly, and you're excited to show it off tonight. With a deep breath, you make your way down the staircase, your heels silent on the expensive red carpet.

Clusters of people stand together around the large space, sipping champagne and chatting amongst themselves. Many wives have separated into groups away from their husbands, who go on and on about their latest business ventures and investments. Understandable—how boring. You greet some people as you go, your charming smile in effect as their eyes land on you. One woman compliments your dress as you pass by, and you enthusiastically return her compliment, telling her that her own dress brings out her eyes. She blushes and tells you it's custom made, which basically means "my dress is worth twice as much as the average person's monthly paycheck."

You continue to weave through the crowds and admittedly get a bit distracted, still thinking about the woman's compliment. As you turn into the hallway you witnessed your target disappear into, you bump straight into an oncoming person. A strong arm wraps around your waist before you can lose balance on your high heels.

"Woah there, doll. Straying too far, are we?" A tall man with dark hair looks down at you, his eyebrows raised.

Park Seonghwa. Just the man you were looking for.

"My apologies sir," you say quietly, feigning innocence and avoiding his eyes. His arm leaves your waist after steadying you. "I was wandering in hopes of finding a vacant room to lie down...I'm afraid I've had a bit too many drinks too early in the night." You stumble for dramatic effect, hoping he'll eat up your lies. "I have to sober up before the auction," you say, shaking your head. "Daddy will throw a fit if I spend all his money tonight."

The man looks amused. "Yeah? Better be careful, princess."

"I can handle myself," you say for the second time tonight, stepping closer to trace the pads of your manicured fingers over the fabric on his chest. He tilts your chin up gently, and you meet his intense gaze. He's breathtaking. Suddenly, you have an idea that seems much more fun than your previous plans.

Sorry Chan, you think as you press yourself against Seonghwa.

***

You didn't find anything of importance on Seonghwa's person, but you did manage to slip a tracking device into his suit pocket. Chan should be able to access his location any minute now.

You enter the auction room fifteen minutes before the event is scheduled to start, scanning the tables for your seat. It's dimly lit, a majority of the lighting coming from a screen behind the stage. You don't see Seonghwa seated anywhere yet.

"And what are the starting bids on you, lovely?" a low voice asks, breath tickling your ear. You turn to look at the owner of the voice, his strong facial features almost as striking as his neatly-styled red hair. He's practically undressing you with his eyes, and you can't say you hate it.

"Whatever you've got to offer, pretty boy," you reply sweetly. He smirks, pleased with himself as one of his hands finds your waist.

"My friend says you're not as innocent as you look."

"Pardon?" you ask. The man turns you around, your back against his broad chest as his free hand reaches up to your ear. Before you know it, your earpiece is on the ground in front of you, crushed beneath a polished designer shoe. Looking up, you see that the shoe belongs to none other than Park Seonghwa. Of course they're working together.

You freeze as something cold presses to the exposed small of your back.

Fuck.

"One wrong move and you're done for, princess," the man with red hair says calmly, lowering himself back down to your ear. "Try to cause a scene and innocent people will pay the price."

You take a deep breath before nodding your head in submission. You slowly turn back around and watch as he returns his gun to his shoulder holster, his expensive blazer completely concealing it. No one around you sees the ordeal, too distracted and eager to spend their money. The man then puts his arm around your shoulders, leading you out of the auction room. Seonghwa follows close behind, making sure you aren't able to slip away. You have no idea if he is armed at this point in time.

You're led into a large meeting room at the very end of the upstairs corridor, the bright moonlight seeping through the open balcony doors and illuminating the glossy wooden table at the center of the room. You catch a glimpse of the pretty garden below the balcony before the man guiding you throws you to the floor. You can feel the bruises forming on your knees instantly.

You don't dare fight back yet—your training in hand-to-hand combat doesn't do shit when your opponents are armed with guns, of course. You would attempt it if he were alone, but with Seonghwa present and potentially armed, you'd rather feel the situation out.

God, Chan will never let you out onto the field again. He's probably losing his mind now that you've lost contact with each other. Not to mention the fact that you were busted before you even had a chance to get what you came here for. The auction is going to start any minute, and now you're certain there are other ATEEZ members in the auction room that are ready to claim the Cromer instead of you.

You're angry with yourself for not being more prepared with your own weapon, but your favorite handgun unfortunately didn't fit under your dress of choice. You sigh to yourself. At least you look good in it.

"Give it up, sweetheart. We know what's going on here," the man with red hair says. Seonghwa locks the door behind him before speaking.

"I saw your wolf tattoo, and I've seen only one other just like it. You're working with Bang Chan," he states, is emotions unreadable.

No. You had forgotten to conceal your waist tattoo since your dress fully covers it. You hadn't expected to completely remove your dress tonight. Rookie mistake. You should expect everything.

"All this over a tattoo?" You eye him, downplaying the situation.

"How brave of you to interfere with our operation by yourself," the other man comments, ignoring your previous sentence. "No back up here to save you, huh?"

"Oh, you don't really believe she's here alone, do you, San?" Seonghwa asks. Choi San. You recognize that name. Seonghwa comes over to you, a completely different aura surrounding him now. He's intimidating, gripping your chin with much more force than he had earlier. "Be a good girl and tell us where your friends are, yeah? Don't make things difficult." A chill runs down your spine at his threat.

"I'm not here with anyone," you state. It's the truth. Even though Chan had insisted he wait in his car nearby, you convinced him to stay and monitor operations from your base. If you don't make contact within the next hour or two, he'll know something is wrong and follow Seonghwa's location.

"Wrong answer, princess." He grips your hair harshly and you wince. "I have a hard time believing that they would put you in a situation like this without back up. Where are they?"

It's sweet of him to underestimate you, honestly. You got yourself into this situation, and you're sure as hell going to get yourself out. You're already halfway done formulating your escape plan. "I said they're not here," you answer again. He lets go of your hair with a hiss.

"It would pain me to ruin such a pretty face...I think we'll let the boss deal with you."

The boss? Chan told you that no one knows the leader of ATEEZ—it's safe to assume that anyone who's seen him hasn't lived to tell the tale. You're not sure if he'll have any mercy at all to offer you. But maybe these two still have some in them.

"No, please!" you plead, your fists balled up as they rest on your thighs. "If I tell you where they are, will you go easy on me?" You let your head hang low, looking at the floor. San lowers himself in front of you and you find his eyes. You blink, letting a few tears slip down your cheeks.

"Sure, doll face. We will." You look away from him to briefly meet eyes with Seonghwa. He still stands at full height, arms crossed as he looks down at you. Perhaps it's your tears making your vision blurry, but you swear his gaze softens at the sight of you. You look back to San, sniffling.

"You promise?"

Now, never ever would someone in their right mind trust a promise from someone like them. But you're not planning on following through with your own side of the promise, either. Two can play at this game. You would never jeopardize the safety of SKZ...you told Chan you could handle yourself and you meant it.

"Promise," San says. He's truly something else, radiating such strong and convincing charm. You would fall for his promise in a heartbeat if you didn't know who he really was.

As you slowly rise from your knees, San stands with you. "They made me do it," you confess, more tears spilling from your eyes and taking your favorite mascara with them. "They said they would kill me if I didn't," you whisper, looking away.

"It's okay, doll," San says, coming closer to comfort you. You flinch before he touches you. "Just tell us where they are, okay? We'll help you." You bury yourself in his chest, your frame shaking in his arms as you cry quietly.

Your best performance yet, if you say so yourself.

After a long minute in his embrace, you begin to pull away. In the process, you grab the gun out of San's shoulder holster and hold the barrel to the center of his chest. He curses under his breath, raising his arms in defeat. You slowly step backwards, turning your aim to Seonghwa as a warning not to try anything, and then returning your aim to San. Seonghwa makes no attempt to grab for anything, so now you know for a fact that he is unarmed.

"I told you the first time that there's no one here with me." You smile. "But it's nice to discover that you both have a heart."

"Tell Chan we said hi," Seonghwa replies, irritated.

"Of course, it would be rude of me not to. It's truly been a pleasure, boys." You give Seonghwa a wink. "We'll meet again, right? Maybe you can introduce me to your boss next time."

You've backed up far enough to step onto the balcony, assessing the situation above and below. The garden below is deserted now that the auction has started, but it's a far drop to the ground. There is another balcony above you, but it seems a bit too high for you to escape to. You're trapped, so you're going to have to pull this off fast to avoid getting hurt.

All you can hear is the sound of your own heartbeat as you throw the gun over the railing into the garden. If you slip up, they could get their hands on it again, and you cannot let that happen. You'll fight the real way if you must.

As soon as it leaves your hands, the men launch at you. You quickly dodge them, ducking under San's punch and managing to sweep Seonghwa's leg, knocking him to the ground. Now that they're both on the balcony, you run back inside, shutting the french doors and locking them behind you. You know it will barely do anything to set them back—they could easily break them down if they wanted to. Through the glass, you watch as San pulls Seonghwa off the ground and looks at you. He doesn't make an immediate effort to get inside.

Is he letting you go?

You shouldn't wait around any longer to find out. You blow him a kiss before taking your exit out into the main hall.

But after stepping out, you see why they let you go...

#ateez au #ateez x reader #ateez reader insert #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez #park seonghwa #park seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x reader #choi san #choi san x reader #san x reader #bang chan #stray kids #ateez x female reader #ateez x y/n #skz

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linkyu · 5 months

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tell me about your defense contract pleage

Oh boy!

To be fair, it's nothing grandiose, like, it wasn't about "a new missile blueprint" or whatever, but, just thinking about what it could have become? yeesh.

So, let's go.

For context, this is taking place in the early 2010s, where I was working as a dev and manager for a company that mostly did space stuff, but they had some defence and security contracts too.

One day we got a new contract though, which was... a weird one. It was state-auctioned, meaning that this was basically a homeland contract, but the main sponsor was Philip Morris. Yeah. The American cigarette company.

Why? Because the contract was essentially a crackdown on "illegal cigarette sales", but it was sold as a more general "war on drugs" contract.

For those unaware (because chances are, like me, you are a non-smoker), cigarette contraband is very much a thing. At the time, ~15% of cigarettes were sold illegally here (read: they were smuggled in and sold on the street).

And Phillip Morris wanted to stop that. After all, they're only a small company worth uhhh... oh JFC. Just a paltry 150 billion dollars. They need those extra dollars, you understand?

Anyway. So they sponsored a contract to the state, promising that "the technology used for this can be used to stop drug deals too". Also that "the state would benefit from the cigarettes part as well because smaller black market means more official sales means a higher tax revenue" (that has actually been proven true during the 2020 quarantine).

Anyway, here was the plan:

Phase 1 was to train a neural network and plug it in directly to the city's video-surveillance system, in order to detect illegal transactions as soon as they occur. Big brother who?

Phase 2 was to then track the people involved in said transaction throughout the city, based on their appearance and gait. You ever seen the Plainsight sheep counting video? Imagine something like this but with people. That data would then be relayed to police officers in the area.

So yeah, an automated CCTV-based tracking system. Because that's not setting a scary precedent.

So what do you do when you're in that position? Let me tell you. If you're thrust unknowingly, or against your will, into a project like this,

Note. The following is not a legal advice. In fact it's not even good advice. Do not attempt any of this unless you know you can't get caught, or that even if you are caught, the consequences are acceptable. Above all else, always have a backup plan if and when it backfires. Also don't do anything that can get you sued. Be reasonable.

Let me introduce you to the world of Corporate Sabotage! It's a funny form of striking, very effective in office environments.

Here's what I did:

First of all was the training data. We had extensive footage, but it needed to be marked manually for the training. Basically, just cropping the clips around the "transaction" and drawing some boxes on top of the "criminals". I was in charge of several batches of those. It helped that I was fast at it since I had video editing experience already. Well, let's just say that a good deal of those markings were... not very accurate.

Also, did you know that some video encodings are very slow to process by OpenCV, to the point of sometimes crashing? I'm sure the software is better at it nowadays though. So I did that to another portion of the data.

Unfortunately the training model itself was handled by a different company, so I couldn't do more about this.

Or could I?

I was the main person communicating with them, after all.

Enter: Miscommunication Master

In short (because this is already way too long), I became the most rigid person in the project. Like insisting on sharing the training data only on our own secure shared drive, which they didn't have access to yet. Or tracking down every single bug in the program and making weekly reports on those, which bogged down progress. Or asking for things to be done but without pointing at anyone in particular, so that no one actually did the thing. You know, classic manager incompetence. Except I couldn't be faulted, because after all, I was just "really serious about the security aspect of this project. And you don't want the state to learn that we've mishandled the data security of the project, do you, Jeff?"

A thousand little jabs like this, to slow down and delay the project.

At the end of it, after a full year on this project, we had.... a neural network full of false positives and a semi-working visualizer.

They said the project needed to be wrapped up in the next three months.

I said "damn, good luck with that! By the way my contract is up next month and I'm not renewing."

Last I heard, that city still doesn't have anything installed on their CCTV.

tl;dr: I used corporate sabotage to prevent automated surveillance to be implemented in a city--

hey hold on

wait

what

HEY ACTUALLY I DID SOME EXTRA RESEARCH TO SEE IF PHILLIP MORRIS TRIED THIS SHIT WITH ANOTHER COMPANY SINCE THEN AND WHAT THE FUCK

HUH??????

well what the fuck was all that even about then if they already own most of the black market???

#i'm sorry this got sidetracked in the end #i'm speechless #anyway yeah!#sometimes activism is sitting in an office and wasting everyone's time in a very polite manner #i learned that one from the CIA actually

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kichikichiko · 13 days

Note

Hi! Can you write the demon brothers with little sister reader? The reader is the 8th of the family. It must be so cute since all the brothers will care so much for their only little sister.

Our little Angel in Hell

This is so cute wtf 😭 Sorry for being so late anon Ive been busy with stuff and only got the motivation do write it now! Hope you enjoy ❤️ Synopsis: HC of the 7 demon brothers with their only sister after Lilith (who's younger than them all) Pairing: PLATONIC OLDER BROTHER! Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Asmodeus, Satan, Beelzebub and Belphegor & lil sister! reader Note: Nicknames (Dove : lucy | Goldie: Mammon | Shellfish: Levi | Angel: Asmo | Rose: Satan | Hamster: Beel | Moonshine : Belphie ) CW: I PUT A LIL CAMEO OF MY OBEY ME OC "Kojika" (Asmodeus' part only) IN HERE FOR FUNSIES BUT SHE DOES NOT HAVE ANY EFFECT TO THE STORY AT ALL 🤠 Platonic siblinghood, fluff, hc, not proofread, nothing else!! 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘

Your brothers love you DEARLY. At this rate, "Love" is already an understatement. They would do anything for you and spoil you rotten. You want plushies? Food? Books? Make up? A sacrifical human for a ritual (/j) they'd to it all for YOU.

After losing Lilith, not only did you take it hard but they did as well. Not wanting to lose their only remaining sister, they've become more over protective.

LUCIFER

♤ As the eldest sibling and the head of the family, it is to no surprise that he holds the most composure out of the brothers.

♤ Around his other brothers he appears as "harsh" (but they all know he just cares for them) but around you, he doesnt even try to look stern. Everytime he looks at you his gaze softens and he smiles slightly

♤ "Mammon I'm taking away your credit card privellages" Lucifer sighs while taking away Mammon's credit card for the 5th time this month.

"Give it back Lucifer! An auction for this awesome gold car figure is coming out TOMORROW I NEED IT!" The white hair demon groaned.

You walked into the scene with a smile "Hi Lucy, is it okay if I get this thing on sale tomorrow? Ive been waiting for it to come out for a while now."

Lucifer's frowned expression turned soft in an instant and he gave you a nod "of course, just don't spend too much."

"OH FUCK YOU LUCIFER" Mammon screamed.

♤ If hypothetically he doesnt allow you to get something, instead of giving you a glare, he pats your head and shakes his head a little "Sorry Dove, but not today. We can get it another time okay?"

MAMMON

◇ Mammon is the greediest among his 7 siblings. He is the embodiment of the deadly sin, greed anyways.

◇ He HATES sharing and he doesnt hide that, but with you? He is more lenient.

◇ Don't get me wrong, he hesitates and tells you no sometimes, but other times if not most times, he is more willing to give you something or lend you something, albeit with his snarky/ stuck up personality 😭.

◇ youve been staring at a certain display case everytime you and Mammon pass by, and the yellowed eye demon couldnt help but notice it.

◇ At first he wanted to ignore it, but seeing at your longing/ awed gaze he folded.

◇ "Oi Goldie, you want that?" He pointed to the item on the display case, his hand on his hip trying to act tough and unbothered.

"Uhm.. yes but I don't have any mo-"

Mammon cut you off and walks into the store. "C'mon let's go get it."

LEVIATHAN

♧ Levi loves games, he's always cooped up in his room and rarely comes out.

♧ When he plays a multiplayer game, everyone knows how competitive this demon can get

♧ So to spare themselves from the death glares and the not so PG 13 name calling, they avoid playing him... well unless they truly wanna pick a fight with him.

♧ When you play games with him though, he's a completely different person.

♧ He's patient and kind when teaching you the basics

♧ During your first few games, he'd allow himself to take the loss

♧ He wont admit it, but he loves to see the way your eyes shine and how youre mpre determined

♧ This way, you'll play the game longer and spend more time with Levi

♧ [ROUND 1: PLAYER 2 WINS]

Your eyes shine and you smiled widely "YAY I WON! Beat that Levi! I just started the game and I won against you on. The. First. Try!"

Levi rolled his eyes and smirked "Don't get too cocky Shellfish, I might just beat your ass in the next round"

"Bring it on big bro" You grinned, holding the controller tightly.

ASMODEUS

♡ He's aware you've lost the only female influence in your life (Lilith)

♡ you being surrounded by so many masculine energy worries Asmo

♡ Not wanting you to lose your feminine side, he decided to take on the role of being your main "female influence" in your life.

♡ He is the perfect man for the job

♡ He will take you out for shopping, to the salon, kareoke, photo booths, manicures and pedicures, spas. You name it he'll do it

♡ He's even be the one you go to for sex ed/ advice bc.. well come on

♡ If youre into none of that that's fine too, he'll be your irl diary and listen to whatever you have to say... even hot boiling tea you cant keep to yourself😁

♡ "Asmo!! Are you free?" You opened the door to his room with a smile

Your brother looks at you through his mirror as he was doing his skincare "Yes sort of. Why?"

Your smile turned into a grin as you closed the door behind him and jumped onto his bed "I've got delicious tea"

Seeing your hands on your cheeks and your facial expression made Asmodeus return the grin "Oh yeah? Is it piping hot tea?" Finally facing you as he asked

"Piping.HOT!" You responded unable to contain your excitement "Miss Kojika was finally caught going out with Simeon"

"No way you better not be kidding Angel. Wasn't she just complaining about not liking Angels before?"

"Yeah but you see the way her cheeks turn pink at the MENTION of the Angel Simeon" you made sure to remind him.

♡ The conversation went on for hours, and both you and your brother are happy to have someone to talk to like this.

SATAN

□ Somewhat simillar to his older brother Levi. He gets impatient and is angry quite often, especially at the mention of Lucifer.

□ His way of escape is through his love of cats OR his abode, his sanctuary: his personal library.

□ During the times he disappears, it's a sign that he does not want to be bothered by anyone. And the only one who can bother him is you.

□ He wont exactly call it "bothering" when it comes to you, because he knows you have good intentions and only want to help him.

□ Especially if he just came out of Lucifers office after a heated argument

□ You were in the kitchen when you heard the door to Lucifer's office being slammed shut, followed along with heavy footsteps stomping away. You knew instantly that it was Satan's footstep.

Without wasting another second, you finished up the dishes and went straight to the hallway leading to his abode.

"Satan?" You knocked. "It's me, (name)"

After a few seconds, you heard a muffled "come in" and you twisted the door knob open. "I heard you walking out of Lucifer's office before."

Both you and Satan knows that he didnt "walk out" but you both decided to not correct it.

"Just another fight" he answered quickly while reading a book. "Same as always."

Slowly walking towards him, you took a seat beside him and smiled softly "Dont listen to him. You know he can make no sense sometimes... most of the times" you shruged. "Besides Im here for you. Whaddya say we do something fun?"

Satan's stern face turned soft, and when he made eye contact with you, he smiled "Sure. Thank you, Little Rose."

□ You've got his back, and he's got yours.

BEELZEBUB

♤ the hungriest brother. He just never stops eating.

♤ Whenever anyone catches Beel, he's always got something in his hands to munch on.

♤ And sometimes he's not willing to share his food.

♤ Whenever you ask though he's willing to give you a bite or 2. Hell maybe even give you the whole darn thing if he sees you TRULY enjoying the food.

♤ "Wow you seem to REALLY like the snack more than I do, Hamster..." he'd joke, mouth still full.

♤ Whenever youre feeling hungry he'd take the time out of his day to cook you (and him) some food.

♤ When he's feeling experimental and want to try a new recepie, he'd call you down to try his food and if you like it he smiles earnestly.

♤ Nothing makes Beel more happy (other than food) than seeing you enjoy his cooking.

♤ Even if you ask for it or not, he starts cooking for you more often. It's his love language and you dont seem to mind it. Cooking is a tedious job indeed and you appreciate your brother's efforts to keep your tummy full and happy.

♤ VICE VERSA! You love to bake and cook for your brothers.

♤ If you dont have the talent for either, Beel will be the first gobble up your food and give you a big thumbs up in approval. While the rest of your brothers have a hard time even swallowing the first bite

♤ Beel appreciates your effort and doesnt want you to become disheartened.

♤ But next time he'll supervise you in the kitchen and give you some tips and tricks

BELPHEGOR

♧ SILLY GUYYY

♧ You and Belphie are both the younger siblings (Beel as well but hes regarded as older than Belphie)

♧ And Youngest tend to stick together!

♧ You like having sleepovers, even though its a little bit of a silly ideas because you already live in the same estate as your brothers.

♧ Theyre usually busy so whenever you want this specific want of yours to be endulged you always go to Belphie.

♧ and he never says no to sleeping.

♧ With Belphie you both like to build tent fords together and watch movies together while eating popcord (that you both made sure Beel does not see nor smell because he'll pounce on the both of you before you have the chance to walk out of the kitchen)

♧ Other times you both would go online to buy matching onsies for your sleepover

♧ You both do this so often you end up having a closet full of matching onsies together.

♧ Sleeping with Belphie is indeed very relaxing. And Belphie likes having you around especially

♧ Usually the avatar of sloth put on a pair of Pyjamas and goes to sleep instantly, however with you around, he'll make the effort to put on essential oils, ambiance (if you'd like) and night lights 🤍🤍

♧ "Wow Belphie you put a lot of effort for the sleepover today!" You smiled looking at his room in awe

Belphie smiled and yawned "Of course, anything for you Moonshine. I want you to be as comfortable as possible."

♧ Safe to say you both will sleep in to the point your other brothers will have to drag you both out of bed to start the day

❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀

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