#its still foggy here where I am

[actual-corpse]

"Silent Hill is based off of Centralia Pennsylvania."

No... It's actually based off of Southern Kentucky's winter sooooo fuck off.

[dirt-str1der]

Sagawa is unfuckable in my head but in my heart he and nishitani had something embarrassing going on

[desireangel]

Dark Cherry [2] | Aemond Targaryen

Part Two

Summary: after months of a marriage that hardly harbours the passion that you'd dreamed about, you stumble across the reason for your husband's indifference and decide enough is enough. Aemond will learn just exactly what he's been missing out on.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader and also some Aemond x some random girly pop ;o

Word Count: (I'm... sorry?) 7.1k

Warnings: smut - mdni 18+!!! UNEDITED!! infidelity, kinda angsty? second-hand smut? power struggle both in bed and out, reader is a cheeky voyeur, oral (f receiving), thigh riding, degradation, Aemond is a fucking asshole but he's sexy, talk of masturbation. as always, let me know if I have missed anything!

Author's note: Entirely unedited because here I am posting this at 2:30AM having just finished writing this bad boy even though I have to be up for work at 7:30. yay :/. Anyways, thank you all so much for the love on this series so far! I'm thinking there could potentially be some more to come. Reader ain't done with her revenge so soon. I will reblog with the taglist tomorrow! or today I guess--after I've had some sleep! I would also love to hear your thoughts!! So pls hmu in my inbox to chat abt things xoxo kisses!!!! <3

Masterlist!

Part One

Distancing yourself from Aemond was not a difficult task. You’d barely see much of him aside from the meals you shared and your occasional stroll through the gardens anyway. It still felt odd, knowing that you were avoiding him when only days ago you had been grasping at whatever crumb of his attention you could reach. 

His existence was ghostly. Always talked about but never seen and it made it remarkably easy to ignore him. You spent most days between your chambers and Helaena’s, idly passing time with embroidery and small talk. But you were distracted - your mind foggy and your usual grace and poise replaced by clumsiness and a constant flustered jumpiness.

It was always on your mind. Always. 

Your mind was a problem of its own and as soon as you lay down amongst your sheets for a night of sleep, it took you back to the memory of your name lewdly falling from Aemond’s lips. As days had passed, you could have convinced yourself it was a hallucination - an odd dream of some sort.  

And while it had become muscle memory for your hand to find your soaked sex at the midnight hour, the scene of your alluring husband in the throes of pleasure bringing you to a quick peak, the first two nights had been marred with silent tears of humiliation, hurt, betrayal–jealousy and anger. 

Maybe it was for the best that you had not seen the face of the whore in his private chambers. If you had any idea of who she was, you would have had half a mind to have sought her out and suffocated her yourself.

You had to remind yourself that if she were, in fact, a whore then you could hardly let yourself seriously consider choking a woman out for simply doing her job. 

Frustration was an understatement. No matter how hard you tried, there was nothing that you could do which would calm the mix of emotions inside you. You considered declaring Aemond’s infidelity at dinner–or even at the small feast that was held two nights ago. But it wouldn’t be enough and it was too early to show your hand. 

If you had come out and made it known to all at Court, nothing would happen. At all. 

Most husbands take on whores and mistresses. And despite the pain and hurt of it that the wives suffer, it’s simply accepted as the way things are. Men are innately animals and so they must fuck like it too. So nobody would bat an eyelid at Aemond. Instead, you knew that they’d turn it on you in one way or another. 

On the sixth day, you were surprised when Ser Tunsley knocked on your door to announce your husband’s presence. When Aemond took a seat at the small table where you usually shared your breakfast, he barely spared you more than an inquisitive look before telling your handmaid to bring your breakfasts promptly. 

Aemond leaned back, letting his legs rest comfortable but still maintained his effortlessly flawless posture. He reached for the book that lay forgotten on the side-table, holding it open with one hand and his other arm stretching over the back of the seat beside him, where you sat all tense and surprised. A barely-there frown crossed your face at the foreign gesture and you willed yourself not to think much of it.

You would have fumbled to snatch the book from his hands, if this had been a week earlier. But it wasn’t, and with a curious and conniving sense of calm, you let him read the first page of a story riddled with obscenity and romance. The first couple chapters were perfectly appropriate.

The prince looked at you with a gentle tilt of his head, unmoving aside from . “You have been withdrawn.”

Silence. You were sitting beside him, unable to meet his eye as you usually would, scoffing so softly at his words that he almost mistook it for a cough. 

Aemond, who was far more observant of you than he knew you believed him to be, found that he was bothered by it. Whether it was because of the loss of the devotion that he had always seen in your doe-eyed gaze, or the flippant shift in your attitude, he did not want to know. 

“Have I done something that has bothered you, dear wife?” His eye returned to the book and moved from one side of the page to the other as he read. 

Aemond clearly did not see you watching them on that night. The fact that you had faced no repercussions for sneaking up on him and eavesdropping on such a moment was enough confirmation of that. 

But Aemond’s presence re-ignited the red hot resentment you had for his actions and the hurt that you felt because of him. How any man could seek out the company of his wife for the first time in a week, sit beside her and pretend so shamelessly as if he cared for the repercussions of his own vile actions was beyond you. 

Nonetheless, you forced a polite smile onto your lips and turned slightly to face him better. You let his question linger in the air between you as the maid returned, placing a plate of cheeses, fruits and an assortment of breads on the table in front of you. 

Thanking her, you reached to pour yourself a cup of the sweet vanilla and rose tea that had become your favourite part of your mornings in the Keep. When you answered his question, it was purposefully less than what Aemond was seeking. 

“I have been ill, lord husband,” you murmured. When you rested against the back of the seat, you tensed at the feeling of Aemond’s arm grazing your shoulder. You had forgotten it was there. 

Your reaction to his proximity and while you had initially been shy around him–not so much since you had started your little performance–, you never flinched away from his touch. 

Aemond placed the book down beside him and hummed in thought. He reached over you, to take a piece of fresh bread for his plate and to put some fruit on your plate, his chest pressing against your shoulder and his hair brushing past your nose. 

If you had moved, just an inch, your lips would be against the milky skin of his throat. Despite your disdain for your husband, you could hear the thrum of your heartbeat in your ears and stopped yourself from dragging your fingers through his hair and tracing your lips across his jaw. 

There was an unfamiliar sense of purpose behind what he was doing. It dawned on you that he knew what he was doing. The bread was already on his plate but the son of a bitch placed the fruits piece by piece on your plate, his movements lazy. 

He smelled like lavender, leather and dragon smoke. Like an intoxicating drug that overwhelmed your mind until piety and sin were indiscernible. It was far too easy for you to see Aemond as more godly than just a mere man, to feel the need to worship him in the most sinful ways you could imagine. 

No man in any realms was as strong, as beautiful, as terrifying, as educated as the prince who breathed fire onto your skin. And he was your prince. 

A drop in your stomach was the least of your problems when the image of Aemond enjoying another woman’s passion invaded your thoughts. You wondered if his scent drove her just as mad as it made you and you had the urge to drive a knife through Aemond’s hand for you knew he’d have let her indulge in him. 

But when he looked at you, his violet eye a mask of indifference yet still failing to hide something that you couldn’t for the life of you put into words, you hated that your desire for him burned just as strong as your rage. 

Aemond’s eye met yours, humming in thought as he brought a cherry to his lips and glancing down at your own. He took a bite out of it first and then brought it to your mouth, dragging the open side across your bottom lip. The soft fruit dripped delicately onto your chin and left a stain on your perfect lips. The sight of you with reddened lips, gazing up at him with blown out pupils, shining with an uncorrupted devotion and a pure desire sent his blood rushing. 

The cherry was sweet and chilled, a stark contrast to the darkened, heated want that Aemond watched you with. And again, you had an urge to ignore everything and take what it was that you had been hoping Aemond would give you. You obediently took the cherry into your mouth, holding his gaze, chewing the flesh of the fruit and rolling the pip on your tongue. 

When you looked hard enough into Aemond’s eye, you could see the reflection of yourself morph into a reflection of the unnamed woman and you turned from him, turning away to drop the pip of the cherry onto a napkin. 

Aemond’s hand fell softly to rest on your knee and he only moved back a nudge. You refused to meet his eye but you could feel his warm breath on your cheek as he spoke, his voice slightly strained yet still calm and smooth. “I’ll send for a maester.” 

“Thank you,” you pushed the words out of your mouth and nodded towards the food. “You should eat your breakfast, my prince.”

Aemond raised an eyebrow as you rolled your eyes at him and slid back into his previous posture, sitting against the backrest of his own seat. An infuriating grin played on his lips. “Don’t worry about my breakfast. Why did you roll your eyes at me?”

You rolled your eyes again. “As if I cannot call for a maester myself.”

It crossed your mind that you could have told him right now of what you had seen. And the urge to scream at him became so strong you almost did. 

But what would come of it? Not enough. Aemond would only offer you an apology if you were lucky and carry on as if nothing was amiss. Because that is just how it is for husbands–they could cheat and lie all they please to no consequence. And you wanted him to regret the moment he chose to disrespect you. 

You wanted him to suffer for it. To feel as insulted, as embarrassed and as inferior as you have.

So he would suffer. But you had to be patient if you were to make it hurt. 

A thought crossed your mind as Aemond said something you didn’t quite hear, with that unbothered expression he had mastered years ago. 

He didn’t linger long after that. You ate your breakfast in silence, while Aemond, much to your distaste, finished the first chapter of your book. And when he finally left, he took it with him, giving you a knowing smirk as he tucked it under his arm. 

One punch. Surely, you would be entitled to that. 

Initially, the idea of seducing Jason Lannister was a gruesome one. But upon hearing of his prolonged and unbusy presence at King’s Landing, you recognised an opportunity as it presented itself to you. Simply because of pride and ego, there were few men who enjoyed the idea of his wife turning to another man for what they could not provide. 

Alas, if there was any part of Aemond that made him weak, it was his pride and his arrogance. 

And so here you were, enjoying your afternoon tea with the Lannister twin, listening to stories of his life at Casterly Rock. You made sure the house staff had known of Lannister’s presence and that the Kingsguard were well aware of the pot of tea you shared in the Courtyard. Easily within sight of where you knew Aemond was training with Ser Cole and some other men you had no interest in knowing.

For the past thirty minutes, you could feel him watching you. But when you lifted your head to look, pretending to the man across from you that you were interested in watching your husband train, Aemond would turn away. Yet he finally seemed to have finally had enough and you could see him walking over from behind Jason, his shoulders stiffer than usual with a sour expression. 

“This tea,” you covered your mouth gently, letting out the remnants of a laugh that had been pulled from you. If you were being honest, Jason Lannister was turning out to be surprisingly fun company and the smile you had expected to fake ended up being real. Not bothering to look at Aemond, who was much closer now, you held your teacup towards the Lord Lannister with a pretty, sultry smile. “It is incredible–I’ve loved it so much, t’is the only tea I will drink. Have a taste of mine, I insist.”

With a look of blatant excitement, Jason leaned into where you held the cup, fingers grazing yours as he held the cup but never took it out of your hold and took a sip. It was slightly awkward, the way his eyes held onto yours, but you brightened your smile nonetheless. 

Aemond visibly inhaled a sharp breath and cleared his throat, covering the both of you in a dark shade. The prince was looming over Lannister, who never looked away from you even as you peeled your eyes away from him with exaggerated difficulty to meet Aemond’s eye. You dropped your smile so slightly that only Aemond could notice. 

There was a tense, awkward silence that lingered. Lannister’s head tilted ever so slightly and a wave of annoyance ran through you at the cocky tilt of his head regardless of the fact that it was exactly what you needed him to do. The two men stared at each other, Aemond’s typical dark repose and Lannister’s challenging chagrin at the disruption. 

“How nice of you to join us, my prince,” you beamed. “Lord Lannister has been sharing this pot of tea with me. It’s lovely to enjoy some company for once.”

You took pleasure in the way he squared his shoulders at your remark. Lannister snickered but was quick to cover it up with a cough at Aemond’s narrowed eye. 

“Yes, I’m sure it is,” Aemond’s voice was sharp. “I happen to have some time on my hands before I take Vhagar to flight, lady wife. Perhaps you would care to join me for a stroll through the gardens?”

Aemond was behind you in a blink, tugging your chair back gently into himself and holding a hand out to help you stand. The air around you became soft lavender and leather and something very Aemond. And despite the slight flutter of your eyelids, you straightened and held strong. 

Weakness would get you nowhere. You were out here for a reason and no matter how strong the pull was, your lust to hurt him back was much stronger. 

You shook your head gently, looking at Jason who seemed to stiffen under the prince’s eye. “What kind of host would I be if I were to abandon Lord Lannister? Considering it was I who invited him to tea. We can enjoy the gardens another time, my prince.”

The fire in Aemond’s eye rivalled Vhagar’s. It gave you a sense of satisfaction that was much unlike yourself and you wondered how he’d burn with rage if you decided to take Jason to your bed. You’d lose everything you had to your name but you knew it would not be difficult to convince yourself that it’d be worth it.

Jason Lannister was no fool. He understood the wrath of the Targaryen prince but he knew that you would never be subjected to the extent of it. As much as Prince Aemond pretended he did not care, the Lords and counsellors of the Red Keep knew that he had his weaknesses. At the end of the day, Aemond would not dishonour himself by tarnishing the image of his pious, kind wife who was loved by all. 

Lannister also had his doubts about you. Again, he was no fool to fall for whatever game you were playing. An honourable, devoted Lady such as yourself would never actually be so easy to adulterate. Whatever it was, Jason was not against indulging himself in some fun here and there. 

But he did prefer to keep his limbs and so he shook his head gently and stood from his seat. 

“You have my thanks,” he took your hand in his and placed a kiss on your knuckles. A bold move from a man who could so strongly feel the Prince’s pointed glare. Jason turned and bowed his head gently towards Aemond. “But I fear I have some business to attend to, so do not stay back on my regard. It was lovely to sit with you, my Lady.”

Aemond scoffed loudly as the Lord took his leave. He waited for you to take his hand to help you out of your seat before dropping it to your waist. 

“My prince-”

“If you are so starved of company, dear wife,” he drawled, looking straight ahead with a tightened jaw as he led you in the direction of the gardens. It was a habit now, whenever Aemond had you on his arm, to walk that route. Not surprising seeing how it was the only place where you two would see each other apart from your chambers. “I would expect you to call upon me rather than some toady Lord who would certainly misjudge your intentions. I am your husband, am I not?”

The thought of keeping a list of the times he spoke as if he were faithful crossed your mind for barely a second. Aemond was infuriating. 

You offered him half of a smile and pulled him back slightly as you came to a stop. “You are. But your mind is never with me and I am well aware your time is far more precious to you than I am.”

If Aemond’s composure was not so ingrained into his existence, he may have spluttered and gawked at you. Instead, he barely frowned. 

There was little he could do about the unemotional, unkind man that he had become perceived as. Aemond understood that it was his own actions that meant people viewed him as little less than a monster. And truly, it was how he tried to be perceived. 

So why did it disturb Aemond that his own wife thought him so uncaring? He knew he had only himself to blame for it. 

“I am afraid a stroll in the gardens will have to wait,” you continued in his silence. Being alone with Aemond was not how you intended to spend the afternoon. The risk that you’d lose your composure and tell him all that you had seen of him was still high. “I am still feeling fairly unwell. It may be better for me to rest in my chambers with a book.”

Aemond knew that you were retracting into yourself, pulling away from him where you would have been at his beck and call only a week ago. He hummed. “Tomorrow then.” 

And with that, Aemond escorted you to your chambers in silence. It was hardly two hours that you had spent in the Courtyard with Lord Lannister but it had been tiring nonetheless. The peace and quiet that came with your reprieve from the man that had set your nerves into a frenzy just at the knowledge of his presence while you pressed at his patience was welcome. 

A few hours passed slowly in your own company. Dinner was brought to your room at your request. The mere thought of sitting beside your husband and putting on a display for his family exhausted you. 

The sounds of footsteps and conversation outside your door pulled your attention from the embroidery you had forced yourself to practise. Your chambers were fairly secluded compared to the rest and so it wasn’t often that anyone wandered this area. Expecting the Queen or your husband to be the source of the noise, you were hastily at the door, a sudden flush of anxiety shooting straight to your gut. 

You waited barely five seconds for Ser Tunsley to knock on your door but your impatience pushed you to step out first. There was nobody there. You could see Ser Tunsley stalking away from the direction of the private chambers. You didn’t question it, assuming he was probably stepping away for a brief break, given that his position hadn’t been replaced. 

Footsteps. Again. 

Curiously turning your head in the direction of the sound, you saw a flash of brunette hair and a dark grey dress. Fuck. 

It was impossible not to recognise her. Even as she walked away from you and clearly in the direction of Prince Aemond’s chambers, you knew who she was. 

So with one final glance back into your room you followed her, thankful that you were barefoot so that your own footsteps couldn’t be heard.  Even though your body was running hot with a mixture of heartache and rage, there was an icy stiffness that had spread from the back of your neck to your shoulders as you rounded a single corner after her and helplessly watched her enter Aemond’s chambers. 

You held back tears. She had left the door open. Again. It did little to ease the knot in your throat when you realised that while she may be good enough for Aemond with her mouth, she was not the smartest.

Unable to move, you stood planted in that one spot a few feet away for what must have been ten minutes before you heard the same shuffling and muffled voices. You could hear her more clearly this time and it took you another two minutes to build the courage to see, once again, how Aemond dishonoured you. 

If the circumstances were different, it may have been one of the sexiest sights you had ever laid your eyes upon. But it struck you in a way you couldn’t have expected and it took all of your willpower to stay standing. 

But what else had you expected?

This time, the woman was sprawled out, her head hanging off of the bed and if her eyes weren’t screwed shut in bliss then she would have been looking directly at you. Her left hand gripped the sheets and the other was tangled amongst Aemond’s silver hair, her thighs on either side of his head. 

Gods, you had never known anything like it. 

Aemond was devouring her like he had been starved of her for weeks (you knew he hadn’t), the obscene sounds of his mouth against her sex striking you with distress. He held her down as she writhed against him, a strong, clothed arm keeping her in place at her waist. 

You had hardly been watching them for thirty seconds and you didn’t even have time to consider turning around and walking away to save yourself the misery. 

Because Aemond’s eye opened and he gazed straight through his lashes, lifting his head so he was looking directly at you. A piercing violet eye accompanied by a glimmering sapphire that watched you dangerously, as if he had seen you standing there the entire time and this was all entertaining to him. 

For what may well have been the tenth time that night, you couldn’t move. You stood at the door, chest heaving and jaw slack as you felt a tightness in your throat. How could you feel so powerless in a game you managed to believe you had the upperhand in? 

Aemond still held your eyes with his own, pulling away from the whore he was toying with, and fucking smirked.  

Like things were going exactly how he had planned. 

Red. And a loud gasp and then panic and a flash of arousal and all of a sudden you were running back to your chambers, falling to your knees over your empty bathtub and dry heaving. It was all too much. 

The shock, the fear, the jealousy, the fear. 

And it dawned on you as you tried desperately to catch your breath. Ignoring your arousal–you cursed your body for reacting faster than your mind once again–panic continued to flood your veins like an ice-cold burn. 

Aemond had definitely seen you watching. But had he known all along? 

It made no sense. Did he see you that night when he moaned your name instead of that damned woman’s? 

You couldn’t even be sure how long Aemond had stared at you from his spot, his attention diverted entirely from the nameless woman, who whined and stirred incessantly at his distraction, to you. Caught like a thief in the act, wide-eyed and dazed.

Aemond knew. And he must have known the entire time. With the way he looked directly to you, as if he were waiting for you. As if Aemond knew exactly where you stood the first night. As if he had finally caught you in his trap.  

He wanted you to see. 

Aemond had already bested you at your own game with even more cleverness than you. Before you had even started to play. 

Sleep did not come easy that night. 

 

You were dressed and ready far earlier than usual the next morning. Even though you dreaded the worst - that Aemond had convened to have you punished for watching as you had, you let your scheme motivate you to take back the control you had lost. If you had ever had it in the first place. 

The dress you wore was hardly decent and it left you bare from your chest up, a wide slit running through the skirts. It was a deep green that had a shine to it and clung to your skin, making it clear that you had foregone your smallclothes for the day. 

For the sake of decency within the hallway, and because you detested the idea of either of the Cloaks at your doors seeing your attire, you donned a heavy cloak over top. It was Aemond’s; he had left it behind after breakfast once.

Aemond was still asleep when you had talked your way past the guard at his door and pushed through the doors to his chambers. You stood at the foot of his bed, tracing the place where that woman lay with your eyes. Quietly, you dropped the cloak to the floor.

It was your first time in Aemond’s private chambers. And would things have been different, you would have taken the time to observe all the things that made this space his. Instead, your eyes scanned every centimetre of every part of his chambers for any trace of that wretched woman. 

There was none. Not a single strand of hair. 

You sat at the edge of his plush bed, taking a moment to get your head straight before you stood and walked around to the side of the bed where he lay. The scent of him was overwhelming as you stood above him. 

“Well,” Aemond barely moved aside from his lips as he spoke. His eye remained shut. “Look who finally figured it out. Why are you here?”

You let out a drawn out sigh, shivering gently. “I would like to talk.”

Aemond sat up lazily and you noticed he was naked save for the sheet that covered his lap. From the way he was sitting, you stood in between his legs and his head was slightly tilted as he looked at you over the swell of your breasts. His hands found a resting place on your hips and you were hyper-aware of his touch, which felt heavier than boulders and hotter than lava. 

He looked at you as if he were ready to devour you. As if Aemond were a man starved of air and you were his only chance at breathing. 

The prince let out a hum. “Dressed like this?”

“Since you seem to prefer a whore over your own wife, I figured I would dress akin to one,” you kept your voice stern and stepped further into him so that his chin almost had to rest in the valley of your breasts if he wished to keep his gaze on yours. “If this is what it will take to have your attention.”

Not once did Aemond’s heated stare falter. “I think you are well aware of where my attention lies. What with your childish attempts at seduction.”

“I did not think you cared to take note.”

“Oh, I noticed,” Aemond said, dragging a finger up and down the side of your waist. He enjoyed the soft feel of the fabric and the way your nipples perked through the dress at his touch had him resisting a primal urge to bite. His patience had been astounding thus far but it was wearing thin. “I would have expected that kind of behaviour from a common whore, not a lady such as yourself. You are a princess, after all.”

Trying your best not to squirm under his touch, you held firm in your hardened gaze. “You seem to enjoy whores.”

“I do not.”

You scoffed. “So you have been fucking her just to spite me? Or have you fallen in love?”

“Such filthy language from such a well behaved girl,” he mused. Aemond’s cursed smirk had you holding back from both cutting him and kissing him. “I never would have guessed that my wife is so full of surprises. It seems I do not know you as well as I believed.”

“Answer my question, Aemond.”

“I never fucked her properly, since you insist–”

“As if it makes a difference whether you fucked her cunt or her mouth,” you spat. He was maddening. “You are my husband. I should be the only woman you have in your bed.”

The grip on your hips tightened almost painfully before he brought one hand up to caress your jaw. Aemond didn’t hide the longing he felt, pulling you closer and admiring every inch of your skin tenderly. “If only you had been good and asked me nicely for what you need. Instead of acting like a desperate slut every time we were in the same space. Things could have been so much easier for you, my love.”

Aemond had always spoken to you with respect. And yet here he was, speaking to you as if he already knew exactly what sent your cunt wild with need. He harshly held your chin, forcing you to look up at the roof as he straightened, pressing his nose into the crevice of your neck. The tickle of his hot breath on your skin made you gasp and you felt the velvet of his lips smirking against your throat. 

“The whole time,” you panted, bringing your hands to his shoulders and digging your nails into his skin. “You knew. It was-”

“Hm. It was for you.” Aemond let his teeth graze against the dip of your jaw. 

There was a fire alight on your skin. You could barely make sense of his words but you forced yourself to hold it together. “You are insane.”

“I was only playing the game that you started,” Aemond chuckled. “Only, I have played it far better than you. Perhaps we are lucky that you did not present more of a challenge, considering I was not above taking her on your bed instead.”

Fuck that. You despised him and loved him and lusted for him all at the same time. 

The control you had was slight to begin with but whatever little there was, it was slipping through your fingers. You threaded your fingers through Aemond’s hair–which was silkier than you had expected–and pulled him away from your neck. 

When you saw the hunger for you in his eye, the slight pink flush of his cheeks, a warm flood of invigorating energy made it’s way through your veins. You fought the urge to run your hands down his shoulders, his chest, his bicep–any part of him you could reach. 

You swallowed thickly. “You should have. I need only one more reason to cut her.”

“I shall have her hanged if that is what you wish.” 

For a moment, you thought you might scratch the smug expression off of Aemond’s face. You groaned, pursing your lips at his indifference and squeezing your thighs together at the passion in his eye. “Fuck you, Aemond.”

“I’m going to give you another chance. Ask me nicely to fuck you until all those doubts you have are replaced by the empty space I will fill your pretty little head with,” He pulled at your hips, so that there was no empty space between you, your torso flush to his chest. Aemond felt deathly tense yet strangely relaxed at the feel of you gasping against him. “And we can put an end to this contest. I do regret that I have left you, my wife, unsatisfied but I want you begging first.”

You watched him closely, challenged him with your gaze. There was no chance you would beg and let him win. The air between you was charged with energy, hissing and stinging. It became heavy and despite the way both of you were breathing so heavily, chests rising and falling dramatically, you couldn’t get enough oxygen to fill your lungs. 

The thickness in the air only became heavier as you gripped his wrists, and moved slowly so that you straddled his right thigh. Aemond fisted the thin fabric of your dress and when you lightly pressed your leg against the hardness at his crotch, you felt his steady breath against your lips which lingered above his own. The skirts of your dress rode up to your hips. 

Lavender, leather and him. 

“You want me to ask you nicely, my prince?” You purred, relishing in the way Aemond’s jaw clenched when he felt your bare cunt press against his thigh. It sends a wave of pleasure straight through your body. “You want me to beg you to tear this dress off of me? To fuck me until I can no longer think of any word other than your name? To make me yours properly? Beg you to fuck me how you should have every night since our wedding?”

Aemond’s hands were grasping at the flesh all over your body, pulling at the fabric of your pathetic excuse of a gown until it ripped. There was a weight on his chest that only grew at the sight of your perfect skin through the torn fabric, your nipples slipping into his view. 

His voice was low and guttural. “The final chance. Be good and beg.”

“If you wish for me to be good,” you whispered into his ear, moving hastily to grip the back of his neck with one hand and the other holding his chin tightly as he had held yours minutes ago. He let out a strained sound through his teeth as you shifted against his cock, pretending to get comfortable.  “You should not have indulged in that whore.”

Aemond scowled at you. And he could have thrown you off of him but his hands continued to scorch the skin on your hips.

You realised you had never been so close to Aemond as you pressed a trail of tender kisses to his jaw. You were infinitely closer to him than all the times you had held onto him while walking the gardes or while he had bedded you with feigned disinterest. And you were aching with want and desire just as he was, your wetness seeping onto Aemond’s thigh. 

It was nothing in comparison to the rage that you had pent up. With a gasp you ground down on the strong muscle of his thigh, eyes fluttering at the sensation. Holding back a moan, you rested your forehead against Aemond’s and rocked your hips against him. 

You tightened your legs, well aware that Aemond could overpower you and have you under him in seconds. He was allowing you to have your moment and you pulled your hand from his jaw only for it to stay tightly locked as his fingers dug into your hips.

There would be bruises left on your skin for weeks but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, almost groaning out loud when Aemond took control of your movements, pushing and pulling your hips so that your clit rubbed against him perfectly. “Prince Aemond Targaryen. You think you can just do as you like and that there would be no consequences. That I would come crawling back to you so easily?”

A moan slipped from your lips when Aemond shifted his leg. You knew you were getting carried away, that the power you had over him was getting to your head but fuck. It didn’t matter. 

You dropped your hand to where Aemond’s cock pressed against one of your thighs, touching him gently over the sheet that covered him. It still surprised you just how perfectly big Aemond was, thick and hard in your palm. And then you held him firmly, rocking your weeping cunt against his thigh even harder when he groaned. It sent shock after shock straight through your core.

“Did you think I would be on my knees for you so easily just like she was?” You spat, whining at the pleasure that was incomparable to the way you had been touching yourself. Aemond hissed as you slid your hand up and then back down so slowly. “After those shows you put on for me, there is not a chance.” 

Countermoves. Aemond was good at them, even when struggling to even out his breath and regain his composure. “Tell me, which part did you enjoy the most? Was it when I fucked my seed into her throat? Or when was calling your name?” 

You gripped the back of his neck so hard, pushing your soaked pussy harder onto his leg. “Do not-”

Aemond hummed, his grip tightening painfully on your hips as he moved his leg in motion against you. He smirked when you shuddered, caressing your cheek with his nose as he spoke lowly into your ear once again. “I think I know. It was last night, when I had her on my tongue and thought only of how perfect your desperate little cunt would taste instead.”

“Aemond,” you couldn’t help but moan as he rolled your hips deliciously on his thigh. He let out a small, deep laugh at the way you trembled in his hands but you could hear that he was losing himself just as much as you were. “Gods.”

“I wish to know, princess. How many times have you touched yourself since that night, wishing you were in her place?”

You sucked in a breath, rutting against Aemond violently and he only pulled you in harder when you refused to answer his questions. Another moan. “Be quiet, Aemond.”

“Hm,” Aemond nipped at your earlobe. “Do you really want me to stop talking? You know that I can feel how wet it makes your perfect cunt. Desperate little slut.”

Whining and cursing him under your breath, you let yourself really look at him. Aemond’s sapphire eye shone under the early morning light that spilled in from the windows, his eye dark with lust and his jaw clenching as he watched you fall apart on his lap. 

Hips buckling as he continued to pull you back and forth on his thigh, spreading your wetness on the soft expanse of his skin, your legs failed to hold your weight and you had clearly resigned to letting Aemond take control of your pleasure. 

You were right at the edge and just as you started to ride out your orgasm, Aemond spoke.

“If you do not beg me,” he threatened. “I shall stop.”

“Gods, no–do not sto-”

Aemond held you still in response and no matter how you writhed against his grip, you couldn’t move. He was keeping you at the tipping point, smirking at the way you were gasping for air and squirming on his lap. But he was in no calmer state himself and you could tell his resolve was about to shatter. 

“Stand up. I want you on the bed,” He demanded. And when you didn’t move, he let go of your hip to lay a stiff smack to your backside. “Now.”

“No.” 

It was almost too easy and you snatched his wrist before he could return it to your hip, moving your hips and rubbing yourself against his leg again now that he only had one hand to try and control you.   

Aemond’s leg was slick and your clit was sliding deliciously across his skin. Fingernails dug into the flesh of your hips and you could feel Aemond’s frustration as he yanked his hand out of yours. But you blindly grasped at it again, shockwaves of white hot pleasure striking you suddenly as you came undone, your forehead falling forward to rest on Aemond’s as you let out a loud, drawn out moan. 

You shook through your orgasm, holding Aemond tightly. His cock throbbed against your thigh and you almost felt bad. 

“You should understand, my prince, if you continue to bring that whore to your bed then I am not above bringing another man to mine.” You struggled to catch your breath and your legs were still trembling as you stood, stepping away to pick up the coat you had dropped to the floor. 

Aemond glowered at you, his glare strong enough to have made you crumble before him were you not so high on adrenaline. 

“You would not dare,” he all but growled. 

“Have I not surprised you enough already, Lord Husband?” 

Aemond stood, the sheet falling to the floor, entirely naked and stiff against his stomach as he watched you don his coat. The anger in his voice only served to spur you on. “You will not leave. You would not dare to leave.”

“I am a princess, after all,” you looked at him over your shoulder, lip caught between your teeth at the sight of him bare, hard and infuriated. There was disbelief written all over his expression. “You will need to work much harder than that if you want me to give in.”

There was something new in the way Aemond looked at you. As if he was impressed. Admiring you, even through his frustration. And without giving yourself the chance for second thoughts, you walked right out Aemond’s chambers with a triumphant smile. 

[waywardxrhea]

deserving - Matt Murdock

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!Reader

In your distraction after a rough day you end up the victim of a band of muggers.

word count: ~1.5k

content: angst, mugging, anxiety, panic attack, language, canon typical violence, fluff.

dividers by: @firefly-graphics (i seriously only ever use the graphics from this account and I am so grateful for them! <3)

As you walked back to your apartment complex in the near darkness of Hell’s Kitchen, your mind was anywhere else than where it should have been. Where it should have been as you carried a mid-sized box in your arms which caused you to leave your purse freely dangling at your side was on your surroundings. Hell’s Kitchen, even with Daredevil running around at night, was still dangerous, and not everyone knew to fear the Devil who lurked in the shadows. 

You came to regret your stupid choices of not putting your purse on top of your personal effects in the box and to make this trip in the near darkness when all of a sudden there was an arm pulling you into a chokehold from behind. The man’s gruff voice began demanding your purse and anything of value you held in the box while another man knocked the box from your arms before beginning to yank on the strap of your purse. Rather than using any form of self defense you knew though, you just froze in place as you began to get less and less oxygen to your brain as your attacker choked you out while his buddies ransacked the box that had crashed to the ground. 

“She doesn’t have shit in here!” one of the men groaned in dismay. You heard the sound of glass breaking as he added, “Stupid picture of her and her boyfriend, a plant, a couple of calendars!”

“Oh you just got fired didn’t you, doll?” the one choking you sneered in your ear as he added just a bit more pressure while he laughed.

“Ooh this is promising, she’s got a laptop charger! Look for the computer!” said a different voice from near the box. 

Suddenly though, air finally flooded your lungs and you dropped to your knees as your attacker was pulled away from you. You couldn’t even process what was happening around you as panic began to overtake your body. As your breathing became erratic and your heart pounded in your ears, you curled into yourself, pulling your knees to your chest and tucking your head in to make yourself as small as possible. A sense of doom creeped up your spine and into your brain as thought after brutal thought reminded you of every single terrible thing you had ever done or said or thought. Everything was free game to the monster running rampant through your memory banks, and he gladly reminded you of how badly you messed up. All the time. It seemed to be your defining characteristic. Nothing you ever did seemed to-

“Shh, shh, sweetheart I’m right here,” came a gravelly voice close to your ear as you were suddenly aware of a presence right beside you. The figure pulled you in close to his chest as he whispered, “I’ve got you. They’re gone.”

Your breathing came in sharp between short sentences as you gasped out, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry I didn’t see them coming! I wasn’t paying attention! I’m sorry! I can’t do anything right! I’m sorry…”

“Shh, sweetheart, you don’t have anything to apologize for. You didn’t do anything wrong,” said the voice. 

Tentatively, you pulled your face out from its place in your folded up legs and looked around, noticing your ransacked box, your purse lying beside it, your intact laptop, the leaves of your spider plant, and the broken framed picture of you and Matt at Foggy and Marci’s wedding. Bringing your senses closer to your body you felt the cold ground beneath you, the sharp poke of some rocks in your bottom, comforting arms wrapped around you, and beside you the strange armor that Matt wore at night when he went out to fight crime in the streets of the Kitchen. You heard the distant sound of cars driving, Matt’s voice returning back to normal from the Devil’s, and his steady heartbeat as you pulled yourself closer into his embrace. You smelled sharp metallic blood in the air, but Matt’s cologne from his day in court overtook the smell as you burrowed into his embrace. Finally, you tasted the salt of your tears in your mouth and you finally felt like you could breathe normally as you came down from your panic attack in Matt’s arms. 

“There you are,” Matt whispered before kissing the top of your head. “There’s my sweet girl. You did great coming back from that.” You didn’t deserve his sweet words or his encouragement, but you were too weak to argue. How pathetic… Where was your ability to hold your tongue earlier? “Let’s get you home,” he said after a few more moments, getting up and locating all of your things to get packed into your box before helping you back onto shaky legs. 

Matt got you back into your shared apartment and went about the formality of leaving the complex, only to come back through his usual route via the roof access mere minutes later. When he got back, you feigned being fine and encouraged him to get out of his suit as you busied yourself with making the both of you hot chocolate. After he was out of his suit and had quickly wiped the sweat away from his body, Matt was behind you again, wrapping you in his arms and holding you close. This show of tenderness only broke you down once more and your tears began to fall again no matter how much you willed them to stop. 

“I’m right here, sweetheart, let it out,” Matt told you, turning you around to face him so he could hold your head close to his chest. “Whenever you’re ready we can talk about it,” he assured you as he slowly guided the both of you toward the bedroom so he could hold you more easily. The gesture only broke you more and you fought a battle in your head between wanting to push him away because you didn’t deserve him and pulling him closer because you knew Matt was the only thing holding your broken pieces together. Eventually the latter won out and you clung to him with everything your weak body had as you continued to cry into his chest. 

After a few minutes you managed to regain a semblance of your voice and you choked out, “I’m sorry…”

“For what, sweetheart?” Matt asked, the tenor of his voice and the rumble of his chest beneath you managing to calm you down just that much more. In response, you began to feel some of the tension in your muscles release. 

“I messed up… Big time…” you whispered, your voice breaking again as you remembered what happened at work that day. “I was having a rough morning. Got in late. Spilled my coffee. Didn’t get to eat breakfast. So when I was called to my boss’s office I snapped at him and he…he fired me on the spot. Cited insubordination. Told me to collect my things after business hours. I’m so, so sorry Matt…”

You could feel Matt’s muscles tense and could practically sense the Devil beginning to itch to be let out onto someone for hurting you. But then the tension eased as he kissed the top of your head before he said, “He’s an asshole who didn’t truly know who he had working for him. I’ll help you find somewhere else to work, one that doesn’t have sleazebags just wanting to line their pockets in charge.”

“You…you aren’t mad?” you asked timidly, your eyebrows furrowing together in confusion. 

“Why would I be mad?” 

“B-because I lost my job… One income is hard to live on in this city, and the firm’s been taking on more pro bono work lately, and-”

“Sweetheart, I’m not mad. I promise,” Matt reassured you. “I hated that you had to work for that company and I’m actually happy that you’re out now. They didn’t deserve your hard work and dedication. You’ll find somewhere that will. Somewhere that understands that people have bad days and they don’t deserve to be fired over it. Somewhere that cares about you and what you have to say.”

“So like you in business form,” you said, a ghost of a smile making its way onto your lips. 

“Like me in business form,” Matt confirmed with a quiet chuckle. 

You were quiet for a moment before telling him, “Thank you for saving me out there by the way… I… The day got to me and I just froze. I’m-”

Before you could get the rest of your next apology out, Matt was tilting your chin up and placing a gentle kiss on your lips. When he pulled away and rested his forehead on yours, he told you, “I would go to the ends of the earth to protect you. No matter how bad of a day you’re having. I will always be here for you.”

“I love you,” you whispered.

“I love you too,” he told you fondly which made tears start welling up in your eyes once more, but this time they were tears of happiness. How you ever got lucky enough to have Matt in your life was a mystery you would never figure out, but in moments like these you were truly grateful for his kindness and the safety he provided you - not only as Daredevil, but as the man in your arms cuddling you until your mind came back to the reality that everything would be okay eventually and that you were deserving of him and the kindness he gave you.  

a/n: so this was inspired by a dream i had a few months ago wherein i too was having a panic attack and our sweet Matty came to my rescue combined with having an absolutely terrible mental health evening last night (whoops). whatever the circumstances i am just grateful to have the ability to express myself via my writing and i hope others can find some solace in my writing!

xo, brooke <3

general taglist: @reidmarieprentiss

[blackelysian]

Situationship.

Duke Dennis x Black! Fem! Reader as Makena

Word Count: 1,449

Warnings: 18+ smut, fluff, toxic relationship

Summary: Tired of this situationship between you and Duke you decide its just better to end things. Duke wants to make it right.

Makena POV

A sigh escaped my lips as I aimlessly scroll through my phone. It was now 3 am and Duke still wasn’t here yet. I sent a text to his phone for the one hundredth time.

                                                                       It's late, don't even worry about coming anymore… Sent.

No reply. Once again.

I watched his story and saw that he posted something 30 minutes ago. He was out with his friends at some party or function with some bitch grabbing his face. At that point I was fed up, annoyed and kinda hurt. I throw my phone to the side and sit up. He’s been blowing me off all night after he told me he was coming over so we could spend some time together. One stop and I'm on my way, I Love you”  was the last response I got from him. Tears streamed down my face. Not only was I mad at him I was mad at myself for even allowing my feelings to get wrapped up in whatever you wanna call this. Duke and I have been messing around for almost a year now but he never officially asked me to be his girlfriend. He helps me with my bills, buys me whatever I want, fucks me good, but there was no actual commitment. He uses the excuse of he doesn’t want to hurt me, but this hurts way worse. My thoughts were interrupted by my phone dinging, indicating I had just got a text. I hover my face over my phone revealing the message from him. 

Im outside

I layed back down on the bed ignoring his text. Next thing I know I hear my front door unlocking.

I groaned annoyingly. I need to get my key back from this nigga. I can hear his feet making their way to my bedroom before he slides my door open, stumbling in. He casually makes his way over to me leaning down to peck me on the lips but he was met with the palm of my hand.

“So you just goin walk in here late as a motherfucka and act like nothing's wrong??” She raised her voice at him.

“Come on boo don’t start that, i'm here now right? That's all that should matter'' He asks nonchalantly, going back in for another attempted kiss. I quickly jumped up and moved around him.

“You know, I don’t think I wanna do this anymore Duke..”I say looking away from him.

“Do what Makena?”

“THIS” I raise my voice again, pointing between the two of us. “This is getting old and I'm tired of sitting around waiting on you to see how good of a woman I am..tired of waiting on you to respect me! I’m done.” I snapped. 

“What do you mean you're done?”

“I'm done, We are done! And you need to give me back my key!” He chuckles at me.

“You trippin’ im not going any fucking where” He simply says, slideing his shoes off.

“Why don’t you just let me go Duke?” I questioned. “Why continue to string me along huh? You don’t want to be with me at this point so what's the point of keeping this going?”

“Makena,You know I love you. I just don't want to hurt you” He states, pulling me in front of him.

“You don’t think this hurts already?” I hold my hand up. “You know what, I just want you to go, i'll give you a minute to get whatever stuff you have here and leave my fuckin key” I turn my back to him not even giving him a chance to respond, heading for the bathroom to take a long, hot shower. I needed to clear my mind and hopefully by the time I got out that asshole would be gone for good.

Omniscient POV

After about 20 minutes, Duke enters the bathroom. He sees Makena’s naked silhouette through the foggy glass shower. He looks over to see her music softly playing from her bluetooth speaker. He quickly strips out of his clothes and slides in the steaming hot shower. The breeze runs a chill down Makena’s spine as he slides the door back closed. 

She quickly turns around. “I thought I told you to go?” She asks, rolling her eyes.

“We not done talking yet” He wraps his arms around her, bringing her body close to his.

“Duke, please don’t do this to me right now. Just let me go and leave” she says, trying to unwrap his arms from around her. He holds her tight.

“What do you want? Whatever you want I’ll give it to you. Just don’t leave me baby” 

“He can’t be serious..” She thought. But with the look on his face she knew this was far from a joke. But she couldn’t give in. What would he think of her if she just took him back so easily? Why now did he want to do the right thing? 

“It's a little too late fo-”

“Be my girlfriend?” He cuts her off, looking in her eyes with adoration.

“Wow really?” She asks sarcastically. “ Now you want to ask me? It's only because I'm telling you I'm done with you that you want to act right now” She says disgustingly, rolling my eyes and pushing him away from her. 

“Baby I'm serious!” He exclaims, grabbing her again. “I can’t lose you, whatever you want me to do I'll do it. I want to make it right, I have to make it right. Give me just one more chance and I promise we won’t have to have this conversation no more”

“I don’t know what to say Duke…” She says lowly, looking down and away from him. He drops to his knees in the oversized walk in shower, grabbing onto her waist. He places gentle kisses along her stomach trailing down to her womanhood. 

“Say yes” He says softly, placing a kiss right on top of her clit. Her breath hitches in her throat. 

“Say yes baby..” He throws her left leg over his shoulder and places a few more kisses on her wet center before completely devouring her. He made sure to take his time pleasing her. He wanted to show her that he meant what he said.

“Duke..no” She trails off, throwing her head back as he lapped her up like a thirsty dog. His thumb finds her clit drawing small circles on it. 

“Be my girlfriend baby” He says again, looking up to watch her love faces. She begins to feel her orgasm build in her stomach as she grinds down on his face. “Shit i'm almost there” She gasps. He stops immediately, getting up and turning off the shower before picking her up and walking her out the shower. 

“You don’t get to cum until you say yes.” He wraps a towel around her wet body, bending her over the sink, the two making eye contact in the mirror. She could see the lust and longing in his face. He rubs his member up and down her slick womanhood before roughly sliding into her in one swift motion. 

“Fuck” she groaned out as he starting to deliver rough,delicious strokes. 

“You goin be my girlfriend baby?” He asks yet again, brushing some of her curls out her face. Her mouth falls open but nothing comes out. He delivers a smack to her ass. “Answer me baby” He groans, going deeper bottoming out. 

“Oh shitt, Yess” She moans out blissfully.

“Say it” He says, pulling out and sitting on the side of the tub, pulling her back on him and sliding in again. He starts to work her up and down his member.

“Say it Makena” He states firmly.

“Ima be your girlfriend babyy” She blurts out.

“Yea?” He says with a smile, kissing you along the side of your face and neck as he still bounces you on him. Makena starts to throw it back on him, pulling out her best moves to show him that it doesn’t get any better than this. 

“Oh fuckk mama” He grunts, grabbing the back of her neck turning her to face him. 

“Gimme kiss” They lean into each other and give each other the sloppiest kiss ever. 

“Hmmm baby im cumming” She cries out, picking up her speed.

“Cum on your dick” His words were like a catalyst for her orgasm, which rips through her like a tornado. He finishes right behind her, pulling out and releasing on the rug. She turns to kiss him once again.

“Mm we not finished yet. I still have a lot of making up to do.” He says with a lustful grin on his face.

A/N: Makena definitely DID NOT stand on business 😭😭

[frickinsleepdeprived]

Ride or Die Part 1

Sanemi x Fem! Reader - Motorcycle Club AU

Word Count: 9.4K

TW: DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT - READ THE DAMN WARNINGS BEFORE READING P L E A S E: Mentions of violence ● school fights ● blood ● so much fucking blood ● domestic violence ● hospitals ● alcohol ● marijuana ● vaping/smoking ● reader being a stubborn bitch ● Sanemi being even more of a stubborn bitch ● so much fucking angst ● Sanemi has unpleasant memories of a lost loved one ● readers going through some shit-

CW: MINORS DNI - Reader has a wet dream and gets herself off in her sleep in Sanemi’s room (and Sanemi hopelessly watches, therefore by extension, voyeurism.)

A/N: HOLY FUCKING SHIT ITS ABOUT DAMN TIME- After promising this *checks calendar and cringes* New Years of this year and April of this year, I’m finally done with the first part of this multipart fic! No explicit smut in this part unfortunately, this is mostly about the opening dynamics between Sanemi and Reader. Smut, however, will definitely come in the next part hehehe- enjoy! I hope I didn’t disappoint with this lol

...

The moment she opened her eyes, she couldn't register anything. It was dark, darker than the abyss of her mind as her mind slowly manifested into consciousness. 

Though (Y/N)’s head was still foggy, she was able to figure out where she was. She was in a car, an SUV at that. Two women hunched over here trying to keep her bleeding at bay and her mind focused on something else. Her immediate thoughts were simple.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“Hey, can you hear me? Are you awake?” One female voice called out, it sounds like she's crying, more than likely she was worried. Another female voice scolded the other.

“Are you blind?! Of course she's awake! She's just not able to comprehend anything right now, Suma. And if she is, it's a damn miracle.” The voice, deadpan and flat, was from another woman. “Besides, it's not like she's in any position to answer questions anyway.”

“No no, ask all the questions you can. Get as much information as possible, Makio. The more the better.” Another female voice called out from the front passenger seat. Her voice soothing and calm, one could only assume she had the patience of a saint. “Tengen, love, can you make this go any faster?”

“There's a problem with that, Hinatsuru. Last time I was speeding with Kyojuro in the back after he got in a fight with Seis Lunas, I got pulled over for doing forty over the speed limit. Like, yeah, the cop was cool and all, let me off with a warning. But still, not risking it.”

That name…

That fucking name.

“Wh-what?! What the hell?! Where am I?!” (Y/N) sat up immediately. That name, Seis Lunas, wasn't something to be taken lightly. That name was the very foundation of her pain. The catalyst for her suffering and the only reason why she's in the situation she's in now. “WHERE IS HE?! WHERE'S THAT FUCKING BASTARD?!” her mind turned to one thing; fight or flight. And it looks like she chose to fight. The two women in the backseat holding her down to the seat and trying to calm her down as best as they can.

“Makio do something!” Suma cried out, struggling to keep (Y/N) from not only injuring herself more, but from trying to keep herself and her sister-wife from getting punched in the face

“HOW DO YOU EXPECT ME TO DO ANYTHING SUMA SHES FREAKING THE FUCK OUT!” Makio screamed, restraining both of the injured girl’s wrists and holding them down. (Y/N)’s tears making her feel a hint of remorse.

“Well try something!” Suma retorted, feeling an overwhelming sense of guilt as she pressed hard on (Y/N)’s thigh, causing the poor woman to yelp in pain. “Aaaaaahhhh I’m sorry-!” 

Their bickering and arguing only caused (Y/N)’s state of mind to worsen. The tears streaming out of her eyes proved that she was not only trying to keep her screams of pain at bay, but she was also terrified- no, she was mortified.

“EVERYONE SHUT THE HELL UP!” The male shouted, both of the women quieting at a moment's notice. “Alright, here's what the fuck we're doing. Makio, Suma, keep the lady's bleeding stable. Hina, start asking questions, and you,” He pointed to (Y/N) in the backseat, his voice turning calm, yet still stern as ever. “Don't worry, everything is gonna be fine. We're taking you to a hospital.” (Y/N)’s eyes widened at that. The last place she needed to be, of all places, was a damn hospital. “No, you don't get a say. No, you don't get to just fight us on this. This is happening, because it'll be hell or high water if we don't get you some help.” His tone was final, as if no one could argue with him.

Going to a hospital meant many things; healthcare, security, stability, and of course, a chance to get better in peace. But this? 

This would be anything but peaceful.

“No… no no no please-” (Y/N) protested softly. Sweat began to collect on her brow and her hands started to shake. Makio kept a hand on her forehead while Suma suppressed the bleeding.

“Whoa whoa, hey. It's okay, you're going to be fine. The doctors and nurses at Saint Tamayo are amazing, Hina would know, she works there. You've got nothing to worry about.” Makio tried to soothe her.

“No! You don't understand, if I go, he'll find me. He's got eyes everywhere, there's no way I can stay under the radar.” (Y/N) started to panic. She never went to hospitals for that reason. She was used to treating her wounds on her own, let alone fighting for her life.

“Can I ask you a personal question?” Tengen commented.

“Sure?” Her head tilted to the side as (Y/N) gave him an unsure confirmation. 

“Does this have anything to do with Seis Lunas?” The albino man asked, his maroon eyes flashing in the rear view mirror at her. The mere name alone sent her into a state of panic, but it was a silent panic. The kind where one would freeze, then look away. The one where it would make someone unsure of what to say, but their body language and expressions said it all. “Hinatsuru-”

“I'm calling Windbreaker and Ouroboros right now.” Windbreaker? Ouroboros? If these people are who (Y/N) thinks it is, then she's in for a lot more than she bargained for. “Hey, we're stepping on the gas. Seems like this girl is involved with some sort of domestic situation with the Kizuki, and it doesn't look good either… yeah,” she looked to Tengen “Step on the fucking gas, we have to get there before the Kizuki do.”

“Where to?” Tengen replied, his voice unsure and worried. (Y/N) speaking up before Hinatsuru could.

“I told you guys once, and I'll say it again, if I go to a hospital, he will find me and I will be dead!” Her voice was hoarse, the pain becoming too much to bear. One more moment in this car and she'll more than likely die from stress alone than the actual blood loss. Hinatsuru gave her a sympathetic look in the rearview mirror. “I… I get you guys are trying to help and I get that it's important I get the proper medical care but I'm fine-”

“You are anything but fine! You’re going to a goddamn hospital and that is final!” He slammed his hand against the steering wheel, picking up speed and rushing towards Saint Tamayo hospital. “Do you know what kind of condition we found you in? You were covered in sweat and vomit, you went into shock. You're not fine and you're going to the hospital. And I swear to God if you try and back out of this again, I'll personally see to it that you're restrained to the fucking gurney once we get there. Got it?”

“That's unsettling!” (Y/N) shrieked, her voice strained with tears and horror. Makio sighed and held her close, pressing a reassuring kiss to her temple, all platonic.

And that's when everything got faster, and everything turned dark.

…

A young albino man sped on his motorcycle on the highway. A determined, seemingly menacing look on his face as he rode alongside a fellow biker- a group of them, actually.

It was times like this when he was more focused than he was with his own day job. Going ninety on the highway when he knew the speed limit was sixty-five. He could easily get pulled over by one of those state troopers if he and his fellow riders aren’t careful. Yet, that doesn’t stop him, because this is personal for him.

Needless to say, he doesn’t like to hear about domestic violence. Not that he doesn’t care, because he does, deeply. But the thought of a woman being beaten by a man. He was raised better than that. 

And by God if he doesn’t do something about it now, it’ll be the end of his pride.

Skidding and drifting on the asphalt of the highway, he took an exit and slowed to a halt at the light. Finding the time to open his helmet shield and take a hit off of his vape. The strong, raspberry and pineapple scented smoke wafting in the chill of the fall night, causing him to sigh as he quickly put the cancerous device back into his pocket and closed his shield. Revving his engine, he sped off as the light turned green, making his way to Saint Tamayo with the rest of the group riding with him.

Maybe this time, he’d be able to save someone. Albeit it’s someone he doesn’t know, but at least it's a life saved… hopefully.

…

Her kicks and screams resounded at the entrance of the emergency room. Her fighting was rough, and unfair.

(Y/N) was a scrapper, a dirty one at that. Even through the blood loss and the injuries she had, she could still put up one hell of a fight despite seeing black. Not red, black.

“Dammit! You’re going to injure yourself more if you keep fighting!” Makio struggled to get her out of the SUV. Holding onto (Y/N)’s underarms as Hinatsuru and Suma took hold of her legs. Tengen’s hands gently restraining the injured woman’s wrists as they loaded her into a wheelchair.

Though, (Y/N)’s efforts proved to be vain and futile; becoming far too stressed. Nurses and doctors rushed out to see what was wrong, and upon seeing the state of her injuries, they had no choice but to take the poor soul in. (Y/N) kicked, punched, writhed and squirmed the entire time the hospital staff took her to the back. A group of motorcycles pulled up in the parking lot and walked briskly to the quartet waiting at the entrance of the emergency room.

“About damn time you showed up Windbreaker. Where the hell were you?” Tengen sighed deeply, running a hand through his silken white hair. Windbreaker took off his helmet, exposing his scarred face to the bitter chill of the night. His leather jacket is not doing much to shield him from the cold either. The rest of the riders took off their helmets as well, most of them male, but two of them female.

“Well, trafficks fucking horrendous. Not to mention, state troopers are everywhere tonight. I’m surprised that me and the rest of us didn’t get pulled over. But that's neither here nor there.” Windbreaker spoke casually, watching the taller albino and three ladies in front of him light a cigarette. “And you get onto me for vaping, hypocrite.”

“Hey, this is stressful, cut me and the ladies some damn slack.” Tengen sighed, taking a heavy drag and exhaling deeply. “How’d you even come across her anyways? Were you and Ouroboros just out riding around or something?”

“Man, we watched the poor girl crash.” A ravenette cut in, his short hair tied into a small ponytail at the dead middle of the back of his head and a mask concealing his nose and mouth. A pink haired cutie in a pair of denim short-shorts, a white crop top, a pair of riding boots, and a leather vest attached to his hip. “We don’t know where the black eye, bruised knuckles, and the cut on her thigh came from though. However, we’re thinking it’s some sort of domestic from what we all heard over the phone.” He spoke grimly, a cold and distant look in his eyes as he spoke of (Y/N), gripping his female companion tighter by the hip as he sighed.

“Well, the way she spoke of Seis Lunas earlier makes it seem like it is domestic. She was practically hollering and begging us to not take her here. Like, yeah, she acknowledged she needs the attention for her wounds, but she did mention something about how Sies will come around at some point, he’ll find her and kill her is what she said.” Makio chimed in, throwing her cigarette butt on the pavement and stomping it out. “Woman’s so stubborn that she started fighting us in the backseat, but she was too weak to get any real licks in.”

“Well, that comes as part of being involved with the Kizuki, I guess.” Windbreaker spoke with a snort, taking another drag from his vape as a few of the other riders went into the waiting room of the ER. “But regardless, the priority here is this chick and what the hell happened to her. I’m betting she has a concussion too, she wasn’t really smart with the way she was riding earlier. No helmet, no protective gear.”

“Maybe she was in a rush?” The pink haired girl spoke up, “I mean, if it's a domestic like we’re suspecting, then chances are she was just trying to get away from her aggressor quickly regardless of any implicated consequences.” The men nodded in agreement, they had to admit, despite her being a bit of a bubbly, happy-go-lucky girl, she’s got her wits about her. “Not to mention, no one would ride like that if it wasn’t serious.”

“That much is true… anyways, we should probably head in with the rest. I’m sure they’re getting the rundown on her injuries right now.” Windbreaker spoke up, watching the others put out their cigarettes and hide away their vapes. Some of them had flasks, making him shake his head in disapproval.

Maybe this time he can save the poor soul he found on the side of the road. But from the looks of it right now, (Y/N) won’t be recovering anytime soon.

After all, extensive injuries like that don’t just heal overnight.

…

About a week had passed and (Y/N) was, arguably, in worse shape than she was before. Eye still blue and black- slowly turning yellow, her scars stitched up and wrapped heavily. A few broken ribs and a concussion, but expected to make a full recovery. Still and unconscious in an ICU room, Windbreaker stood by her bedside, and not once did he want to leave. Doctor or nurse came in to check on (Y/N)? He was right in the corner watching silently. Anytime anyone else was in the room, he made sure he was there so that way nothing would go south- and god forbid anything happen, lest someone wanted to face the lilac eyed man’s wrath.

(Y/N), on the other hand, was oblivious to the man’s presence. When she came to, she gave him a look of confusion. “Wh- who?-” she was cut short by his quick interjection.

“Eh, just the guy that saved your life. You’re lucky I caught you in time, well, me and the others did.” The albino spoke softly, yet something in his voice sounded stern. “You’re also lucky you didn’t die.”

“Well excuse me macho, but I didn’t need saving.” (Y/N)’s curt response stirred a slight annoyance in him, though, he couldn’t help but be strangely amused at her sharp tongue and cold words. “If anything, he’s-” once again, (Y/N) was cut off.

“He’s gonna find you and he’s gonna kill you? Yeah, I heard that whole rant on the phone sweetcheeks.”

“...Sweetcheeks?” The disdain in her voice was palpable, dripping with scorn and offense, yet she couldn’t help but blush at the thought of being called such an endearing name. Yet she knew such sweet words could be laced with the most bitter of intentions. “I- I’m not sweet, dammit!”

“Well, maybe not sweet, but definitely helpless, at least for the moment.” He spoke candidly, crossing his arms and leaning back in the chair by the woman’s bedside. “Your bikes totaled too, I’m not sure if it can be salvaged either.”

“Goddammit- okay, who are you? Name, please, I can’t be talking to strangers right now, my psyche can’t handle it.” (Y/N)’s voice sounded hoarse, likely from the screaming she was doing last night. The man sighed, running his hand through the mess of silver locks on his head, he was losing himself in his mind. Plagued with thoughts the last time something like this happened… the last time he couldn’t save someone like her.

“Name’s Windbreaker.” he spoke with finality, “I ride with the hashira, as if the patches on my vest weren’t a dead give away already. You crashed last night, like I said, your bikes totaled and more than likely scrap at this point. You’re extremely lucky to be alive, but you’re also kinda dumb for driving the way you were.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes at his comments, scoffing slightly as she rubbed her sore eyes, wincing slightly when she touched them.

“Well, Windbreaker, when you’re trying to get away from an abusive ex like Seis Lunas, you don’t have a choice but to ride fast. Whether I ended up dead or alive is a different story.” The last of her strength was used to hoist herself up, but only to fail when she tried with all her might to use her upper body strength. Flopping back onto the mattress, her head hitting the pillow, letting out a defeated sigh as she looked over at him. She drank in the sight of him, her eyes narrowing in recognition, but she wouldn’t dare say anything about it, at least not yet. The real question is why the hell he looked so familiar. “Anyways, why did you decide to “save” my sorry ass?”

“Because I was raised better than the scum of the earth that decided to do this to you. Besides, why the hell would I just let you die anyways? That’s blatant negligence on my end.” He crossed his arms, sighing in exasperation. Did she really think she wasn’t worth saving, that she wasn’t worth anyone’s time? It only made him wonder how much Seis Lunas had broken her down and rebuilt her in his image. “Did I mention that you’re also quite the fighter?”

“Yeah, you kinda have to be in this cruel world.” (Y/N) sighed as she spoke, looking at the IV that’s lodged into her hand. “As soon as I get out of here, it's back into hiding.”

“Hiding? Where?” His eyebrows raised in intrigue, but his concern outweighed his curiosity, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. “This town isn’t exactly big, you know.” He sighed softly, tilting his head.

“Wherever the hell is farthest from town. Might go two counties over if I’m honest.” She spoke with yet another resigned sigh. It was as if she was giving into whatever her circumstances threw at her. Which honestly, was quite sad in his eyes.

“Well, yeah, but… don’t you have a place to go? Family? Friends?” His voice grew solemn.

“Family lives out of state, as far as friends go, I have none of them. Seis asserted his “dominance” and drove all of them away. Now I’m just out of touch with all of them.” This… this hurt Windbreaker, hard. It was like someone put him in her place. At this rate, he hurt for her. 

He might just bleed for her.

…

Weeks followed, then about a month and a half. After (Y/N) had been discharged from the hospital and started physical therapy, he hadn’t heard anything from her since. With every passing night, the bitter chill seemed to get even colder as Windbreaker thought about her. He would stay up at night, haunted by the things she told him about Seis Lunas.

“Anyways, why did you decide to “save” my sorry ass?”

That one stung the most, if anything, it tore his heart in two. And though he probably shouldn’t be thinking about her, because she was only saved out of what he felt was obligation, he couldn’t help it. After all, a woman’s safety, to him, was probably the most precious thing he keeps close to himself. But a snap of someone’s fingers alerted his senses elsewhere. A certain masked ravenette staring down at him with cold eyes.

“You’re thinking about her again.” He spoke, his eyebrow raised as he stood in the doorway of the silverette’s room within the confines of the Hashira clubhouse. With a heavy sigh, Ouroboros leaned on the doorframe of Windbreaker's room. “Let her go, man, she likely doesn't want to see any of us again. I mean, unless you want to be a creep and go find her.”

“It's not being a creep if it's a welfare check. I know you'd do the same for L'Amour if she was in that girl's position.” Windbreaker sighed, sitting up shirtless from where he was laying on his bed. Picking up a black muscle shirt and slipping it on. “Where are we meeting for church?”

“Dive bar downtown, it's usually pretty empty on Sundays so everything we're gonna talk about should be safe and sound.” The ravenette took his hair down to re-tie it. “And after all is said and done, I'm getting L'Amour to cut my hair.” Ouroboros sighed and crossed his arms, one gold eye and the other blue looking at Windbreakers lilac ones. “If you happen to come across that girl, though, offer the clubhouse to her or something. I'm sure Mariposa wouldn't mind feeding her or anything.”

“She likely needs it, god knows where she is now.” The silverette rubbed the sleep from his eyes, putting on a pair of riding pants. “Matter of fact, I think I might go out now. Do a scan throughout town and see if I can find her.”

“You're really hellbent over this, aren't you? Isn't this what happened with-” Ouroboros was cut off by Windbreakers cold stare. “Nevermind… anyways, church is at seven at the dive bar downtown, don't be late.'' With that, Ouroboros walked out. Not a care in the ravenettes eyes as his footsteps thundered on the carpeted floor of the clubhouse. Windbreaker sighed deeply, setting out to ride around town for the girl he saved a few weeks back.

But he came up empty.

…

Stepping into the establishment, clad in a pair of dark jeans and an equally dark shirt with a pair of sunglasses, (Y/N) hoped no one would recognize her.

Many clubs, including the Kizuki and the Hashira, come to this particular bar for church. (Y/N) has always been to these meetings, but never allowed a chance to voice anything thanks to the Kizuki being a one-percenter club. Always left in the background, or attached to Seis Lunas’ hip with a drink in hand. (Y/N)’s car keys attached to one of her belt loops as she sat on a stool at the bar counter. The doctor told her not to drink, but it was her only hope at forgetting that horrible and damn near fatal night.

Part of her, however, winced as the bartender poured the amber brown, poisonous liquid into a glass with whiskey stones. Yet the other part was screaming “DRINK DRINK DRINK DRINK DRINK-” As the young woman brought the class to her lips, a bitter euphoria overwhelmed her senses. The grainy, caramel scent comforted her mind as she downed the whole glass in one singular swig, not a damn given about the consequences. Over in the left of her peripheral vision stood the hashira motorcycle club. Perhaps they were having church, or maybe they all decided to get out of the clubhouse for an evening. Either way, (Y/N) kept her head low, making sure it wasn’t obvious that she may or may not be eavesdropping, even if it were a breach of privacy.

“Come on man, get over her. She’s likely out of the hospital and doing better. Besides, she’s probably far out of town anyways.” Tengen patted Windbreaker on the back, passing him a pint of whatever draft beer was in the glass. The silverette shook his head and pushed the glass away. “Still don’t drink? Man, you’re twenty-one goddamn years old! Live a little!”

“You know me, I don’t drink, and I won’t drink until Genya’s out of high school.” Windbreaker sighed, his silver hair unruly and a mess from the ride around town. Though, Tengen did have a point; he’s a grown man, what’s stopping him from drinking? Besides, his younger brother is old enough to take care of himself. But then he remembered what his brother had been through, and that was enough to make the lilac eyed man turn down alcohol, regardless of the occasion.

It was like that for three hours; three hours of Windbreaker turning down drinks and of (Y/N) actively avoiding the temptation to turn her gaze to the group of bikers. Of course, she couldn’t ignore the fact that she had been sipping on her third drink for a while now, lost deep in thought of where to go from here, until she got a call. “Hello? Yes, this is her… I’m sorry? Ah, I see, I’m on my way.” Stepping down from the barstool, (Y/N) quickly makes her way out of the bar, her movements quick and fluid- amid the pain of her injuries. It seems like someone was following her out, yet she paid no mind. Slipping into her car, she speeds off towards Kimetsu High, where she’s supposed to pick up two troublemakers that got into a fight. Of course she had to be the one the school called, Jim Jones was too neglectful to even do anything. Reyes was too busy- as was Seis Lunas. Spinjutsu, well, Spinjutsu just doesn’t want anything to do with that. So it’s up to (Y/N) to make sure the bullshit gets settled.

Only God knows what kind of trouble they’ve caused this time.

…

“I’m sorry you did what?!” The two kids in front of her; a girl with long platinum, green tipped hair and caked makeup and a boy with a scrawny, lean build, rolled their eyes and sighed deeply. “How many damn times do I have to tell you guys?! Stop. Getting. Into. Fights! You will be suspended or expelled, or at worst, arrested!” (Y/N) groaned at the thought, rubbing her sore eyes and letting out an exasperated sigh. “Where are the kids you beat up? And don’t tell me they’re in the nurse's office.” The girl had a guilty look on her face. “Isis, what the fuck did you guys do?”

“Well, we had to teach them a lesson somehow.” The boy spoke up, crossing his arms and leaning back on the chair, as if all of this was just normal. “And hell yeah, they’re in the nurse's office, and I bet that those hashira bastards are on their way to come pick them up now.” He had an almost proud look on his face, as did his female companion. The two siblings had always found a way to get themselves into trouble, whether it be minor or major things. They’ve always been troublemakers, even before (Y/N) came around.

A distinct voice came in through the door of the front office; male, gruff, and definitely pissed off. (Y/N) looked up from the two to face who it was, lo and behold it was Windbreaker. “Yes, I’m Genya Shinazugawa’s older brother. Now where is he?” He was practically interrogating the front desk clerk, who basically had no answers to his questions, and that only pissed him off more.

“The nurses office. I’m talking with the assailants right now, actually. Also, nice to see you again, I guess.” (Y/N) spoke up, her voice tired and frustrated, just like his. Windbreaker looked up at her, making a beeline in her direction. The look of rage in his eyes was palpable, but she knew it wasn’t for her. “Look, I know that this is unexpected, but I’ve got this.”

“Oh no, no no no. Your siblings or whatever the hell those two are, they’re gonna pay. They’re gonna pay double. Because no one, and I mean no one lays a damn finger on my brother.” He spoke sternly. “And by God if I have anything to say about it, I’d say lock those two the hell up if they’re not going to alternative school.” (Y/N) sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of her nose. This situation, on top of her injuries and meeting Windbreaker in unforeseen circumstances, was too much.

“I… I understand that. Believe me, if they were my blood siblings, I’d definitely make a decision on their behalf. But unfortunately, I’m not, so there’s very little that I could do legally. Rest assured though, I have all of this under control.” She winced at the pain in her black eye, a headache looming in her skull. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to talk to the principal and see what the hell those two will be going through as far as a punishment goes.” (Y/N) stepped into the principal’s office, shutting the door behind her and leaving the silverette out in the lobby. 

The conversation didn’t last long, it was only a matter of time before (Y/N) learned that the two siblings wouldn’t be receiving a punishment at all, considering this was the first incident of the year. With a frustrated sigh, she snapped her fingers at the two siblings and motioned for them to follow her. But before she left, she passed Windbreaker a piece of paper. “If these two assholes cause you any other issues, call me.”

Windbreaker stared at the piece of paper and sighed deeply, nodding solemnly. “Will do, thanks.” He looked down at the contact information. “(Y/N) (L/N): (***) ***-****”

He would make sure to remember this.

…

It had been a while since that encounter, (Y/N) would receive calls here and there from Windbreaker, who’s contact name came up as “Sanemi”. She had assumed that was his real name, as if the name “Windbreaker” wasn’t enough evidence to it being an alias. “Look, all I’m saying is that Isis and Osiris are just… troubled. But that’s still no excuse for what they’ve done. And what's more, I’m not even their legal guardian, Jim Jones is.” Sanemi, on the other end, let out a scoff.

“Well, that explains a lot. He just lets those kids just run around and do whatever?” he asked, scrunching his face up in confusion. “Moreover, why the hell does Jim Jones of all people have custody of two teens anyways? That guy’s an internet cult leader and everyone knows it.”

“Alleged cult leader, but I have my suspicions also. No one really knows how he got custody of those two in the first place, but that’s neither here nor there right now. Where are you anyways? I hear something in the background.” (Y/N) spoke up, which caught Sanemi off guard, why is she so interested in him all of a sudden?

“Oh, uh, I’m at the hashira clubhouse. One of the members wanted me to offer it to you at the hospital once you got out. But you kinda went off the grid for a while afterwards, so I never got the chance. Where are you though? You sound like you’re outside or something.” He asked softly, concern lacing his voice despite not knowing her well enough to truly have the right to be truly worried.

“... weeeeellllllllll-” her voice trailed off, awkward and nervous before she was cut off by the silverette.

“Location, now.” He demanded, his voice stern and cold.

“And if I don’t?” (Y/N) scoffed, not taking him seriously.

“I’ll scour this entire town looking for you.” Sanemi concluded.

“I’d love to see you try.” She spoke confidently, as if challenging him to even try to get near her. She hung up, and just to humor him, gave him her location. There's no way he’d actually show up, right? “Not to mention, that's an awfully mighty claim for someone that barely knows me. What makes you think I’d go to someone else’s house when I barely know them?” Sanemi scoffed on the other end of the phone. 

“Well, for one, rude. Two, I don’t have a house, at least not yet, working on that.” He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Now, will you please drop your damn location so I don’t have a heart attack?” (Y/N) groaned softly at that… something about that noise roused something within Sanemi. It was wrong, so devastatingly wrong, he barely knows her. Why is he feeling so warm inside at the prospect of bringing her back with him?

“What has you so concerned, Sanemi? You only brought me to the hospital once, besides, it’s not like we’re dating. Unless I need to clarify that for you?” The woman’s tone was annoyed, and definitely not the warmest. “Look, I appreciate your concern and interest in me, that is if there’s any sort of interest or concern in the first place, but I’m okay-”

“You’re not fine, you hear me?! You’re still injured, you’re still being hunted by the Kizuki!” Sanemi snapped, sighing deeply as he threw on some sweatpants and a shirt. “Look, I’m not gonna let you be out there alone. So do me a favor, drop me your location so I can at least get you somewhere safer. You don’t have to come anywhere with me if you don’t want to. I get that I don’t know you very well and that's fine, but at least let me make sure you’re okay. Please?” There was something about his voice… it was desperate, that much (Y/N) could tell. But there was a hint of something else.

Was… was that longing she heard?

“I- you know what, fine. But don’t expect anything to come of this, because that’d be entirely by coincidence.” She sent him her precise location, which was a park on the other side of town.

“Are… are you fucking kidding me- That's it. Stay put, stay on the phone, I’m on my way. If one of those Kizuki fucks comes around then start running towards downtown, got it?” His voice was stern, a little too stern. It made (Y/N) roll her eyes again, but hearing him so riled up opened up her mind to other things also. She knew they were wrong, but dammit if it wasn't enticing.

“Sanemi I-” Her protests were in vain as Sanemi’s voice cut through.

“Got it?” The sound of a door slamming and a car starting made (Y/N)’s heart drop. His voice was demanding- almost too demanding as she heard his car speeding out of a parking lot. Of course there was no convincing this man otherwise, he’s far too stubborn, far too set in his ways to listen to anyone else’s opinion.

“... Alright, just uh, get here quick, I guess.” Her voice was unsure, but her mind was already seemingly made up, not by her own choice of course. With the way Sanemi spoke to her, it’s almost as if he cares. It’s eerily similar to the way Seis Lunas would talk to her, but this is different somehow. It has no malicious intention, at least she hopes it wouldn’t. He’s definitely hard to read, well, that's a lie. His intentions are obvious- painfully obvious. But (Y/N) just can’t shake the feeling of an ulterior motive, especially after everything Seis Lunas put her through; the rat bastard broke her, that much was evident. With a heavy sigh, she sits on a curb and sparks a blunt, inhaling on the Lord’s lettuce and exhaling in the same manner it went in- deep, sharp, and heavenly. The sangria flavored cigarillo wrap made it a little easier to smoke, though she had it in the back of her mind that she probably should’ve gotten a real tobacco leaf to smoke out of; but that's neither here nor there right now. 

As she awaited the hot tempered silverette’s arrival, she contemplated her next move. Would she stay in town? Would she leave and never come back? Where would she go, knowing that her family is far away and friends were out of touch because of her association with the Kizuki, even if it is now former? (Y/N)’s mind raced, her heart heavy as the stress became too much to bear. The heartstrings were pulling, the tears pooled in her eyes- which she quickly wiped away. Reminding herself that she's a grown woman and capable of handling herself. She didn’t need a man, despite how she had to accustom herself to the lifestyle synonymous to that of a housewife. A degrading thought, really, because she never figured she’d find herself at the mercy of someone who is pretty much a stranger, and a member of a rival motorcycle club to boot. “How could I have let myself fall so hard from where I was?” was her immediate thought. Though even her thoughts didn’t quench the sweltering fire that were the burning questions of her uncertain future.

Sanemi, on the other hand, was occupied with other thoughts. Why was (Y/N) out in a park on the other side of town at one o’clock in the morning? What happened to the beat up pontiac grand prix she owned; the one that had a missing front bumper and chipped dark blue paint? Whatever happened the night she was taken to the hospital by Tengen and his wives? He remembered her mentioning something about Seis Lunas being her ex, but that was the extent of it. But the mention of Seis Lunas raised even more questions in his mind. Why was (Y/N) even affiliated with the brutal one-percenter club in the first place? How did she come to meet Seis Lunas? Why was she Osiris and Isis’ emergency contact at the very same school that Genya, along with other Hashira prospects, go to?

As both of their minds were caught up in a slew of questions and thoughts, Sanemi had reached her location faster than he had anticipated. He hung up the call and got out of the black sedan he drives, looking around and spotting (Y/N) almost immediately. Her condition seemingly improved; the black eye was nearly gone and she didn’t look as lethargic as before. Though, there was no mistaking the fatigue in her body language as he stepped closer and closer to her. His movements slow, cautious, and weary as if he were moving towards an injured dog. “Hey…” those were his immediate words. She looked up at him, an involuntary breath of relief escaping her lungs as she took another hit off of the blunt. He sat beside her on the curb, lighting his own cigarette and taking a drag. “You alright?” She looked over at him, trying her hardest to keep her tears at bay, but to no avail, seeing as how they just couldn’t stop falling.

“Depends on what your definition of “okay” is.” (Y/N) spoke softly, her sigh heavy and tired as she took another hit from the blunt. “Car broke down, and I've been walking ever since. Just kinda left it there, it was a piece of shit anyways. Payments were overdue, tags were no good and it had no insurance. If  anything if I was caught riding around in it I’d get arrested, maybe it’s a blessing in disguise or something.” Was she ranting now? She’s never done that before, especially not in front of Sanemi. Like, yeah, they’ve had their fair share of long talks over the phone, but never about personal struggles. She was far too prideful to want to admit she needed help, so why do so now? Sanemi sighed and nodded in acknowledgement, taking another drag off of his cigarette and running a hand through his hair.

“I getcha, it's hard to figure out your priorities, especially in a situation like yours. Hell, maybe it really was a blessing in disguise, considering the Kizuki would know what your car looks like. I’d have definitely ditched the car if it meant your safety.” He took another drag from his cigarette and looked at her. “But I guess you’re not really one to worry about things like that huh?” (Y/N) looked his way with a sneer.

“Really? You’re seriously asking me that? My bike is totaled, my car is gone, all of my shit is at the Kizuki hideout. I doubt Seis Lunas would give it back to me anyways, hell, he probably already burned most of my clothes and broke a lot of my valuables.” She shook her head and took another heavy drag from the blunt. “I don’t even think he wants to see me anyways.” Tears filled her eyes, but she was quick to blink them away. Though this didn’t escape Sanemi, seeing the tears in her eyes broke his own heart. He knew it was wrong, he shouldn’t feel something for her, but he couldn’t help it.

What’s more, (Y/N) feels something for him also, and it’s definitely not what she’s supposed to be feeling. It’s not contempt she feels, but pure and utter infatuation for someone who’s basically a stranger. They barely know each other, hell, they don’t even know the most basic information about one another. They don’t know each other's hopes, dreams, aspirations- not even what the other person’s favorite food is. Why the hell are they so hellbent on feeling this way? This isn’t supposed to be happening, this shouldn’t be happening. But (Y/N) knew that maybe it was just the overwhelming wave of emotions clouding her judgment; that it was simply the blunt she was smoking that was altering her state of mind. But weed doesn’t affect her like that, at least not when it comes to her self control. Sanemi could smell the whiskey on her breath, the weed in her blunt, the pure and utter despair she was experiencing.

He had enough of this, enough of watching her suffer. Without even thinking, he put out his cigarette and took her hand, gently guiding her up into a standing position and to his car. What the hell was he doing, taking a stranger into his car and offering help when he knew she’d probably deny it in the first place? What about (Y/N) was so enticing to him that he just had to do this? “Your hands are freezing, what the hell are you doing out here without the proper clothes? This thin hoodie of yours isn’t going to keep you warm.” He spoke sternly as he took off his jacket and wrapped it around his shoulders, damning the consequences of his own actions in his mind. “At this rate, you’ll catch pneumonia if you’re not careful.”

“Then let me get sick.” (Y/N) spat, a defiant huff escaping her lungs as she sniffled from the bitter chill of the otherwise clear night. Her breath came out in the form of white mist, visible in the blue-violet glow of the street lamps. “Why do you care so much about me? You’re a stranger! Why do you want to help me when you know I’m bound to suffer anyway?” Once again, Sanemi’s heart shattered, feeling his heartstrings pull as he wrapped her up in his arms, trying his hardest to keep her warm. “S-stop, just… don’t, please.” Her pleas fell on deaf ears; gone were the worries of her well being. Sanemi would make sure she was safe, no matter what it took. If the other hashiras didn’t agree, or even if the Kizuki went after him, he didn’t care. “Sanemi enough-”

“Stop. Stop talking, just shut up.” He looked her in the eyes, nothing but care and tenderness within his lilac gaze. “Do you not realize how fucked up your situation is, (Y/N)?” Sanemi spoke softly, wiping errant tears from her cold cheeks. Her skin felt like ice under his calloused, warm hands. “I met someone like you before, she… she meant the world to me, but… that's a story for another time. For now, let's just get your shit from the Kizuki. You’re not staying outside tonight, or any other night for that matter. Alright?” Her eyes narrowed, what the hell was he talking about?

“Who is this we? If you step foot near the Kizuki they’re going to kill you. I’ve seen it happen before, they don’t care who comes around, friend or not. If they don’t want you there, they’re going to hurt you.” Why was she even giving him this warning in the first place? It’s not like she cared about what happened to him or anything, he's a hashira. She’s supposed to hate him, to want nothing to do with him, to loathe him with her entire being because she was supposed to want nothing to do with him. But his touch felt warm, so comforting and so warm that she couldn’t help but lean into his scarred hands that rested on the skin of her face. His gaze was kind and caring, making a foreign feeling swell in her heart and bubble in her gut. It was never supposed to be this way. Sanemi shook his head slowly, a soft sigh escaping him as he thought about the girl in front of him now,  how she’s so eerily similar to the one he knew as Flora, at least, that's what her road name was. “Sanemi answer me!” (Y/N)’s voice brought him back to reality, his eyes narrowing as he regarded her. She’s stubborn, but so was he, and he was determined to help her regardless of whatever protest he gave.

“The “we” is us, (Y/N). I’m not letting you face your ex alone. Not after what he did to you.” Sanemi’s hands ran through her hair, his touch gentle, a far cry from his usually harsh demeanor. “You were put into the ICU for weeks, doll. Who’s to say Seis wouldn’t do it again? If anything, the backup from me should be enough, and if it’s not, you’ve got a whole slew of people ready to back you up at a moment's notice.” Doll… (Y/N)’s never been called that before. “I’ll be goddamned if something like that happens to you again. I… I can’t stand to see you like that again, or like the mess you are right now. So for the love of Christ, stop being so fucking stubborn and just let me help you.” He’s conflicted now, he’s not supposed to be pining over her like this, yet, here he is. Fawning over a woman he barely knows and she’s obviously not having it- or so he thinks.

“Sanemi be honest with me are you just looking for a fuck?” (Y/N) spoke softly, her gaze meeting his in an almost intimidating manner. Her vulnerability causes her to feel weak, and that's the last thing she wants right now. After all, being weak is what almost got her killed in the first place.

“You honestly think I’m that shallow?” Sanemi scoffed, sounding almost offended as he opened his passenger side door as it started to snow. Getting in on the passenger side, he slipped the key into the ignition and started the car. “But if you really need to know, no, I’m not looking for a fuck. That's the last thing I’d look for, especially in someone who’s in a situation like yours. You’re still recovering from your injuries, don’t act like I didn’t see you limping.” He put the car in drive and headed further into town, towards the area of the Kizuki hideout. (Y/N) felt her heart drop at the thought of it, knowing that she’d have to go in there and get her stuff, even if it was just the bare minimum of her clothes. She quickly hopped on the phone and made a call.

“Do you honestly think it’s a good idea to make a call?” Sanemi questioned, raising a curious eyebrow, but his eyes gave away concern. (Y/N) looked at him with a deadpan expression, a deep sigh escaping her as she rolled her eyes.

“Would you rather die? Because that’s what's gonna happen to the both of us if I don’t call ahead of time. It’s for both of our sakes.” She redirected her attention to the conversation on the phone. “Hey, you burn my shit or is it still in your room?.. Excuse me? Donated? I mean, did you at least keep my underwear and stuff?.. You’re fucking kidding me- alright, fine… yeah, yeah, whatever… don’t get smart with me, dipshit… hey, last time I checked, I wasn’t the one that swung first, and I certainly wasn’t the one that left a gash in my leg- shut your goddamn trap, Seis- you know what, fuck you.” Sanemi’s eyes widened at her harsh language, watching her not only hang up, but completely turn off her phone also startled him as well. He let out a low whistle, cringing at the mere thought of what was said on the other line, that is, until (Y/N) spoke up again. “Just take me to the next town over, I’ll manage.”

“No.” It was an immediate response from him, as if it were easy for him to say such a thing. As if (Y/N) meant something to him, and deep down, he knew it was just utterly and horribly wrong. “I can't let you go off the grid, not after what you said to the vice president of the Kizuki. If you're with the hashira, it'll be like having bodyguards-” He was cut off yet again by her protests.

“I don't need bodyguards, Sanemi! I just need time! Time away from this godforsaken, dusty old town where there is nothing for me here!” Sanemi slammed his hand on the steering wheel, a frustrated groan ripping from his throat, pulling over on a deserted road and putting the car in park.

“Goddammit (Y/N) what the hell do you not get?! Going off the grid isn't doing you any favors! It's just a show of cowardice! That you're letting Seis, your fucking ex boyfriend win! If you go, he wins, you understand me?!” His voice raised, but never harsh, Sanemi tried his hardest to make his point known. There was a beat of silence as Sanemi collected himself. Clearing his throat with a sigh, he spoke up again. “I will not sit here and watch you destroy yourself. You know I had to pose as your boyfriend for them to give me visitation rights? You know that I made sure you were getting the proper medicine in that hospital? You may not think I care but the reality is that I do! I WON'T JUST FUCKING STAND BY AND WATCH YOU SUFFER ALONE!-” He was cut off yet again by one of (Y/N)’s frustrated groans.

“Just take me to wherever we're going then, since you won't give me a choice!” (Y/N) snapped, her arms crossed as defiant, solemn tears ran down her face. Her shivering form igniting a fire within Sanemi, making him swear a silent vow to himself.

He would keep her safe, no matter what.

Without another word, he started the car once more, and sped off to the hashira clubhouse. Blasting the speakers with rock and rap. Not a word exchanged as they drove fast and dangerous.

…

As she sleeps in Sanemi’s room, his eyes lock with Ouroboros’. “You… you actually brought her back?” The shorter man spoke incredulously, hitting his vape like it was the one thing keeping him grounded to reality. Sanemi sighed, his clothes snow-soaked and eyes tired. “Man, you're either insane, or you just lucked out.”

Sanemi scoffed, addressing his jet black haired companion by his government name. “She fell asleep in the car, Obanai. She was exhausted, god knows the last time she even slept properly.” A sigh escaped the silverette, tired and anxious, he took a hit from his own vape. “I don't even know when the last time she ate was. I mean, look at her, she's practically skin and bones.”

“Skin and bones is an exaggeration, Sanemi. She's not emaciated, she's just underweight. I'll see if we have anything, but try to fill her up with fluids for now.” Obanai deadpanned, earning himself a glare from his lilac eyed friend.

“Fluids? Really? We'll start her off small, see where it goes. If anything we can always have Mariposa or Hinasturu make sure she's okay.” Sanemi sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose while Obanai snorted with contempt.

“Does she even have the basics? Clothes? A place of her own? Hell, does she even have a job?” The ravenette looked at (Y/N) with a scrutinizing, appraising stare, hitting his vape once more as Sanemi shot him another cold glare.

“She's working on it, dude, don't push it so hard. The more you do the more pissed off she's gonna get.” The silverette whispered to his companion. Of course she was working on it, or at least, he hoped she was working on it.

“She's asleep, she's not going to hear us-” Obanai was cut off by a female voice, one that resounded from behind them, not from the bed where (Y/N) laid asleep.

“Can a girl get any sleep around here without having to listen to yalls bitching and arguing?” They looked behind them, finding a pink ane green haired, pale skinned, green eyed girl. One who looked like she had just woken up- and was clearly irritated. “It's two in the morning, get some goddamn sleep. And you,” she pointed to Obanai, “why are you still awake? I thought you said you'd come to bed an hour ago?” Her voice turned soft, and so did Obanai's gaze. The ravenette wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“I'll be in bed soon, love, just go back to sleep. I'll be there in a moment, okay?” His whispers soothed the pinkette, who nodded softly and went back to her own room with tentative, quiet steps. Sanemi scoffed with a smirk, taking another hit from his vape.

“You might wanna do that now before your wife gets pissed again.” Obanai casted him a sharp look, heterochromic eyes meeting Sanemi’s lilac ones.

“She's not my wife.” Obanai spat.

“Well, you guys certainly act like a married couple, just saying.” Sanemi snickered, earning a groan from the jet black haired man. “But anyways, go sleep with Mitsuri. I got this from here.” With that, Obanai simply nodded and walked back to his own room to be with his lover. Sanemi looked at (Y/N), who was still sleeping, walking over to her and laying next to her. “I… I hope you're okay.” He whispered softly, memories of the former flower hashira enraptured his mind, flooding his heart with waves of melancholy and bitterness.

But this time it would be different, this time it would be-

“H-hah…” the soft gasp cuts through the air like a cleaver. Sanemi hoped it came from the other room where Obanai and Mitsuri resided. Or maybe that insufferable long haired ravenette's room- Giyuu's room, where he stayed with Shinobu. “Ah…!” Yeah, nope, that's coming from his room. Right where the wounded woman laid in his bed asleep, the slight shuffling of her body under the covers indicated some sort of dream. Whether it was a nightmare or otherwise, Sanemi couldn't tell. However, (Y/N)’s blissed out expression gave evidence to all signs pointing to anything but a nightmare.

He knew better than to disturb her, taking the cold, carpeted floor where concrete resided underneath. Using a bunched up hoodie as a pillow, he knew he had to get some sleep. Yet all he heard was the sounds of her voice; breathless and wanton as she gave into the bidding of her dreams. Her gasps and moans, hitched and hushed, as she gave into the pleasure of her subconscious mind. He knew it was dirty, he knew it was wrong to just sit there and watch her please herself; yet despite himself, his reservations, he couldn't help but to sit and listen.

Soon enough, the cold hard floor of the room proved to be useless in aiding Sanemi's battle against insomnia. Although it was against his better judgment, he gently scooped (Y/N)’s body up, and laid beside her in bed. Gently pulling the sheets over the both of them, he allows the siren call of sleep to consume him.

...

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[mustainegf]

This is a crazy sad idea I had the other night

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ¹⁹⁸⁷

I wake up to the pitter of rain against the windows. The air was dead, with the smell of old wood and the remains of cigarette smoke from the night before. The house held its breath. Lying there, in sheets that smell of memories, the leather and aftershave smell with the damp air and cleaving to everything in this room. His room.

James has left his space this way ever since, the mess of records that he insists have some sort of order, utter chaos to anyone else. Guitars leaned against the wall, scattered papers on the desk. Hard to tell, really. A few half empty beer bottles remained on the nightstand, one of them with the label peeling off where his fingers had unconsciously picked at it.

I sit up and blink away fogginess in my head. My body is heavy, I'm trying to move underwater. Really, I don't want to get up. I want to be wrapped in the warmth of this room, in the memories that lean against me from every corner. But I know I cannot stay here forever. The guys will be up soon, and we'll all gather in the kitchen, making laugh, eat whatever we can find, making plans for the day. It's 1987, and life moves fast. Even if I don't feel like keeping up.

Lately, James has been different. Quieter. Or maybe I'm just noticing things that were always there. The way he sometimes stares off into space, his fingers tapping out rhythms for his own ears. The way he lingers a little too long in doorways, expecting something or someone to appear. He doesn't talk about it, though. None of us do. We just keep going, acting like everything is okay.

Maybe he's downstairs already, fiddling with his guitar, a low hum of his voice humming along to whatever song's in his head. I smile at the thought. James Hetfield. My roommate, my best friend, and sometimes... I don't know what. Something more, maybe. Or something less. It's hard to define what we are.

I drag myself out of his bed and into my jeans,the necklace around my neck is getting heavier with the days. The little locket inside, the one I never take off, a picture of him. I rarely open it. I don't have to. I can pull up his face on the screen in my head anytime. Those diamond cut blue eyes, that wonky smile capable of illuminating the whole damn room.

I trudge softly down the stairs, trying not to make any noise. I used to joke this place was haunted, maybe the ghosts of musicians still waited here, looking for their chance at popularity. James would laugh at me for it, calling me ridiculous, but sometimes. Sometimes, I truly wish it were. And maybe it is.

But it's still an empty kitchen. No James, no one else. Just the light patter of rain, the ticking of the clock on the wall. My face droops immediately. He's probably out in the garage, messing with his guitar, or he went for a drive. That's what he sometimes does when his head needs clearing. I'm fine. I'll see him later.

I sit at the table, running my fingers over the grain of the wood in an absent circle. The house is too quiet. Too still. I shut my eyes and try to recall the last conversation we had, but it's all hazy, reaching for smoke. My mind drifts and for one moment, I might have sworn I heard him, his voice calling my name up the hallway. I snap my eyes open and my heart's racing. But there's nobody.

Just the house. Just me.

I shake my head, feeling pathetic. Need to stop doing this, stop waiting for things that aren't there. I'm not some little girl anymore.

But still… I was hoping the house was haunted.

I lie later on his bed, gazing up at the ceiling, the Scorpions poster on his ceiling boring an image into my skull. The rain has calmed. I have no idea why I am in here. I should do anything else, do something else. Instead, I draw his pillow closer to me, inhaling into the now-faint scent of him that still clings to the fabric. I know if i keep breathing it in, it'll only smell like me. And that's no good.

I simply wish that he would just come back now.

I heard the opening of the door behind me, and my heart leaps half a second, hoping it is him, but it isn't. It's Cliff.

He steps inside, his eyes soft as they land on me, knowing exactly what's going on. That's always been him, kind and patient. He doesn't say anything, not for a minute or so, just walks over and sits on the edge of the bed, his weight sinking into the mattress.

And then I don't know why, but I just start crying. It's out of nowhere, tears spilling down my cheeks before I can even attempt to stop them. They soak into James' pillow like a hello. It's kind of really embarrassing, actually. I'm not a crier. But here I am, sobbing into James's pillow like some sort of broken thing, and I have no idea why.

Cliff says nothing more, but reaches out and gently brushes my hair from off my face, and I imagine his touch is James'.

"He loved you, you know," Cliff says in a voice soft enough that it caresses my slow heart.

My body freezes up. "What?

"James," he says, his fingers still moving through my hair, soothing me like I was a little girl. "He was crazy about you."   I shake my head, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. "You don't have to say that, Cliff. I know you're just trying to make me feel better."

But he doesn't laugh. He doesn't even smile. He just looks at me with those sad eyes of his, chestnut hair falling slightly in his eyes.

"He was gonna tell you," Cliff whispers. "After the tour. He had this big, stupid plan. He wanted to take you out to dinner, make it all special, you know? He was nervous as hell about it, too."

Why is Cliff saying this? Why now?

Again, Cliff says, "He never had the chance." Cliff's voice is no louder than a murmur. "But he loved you. Really did."

I wrap myself into a tight, clinging ball with his pillow. "But he's still here," I choke. "James is… he's still here, Cliff. He's just… he's just out somewhere, right?"

There's such a long pause, when Cliff speaks again, his voice is full with a sadness that I don't want to recognize. But I do.

"He's gone, sweetheart."

I shake my head wildly, eyes refusing to believe what I already know is true. "No. No, he's not. He's coming back. He's just—"

"He passed, remember? Last year. The bus."

I stop breathing as the room tilts, heavy with fog, pushing against my skin, promising to smother me. I remember, yet I don't want to. I don't want to think about that night, the phone call, a feeling of my love slipping away.

"I saw him," I whisper, my voice shaking. "I swear, Cliff, I saw him. He was right here."

Cliff doesn't argue, won't try to reason with me. He just pulls me into his arms, holding me as I break apart. He strokes my hair, whispering soft words that I can't quite make out, but it doesn't matter. All that matters is that James is gone. He's been gone for a year, and I've been living in this house, waiting for a ghost that will never come home.

Cliff lays me back down, tucks James’ blankets around me as if I am some sort of child. He doesn't leave, though. He stays beside me, his hand resting on my shoulder.

"He really did love you," Cliff says again, much softer this time. "More than you know."

The house isn't haunted. At least, it isn't haunted the way I wish it was.

I still wear you in my locket, James. I always will.

And maybe someday I'll find you again.

[lostberet]

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ MOB DAYCARE CHAP. I | min yoongi (m)

𐙚 synopsis: After almost meeting Satan himself, Agust D is forced to take a hiatus from his underwork mob work. However, during his hiatus, he is stumbled upon a 4 year old. And so far, being a guardian is harder than being a mob leader.

༘⋆ genre: explicit (18+) ; angst , humor, romance , violence, suspense , smut ; haegeum au , gang au , parenthood au .

༘⋆ disclaimer: Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Violence, Mention of death, Child Abuse, eventual smut, Sexual themes, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

༘⋆ a/note: omg.. I am back with this chapter, and I am so excited to write this series━ I'll go work on Heartburn now... :( likes and reposts are appreciated <3 also name ideas for the kid?

TEASER | NEXT

The rule of this world is━ “The strong is King.” Those who follow this rule, fight each other in order to obtain a title. 

A few years ago, a man single-handedly fought through the ice, breaking and reaching its highest point. Those who feared him gave him a title━ Agust D, the Panther King. 

Yoongi sighed, his eyes staring into the white void of his living-room ceiling. He was once who they called Agust D. He would have still been Agust D if it weren’t for that fateful night.

Agust gasped for air, his teeth sucking back his lower lip into a tight bite. His left eye clenched shut as blood dripped down his face. He was bloody, although he wished to say the blood wasn’t his, he would be lying. His dark hair fell to his shoulders, some of it sticking to his face by the sweat and blood. With a trembling form, he made his way into the apartment, dropping his weapon on the floor. Each step he took left a small trial of blood behind him. He was tired, so tired.

Yoongi blinked, erasing the memory from his vision as he clenched his jaw. Why the past..? He thought to himself before sitting on the couch and looking at the carpet where a 4-year-old boy lay. He remembered bringing the kid into his home, he weighed almost nothing.  

Frowning at the unusual behavior of the kid, Yoongi eyed him as it slept. “Something isn’t right..” he whispered, his tongue pressing gently on his bottom lip. He snapped his fingers, an idea coming to his brain. He grabbed the nearby blanket lying on the sofa, before clumsily laying it on the kid. “Perfect.” 

The bathroom mirror was foggy, and the humidity made Yoongi sweat slightly as he dried the kid's hair. The toddler had overgrown hair that almost made him look wild. Yoongi had taken mental notes on the kid's poor hygiene, adding to his theory of the child kidnapping. Not having any child-sized clothing, the gangster had given one of his own shirts for the toddler to wear. A black shirt with the words "MINE" graphed vertically. As the older man dried the head of the kid, the child would mutter out random vocals. Frowning at the confusion vocal, Yoongi removed the towel from the kid's head, causing the kid to loop at him with a bright smile.

“You.. brat━!” Yoongi flinched as he bit back a cuss, lifting his arm up, his eyes noticing the multiple bites on his arm, “was your birth year the year of the dog?!” Yoongi exclaimed, his body trembling in desperation. Another thing Yoongi had noticed was the kid's inability to show proper manners. No matter how hard Yoongi glared at the kid, the kid only looked up at him, giving him a grin and a giggle.

As they both sat in the living room, the child freshly showered and not smelling like trash, traced his fingers on the black leather of the couch, “Since you can’t speak for nish━” Yoongi grunted as he sat next to the kid, scooping some cereal into the spoon, “I bet you don’t know how to use utensils. Come here,” The toddler tilted his head as he opened his mouth, allowing Yoongi to feed him the cereal, “You don’t look like you were raised at all..” Yoongi voiced his thoughts, the child looking at the bowl as Yoongi continued feeding him.

If it was a kidnapping.. And I send this kid away.. What if he doesn’t have a family? Will he then be an orphan? Yoongi physically yelped at the thought, “Not my problem!” His voice came out louder than expected, causing the kid to look up at him. Agust D had no time for anyone, let alone a fucking child. Deep in his own thoughts, the kid wasted no time poorly grabbing the spoon, scooping cereal ( the scoop facing down and getting little to nothing), and bringing it to Yoongi’s mouth, “ah.. Ah?” 

Is this kid trying to feed me? Yoongi raised an eyebrow, damn kid doesn't even know how to hold a spoon.. let alone be able to survive on its own━ not like i care. The gangster scuffed, wiping some of the milk from the kid's chin, earning a bright smile that only caused Yoongi’s heart to clench, this child was stabbing his consciousness. 

Yoongi threw his head back against the headboard of the bed, his body tingling, "oh.. fuck.." He choked out, his hands caressing the back, hands gripping onto the waist. His hips automatically thrust upwards earning a moan, "sir.." the voice whimpered.

The gangster narrowed his eyes, frowning his brows at the nickname, "I told you not to call me that, especially when we're having sex." He warned, yet his hips didn't lose their pace. He held onto their jaw, making them lock eyes with him, "you know my name,.. say it.." a hint of desperation in his voice as the other only pushed their lips and let out another whimper.

Yoongi leaned in, tilting their head to the side by their jaw, kissing their collarbones, sending a shiver down the spine, "c'mon, baby.. you know my name..' his voice was sweet, but his thrusts were becoming much more rougher, causing the other to grunt out, "or do you want me to fuck you until you remember it?" Yoongi asked, brushing his lips against their neck.

"Fuck.. yoongi,.." they gasped out, their hips buckling causing Yoongi to chuckle, "There you go.. always so good for me.." The mafia leader only pulled their face towards him, slamming his lips onto the other as he roughly kissed them. The kiss muffled both their moans and pants, not wanting to stop the kiss. They sucked and bit each other's lips, addicted to each other's lips.

Yoongi pulled the body close to his chest, feeling the other snuggle onto their skin, warmth hugging his heart. "You cannot leave me, understand?" Yoongi warned, making the other chuckle, "you wund me, sir." Yoongi's eye twitched. Noticing this, the other's hands cupped his face, placing a kiss on his scared eye, "you know that won't ever happen."

Yoongi's eyes opened and with a gasp, he rose from the couch. The clock had struck 3 am, and from what Yoongi could gather, it didn’t take long for the kid to fall asleep. Just a nightmare.

The man groaned, rubbing his face with both hands as he licked his dry lips. His gaze landed on the kid sleeping at the other end of the couch.

That's when your phone rang. You looked away from the never-ending document on your laptop, frowning at the unknown number on the screen you bit the inside of your cheek. After a few rings, you picked your phone up, “Hello?” 

There was silence on the other line, before that raspy voice said your name, you felt your body freeze, your heart pumping faster, “I made it clear that I want nothing to do with you.” There was silence on the other line once more before you heard a faint 'clank', “It’s important, plus, I already made arrangements with Namjoon, you’re coming whether you like it or not.” 

You could have disobeyed, you could have not shown up in the morning, really, but you were in no mood to deal with Namjoon and his scolding. His never-ending rants of how, even as your boss, he also needs favors. Yoongi was like a brother to him, the one that was able to make everyone's dream a reality and in return, they did whatever they could for him. Bunch of ass kissers you would tell yourself. Yet you found yourself dropping the bags onto Yoongi’s wooden floor, all the color being drained from your face. 

You tried to speak, confused and flabbergasted by the sight upon you. But what can you say after meeting the man you had decided to leave 3 years ago? The one guy you verbally told was a quote-on-quote dickhead that only cared about himself and then you quit on the spot, only to work under Namjoon, the guy he was closest with? You only eyed his back, noticing the way he cut the kid’s hair. 

“Y━you have a kid?!” Your ears might have started to bleed, a ringing remaining as you angrily turned to look at the owner of the pain, “Taehyung━ you son of a━ My ear!” You hissed as you reached over to grab a chunk of his hair. 

Yoongi turned to look at the small group who had entered his home, ignoring the small hairpulling between you and Taehyung. Yoongi only shook his head as he explained the situation to the others. 

“So.. that’s not your kid?” Jimin asked, his hand lazily signaling the child, “nonsense,” Yoongi muttered, picking up his cup of coffee SeokJin had placed in front of him on the kitchen table, his eyes glancing over at you, rubbing your head while glaring at Taehyung, “Jungkook and Hoseok are looking into where he’s from.”

“Yeah, Agust wouldn’t have a child this fast.” You stated, Yoongi’s ears twitched, all your attention on the kid who has sleepily rubbed his eyes and walked over to Yoongi, “What will you do with him for the time being?” 

“Sexist..” you said under your breath, making SeokJin abandon his cooking and turn to you in a snap, “untrue, Yoongi just needs help for the time being━” Now it was you snapping towards SeokJin, “raising a damn child!” 

The older one pushed his lips together, “sexist.” Taehyung stated once more, a small smirk on his lips as he winked at you, causing you to flip him off as you carried the child, feeding him some overnight oats. 

As SeokJin, Taehyung, and you stayed in the kitchen, bickering at each other, Yoongi was outside on the balcony of his living room. Holding a pocket knife, his fingers tracing over his initials, NamJoon and Jimin behind him, “Hyung, about the kid..” Jimin started, nervously elbowing NamJoon, “It’s just.. If they have eyes on the kid like last time..”

Yoongi bit the inside of his cheek, stabbing the knife into the wooden balcony railing. Jimin flinched, NamJoon placed his hand on Jimin’s shoulder signaling to head back inside, “We’ll take care of everything, hyung.” 

Drops of blood stained the cement floor, there was tension in the air, and all Agust could do was kneel before his rival, “You finally show up,” The rival chuckled, one of his hands gripping the hair of a child, eyes blindfolded by a black fold. The kid looked beaten, scared, “If you want me to let him go.. Let’s make a deal.” 

The rival threw a blade towards Agust, causing the man’s brows to frown. He was desperate. Agust felt his body tremble, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he picked the blade up, raising it slowly towards his stomach area. Slowly, ever so slowly, pressing the blade into his skin. 

Yoongi’s body jerked, causing him to wake from his dream, “shit..” he whispered, his hand flying to his stomach, rubbing it as the dream reminded him of the incident. He licked his dry lips, before sitting up on the bed. 

He entered the kitchen, his eyes staring at the cup of water━ besides him, his phone with your contact ready━on the floor, the 4 year old bounced and played between his legs. Yoongi bit his lower lip before he grabbed the kid and sat him on the counter, grabbing his phone and calling you before shoving the electronic onto the kid’s hands.

The phone rang a few times before you picked up, your voice grumpy and sleepy, “yes?” Yoongi looked at the kid and pointed at the phone, suddenly forgetting the child’s inability to speak. Confused━ the kid tilted his head, “m. ah.. ma..ma?” mostly dedicated towards Yoongi, the child called out. It caused you to sit up from your bed and run to get your shoes, “kid?” 

You barged into the mountain mansion, not bothering to knock as you slammed the door shut and ran to the living room, “Kid?!” You scanned for the kid, not finding him anywhere before your legs automatically ran to the bedrooms. 

Upon opening door by door, having each bedroom memorized (not by your own good), you arrived at Yoongi’s. Your hand reached over to the doorknob, it wasn’t like it was your first time you’ve stepped inside.  

Upon entering, you notice Yoongi and the kid sleeping. The child lay on top of the gangster, as the gangster himself had his arms wrapped around the child, almost using him as a teddy bear. You gulped, stepping out the room and slowly closing the door, “Y/n?” 

You froze, “yes, sir?” a grunt, “don’t call me that.” You scuff, “..kid butt-dialed me.. I’ll head home now.” The bed creaked and footsteps soon followed, the bedroom door opening━ revealing Yoongi, a sleepy look on his face with the sleeping child in his arms, “Stay the night. It's late.” 

You only stared at him, unsure of what to do, so you frowned and shook your head, “No. I can’t do that anymore.” 

Yoongi only pressed his cheek on top of the kid's head, sleepy eyes staring down at you. if only he didn't look as innocent, “not for me━ for the kid.” 

It left a bitter taste in your mouth. The fact you laid next to Yoongi as he slept, the child curling up on him and Yoongi letting him. Or the fact that you once craved that feeling, one that you couldn’t have━ a feeling of warmth, he knew that.  And so, you swallowed back the bitterness and closed your eyes. Tomorrow is a new day.

Tag-list building..: @sol3chu

2024 © LOSTBERET, all rights reserved. please do not copy, plagiarize, translate, repost, or steal my work.

[turtletaubwrites]

Bend Until You Break ~ Part 3

Thank you so much for this request from the lovely @anemptypuddingcup !!🖤

Pairings: YANDERE!Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader

Bend Until You Break ~ Masterlist

Word Count: 3208

Ao3 Link

Summary: Law gives you the choice to go against your doctor's recommendations as you begin your recovery. Are you clear headed enough to make the right choice?

Rating/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, DARK CONTENT, DUBCON, Dubious Consent, Swearing, Eventual Smut, Yandere, Manipulation, Power Imbalance, Hypermobility, Medical Examination, Medical Trauma, Medical Conditions, Chronic Pain, Injury, Physical Disability, Physical Therapy, Doctor/Patient, Abuse of Authority, Kidnapping, Possessive Behavior, Other Additional Tags to be Added, (Reader is described as having hair "above her shoulders" that she can brush), Needles, Drugs, Arguing, Massage, Praise Kink, Pain, Dissociation, Humiliation, Gaslighting, Non-Consensual Drug Use, (Implied)

A/N: I hate hospitals 😩 But for Law I might make an exception... Some of these medical issues may or may not have come from personal experience 🙃

Extra A/N: I am not a doctor, and this is not meant to be educational, or to contain any health advice. Please seek a health professional.

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

Beeping. 

What is that sound? There’s another sound.

That soun–

Fuck!

A strangled cry left your throat, pain tearing through you.

Tight, fuck it’s so tight, can’t–

Your eyes were still too droopy to open as your hands scrambled at your neck. A sharp pinch twisted against your right wrist, and you felt the pull of wires restricting its movement. 

That beeping noise was louder now.

“Y/N, you’re okay, it’s okay. I’m right here.”

Law’s deep voice pulled you out, giving you a reason to open your eyes. He pulled your hands away from scratching at the neck brace, and you slumped with relief at his touch. 

Only to let out a choked scream at the pain.

“Shh, I’ve got you. Can you stay still for me? I know you can, you’re so strong.”

“I don’t want to be strong anymore.”

Your confession slipped quietly from your trembling lips as you tried to acclimate to the pain, tried to be still for him. 

His brow creased as he looked down at you, and you felt pathetic. You wanted to take it back.

Law brought those cool, tattooed fingers to your face, leaving featherlight touches along your temple and cheek. Your eyes fluttered closed, burning tears starting again.

“You’re right,” he rasped, brushing your tears away with his fingers, leaving the tissues in their box this time.

“You’ve been strong for so long, haven’t you? You shouldn’t have to fight so hard every day.”

Gentle sobs left your throat, interrupted by a small gasp.

His hand still traced your face in soothing lines, until he brushed his tear soaked thumb across your lips.

Your eyelids were still heavy, but you held them open to melt into the storm gray eyes above you. 

“You don’t need to be strong with me, Y/N,” he breathed, close enough to leave the warmth of his words on your face. “I’ll save you.”

~

Beeping.

I’m with Law. I’m okay.

Foggy dreams of Law’s hands on your face made your skin flush before you opened your eyes. 

That beeping got louder as you fought off the embarrassing thoughts you were having about your doctor’s hands, but the slight shift you made in the bed had you forgetting it all, groaning in pain.

“Nice and slow, Y/N. You’re safe, just take some deep breaths.”

Your doctor stepped into view, his eyes scanning your body before gifting you with a gentle smile. 

Attempting a small stretch of your arms was a bad choice, but it brought your attention to the rest of your body. 

The bed was still angled so that your upper body was lifted. Lying flat had been excruciating. But even with your raised position, it was difficult to look down at yourself over the neck brace. 

“Where are my clothes,” you muttered, looming horror growing at the feeling of a hospital gown against your skin. 

“I apologize, Y/N,” Law admitted gently, tilting his head toward the beeping machine. “I needed to monitor your vitals to ensure your safety since we used that medication to help you sleep. I’m afraid I had to cut through your top to avoid injuring your neck further. I was able to save your bra, and I have scrubs you can wear once your neck is healed enough for you to pull the clothes on by yourself.”

He just said a whole bunch of words. 

Your brain decided the best way to handle all of the emotions flying through your head was to ignore them.

“Why do I have an IV?” You changed the subject, lifting your wrist, and tugging all the tubes with it. 

“Again, since you hadn't had that drug before, I took this as a safety precaution. I assumed you would prefer a single needle versus the potential of many if I needed to administer more medication,” he explained as he disconnected you from the tubes, but left the placement on your wrist. “You’ve also been receiving fluids, which is essential after the traumatic night you had.”

A nod made you wince, so you thanked him softly, feeling warmth move through your chest as another hint of a smile touched his lips. 

“Do you have the energy to move, Y/N? I’d like to show you the room, and do another physical exam to see if you’ve improved since last night.”

The thought of moving hit you with the sudden realization that you needed to fucking pee.

“Is there a bathroom,” you asked, holding your breath from embarrassment. 

“Of course, it’s right here. Let me help you.”

After many whimpers, and groans, and heavy breaths, you were on your feet. Shaking with pain as he led you to the door, you knew that nothing else could have motivated you to walk right now. 

“Do you need help sit–”

“I’ll be fine,” you blurted out, closing the door. 

He’s my doctor. This is fine. He’s helping me because I’m injured, and he’s my doctor.

Those thoughts did not diminish your embarrassment, especially when you did struggle to fucking sit down. 

Gritting your teeth, and clinging to the safety bar, you managed to keep at least some sliver of your dignity by not yelling for him to help you. 

Shame rocked through you as you washed your hands, avoiding looking in the mirror. You didn’t want to know how wrecked you looked. 

But you looked anyway. 

You wanted to splash some water on your face, but couldn’t bend down to do it. 

“Y/N, are you doing alright in there?”

“I’m fine,” you called out as you fought with the ties of the gown. 

Oh my gods, he took all of my fucking clothes off.

That knowledge kicked in again as you tried to make sure every inch of your ass was covered.

“Can you put me to sleep again,” you half joked, taking his hand as he helped you through the door. 

“We don’t want to overdo it,” he said in that serious tone he’s so good at, leading you slowly toward the center of the room.

He sat backwards in that rolling chair. 

But his chair isn’t that color…

“Is this the same room,” you interrupted him, looking around by turning your body instead of your head. You couldn’t tell if the weird sounds you were hearing were real, or if you were just getting a headache from moving around.

“No,” he hummed, nodding slowly at you. “I’m impressed you were able to notice that in this state.” 

You followed the line of his arm as his tattooed finger pointed to a large door. 

“Those are my quarters. I had you moved to an adjacent room so that I can be close if you are in pain, or become injured again. That vent is open so I’ll be able to hear if you need me.”

“O-Oh…”

He shifted his hand again, and you turned to follow it, your eyes a bit wide.

“You already know where your bathroom is. The third door leads out into the corridors of the Polar Tang, but Y/N,” he said, his voice taking on more force, “I request that you refrain from leaving these quarters until you are steadier on your feet. I would hate for you to become injured under my care.”

“But how–”

“Y/N,” he rasped, that low voice pulling you in, “let’s complete the exam before you tire yourself out, alright?”

“Okay.”

“There you go,” he purred, “I love seeing you take care of yourself. Do you consent to me touching you?”

Your ‘yes’ was barely audible as you tried not to let his words, and the way his words sounded with that dangerous voice, make you fall over. 

Feeling his fingers on you might be your favorite thing in the world. Even as you whimpered in pain while he checked along your shoulders and spine. 

“This seems to be the problem area,” he noted, tracing lightly over your left shoulder down between your shoulder blade and spine, rubbing along a few of the vertebrae. 

“But my neck?”

“Everything’s connected, Y/N,” he breathed over your ear, making you shiver and wince. “Don’t worry. I’ll help you learn how your body works.”

Fuck, his voice.

There was no way, no fucking way that you could be dripping wet in a hospital gown while your body was stiff with pain. No way that tight coil of pressure could be building in your core over the only doctor that had ever helped you, ever believed you. 

I can’t fuck this up. 

“Are you feeling alright?”

“Mhm,” you lied, catching yourself before you nodded this time. 

“Let’s have you sit down. We need to take the brace off, so I can examine your neck again. It is going to be painful. Are you ready, or would you like to take a break first?”

~

“Fuck fuck fuckfuckfuck.”

“You are doing so well for me,” Law praised, gently removing the brace to press against your neck, asking you questions while you tried not to move.

How can I like his fingers touching me like this? What is wrong with me?

“Look at you. I’m so proud of how you’re handling this,” he rasped, soothing your whimpers as he secured the brace again.

“When will I be able to go home?”

Law’s jaw shifted a bit as he sat back, and it felt like the air in the room got heavy. 

“As your doctor, I had to make the call to protect your health. We left your island, and my recommendation is that you remain with me for the time being. I think we both realized that one more week of treatment would not be enough support for your chronic condition. This incident with your neck further proves your need to receive continued treatment.”

“Left the– We’re underwater,” you said in a small voice, realizing what the strange clanking sounds in the background must be. 

“You took me away,” you asked softly as your boyfriend’s warnings about Law started playing in your mind.

Fear ran through you then, and the metal room grew smaller, your oxygen growing harder to find. Panic hit your lungs, fast, shallow, useless breaths spiking your neck with pain.

“Y/N,” he drawled, that voice almost frightening now.

“But you were going to be there another week. Why did you take me? Why–”

“Y/N, I will take you back right now if that's what you want,” he soothed, voice warm and inviting. “Please let me explain why I had to make that choice. You weren’t able to make decisions for your own health and safety at the time. As your doctor, I had to do what I believed was best for your wellbeing.”

You stilled, your breath slowing, but staying shallow. That fuzzy distance started to take over, but you dug your nails into your palms to try to focus on what your doctor was saying. 

“Your boyfriend came to the ship in the morning, demanding to take you home.”

The image in your mind built up. That fight. The keys you left in the open door. 

You jolted a bit as Law laid his hand on your clenched fist. 

“He refused to listen when I explained your condition, and that it would be dangerous to move you so soon. He…” Law took in a heavy breath, looking to the ground as he shook his head. When he met your eyes again, his were deep and sad, but etched with kindness. 

“Y/N, your boyfriend accused me of taking advantage of your ‘obsession with being sick.”

Those words were thick like the nausea rising in your throat. 

He did say little things sometimes. Things that made it seem like he didn’t believe me. 

Law’s thumb stroked the back of your fist until you relaxed your hand. He took it in his before continuing with a gentle voice.

“He threatened to return with a group to take you by force. You are my patient, Y/N. I could not in good conscience release you in this current state. I had to make the call since couldn’t.”

That inner distance was coming again, all the sounds feeling washed out. Until he squeezed your hand, leaning in close. 

He smells good. 

“As your doctor, I must always do what is in your best interests. I believe that you should remain here under my care, at least until we have time to make progress with physical therapy. Until you feel safer in your own body.”

Your eyes had to close. It was all too much.

“However, it will always be your decision, Y/N,” he comforted. His voice was smooth, and thick, like some rich dessert. “If you choose to go against my recommendations, I will turn around right now. If you want to go back home, I will take you. All you have to do is tell me what you want.”

A trembling mouth opened, but you had no words to speak. 

“Y/N, I need you to really think about this. Think about what’s best for you.”

Law massaged your hand as he spoke in that liquid voice, a shiver breaking you out of the fog. 

“Where was he, Y/N,” he asked, not pausing for an answer. “You walked all the way here on your own, didn’t you? The amount of pain you were in was frightening, yet you chose to suffer alone. Why didn’t you ask for his help?”

He caught your rush of tears with a tissue, his voice raspy as he came closer to dry your face. 

“Do you want to go back to a place where all the doctors treat you like you’re crazy?”

Years of frustration, anger, and pain fell on you, but you tried to stay present, tried to think straight.

“Do you want to go back to a family that doesn’t believe you? To a partner that believes you’re pretending, that thinks you want to be sick?”

No. You didn’t.

But you tried to let it go, tried to think without emotions. You wanted to shake your head, to move, to fling some of these sickening feelings off of you. 

But you couldn’t move. You were in too much pain. 

And Law is the only person who cares. 

“You know, Y/N, I understand exactly how lonely and angry you must feel.”

He trapped you in the stone wall of his eyes again, and you’d never seen this look on his face before. 

“When I was a child, myself and everyone I knew got sick. They all died.”

“I—“

“Even though I wasn’t contagious, even though I was just a child, every single doctor treated me like I was trash.”

The hand that was holding yours was squeezing tighter while you were frozen by his barely contained rage.

“There was only one person in the world who cared about me,” he muttered, the tension in his shoulders easing a bit.

“He did everything he could to save me. Even when I fought him. Even when I hurt him... He never stopped.”

The overwhelming closeness you’d felt in that metal room was easing, and the heat of tears building in your throat wasn’t for yourself this time.

Law rested his palm against your cheek, and that foggy dream floated through your mind.

“I’m not like all those doctors that abandoned us, that left us to suffer all alone,” he rasped, the twitching of his creasing brows giving you more emotion than you’d seen from him before.

“I will never abandon you, Y/N.”

His promise filled the air, as if this metal room were a ringing bell, the vibrations wracking through your body.

I feel like I should be scared. But why? He’s helping me. No one has ever helped me before. He’s just intense because he knows.

He knows this pain even more than I do. 

Of course he’d do all of this to help me. He’s just helping me.

Law kept his hand on your cheek while he waited for you to think. He didn’t push, just gave you time. You heard the heart rate monitor starting to slow as you breathed with him.

He had taught you to follow his breathing during exercises, and now it felt natural, soothing. 

“I want to stay with you. If you want to help me.”

“Of course I want to help you,” he purred, brushing a few strands from your forehead before stroking his fingers through your mussed up hair.

“I’m your doctor. You can trust me.”

~

“Law?”

“Are you alright,” he answered as he charged through the connecting door.

“I’m fine. Well, the same,” you reported, trying to shift your body up the bed. 

It was getting difficult for you to tell the passage of time underwater, but you knew it had been at least a week.

Your pain was reducing, and your range of motion was improving, but you were still on bed rest unless Law was with you to guide your movements.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” you said, a sheepish grin pulling at your lips. “I’m just… I’m so bored, Law. And if I listen to Bepo’s Uta tone dial one more time, I’m going to go insane.”

That crooked smile made your skin flush as he walked toward you. He started piling pillows onto your lap, gently moving your arms out of the way before propping them up.

“I believe you’ve healed enough to read a book with some support,” he rasped as he brought his fingers to your skin. He pressed lightly against your shoulders, your jaw, and around the edges of the brace. You only winced a little when he stuck his fingers in to check the tightness.

“Although, you’ll need to make sure you’re not straining yourself, so we’ll have to start with short periods of time. Can you do that for me, Y/N?”

“Yes,” you agreed with a smile. It felt like your birthday, finally getting to open and enjoy your presents.

“You like mysteries, right,” he asked as he walked toward the door.

“Oh, uh, yeah.” Your smile wilted just a bit as you tried to recall telling him that.

You hated being so loopy all the time. It felt like you were missing out on parts of your life. 

“This is one of my favorites,” you almost squealed, catching yourself before you wiggled in your hospital gown.

“Really,” he teased as he took it back, flipping through the pages. “I’ll go find you something you haven’t read then.”

“No, please. I love it, thank you.”

“Show me how you’ll be holding it, Y/N.”

Law’s hands on your arms made you crave his massages more than seemed healthy. With your neck as it had been, he wouldn’t risk hurting you. 

You still couldn’t lie flat anyway.

But I’m getting better. Then we can start. He can teach me how to take care of my body. He can touch me again.

Your own thoughts sent blood rushing to your face as you dove in, getting lost in one of your favorite mysteries. 

Even though you knew who the villain was, you always loved the thrill of the chase. 

And you still weren’t sure who you were rooting for. 

Likes and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: I'm having so much fun 😈

Tag List: @shewrites02 | @jadeddangel | @metonimia-de-bellota | @3v37773 | @dewdropsandfrogs | @nubigenouss

Part 4

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

[bwabys-scenarios]

Safe and Sound

Pt 1

Yandere!Kurapika x Fem!Reader

pt 2

warnings: reader is kidnapped, she was drugged, Kurapika masturbates to the sound of reader sleeping in the next room

A/N: I’m not sure how long this series will because it’s purely for my own enjoyment, so… yeah. Also if you’d like to see sneak peeks or share your ideas for my series, come join the discord!!

if you’d like to be ADDED to the taglist, please comment a red heart ❤️, make sure you’re able to be tagged/mentioned, and have your age in your bio(IF YOU ARE ALREADY ON THE TAGLIST, YOU DON’T NEED TO ASK TO BE ADDED AGAIN!!)

The sound of raindrops hitting the window was enough to wake (Name) from her nap. She stretched, her head and limbs feeling strangely heavy.

She sat up and rubbed her eyes, her free hand patting the nightstand next to her bed for her phone… but it wasn’t there. (Name) immediately sighed, thinking she may have fallen asleep watching a video and forgot to put in on charge. It would be annoying having to charge it at work, considering the only outlet was usually taken up by her creepy coworker.

“Damn it…”

She finally opened her eyes, only to blink a few times, her foggy mind trying to make sense of the strange layout of her room. All of the furniture was the same, her books and plushies were the same, but they were in different spots. The walls were pink, like they’d always been, but she didn’t remember having a window…

“So you’re awake.”

The door to her room was open, a familiar head of blonde hair peeking in. “Kurapika..? What are you… doing in my house? I thought you were out of town for work…”

She rubbed her eyes again, taking a look around the room again and finally realizing something. “This… this isn’t my room. Where… where am I?”

He didn’t speak for a moment, looking away from her questioning gaze. The blonde looked… conflicted, almost guilty. “This… this is your new home. I…”

He cleared his throat, his face returning to its normal calm, and collected state. “I decorated this room to… be as close to your old one as possible. I even found those stuffed animals you’ve been…”

Kurapika went quiet when she stared at him, still trying to process what he was getting at. “Wait… Kurapika, I don’t… what are you saying? Why- no, how did I get here?”

The door creaked open, Kurapika stepping in. He was wearing his usual blue tabard with the golden embroidery, though his hair was tied back in a ponytail. She had noticed his hair getting longer, it was usually a sign that he wasn’t taking care of himself again and putting his mission before his health.

“… that isn’t important, (Name). What is important is that you’re here, and you’re safe.”

He stood in front of her, his soft brown eyes gazing down at her with a feeling she couldn’t quite place. (Name) blinked when he pushed a piece of hair out of her face before pulling his hand away. “I know this… will be difficult to adjust to, but just know I have your best interests at heart. You… are very dear to me, and you already know I would never hurt you.”

She was incredibly confused, her eyes darting from his unreadable expression, to the room, then down to her leg…

“I… see you’ve noticed it.”

There was a chain keeping her secured to the bed by her ankle. She lifted her leg a little, eyes widening when she realized she barely had any slack in the chain to move. “Kurapika… why..?”

He patted his tabard, slipping his hand into his pocket and taking out a key. Kurapika kneeled in front of her, his eyes lingering on her plush thighs for a moment before his hand hovered over her ankle. “May I?”

Without much choice, (Name) nodded and held out her leg for him. Kurapika held her leg gently, his slender fingers grasping onto her ankle as he unlocked the cuff on her leg. “It was just a precaution, in case you woke up when I wasn’t around… and… freaked out.”

She didn’t respond, just lifting her leg to rub her ankle. (Name) didn’t even notice because she had barely been awake, but she hadn’t had a lot of movement in that leg, only just able to lay it on the bed.

He let out a soft sigh, placing the chain under her bed after locking it to make sure she couldn’t do anything with it. “… do you… have any questions? Any requests?”

“… did… did you kidnap me?”

It was a stupid question she already knew the answer to, but it was hard to wrap her mind around the possibility that the sweet boy she knew had the capacity to take her away from her home without her consent and lock her in chains. This wasn’t something she ever expected from him, someone she considered a friend.

He was quiet for a moment, as if in deep thought. Kurapika stood up, brushing off his tabard before answering. “Technically? Yes, I did, but please (Name), don’t be afraid. You aren’t a prisoner here. Your every need and want will be met, you’ll be taken care of properly. You’ll never want for anything, not food or drink-“

“What if I want to see my friends and family?”

Kurapika went quiet again, his eyes half lidded. “… with good behavior you can call them once a week. You haven’t just disappeared, I made sure to… inform all of your close friends and family that you moved to a new country to start a new life.”

She started to tremble, her eyes filling with tears. “I’ll… never get to see my family again?”

The way her voice cracked broke Kurapika’s heart, his shell of composure breaking for a second when his lip twitched down into a frown. “(Name)… I…”

He reached out to cup her cheek and wipe her tears away, but pulled back before he could reach her. Did he even deserve to touch her right now, after putting her through all of this?

‘She… probably needs space,’ Kurapika thought, turning around and heading towards the door.

“… please, familiarize yourself with your new room. You have plenty of books, a TV with access to cable television and sites for streaming, and art supplies. There’s also a few journals and pens, if… writing out your feelings may help you feel… better.”

Kurapika had attempted to gather all of her favorite things and decorate her room to look as close to her original one to make the move as seamless and stress free as possible, but he knew no matter what he did to make her as comfortable as possible, he was still keeping her there against her will.

He hesitated for a moment, considering giving her another dose of the drug he gave her to bring her there, take her home, and convince her it had all been a bad dream. She was home, her friend hadn’t kidnapped her, and their relationship didn’t have to change. Her hating him was one of the things he feared most after all.

But he feared her untimely demise even more. Steeling himself, Kurapika reminded himself why he did what he did. Above all else, her safety came first. Above her own free will, above her happiness, above his own selfish need to be the one she cared for most.

Kurapika was okay with becoming the villain, of killing potential threats and stealing her away if it meant she would live out the rest of her life in safety and comfort. Although her safety would always come first, he did want (Name) to be happy, he cared about her more than anything!

“Kurapika?”

He paused in the doorway when she called out for him, turning his head slightly to look at her. She seemed so vulnerable and small on the soft bed he picked out for her. “Yes, (Name)?”

“… am I stuck here forever?”

His heart thumped against his chest. From the look on her face, she already knew the answer to that question, but he didn’t mind confirming it. “… yes. This is your new home, please… try to get used to it. If you need anything, I’ll… be downstairs. Just call for me and I’ll come. This room is yours, and I won’t come in without knocking unless I fear for your safety.”

She nodded, sinking into her bed and clinging to one of the stuffed animals he snatched from her home. It was a Cinnamoroll plush Kurapika had gotten for her a year ago for her birthday, along with some baked goods from the bakery she liked. He had always been so thoughtful and sweet, just looking around the room he meticulously prepared for her was evidence enough.

“… alright…”

(Name) was still tired and her body felt heavy. She wasn’t sure why, but it felt like she’d taken a muscle relaxer or something of the like. Kurapika watched to make sure she got into bed okay and was off to sleep before he gave the smallest of smiles and closed the door behind him.

————————

When she woke up, there was a sandwich and a bag of her favorite chips sitting on her nightstand, along with a bottle of water. Parched and starving, she ate quickly, before noticing there was a note under her plate.

‘You’ve been asleep for nearly an entire day. When you wake up, eat this then come downstairs so I can show you around the cabin.’

(Name) finished her bag of chips before throwing the trash away in the strawberry shaped trash can by her bed. It was the same one she had at home, and she wondered how Kurapika was able to find a copy of it, considering she got hers in a garage sale.

She noticed there was another door in her room besides the one Kurapika came from. Feeling curious, she decided to check it out before wandering downstairs.

It was a small bathroom, with a shower, toilet, and sink. When she peeked behind the pink shower curtain, she saw all of the products she used when bathing, down to her favorite brand of shaving cream.

The tooth brush she liked and the flavor of toothpaste she preferred was set neatly by the sink, and when she checked the medicine cabinet she saw her prescriptions, though the bottles were mostly empty. ‘Probably to make sure I don’t… take them all at once.’

The thought was morbid, but she could understand why Kurapika would be cautious. Humans could get desperate when pushed into a corner, and if she broke, she might try and kill herself.

To test her theory, she looked around to see if there was a razor to shave with, but saw none. She wondered why he would give her shaving cream but no razor. Maybe he… was going to watch her when she shaved? That thought made her face heat up in embarrassment.

(Name) washed her face and brushed her teeth, trying to take solace in the mundane. She knew she wasn’t currently in any danger, so she tried her best to relax. Kurapika wouldn’t have gone through all that effort to make her happy and comfortable if he was going to brutally murder or assault her, and… she didn’t want to think the sweet friend she knew was capable of hurting her like that.

Though (Name) had her reasons to be cautious, he was an incredibly strong person with privilege and power due to being a hunter, she didn’t feel afraid, just… confused and a little betrayed. Sad as well, but what could she do? Right now, she couldn’t do anything, so she might as well relax while she could.

By the door to the hallway, there was a pair of pink bunny slippers. She remembered telling him that she wanted to get herself a pair of slippers because of how cold it was getting. It was strangely sweet to know how much he listened to her random tangents about things.

She put them on before opening the door and stepping out into the hallway. Kurapika had said something about being downstairs if she needed something, so she wasn’t surprised to see wooden railing 5ish feet from her door.

(Name) walked down the stairs, holding onto the railing. She could smell the familiar scent of vanilla in the air, mixed with a bit of cinnamon and pine. Kurapika must have snagged some of her favorite candles to make the cabin smell closer to home…

The living room was decorated sparsely, with just a maroon couch, an oak coffee table, and large flat screen TV. She wondered how long it took him to get this place set up and how long he had planned on taking her away.

“(Name).”

She nearly jumped out of her bunny slippers when she heard Kurapika’s voice behind her. Thankfully he was able to catch her before she fell on her butt, the blonde surprisingly strong. He held onto her shoulders, steadying her before letting go.

“Sorry, I didn’t… I didn’t mean to scare you.”

She glanced at him, seeing the softness in his eyes as a sign he was telling the truth. “It’s alright, you’ve alway moved so quietly, even… before…”

Kurapika looked away, a frown on his face. “… now that you’re awake, I can show you around. This is your home now, you’ll need to know where everything is so you can fend for yourself while I’m gone.”

He walked past her, the blonde glancing back to signal for her to follow him.

(Name) was lead to the kitchen, where Kurapika stood awkwardly in the center. “You can look around. Open the cabinets, search through the drawers, just familiarize yourself with the place. I want you to be completely comfortable here.”

She didn’t say what she wanted, tht she would never be truly comfortable when she was trapped. (Name) couldn’t say it, not when she wasn’t completely sure she was safe. He may never physically harm her, but there were other ways to deal with people besides hurting their bodies.

Instead, (Name) did as told, opening the drawers. She blinked when she saw all the utensils were hard plastic, like the stuff you’d use for babies. The knives were understandable, but the spoons and forks?

“Why… is everything plastic?”

Kurapika peeked over your shoulder, his expression unreadable. “It’s safer.”

“Safer? How could I get hurt using a metal spoon?”

He didn’t answer, simply closing the drawer. “Just… keep looking around.”

She sent him a concerned look before continuing to look around. There was plenty of food in the pantries, and the dishes were also all hard plastic, with the plates being those plates with sectioned parts to put different sides of your meal.

Every dish was a soft pink, even the pots and pans. He had really gotten everything in her favorite color, and she almost wanted to laugh when she spotted a pink sponge by the sink.

“Well?”

Kurapika was hovering around (Name) again, his eyes looking over her face to see if she liked the kitchen he set up just for her. He went through great lengths to make sure everything was safe and pink, trying to please her.

“Well, everything is very pink.”

Kurapika waited, staring at her with those intense brown eyes of his. “And?”

“And… it’s nice, thank you.”

The blonde wasn’t expecting that, and before he could hide it his eyes widened slightly as a the lightest of pink graced his cheeks.

“I’m… glad you like it,” he said softly, watching her with adoring eyes as she looked in the fridge. It was hard not to stare when she was finally here, where no one but him could gaze at her.

After a thorough tour of the kitchen, he lead her to his room. Compared to hers, it was pretty empty and dull. The sheets were a plain gray color, the walls white. There was not a single decoration in sight, just an empty cup on his nightstand.

The only furniture in the barren room was his nightstand, bed, a dresser, and a small bookshelf tucked away in a far back corner. “If you need anything, just come to my room. Knock if the door is closed.”

He watched as she looked around, smiling a little when she peeked at his books. “There’s nothing you’d find of interest there, (Name). Just a few history books.”

She glanced at him. “Is this all you wanted to show me?”

He shook his head, offering her his hand. “There’s one more thing.”

It hurt a little to see the hesitant in her eyes, her hand trembling slightly as she reached out to take his. Kurapika made sure to keep his grip on her hand as gentle and tender as he could manage.

“I’m… not going to hurt you. You know that, right (Name)?”

She didn’t answer, looking away from him. He felt his stomach twist into knots. Kurapika didn’t want her to fear him, it hurt too much to bear. He would have to build up her trust all over again, if he could even get her to trust him at all after kidnapping her.

“… come on, we have one last stop.”

He guided her to the back of the cabin, taking a key from his pocket and opening the door. She watched nervously as a dark hallway was revealed, making her tremble in fear. Kurapika seemed to notice this, taking out his phone to use as a flashlight. “I… was planning on getting lights installed in this hallway before I brought you here, but…”

He went quiet, shaking his head. “Never mind, come on.”

As he took her hand, she jumped slightly when his thumb brushed against her palm, as if he was trying to comfort her. Before, the action would have made her blush and giggle, but now it only filled her with dread.

The irrational side of her feared he would take her down to a dark basement and leave her there to die, but she had to tell herself that if that’s what he wanted to do, then why would he try so hard to replicate her room and make her comfortable? For gods sake every dish and pan in the house was pink and the silverware was hard plastic, if he planned on keeping her in a basement, why go through all that effort?

But sometimes the brain doesn’t listen to reason. (Name) found herself shaking uncontrollably, audibly yelping when she was suddenly engulfed in a bright light.

The light hadn’t actually been that bright, her eyes had just adjusted to the darkness. She had to blink a few times to get used to the change in light, and when she did she was pleasantly surprised.

She stood in the middle of a lush garden, with flowers, vegetables, and trees bearing all kinds of fruit.

There was a bench, along with a table and chairs so she could rest and eat outside if she wanted to. The only think that made her a little uneasy was the fact that the garden was in a glass dome, the only thing connecting her to the outside world being little vents that allowed the outside air in.

“I… figured you wouldn’t be happy stuck inside at all hours of the day. Humans need sunlight and fresh air to be happy.”

She nodded slowly, letting go of his hand to investigate the garden. Kurapika watched, holding his breath to see if she would like it. “I thought you may like to take up gardening as a hobby. There are many varieties of plants here, meaning fresh vegetables and fruit. I had… a friend make sure these plants will produce all throughout the year, so you don’t have to worry about them going in and out of season.”

With a soft sigh, (Name) picked an apple from one of the trees, looking it over. It was a brilliant shade of red, probably the most beautiful apple she had ever seen. “You… really put a lot of effort into this…”

“I did. I wanted to make sure you were as happy here as you could possibly be.”

(Name) rubbed the apple on her sleeve before taking a bite. It was good, better than any store bought apple she’d eaten. “You… didn’t have to do this, you know. You didn’t have to kidnap me… I don’t… I don’t understand. I was perfectly fine, living a normal, happy life. Why… why, Kurapika?”

He didn’t seem angered by her question, not even surprised. Kurapika only sighed, not meeting her eyes. “I… can’t tell you everything, all I can say is that I did it for you. I’ve already told you how important you are to me. I can’t bear the thought of losing you.”

Silence overtook the garden, and (Name) took that as a sign that he was done talking. “Alright… you probably already know I’m not okay with this. I see no reason to fight with you, seeing as we both know who would come out as the winner.”

Kurapika stayed silent for a moment, knowing what she said was true. “… I will never hurt you. You don’t have to worry about that.”

(Name) let the half eaten apple fall the ground, her eyes fixed on the fruit. “… take me back to me room, please. I… want to be alone.”

Kurapika nodded slowly, letting her walk ahead of him. When she was looking, he picked up the fallen apple and dusted the dirt off. ‘I… don’t know if she’ll ever see me the same way again. Do I even deserve her love and trust? I…’

He stared at the fruit, his eyes and cheeks turning scarlet as he pressed a kiss into the bite mark she left.

‘I’m doing this for her. No one will ever harm her, not on my watch.’

As the blonde placed the apple in his pocket, he tried not to think about the more selfish, and immoral thoughts he had about her. The need for her touch, her love, her kiss… these were all things he wouldn’t allow himself to want.

But being pent up like that wouldn’t do him any favors in the future, especially not when he already had his own share of anger issues.

He never wanted to hurt her, never… but as he watched her walk up the stairs and to her room, he had the sickening thought of how much easier it would make keeping her hear if she had a broken leg.

These thoughts weren’t his own, he told himself. It was the result of anxiety and stress. Everyone had intrusive thoughts, he didn’t actually want to hurt her.

Despite knowing this, it still filled him with dread and self hatred every time his mind drifted to ways of keeping her complicit and obedient through fear and pain instead of love and care. It would be easier to hurt and scare her into behaving, he knew that, but he didn’t want to hurt or scare her. He wanted her to be as happy and comfortable as could be, and he wanted her to at least view him in a positive light.

How would he be any better than who he was trying to protect her from if he hurt and scared her? It wasn’t worth it, and just the thought of causing even the smallest wound to her pretty skin made him want to vomit.

This was part of the reason he didn’t want to touch her too much. When he did, his mind ran rampant with obsessive and irrational thoughts. Some were about wanting her to be his, to love him, and others were more on the naughty and immoral side.

It was no secret to the blonde that he had feelings for her of the sexual nature as well, but he pushed those feelings down with the bad thoughts as well, hoping they would go away. He didn’t even know if she would come to see him as a friend again, much less a sexual partner or lover. Kurapika didn’t want to get his hopes up.

But as he laid in bed that night, listening to her soft breathing in the room next to him, he couldn’t stop the hand that drifted below his belt, gently stroking his leaking cock. She was right there, sleeping just beyond the wall, and it made his entire body tingle with excitement. He knew that this was wrong, that it was only feeding into his desires, but he couldn’t help it.

When he came, the obsessive, nagging thought of filling her to the brim with his cum, impregnating her and continuing the Kurta clan through her womb made his brain fuzzy and his body warm.

He had to shake away the thought, hitting his head until the pain got too overwhelming. ‘Stop, stop it! No… I can’t think like that. She may never want that, and… and that’s okay. I did this for her safety, having her around me and being happy about that is only a side effect.’

Kurapika curled up under his blanket, his eyelids dropping. He had trouble sleeping ever since his clan was massacred, the nightmare making sleep almost impossible, but since he met (Name), her presence alone was enough to stave off his bad dreams.

The only problem was being away from her. Before he kidnapped her, when he had to go away for long missions, not only did he have nightmares about his clan’s massacre, he also dreamt of (Name) being brutally murdered or tortured. It was enough to leave him trembling, sometimes even vomiting after waking up.

The anxiety made it hard for him to function and focus on his work. He kidnapped her for her safety first of course, but also so he didn’t have to worry himself to death. Now that he had her to come home to, to protect, he would be much more careful and focused during his missions to collect the scarlet eyes and find the Phantom Troupe.

When he finally fell asleep, Kurapika dreamed of a happy, normal life with (Name), a life he could never give her.

[courtingchaos]

Unclean

Gator Tillman x Fem Reader

Warnings: Religious themes, menstruation: sex and talk of, fingering, blood in various places, allusions to physical abuse (not reader) it’s period sex!

A/N: Listen, I am an ex-for-almost-20-years-Catholic who grew up around a lot of Southern Baptist, so excuse my (probable) misinterpretation of Leviticus okay? I just think Roy Tillman is a real Old Testament guy. I’ve had this little one shot in the wings for a while and only got the guts to finish it recently. I’m also deeply aware that I am interpreting this character much differently than the fandom at large so like, peace be with you.

18+ NSFW No Minors

Nothing but low lights behind the pulpit and a few along the aisles to let you see the outline of him in the first pew. Leaned forward, still and quiet in the cold dark that seeps into the small wooden church. Outside, the calvary congregates and converses after their Sunday dinner provided by their shepherd and in here, in the small family chapel, it’s just the two of you in the glow of old bulbs. Warm yellow gives the bridge of his nose a highlight and shines off the sun bleached strands in his hair. When your footsteps reach his radius he looks over his shoulder, tense and sharp, but the golden glow reflects off his eyes to give him a softer look than he deserves.

You stop two pews back and he gives you a once over, nervous eyes flitting from your head to your feet and up again before he begins chewing on his bottom lip. “You go home?”

“Yes.”

“Why you still in your dress?”

“It’s still Sunday.”

He laughs through his nose and turns back to the pulpit, thumb rubbing lightly against his reddened lip. “Did you stop at the house?”

You step forward one more length of pew and stop again to watch him fidget with the vape in his hand. “No, Roy wanted to talk to my father so I came back out here.”

Gator hums, a twitch of his lip letting his displeasure show for just a moment. The smack of the metal against his palm is loud in the small space like the yell you know he’d like to let loose would be. Sharp and mean like his demeanor, trying to be like his father but just south of right.

“Did you eat?” You ask while creeping up beside him. The smoke from the pit nearby has snuck in through the gaps in the doorways and mingled with the dry smell of wood and old hay. This chapel has always reminded you of an attic with its exposed beams but the scent of decades old pine makes you the most nostalgic.

“No.”

“Not hungry?”

He looks up at you before he sits back against the bench, takes in your pieces before the whole of you, eyes flitting again from your open coat to the hem of your dress fluttering just below your knee. Vape set aside he reaches out to drag a finger up from your knee and under that hem where you keep some of your secrets. Lines of ink not even your parents have seen, another cut you’ve inflicted like the hundred others while trying to claw your way out of this compound.

Fingers dig into the back of your thigh to hold you in front of him, lets the heat from his palm sink in while he doesn’t answer you.

“What was this morning about?”

He tilts his head in lieu of opening his mouth.

“Roy was on his ‘god honoring woman’ kick again. Did Karen piss him off last night?”

“I don’t know, I wasn’t home.” His other hand snakes between your thighs to hold higher up. “She didn’t look upset.” He drops his gaze then to stare at the yellow flowers dotted over the black fabric of your dress, the one your mother bought you as a threat veiled in a peace offering.

“A little too much Leviticus for my taste.”

“Mm.”

Your coat lands on the floor behind you and his fingers inch higher on the inside of your thigh. He seems fixed on the way your dress bunches over his wrist instead of the soft touch behind his ear where you tuck an errant strand of hair finally falling out of its place. Outside there’s a muffled uproar of laughter that makes you cast a sharp look through the foggy windows and Gator takes the opportunity to move his warmth away to pluck at the buttons at the top of your dress.

“Little low cut for church.”

“My mother doesn’t think so.”

“I’ll thank her later.” An actual smile this time as the first button slips through silky cotton, followed by two more before you stop him. The wood creaks under your knee as you shift your weight to it, sliding it up against his hip. Again his hand finds your thigh, up high to find his favorite ink, a simple black line cross that his thumb rubs small circles into.

He hasn’t noticed yet that you tucked your underwear in your coat before you walked all the way out here. Risky since this morning left you with a bloody visit and now you sit unclean under the rafters his family raised. Your dress slides up easily enough, almost up enough to share your secret, and finally he pulls you close. Tugs at you to get you over his lap, your other knee colliding dully with the bench back.

It’s like a switch with him sometimes the way his mood will turn. Sour petulance that makes you roll your eyes will break for roaming hands that map out your body. Sullen quiet suddenly loud with his wants, with his questions, with his panting and moaning. Any place he can have you but more often in places that would bring down his father’s ire if you were found.

Flush against him now he pulls you down to meet the seat of his hips before he pushes your dress up around your waist and pauses mid grope to laugh.

“Does your mother approve of this too?” Fingers move again along the crease of your hip until they reach soft curls. He catches your eye and doesn’t look away as he dips his fingers into your heat, his lip caught between his teeth again, this time with a smirk. He pushes up slow, thick fingers dragging against oversensitive flesh, his palm flat so you can grind against him. Words seem caught in his throat, probably something goading and whispered, something laughed out on a breath. You know he wants to make you blush about how wet you already are and how loud you’re panting but he changes his angle and moves his hand, pulls it back in front of himself and stops to stare at the red staining his fingers.

“Oh.” You don’t pretend to sound surprised. He frowns but doesn’t push you away like you thought he might’ve, instead he seems frozen in place and you don’t miss the blush beginning to trickle down his cheeks. “It’s okay.” You grab his fist hovering between you. “It’s okay.” You repeat and he looks at you then, wide eyes searching for something. Leaned in close you bring his hand up slow, up towards his lips parted around a whispered sound of protest.

“Is-isn’t this breaking a r-rule or something?”

He doesn’t curl his fingers away when you press them to his mouth, a long line of blood from his cupids bow to his chin. With your free hand you fumble with his belt and his pants, keeping his doe eyed gaze glued to yours.

“Your father walks in here without burning.”

Confusion has nestled its way into his features, eyes squinted at you until you wedge your hand in between thick fabric and hot skin. His gaze droops when you pull him free, mouth splitting open with a quiet gasp. You move then, sitting up on your knees to look down on him wanting and blooded, dragging your hands down his long arms along the back the of the pew outstretched to grip the hardwood with white knuckles. Fear, you think at first, from the wild print you’ve left on his face. Anxiousness maybe that he might be found like this, not just compromised but marked now, cut off from the flock finally.

“Gator…” You barely whisper and he’s chasing you upwards. Against the restraints of your hands on his wrists he pulls when your lips don’t descend to meet his.

A choked off whine, “Please.” His hips wiggle between your knees for some kind of friction, anything to get closer. “C’mon, come back.” He pleads through clenched teeth, tacky red turning matte on his full lips. It draws you back in and he smiles when you close the distance with a brush of a kiss, something light that makes him huff before you consume him.

He doesn’t taste like when you bite your cheek or suck on a paper cut. It’s a foreign taste on a familiar tongue, faint passion fruit from his habit and a metallic tinge that makes you groan into him. He feels good. Pinned like a fluttering moth looking for an escape, for a saving grace that he seems to find in your lips and the dip of your tongue. His breath comes in sharp puffs through his nose smushed against your cheek and again you hear him whine when you don’t let him raise his hands.

A shake of his head to break the kiss to get his point across to take a deep breath-

Outside there’s heavy footfalls on the old wooden steps. Both of you freeze like deer, your eyes trained on the heavy door and his boring through your chin, waiting to bolt at the first sign of discovery.

Muffled voices, a click of metal and your heart in your throat when this unsuspecting intruder has a change of pace. A muffled question. A pause. Quiet laughter and parting footsteps.

Your fingers simply drape and Gator takes the opportunity to surge into you. Hands grabbing at your hips to hold you closer, pushing you down on him. He guides himself in with his thumb, a quick brush over that ache of yours amplified through thrill and nature.

You miss him watching your face scrunch up in apprehension. Lips parted like his, pink lipstick smudged with blood, only you hiss out an “easy” that he answers with a shush. Lets his hands run back up under your dress to find his favorite little scar of ink, smearing red along the way. Almost dry now but his fingerprints in your mess between the two of you make him forget his reservations for a few minutes. He forgets the crowd outside and the house ten minutes away. Pushes the expectations away. He instead watches you relax into him, the way your hands unwind from his shirt only to feel them slide up behind his neck to wind back up in his hair. Your tongue rolls over your bottom lip before you bite down on a moan when he bucks his hips up gently.

This wet heat, new to him in this taboo, draws him in when you roll your hips in earnest suddenly. You’ve angled him to find that magic spot he’s usually still searching for by this point, your head rolling back on your shoulders to ride your knees raw against the wood. The deep heat of you almost scorches him, a small voice in the back of his thoughts reminding him of hellfire and naked founts.

“Fuck.” Said out loud in the hopes of chasing away a voice tinged with vitriol and a release of the climbing pleasure up his spine. You writhe in his lap and he gropes at your hips, slides long fingers down and under to grab at your thighs. Slick with sweat you slip in his grasp, heavy breaths blown over his locks when you finally reach behind him to hold onto the bench.

The open top of your dress brushes his face enough times he bites at the buttons, finally catching them between his teeth. Through his lashes he watches your face, glued to the peek of teeth behind your lips. The way you glitter in low light and muggy air. The dip of your collar bones when you roll your body into his and he can feel you tighten all around him, core and arms and air.

A not gentle hand suddenly wrapped around his jaw, fingers prodding into his mouth to hang and pull. Wandering lips messily find his own and then trail off over his cheek to end at his ear, your peak whined against him. Pulsing that makes him hold you closer so he can chase after you to find his own end.

He’s been on the precipice since you threw your coat on the ground and all it takes is a few gentle thrusts before he chokes on a groan and suddenly he feels bottomless. No floor, no bonfires, no congregants too close for comfort. Just your face in his neck and the shared messy warmth pressed between you two.

There’s a swing of headlights over the front of the chapel that breaks whatever tandem calm you two have created. Separated wordlessly with barely a glance at the extra mess, Gator quickly readjusts his pants and you snatch your coat on your way to the small ladies room in the foyer. More muffled voices tonight that intrude on your privacy while you scrub smudged lipstick off your face and rebutton your dress, jumping only a little when there’s a knock at the door.

“You fall in?” Your father jokes on the other side.

“Give me a minute!” You snap while trying to slide your underwear back on. A final look before you walk out to make sure the surface of you is presentable, no visible marks or smudges. Out in the entryway your father gestures at you to follow and Roy gives you too long of a look when he waves. You wonder if he can see it all over your face even though you scrubbed the evidence off. Wonder if he can smell it on you two like a predator sniffing out wounded prey.

Can he see your handprints all over his son? Invisible blood that marks him different now. The tang of sin sits all over your tongue and when you run it behind your teeth to savor you catch Gator staring again. Catch him watching your hands twist in your coat pockets and his eyes flit back up to your mouth. You can feel the faded touch of him worrying at your tattoo even across a courtyard.

“Hey Gator?” You holler at him while climbing into your father’s truck. “Don’t forget dinner.” A simple smile for him before you slam the door, a break in the tension and your phone is vibrating seconds later. You wait to look until your home but it still makes you laugh even when you’re starting your laundry.

Thank your mom for me.

[spilledbeans116]

When You Need Me: Vegeta x Reader

Vegeta x gn!reader - 3,640 Words - No Use of y/n

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

After a rough day, you find yourself struggling to do anything besides sit in silence and become lost in thought. However, you don't realize how many hours have passed since you've gotten home, and Vegeta becomes increasingly worried.

TW: General sadness/ themes of Depression, Nudity (SFW, nothing explicit)

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     “I knew I’d find you down here.” That gruff voice jolted you from your thoughts and your head turned to the bottom of the staircase where Vegeta was currently standing; he was shirtless with his arms crossed in front of him, looking at you with an expression that was hard to read. He was in nothing but his sweatpants, a deep blue cotton that hugged his ass enough to make you giggle whenever he wore them. This time, however, a smile didn’t even flick across your face.

    He knew something was wrong with you; you should have been in bed hours ago. He had been laying in bed, awake, wondering where the hell you were and was upset with himself over how worried he was becoming. 12 am turned to one, then two, and now it was three and there was still no sign of you. Perhaps you had fallen asleep on the couch? He had shook his head at himself and rolled over, staring at the photo of the two of you with the rest of the z fighters that you had insisted on putting on his nightstand. He frowned, knowing you hated sleeping on the couch because it hurt your back and you would have woken up by now to come upstairs. He sighed, hopping out of bed and making his way through the house until he reached you. He was going to scold you for staying up so late but the moment he saw you, sitting there, alone, he found he couldn’t.

      “I’m sorry,” you said, rubbing your eyes and staring at him, trying to smile a bit to help calm his nerves. It didn’t work, however, as he could tell it was forced. He stared at you, sitting at the kitchen counter with your favorite blanket tightly wrapped around your shoulders. You weren’t even in your pajamas yet, your shoes still on as they dangled right above the floor. Your phone was nowhere in sight and the television was off, the only light coming from the dim glow of the time on the microwave and its small bulb casting over the stove-top. 

     “Have you been sitting down here this whole time?” He asked, making his way over to you. 

     “Yeah,” you replied quietly, once again staring at the granite countertop in front of you. “I’ll be up to bed soon, I promise. Go get some sleep, you’ll be up early for training w-“

     “Oh hush,” he grunted, rolling his eyes, annoyed that you were worrying about him of all things when it was clear you were nowhere near okay. “That's not important right now.” Vegeta’s wording should have struck something in you, as training was never not important to him. Right now though, your brain was too foggy to register it. He brushed past you and made his way around the counter, opening the cupboard and pulling out your favorite cup. He filled it with water and brought it over to you, holding it out to you carefully. You brought both hands out and cupped it hesitantly, and when he was sure you had it in your grasp and wouldn’t drop it, he removed his hands to instead gently press his to the tops of yours.

      “Thanks,” was all you could say before he ran his thumb over top of your right hand and let go.

     He nodded, pulling out the seat beside your own and sitting in it. “Do you… need to talk about it?” 

    You shook your head slowly and stared down at the cup, not moving to take a sip. Vegeta cleared his throat as he glanced around the room, eyes flicking to the dim microwave light across from you both.

     “Do you want to talk about it?” Again you shook your head. The prince remained silent, tail flicking about anxiously before wrapping around his waist. It was clear something was bothering you, but he wouldn’t push you to find out what. He was never good with things like this; he didn’t know how to help others in a way that wasn’t beating their enemies senseless. You were the one that was good at all the talking stuff, not him.

      “You’re not hurt, are you? Or sick?” He asked, breaking the silence quickly as the worst of his imagination began to take a hold of him.

     “N-no,” your voice cracked, hands beginning to shake slightly as your eyes welled up with tears. The water began to ripple in the cup, and you lifted it to your mouth and took a drink, the cool liquid quenching your dry mouth. You did your best to blink away the tears, not wanting Vegeta to see you like this.

     You set the cup down after that, pulling your blanket tighter around yourself as if to hide in it. Your nails dug into the fabric in your grasp and you could almost feel them push into the skin of your palm. 

     Vegeta pulled your hands away quickly when he saw how tense you had become, running his fingers carefully over your skin. Your touch was cold, and he frowned at how you trembled in his hands. He stood up suddenly, eyes fixed on you as he scooped you up bridal-style. “Come on, I’m carrying you up to our room.”

     You didn’t argue, your body seemingly numb as he held you close to his chest and made his way up the stairs. You shut your eyes, breathing in his scent and feeling the warmth of his body even with the blanket separating the two of you. He was like a heater to you, helping to pull your thoughts from the dark recesses of your mind to instead focus on him and his warmth.

     He set you down on the edge of the bed carefully before he squatted down, helping to remove your shoes. You watched as he fumbled with them for a moment, grumbling under his breath at how ridiculous they could be. You felt awful he was having to do this and attempted to stop him.

     “I can handle it V-“

     He wasn’t having any of it, however, and quickly cut you off. For once his tone wasn’t berating or anywhere close to seeming annoyed. “No, I’ve got it. Just stay there.” He walked over to the closet quickly, opening the door to stick them with the rest of your shoes before once again shutting the door. Then he made his way to the bathroom, and you could hear the sound of rushing water as he began to fill the tub. You were finely tuned in to the little squeaks as he opened and closed the cabinets, moved bottles around on top of the counter, and gathered up whatever else he was looking for. Whenever he would walk past the door, you would make eye-contact with him before he disappeared out of your view again.

    He came back out a few minutes later and made his way over to you. You waited for him to tell you to get cleaned up, possibly because you smelled or something similar, but were instead surprised to watch as he once again lifted you up. His caress was gentle as you were carried into the bathroom this time, with him setting you on the rim of the tub. You could feel the steam on your skin coming from the warm waters behind you as he stared at you.

     “Arms up.” His tone was stern and yet soft, and you did as you were told, albeit a bit sluggishly. He shimmied your shirt off, making sure it didn’t get stuck around your face or caught in your hair. Then he made his way to your pants, pulling them down your legs one by one before folding your articles of clothing and setting them on top of the toilet. 

     He placed one hand against your back and the other beneath your knees, lifting you with ease as he set you down into the bath. The water was warm and lapped against your chest as you displaced it; you watched as it splashed against the sides of the tub, splashing the prince’s nose with droplets of water. He hardly reacted to it, too focused on making sure you were comfortable. Vegeta removed his arms from the water and dried them off carefully before turning the faucet to shut the water off. The white-noise of the running water came to a sudden halt, replaced with the slow and quiet dripping as the last of it ran off the spout.

     He turned, grabbing a blue cup from on top of the vanity before facing you once more, dipping it beneath the warm water to fill it. You watched with lidded eyes as the cup scooped up the water and he brought it above your head. With one hand he cupped your forehead, keeping the water out of your eyes as he slowly poured it over your hair and shoulders. He said nothing to you during this, his eyes saying everything for him; they were gentle and concerned as he cared for you, meeting yours every so often before he would shift and move them elsewhere.

     The prince of all saiyans was not known for his kindness; on planet Vegeta this is how he would have been taken care of daily. On Earth, however, he was no longer respected royalty to anyone but yourself. You were always so kind to him, so sweet when he was anything but. You had a bright personality, a great sense of humor, and more importantly you cared for the prince. You were one of the strongest people he knew, perhaps not in body as Kakarot had everyone beat in that regard, but in spirit. Nothing ever got to you. At least, that you let them see. Today was different.

     Whatever you were struggling with, he wanted to help ease the pain of it as much as he could. He hated seeing you so upset, so dull and quiet when you were usually talkative. He grabbed your shampoo, lathering up his hands with it before rubbing it into your scalp and through your hair. You shut your eyes, sighing pleasantly as a small smile graced your lips. It was small, but warmed his heart as your shoulders relaxed and you made satisfied noises. His tail wagged ever so slightly, perhaps in relief that your mood was shifting.

     “Thank you,” you mumbled softly as he rinsed your hair out and grabbed the conditioner.

     “Nonsense, don’t thank me for this,” he replied quietly. Once again he ran his sudsy hands through your hair, letting it soak as he grabbed your bar of soap and a wash cloth. “You’ve done much more for me more often. This is hardly anything in comparison. Lift your arms.”

    You once again followed his instructions, barely opening one eye to study his features. He ran the rag across your body softly, wiping off your neck, chest, and back. He seemed so concentrated, so determined to keep his touches gentle and to take care of you. “You know you do just as much,” you said, closing your eye once more.

     He rolled his eyes at that, scoffing slightly and smirking as he brought your arms back down. “Please, I know I’m not the most pleasant to be around when I’m sick. You’re much easier to handle.”

     “You’re perfectly pleasant,” you giggled, sighing again as he titled your head back and poured the warm water over your hair. “You’re never grumpy at all.”

     “Don’t get smart with me,” he chuckled, running the water once more and rinsing the rag under it. He brought the slightly cooler rag to your face and wiped it off, getting off all the oil and worries of the day. He set the rag on the edge of the tub, eyes lifting to meet yours again. “I’ll be right back, just wait here.” He gripped your head in his hands carefully, rough lips grazing your forehead as he kissed you and stood. He went back into the bedroom, grabbing your favorite pajamas and under garments from your drawers. 

     He smiled as he walked back to find you running your hands through the now soapy water, messing with the bubbles that had formed. You already appeared much better than before, but not quite back to normal. You were smiling, yes,  but it didn’t reach your eyes; your shoulders were still just a bit too tense for his liking and it was clear your mind was still focused on other things. 

    He pulled the plug to the bath and grabbed your towel, holding out a hand to you to help you up. You took it slowly, standing up and stepping out of the bath to place your feet on the soft mat below.

     You took the towel from him and began to dry yourself off as he stepped behind you. He felt his ki begin to bud beneath his fingertips as he concentrated his energy into his hands and started to run them softly through your hair, drying it just a bit so you wouldn’t go to bed with it soaked. The last thing you needed right now was to somehow catch a cold on top of whatever you were already dealing with.

     He helped you get dressed this time, letting you hold his shoulder to steady yourself as you stepped into your pants. Once you were ready to go he set your toothbrush on the sink along with your toothpaste and a cup, grabbing your medication from behind the mirror and setting out what you needed to take.

     It was odd how delicate he was being with you; how precise his actions were or how he kept grazing his fingers or body against yours. A quick brush of skin on your shoulder as he reached for your medicine, or a gentle kiss on the back of your head as you brushed your teeth. Each little gesture let you know he was there and kept your mind anchored to the present. He left you in the bathroom to finish up, setting up the bed for the two of you instead.

    When you were with him you felt so much better; sure, the things that had been plaguing you didn’t go away completely, but he made you feel safer. He took away the ache in your heart and mind and allowed you to get through what you were dealing with. You hated bothering him with your emotions. He had been through so much in his life it felt as though at times your issues were minuscule in comparison. You didn’t want to bother him with things that didn’t affect him and yet here he was, actively caring for you without knowing the cause of your issues because to him, the reason why you were upset didn’t matter, big or small. All that mattered was making you feel better and getting you through this.

     You stepped out of the bathroom and your heart nearly melted when you saw him waiting for you. He had pulled back the covers already for you and propped your pillows the way you liked. Your favorite plushie was laying in your spot, and a glass of water sat on your bedside table. He had even left out the book you had been reading for good measure.

     “Vegeta I-“

     He took your hand and led you around the bed, bending down to pick you up for the final time tonight before he set you into the covers. He pulled the blankets over your lap and kissed the top of your head, rubbing his hands over your hair after. “Do you want me to put your movie on?”

    You shook your head and he nodded, making his way to his side of the mattress and shimmying off his pants, much too warm to sleep in anything besides his black boxers. He scooted over to you, pulling the blankets up as he set an arm around your waist and pulled you closer to him.

     “Do you want to read anything?”

     “No thank you.”

     “Alright.” He leaned over you to shut off the bedside lamp, laying down and bringing you with him. Your back pressed into his chest as his tail wrapped around your waist, one arm resting below your pillow and the other draped across your side. He laid a barrage of kisses to your neck and shoulders before nuzzling his head to the back of your neck.

      “I love you,” he said quietly, a shiver running down your spine as his breath tickled your skin. Vegeta was never one to be very sappy, so the words coming from him and so suddenly surprised you. You felt your face flush, your mind buzzing as you placed your hand over top of his. 

     “I love you too, Vegeta.”

     “I’d do anything for you, you know.” He said, his tone soft and his deep voice rumbling his chest against your back. “And I’m here to listen if you need me.”

     “Thank you, my prince.”

     “For the last time, you don’t need to thank me,” he scoffed, rubbing his hand slowly over your hip. “I should be the one thanking you.”

     You rolled over at that, shifting in his grasp to turn and face him. His eyes somehow still sparkled in the darkness, deep pools of black wide and searching yours carefully. “Why? Why do you need to thank me?”

     “Well,” he grunted, smirk tugging on his lips. “You stick by my side even on my worst days. Not many people can… handle my personality.” His words were deliberate, almost boasting. “You know how to tend to my wounds and you’re quite battlesmart as well.”

     “Yes but-“

     He chuckled, lifting a finger to your lips to quiet you. “I’m not done yet.” He pulled his finger away to tap at his chin, “now where was I? Oh, of course! You’re incredibly attractive, more so than anyone else I’ve ever met in my life.” You blushed at that, gaze breaking from his finally before he pressed his forehead to yours. “And most importantly you understand me; you respect me. You treat me as if I’m the most important thing to you.”

     Now it was your turn to chuckle, “well you are, Vegeta.”

     He shook his head carefully, “you balance so many things and still manage to make time for me.”

     “You do the same thing!” You teased. “You’ve saved the Earth hundreds of times and you’ve got the scars to prove it! That’s much more important and yet you still find time to see me.”

     “You’re the reason why I do it.” He replied softly, thumb tucking an unruly hair behind your ear. “Without you, I would have left this damned rock ages ago. Hell, I might have even blown it up. But you changed me; you changed how I viewed the world. If someone as perfect as you can exist here, perhaps it’s worth protecting.”

    Your eyes began to water, “Vegeta I’m not anywhere near perfect. I-“

     “You’re perfect to me, and that’s all that matters.” He placed a soft kiss to your lips before pulling away and shoving your head to his chest. He held you tightly, hand scratching up and down your back in a soothing manner as you began to cry. “I promise you nothing would ever change that.”

     You gripped his back tightly, nails digging into his skin as you sobbed. He didn’t mind it at all, happy to be your rock when you needed him. “It’s all going to be okay,” he whispered, continuing to rub up and down your back like you always did to him on his worst nights. “I’ll call Kakarot in the morning and cancel training. You can sleep in and I’ll take you out for breakfast.”

     You giggled between sobs, hiccups rising in the back of your throat as you wiped snot from your nose with your arm, “yeah, you can’t cook to save your life.”

     “Hey, watch it or I won’t do anything for you,” he teased, poking your sides a bit and making you laugh more. “We can go shopping. We’ll go to your favorite stores; even the ones I don’t like. Tomorrow will be all about you. Whatever you want, name it and it’s yours.”

     “All I need is you, Veggie,” you sniffled, pressing your head to his chest once more.

     “Then that’s an easy wish to grant.” He placed one more kiss to the top of your head for good measure. “I’m yours, from now until the end of time.”

     “Vegeta?” You croaked, inhaling sharply through your nose and looking up at him.

    “Mm?” He replied, scratching at your head softly. You could feel your eyes growing heavy, the bath, his warmth, the crying, and the gentle care all lulling you to rest.

    “Can you sing that song I like?” 

    He chuckled, sarcasm lacing his voice, “Gods you’re already putting me to the test.”

     “You can even hum it,” you added, not wanting him to feel obligated. “Or you can just pretend I didn’t say anything at all.”

     He shifted a bit, careful not to squish you at any point in time before he cleared his throat. Then, in that deep, husky tone of his, he began to hum, bringing you into a peaceful, much-needed sleep. He kissed your head a final time as your body fully relaxed and the song ended, watching the rise and fall of your chest and feeling your puffs of breath graze against his skin.

     “Goodnight,” he whispered, his pet name for you leaving his lips with a sigh. “I won’t let anyone or anything hurt you. I promise.” He paused, letting out one last chuckle as he pulled you close, “maybe just don’t tell the others I have such a soft side, okay?”

If he was being honest, he wouldn't have cared, even if you told the others about this. He just wanted you to feel better again, and that would be enough.

[charliemwrites]

Could we please have little drabbles for each kept pet for like the moment they first opened their eyes and realised they were in a random bed and house and their keepers coming in and their first conversations?

Hey, sorry for the delay on this one. It’s a bit more complex (which is no problem!) and I really wanted to put some thought into it.

Feral:

You wake up groggy, confused. Warm…? God you’re so heavy, you just want to go back to sleep. Must have been another shitty day at work.

And yet…. You can’t get back to sleep. Something in the back of your mind is tugging at you. Telling you things are off.

Your bed is too comfy, your sheets too soft, your pillow too cool and supportive. Your eyes flutter a few times before you can finally pry them open, head still foggy. There’s movement to your side, you twist your head, halfway through a yawn when you see a blond man sitting at your bedside.

“Mornin’, little one. How are you feeling?”

You gasp roughly, scramble away, out of this strange bed - away from this strange man. Hit the ground and hear him hiss quietly. Scramble back when he stands and starts to round the bed. You need to run but your limbs feel like they belong to someone else. All you can do is press yourself into the corner, wide eyed as he comes closer.

He stops just out of reach and squats down, arms balanced on his knees. He’s huge, you realize with horror. Not just tall and wide, but built.

“Easy now, baby,” he coos and your blood turns to ice. “There was really no way to make that better.”

“Where am I?” you demand, voice rough and shaky. “Who are you?”

“You’re home,” he answers with a little smile, “and I’m Simon. I’m gonna take care of you from now on.

—

(Warning for throw up)

Shy Thing:

The violent twisting of your stomach rips you out of a dead sleep. Once moment you’re asleep, and the next you’re throwing yourself sideways, emptying its contents over the side of… whatever you’ve been lying on. There’s a voice nearby, unfamiliar, though you can’t hear what they’re saying over your own heaving.

God you hate throwing up. Your eyes water as your stomach finally starts to settle, the dizziness invading next and you groan, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Alright, lass, you’re okay. Here.”

You crack an eye open to see a glass of water being offered. Accept it gratefully and sip slowly at the voice’s insistence. While you do, you try to see past a headache-induced haze. You’re in… some kind of living room?

The alarms begin blaring one by one in your head. You don’t know where you are. You don’t remember anything. You don’t know why you feel awful. You don’t know who’s rubbing your back and speaking to you softly.

Slowly, afraid of what you’ll see, you twist to face the stranger. And realize he’s… familiar. But not familiar enough that you can immediately place him.

“There you are, pretty girl. Sorry about that, should have gone with the other sedative.”

The other….

You try to jerk away, but he just thinks you’re gagging again and is quick to support you, pulling your hair back from your face.

“I’m right here, love,” he murmurs, giving you a deceptively gentle squeeze. “And I always will be from now on.”

Quietly, you begin to weep.

—

You groan as you come to, head pounding and eyes feeling dry. A voice is gently speaking nearby, words garbled as your brain comes back online. It takes a moment, but you realize they’re speaking to you, though you don’t recognize who they are.

There’s something around your neck that’s a little itchy. You groan again and reach to pull it away, annoyed. Your fingers meet resistance as it tugs against the back of your neck. You try again - realize it’s not coming off.

Your eyes snap open, an unfamiliar ceiling above you, decorated with fairy lights. Not your room; not your bed. Your eyes slide sideways, to an unfamiliar man sitting at the edge of the bed by your hip.

“Not coming off, love,” he says, “not for a while at least.”

You don’t know what he means until his eyes flick down to your neck. Your fingers feel around it and find a metal plate with something engraved in it. You don’t know what it says, but you know what it is. A name tag. For a collar. You’re wearing a collar.

You spit out a curse and instantly kick at the man, trying to get him away, stun him. It lands, but he does little more than grunt and grab your leg, pinning it. You struggle, kick, flail, shout and scream but he quickly has you pinned and immobile, even as you curse up a storm, white-hot with anger.

“Get it all out now, darling,” he rumbles above you, “because tomorrow I’ll expect better behavior.”

[angel-sweets666]

Sweetheart~

Chapter 2 The creature x fem!reader

warnings! Murder, mentions of sexual harassment, mentions of sex and a author who hasn’t actually watched the movie because it’s not streaming in Australia 😭😭

A/n CHAPTER TWO IS OUTTT (read chap one here) UGHHH, I’m sorry I’m not the best writer I feel like i rush things but I am learning, I’m going to try and release more fanfiction with more fandoms so it’s not all Lisa Frankenstein <3

It had been a few days since you and The creature had smashed Janet’s head into a sewing machine and cut off her ear to use it for his own purposes, taffy and your father were none the wiser! They think she is at a work trip. You walked downstairs in a lacy tank top, sweat pants and your hair in a messy scrunchie bun. Taffy giggled up at you “don’t tell mom but… it’s actually nice when she’s gone.. right dad?” She smiled warmly over to the other side of the table were your father was standing “uh… yeah.. it’s quiet” he said as he sipped his morning coffee and holding up the newspaper. You pulled the chair out and sat down “so uh… have we heard from her?” You questioned, acting clueless “nope! Must be realllll busy” taffy smiled innocently, not knowing the true fate of her mother. You bit your lip and nodded “mhm… yep…” you acted as normally as you possibly could; knowing you had murdered someone, or rather you were the accomplice to a murder. You used your manicured fingernails to tap on the table, making clicking noises “ah I love your nails! See it’s so nice to look after yourself” taffy giggled as she ate a strawberry “oh uh.. yeah..” you were awfully quiet…. “You okay? Your acting funny” taffy’s dark eyebrows furrow, her once bubbly smile dropping “oh I’m just.. worried about uh.. mom..” taffy’s eyes lit up “AWWWW, it’s okay I bet she’s okay..” she rubbed your back to “comfort” you.

Once the breakfast was over you rushed to go back upstairs and to your room, the sounds of your feet against the carpet made a pitter patter as you rushed up the carpet “ughhh! What do I do?!” You yelped to the creature, he grunted and his body twisted towards you, making a sickening cracking sound from his rusty and old joints “okay.. ew… anyways, are you sure they won’t find the body?” You asked frantically, he groaned and slowly nodded; making a familiar cracking noise from his neck. “Are you sure sure?” You pressed. The creature seemed annoyed with your constant worrying about being caught. He grabbed your shoulders and held you in place, looking at you with a ‘it’s fine’ look. You sighed and began to count to ten in an attempt to calm yourself down “1….2….3….4….5… oh god… 6…7….8…9…” inhale “10…. Im calm… I’m very calm… I’m very very calm…” you sighed and leaned onto the creatures chest, noticing the lack of heart beat “oh.. yeah… your dead.. you.. you don’t have a heartbeat huh..?” You looked up at him, his somewhat stiff face looked back down at you as he grumbled in an attempt to say “yes”. Your shoulders slumped as you sighed, leaning back onto his “that’s… that’s okay..” you smiled and closed your eyes, for a dead man… he was oddly comforting…

the next morning…

you opened the closet door to find him against the wall, asleep. “Hey buddy..” you smiled and woke him up “I uh… I have an idea!” You smiled to the now stirred zombie man. The creature grumbles, tilting his head to the side “well.. remember how I went to that party the other day..?” You tried to jog his foggy memory, in hopes despite his heart not working, that his brain still worked! The creature nodded again, but it was slow and stiff due to the fact he was fresh out the tomb. “And remember how that Doug guy kept grabbing me and hitting on me and ended up yk.. sexually assaulting me..?” You asked him quietly and he nodded again “I think… we might just have a hand donor!” You looked down at the creatures “nub” which was where his hand mustve been in the 1830s. The creatures face lit up the best of its ability, you slowly walked over to the pink landline phone laying on your wooden table. Dialing a couple numbers then placing your phone to your ear

“Hello doug..? I was wondering if maybe, we could go on a walk with me today or tomorrow..?”

“yeah! Of course beautiful”

you grinned to the creature as a good sign, you suddenly put on your acting skills “oh thank you Doug… what time today?” You said as you twirled the cord around “2:30? Too easy. See you then~~”

2:30

“Hey… I’m so glad you came..” you said breathily to Doug, he smiled to you. You two started walking together in the woods as he grabbed your hand, you swiftly pulled your hand away from his hand “w-what you don’t wanna hold my hand..?” He seemed surprise that you didnt want to be romantic with him at all.“I… just wanna show you something” you said as you began to speed walk ahead of him. “Hey wait up!” He yelped, you slowly bushed some old bushes away to show him the bachelors grove cemetery. “This is my uh.. this is my spot!” You smiled and giggled as you held your hand out to him to follow you into the cemetery and to be honest he looked wary “r-really? A cemetery?” He stuttered, looking up at the metal sign…but by the time he lowered his head to look back at you; you were already way ahead of him. Little did he know the creature was waiting for him with a axe in one hand and a shovel in the other. Once Doug catched up to you, you acted clueless for a while, not even listening to his ranting about you and how pretty you were, as you looked over the thorny bushes you could see a head of curly hair, the creatures head of curly hair to be exact. The dirt and leaves crunched beneath your feet as you and Doug walked closer and closer to Doug’s future grave. The deep hole you and the creature had dug for him this morning waiting for him. Doug didnt even get to finish one of his many sentences before you violently shoved him into the hole, he screamed like a little girl “w-what?! *name* who’s this?! what.. what’s he doing?! Oh god…” he began to violently scream as the undead man hacked his hands off and then just began to swing the axe at him. Repeated blows turning Doug’s body into nothing but skin tissue and blood. You smiled as you finally got the revenge for the assault you faced at the hands of that grubby little boy.. you slowly climbed into the dirt hole and grabbed one of Doug’s bloody and amputated hands and held it up to the creatures wrapped up nub he once called his wrist “it’ll work” you shrugged and smiled to him, throwing the hand into a plastic bag with a uncomfortable thud.

The blue thread weaves in and out of the creatures skin, as you sewed the hand to him. Finishing up the last stitches “how’s that feel..? Handy?” You giggled, he didnt make a noise back “right yeah.. we gotta electrocute ya don’t we?” You smiled warmly to him, he seemed to have grown to you as a great comfort in your life. You had been miserable since the death of your mother and now.. the creature filled that void in some ways, he wasn’t your mother but he certainly was something. “Let’s go get ya zapped up huh..?” You went to go play with the curls in his hair “hm?” He grumbled and leaned into your hand “hey.. you’re actually pretty cute…” you muttered only to go a pink shade “w-what? Nobody said anything.” You tried to cover up what you said as you helped him up and down the stairs to the tanning bed. The creature stumbled into the tanning bed room, and laid down into the bed. You fidgeted around with the crank again until you could turn it on and close the magenta lid. You waited almost 15 minutes for him! A ear would take 5 minutes to attach, so a hand.. a whole limb! Must take longer right..? When the 15 minutes were up, the familiar ‘ding!’ Noise rang in your own ears, you jumped in surprise and quickly rushed to the tanning bed to see if it worked. Not only did it work, but it did something else. It made him look more…. Human. His face looked more alive and he had now grown eyebrows, a feature he lacked before. “Woah..” he looked at you, equally as surprised! You pulled him up so he sat up in the tanning bed, he looked at his new hand and attempted to wiggle it, the fingers wiggled and you gasped, clapping your hand excitedly “it worked! You have a hand, can you talk now?” Instead of trying to speak like you were suggesting, the creature stood up and offered his hand to you like men did back in the 1800s when they wanted to dance with a woman “no no.. I can’t dance” you turned away and before you knew it, he grabbed you and yanked you backwards towards him. You yelped in surprise, then looked up at his smiling face.

The creature spun you around, grabbed you by your waist and hand then kept slow dancing with you in the back yard.. you blushed deeply and leaned onto his chest. He bowed you down then brought you back up and once again, kept twirling and dancing; the green grass making a slight noise with each step, it felt so romantic… the hand that was originally on your waist reached to play with the scrunchie in your hair, and the curling iron curls in your hair. “W-what are you doing..?” You looked up at him, he made a hum noise “we.. we should go inside.. it’s getting cold…” you suggested, shivering against him.. he nodded slowly and ushered you inside; holding you firmly and securely by your waist, treating you like your made of porcelain…

You took him upstairs, into your warm cozy room. “Should we find you some cozy clothes..? I’ll let you lay in bed with me…” you said sweetly to him, his face lit up “mhm..” you smiled and then walked into the closet, looking around for a pair of pyjamas that would fit him, and you successfully found some old Christmas pyjamas “here you go!” You tossed it to him then ushered him into the closet, he stumbled out in the Christmas pyjamas “awe how cute!” You squealed and hugged him, he wrapped his arms around you, then you pulled away “oh wait I gotta get into my own pyjamas…. Don’t peek” you scolded him and he smiled, the creature sitting down on your bed. You put on a lacy night gown and placed your hair in braids with ribbons on the end and to finish it off, frilly cozy socks. “Tada!” You bursted out the closet, pretending to hold a fashion show for him, he tried ti laugh but it sounded more like a wheeze… oh yea… he’s dead. You laid into bed with him. You and him spent hours talking.. or rather, you talking and him making noises due to his lack of tongue. “If I’m going to die… I don’t want to die a virgin…” you said quietly, and he chocked on his own spit “what! Did you die a virgin..?” You wiggled your eyebrows at him, “tsk…” the creature let out “your not gonna tell me..?” He shook his head “I tell you everything

he sighed

and held up one finger

“YOUR NOT A VIRGIN AND I AM? NOT FAIR”

a/n that’s the end of todays chapter! I would write part 3 but I’m honestly too lazy😖😖

[lilacprose]

𝚖𝚎𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍 // 𝚖𝚎𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕 𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 | 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚑 𝚟𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

summary; Darth Vader arrives to a rainy planet in search of Jedi knights. The hunt does not go as swiftly as he hopes and instead becomes haunted by old ghosts and shadows. word count; 2,573 words a/n; Originally posted on ao3, but decided to post it on Tumblr as well. Hope the crowd likes it! content includes; Intense fight scenes, anxiety/panic attacks.

misc; read on ao3 • fic trailer • fic gifet • askbox

I am what remains

Darth Vader’s steps leave a trail of lifeless bodies. This place was a wasteland of a planet that seemed to have rain as its inner core. Mist fogs up his field of vision, and rain droplets tap his helmet. The crescent moon casts a marine shade over him as he treads through humid, foggy terrain. Just merely minutes before, he wiped out an entire village of Jedi hiding in tents and covering themselves from the rain. Jedi campfires flickered in the distance. They took no notice of the Imperial ships that deftly touched ground or when a sudden gust of wind snuffed out their only source of light. He had stood so close to them for a fleeting moment, listening to their breaths and their whispers. It was the wind; it was the rain; it was nothing. There was nothing to worry about—until he activated the breathing mechanism, and they all screamed in darkness. With his lightsaber ignited, he slaughtered every one of them as a sea of stormtroopers emerged from their hiding places and joined him. Fire strobed in the night, flashes of red going through body after body of man, woman, and child. They didn’t stop until the last severed limb fell to the ground. Stormtroopers split up to look for other scattered Jedi. He would usually let them do the rest. He had done what he was made to do. His mere presence on the planet was enough. Word will spread that the Empire is here. They will all try to run, but soon learn that it is useless. Years have gone by, star systems have been overruled until nothing but cataclysmic rubble remained. There is a mark in the universe in the shape of his silhouette, and the sound of his breath resonates in the black emptiness of the galaxy. The legend of the dark lord has come to be more terrifying than the man. He is the name that breathes in fear and exhales demise. Just as it does now. Always has and always will. Here, in the rain, on a planet left to be barren by his cybernetic hand. 

His heart pounds in his chest still. It was something he noticed happening more regularly. Fatigue becoming a more frequent occurrence. A racing heart, a heavier head, and a blinding field of vision. He can feel the aging of the body now more than ever. But he can never allow himself to admit that. He raises his chin to gaze higher over the horizon before him so that those thoughts may never reach his head. He listens for the troopers in the distance, blasters firing off. His heart rate starts to slow down, following the steady rhythm of his breathing mechanism. It is the only constant he finds himself leaning on after all these years. The machine grounds him. It is a ticking metronome that keeps him in line with where he needs to go. Always looking forward, never back. A consistent march onwards, onwards, onwards—

Crack. 

He halts. Scans the surroundings. Turns around slowly. Somebody is watching, and he knows it, but the data inside his helmet shows no form of life before him. A presence, a crack, in the force. He grazes the top of his lightsaber on his belt and looks behind him. Between trees, far into the horizon where illuminated clouds meet the soil. 

A hooded cloak. 

A man. 

One of them. 

He grunts and turns around. The black cloak floats in the air as Vader rushes toward him. His towering stature leaves no room for stealth. Not that stealth is of any priority now. He wants the person to see his helmet reflect the moonlight. He wants to be seen . He wants them to be afraid . They will all know that Darth Vader is coming once they see that sliver of red in the darkness. And he will come forth with no hesitation or mercy. 

He’s not far now. The cloak is there, swaying in the distance.

Are you what remains? 

His cloak is there, swaying in the distance.

The wind gushes and howls. Or perhaps it is the machine keeping him alive that he hears. He’s not sure and can’t be bothered to tell. The two sounds merge into a long, sustained pulse that rings in his ears. He sees the blue moon reflect in his helmet. He knows that wherever he goes, Vader’s black armored shadow will follow him. Sometimes he stops and doesn’t move – not a single muscle, without a twitch to be seen on his shadowed face – just to taunt him. He stands there, only a few heavy steps away, the hood of his dark robes pulled over his head. Waiting, listening, observing. He knows it will drive Vader to the precipice of madness, charge him to attack. The mechanical breathing grows louder as Vader marches towards him. He crosses his arms, closes his eyes, and reaches into the Force, but he doesn’t have to. Because it doesn’t take a cosmic force for him to know the excruciating pain Vader is in. Each heavy step digs the steel prosthetics deeper and deeper into the charred flesh. There is a dark field surrounding Vader as he moves. Thick and black, like the fuel for a Star Destroyer. He feels it all. The pain, the hurt, the ever-darkening rage. Reflected in his own bones. Remnants of Mustafar. 

Obsidian riverbanks flash before his eyes, and for a brief second, his lungs fill with volcanic ash, only to be replaced by the earthy scent of rain just as fast. He tilts his head as he looks at Vader who has stopped yet again. He looks around him as if something were to appear at any given moment.

Not just yet.

There is something that echoes between the trees. Echoes interspersed with the high-pitched noise in his ears. Repeating over and over as Vader starts to walk away from him. The ringing starts to take shape and reverberates in his mind: 

Anakin, Anakin, Anakin.  Died with the birth of Vader.  Left here is only Vader.  

If he could he would let out a laugh that would startle the machine. 

But he doesn’t. Instead, he takes a quick turn behind a tree, hears how Vader halts, and frantically searches for him. He moves with the grace of a phantom and walks so lightly that no sound is made. 

He’s behind him now. Vader’s gloved cybernetics tightly grasp the base of his lightsaber. Glowing red and aiming at air. Vader’s shoulders heave in frustration. He begins to see his own hooded reflection in the back of the helmet the closer he gets to Vader. The scar over his eye burns. A sensation deep in the pit of his stomach. For a second, he doesn’t realize what it is. It’s the wind; it’s the machine; it’s a voice. Something slithers up his leg as it whispers to him. He throws a glance at his leg, seeing nothing but hearing a voice he can’t tell from Vader’s or his own.

Anakin, Anakin, Anakin.

He glances back at his reflection in the helmet, and it dawns on him that it’s the shadow of the dragon that he hears. Crawling up Vader’s arm, digging its claws into his lungs, huffing old words back to his covered ears—

Suddenly, Vader turns around. The red blade points at his neck. 

He chuckles.

I will destroy you!

The lightsaber is lifted to the Jedi’s neck, but he doesn’t move. Only a chuckle escapes him. The blade casts a light on his lower face. The man stands before death, yet he is unfazed. His lips don't tremble like the others. Vader moves the blade closer. He reaches deep into the Force to see who the man before him is, but feels only the complete absence of light within him. This isn’t the light energy of the Jedi. It is something far darker. 

Still not flinching, the other senses what Vader is doing. He, too, reaches into the depths of the Force. Vader feels his parasitical presence inside his mind. A single image is placed in his central vision.

Padmé.

Vader yells and strikes a blow at him with his lightsaber. The other responds just as fast. His blade emits an eerily familiar shade of maroon. Vader's breath is heavy; the other’s lips are sealed tightly, and his breathing is controlled, almost like he isn't breathing at all. They stand still in mirrored positions. Lightsabers raised and touching, with red sparks falling like the mist around them.

At the same time, they slowly lower their weapons. 

Vader keeps a close eye on the other’s hands; the still-ignited blade points towards the ground as his hands move to take down the hood. He drops his cloak on the ground. Rain droplets hitting dark leather sound between his own breaths. There is no other movement, not a flinch—only a mere coldness in his gaze and the traces of a scar across one eye. The longer Vader looks, the more he notices how his eyes slowly turn a deep red. 

Still, the other made no movement, as if the rain had frozen him. A furrow grows behind the mask. Surely this is a trick. It must be the fatigue. Imagination. Vader has not seen those robes since...

Since they burned with him. 

His hand does something it never does. He trembles, trembles, trembles as the other person slowly starts to walk, forcing him to step back. 

And Vader sees it now. 

Anakin before him.

You lack conviction

Anakin raises his lightsaber, and the sword clashes with Vader’s. Two maroon blades of equal speed light up the blue night. 

Anakin, Anakin, Anakin.

With one hand, Vader strikes Anakin down. Whoever is doing this to him will not have the upper hand. Vader is much stronger than any man; a dead one is nothing to him. A few strikes, and he can already feel his opponent weaken before him. Vader will destroy him.

But with the push of the force, Vader is suddenly thrust several feet back. Wet soil drags between gloved metal fingers. He breathes in as he rises and shrugs his shoulders as he exhales. Runs towards Anakin with a yell and his saber held high in the air.

Anakin’s arm is still extended as he watches Vader get up from the ground. A subconscious flick of the wrist spins the lightsaber in his cybernetic hand. It spins behind his back and in front of him, before it violently crashes into Vader’s. Anakin hammers at Vader’s lightsaber with heavy blows enough to separate cybernetics from flesh. Again and again. Vader fights back–oh, how hard he is trying. He towers over Anakin like he’s already won, but his body is a statue crumbling before him. Every red blow weakens him, sends him closer and closer to the ground.

The base of his lightsaber is grasped tightly with both hands above his helmet.

Vader falls to his knees. 

And two lightsabers lower.

Anakin raises his chin and looks down at Vader. Through gritted teeth, he tells him to get up. The grip on Vader’s lightsaber loosens in his hand. He asks him again, but not as quietly as before. He yells with a thunderous tone that shakes the trees around them. 

Without hesitation, without mercy, the lightsaber swings and aims for the helmet.

Vader pulls the lightsaber in front of him before Anakin can hit him. It takes too much strength to hold Anakin back. Anakin is dead, Vader chants himself, so why has he now dropped to his knees? Why is he unable to move? Why has the lightsaber nearly fallen out of his hands when it has never done so before? Never in front of the thousands, millions of opponents that had faced him. 

It takes a ghost, a shadow swinging his blood-red lightsaber for Vader to lose his balance. A black shadow with the voice of a dead man. Burned to coal by the fires of Mustafar. 

But he is here. 

He is here now with a body untouched by fire. He sees the faces of a man and a child with age lines and battle scars. A river’s reflection of who he used to be, of who he is, of who he isn’t. Of who he was supposed to be had fire not consumed him.

Anakin, Anakin, Anakin.

Anakin never tires. He keeps his eye on the helmet. Harder, harder. The field of vision becomes broken and black edges form. The suit starts to fail him, bit by bit things start cracking. The metals and the obsidian made to protect him are faulting. His heart races, and the armor adjusts to it in vain. Hot flashes throughout his body and a single horrifying thought takes over his mind. 

The suit can’t keep him alive any longer. 

With a kick in the stomach, Anakin sends Vader to the ground. Crackling sparks emit from his chest plate. The green and red lights flicker. The breathing mechanism fractured. He lies on his back, his helmet cracked. Body paralyzed. Vader struggles to breathe. His heart pounds in his chest. And there is nothing but quiet. No stormtroopers. No blasters. No wind or rain or rustling trees. The silence sends him spiralling as slow footsteps approach his side. Lightsaber humming; lifting, lifting, lifting above his head. Darkness fills his vision. Only the line of the lightsaber illuminates the void. He shakes his head and all that comes out of him is a panicked no. Over again. No, no, no. This isn’t happening to him. Not to him, not by him.

Anakin, Anakin, Anakin.

Here now, here to end him—

Remains

His eyes flash open. He regulates his breathing. Tries to. Still fractured. Still paralyzed and unable to rise. Where is he now? His field of vision is a haze, unable to make out anything in the room or place he is in. Is this a hallucination inside the Bacta tank, a trick of the water making him see things? Or is he lying there, on a stretcher surrounded by surgical instruments attaching metal to bare flesh. It must be. It hurts . He flinches in an attempt to move away from the needles that sew him together. 

He wants out.

He wants away.

He wants to die.

Then – a sudden touch on his knee. A placed hand. He fails to make out a face in the darkness inside the helmet. But the hand, he recognizes. The hand that was once placed on his shoulder. After battle, in assurance.

“It’s all right, Anakin. Breathe. You’re safe now, my friend.”

The voice. It breaks him. The voice crashes over him, and he just... Can't . Can't stop the rapid flow of air through his lungs. Whatever remains of his vocal chords he had became shattered in screams that cut him up inside like crushed glass. And it’s the last thing he feels. Before the tears join the water that submerge him. Water that has him drowning in anaesthesia along with the memories of future and past. Nothing else matters but the present and where he's going. 

There he’ll awake, with a clear mind and clear direction. Black cloak drifting over his empire. This is what he wants. 

There he’ll stand, atop manmade planets surrounded by explosions of stardust. Breathing in power, exhaling out fear.

Mechanical mind, mechanical body.

[midgardian-witch]

I dunno if you’re taking requests, so sorry if this kinda just shows up and you’re not taking requests 💀

But I was wondering you could do the moon boys with like bassist reader. Cause as a bassist I sometimes just like get into the groove too much and I’m just playing like mindlessly playing Pyretta Blaze or like Bombtrack. Or like reader is playing like Tommy The Cat and the moon boys are in like awe.

Sorry if this was too vague!

At the moment I am always taking requests but it may just take a while until I can get one done 😅 So no worries, anon!

I have no background in or talent regarding music so bare with me here 😅

Flattery

tags: fluff | established relationship | can be read as platonic relationship too | gender-neutral reader (they/them pronouns are used for reader)

relationships: Moon Knight System/Reader

AO3

Bleary-eyed and with sleep still clinging to every muscle Marc wakes up to music filtering through the bedroom door. He lays there for a bit, brows furrowed in concentration, just listening to the low notes. He could swear he recognizes the song from somewhere. 

Oh, that sounds lovely! 

Steven's voice pulls Marc out of his musings. "Mhmm…," he mumbles wordlessly. Slowly, he stretches his heavy limbs before climbing out of bed. 

I don't think it's the radio. I wonder where it's coming from. 

Marc combs his fingers through his hair and sighs. Steven's wanna-be-detective tendencies are not something he appreciates right after waking up. 

It sounds good, hermano. Doesn't matter where it's coming from. 

Great, now Jake is awake too. Rolling his eyes, Marc refrains from commenting and shuffles over to the door, opening it carefully as to not make too much noise. 

As the door opens the music becomes clearer, a deep, rich sound that Marc can't quite place. His body moves on its own accord, or maybe it's Steven or Jake moving it, following the music like a siren's song. 

In the living room, between mountains of books, he finds you. Your fingers move expertly over the strings of the guitar you're holding. Despite his foggy mind Marc remembers you owning a bass guitar though neither he nor his alters had ever seen or heard you play it. Until now. 

He can feel the sound inside his chest, the deep bass vibrating through his ribcage. It's energetic in the way coffee keeps you up and awake. 

You're so focused, so pulled into your own music that you don't notice him. Marc, and with him Steven and Jake, have turned into your captive audience, silently listening to you play. 

He stands there wearing only his boxers and a t-shirt, staring at you with an awestruck expression like you'd hung the moon. The way your fingers move over the strings of the bass, your brows furrowed in concentration and your head bobbing to the rhythm - you're a vision. He could stay like this for hours, days, months and never tire. 

They're so talented. 

Steven sighs dreamily while Marc and Jake hum in agreement. There is no need for discussion while they simply listen to you play. 

On the last few notes you look up and are startled by his presence. 

"How long have you been standing there?" 

Marc shrugs and takes the last few steps towards you. "A while. You didn't tell me you were a musical genius," he says, pointing at the instrument on your lap with a grin. You look at him, like a deer caught in the headlights of a car, heat rising to your cheeks. There is pride swelling in your chest at his praise, even if he is exaggerating. 

"Not a genius. Just a lot of practice."

And talent. They're being too humble.

"You're talented," Marc repeats what Jake and Steven had said before, as he kneels down in front of you, "I'd love to listen to you play more often, if that's ok? The others too."

You shake your head in disbelief. "Oh, so Steven and Jake were listening in too? Didn't think I'd have such a big audience or any for that matter," you respond with a laugh. Marc's grin spreads even wider, your laugh always making him feel lighter. 

"Seriously though. You're an amazing bassist. Could you play a little more? Only if you feel like it of course."

His eyes are full of adoration, his smile dazzling as he gazes up at you, still kneeling. How could you refuse? 

"Maybe a little. Don't let it be said that flattery gets you nowhere," you answer cheekily before playing another song.