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shimmeringclouds · 3 years

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[ 2. ]

Ichimatsu shut the door behind him with a sigh, removing his gloves and tossing them into a trash can nearby. He rubbed at the back of his neck, half-lidded eyes glancing back to the door briefly before turning away.

"How'd it go?" Osomatsu had seated himself in his chair, watching his younger brother lean on the wall across from him. Karamatsu was sat to his right, and Choromatsu to his left, both equally curious as to how the treatment had gone.

"..She's all patched up."

"...That's it?" Choromatsu deadpanned. "That's all you're gonna tell us?"

"How is her condition?" Karamatsu rephrased. "What are her injuries?"

Ichimatsu shoved his hands into his pockets, gaze stuck to the ground. A familiar ginger cat slinked into the room, twisting itself around his legs before settling down beside him. The comfort of a close friend made Ichimatsu feel slightly more at ease.

"Her right wrist is sprained, and her left shoulder was dislocated," the brothers winced, "Luckily, she didn't get any broken ribs, but she was probably close to it. She's got bruises and swelling, mostly around her neck and upper body, and skin burns from the rope. Her lip's busted, too, so it's got some stitching. And..."

He cut himself off with another sigh, shuffling his feet around. Osomatsu raised a brow, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

"And' what? What else is there?"

The silence was tense, and much too long for the men to sit through. Choromatsu's leg began to bounce slightly as he waited for an answer, his patience wearing thinner by the second.

Ichimatsu fiddled with his earring, flicking the golden hoop a few times before running his hand through his curvy locks.

"She's.. also got loads of scars. They ain't fresh, either."

"Scars..? From what?" Karamatsu pushed. Ichimatsu only shrugged.

"Dunno. But there's a shit tonne on her back. Big ones."

The brothers looked at each other wearily, unsure of how to react. It was already bad enough that you had been taken hostage and beaten to near death, but now this?

Osomatsu stood up suddenly, eyes closed in thought.

"Well, it's not like any of us don't have scars. So it's not a big deal."

"Osomatsu.." Karamatsu sighed. Sometimes, his brothers didn't realise how insensitive they could be.

"Whenever she wakes up, let one of us know, it doesn't matter who," he continued, nodding to Ichimatsu. "We'll get the questions out of the way so that she can rest."

Grunting in affirmation, Ichimatsu headed towards his small tray of medical supplies, moving them towards a sink in order to clean off the blood. Your blood. Osomatsu left, and Karamatsu followed not soon after, wanting to take a breather out on the balcony.

"..You're still here."

The statement caught Choromatsu off guard for a second, but he quickly regained his composure. He raised a brow to his younger brother, leaning back into his chair and whipping out his phone to go through absentmindedly.

"Yeah." He replied shortly, leaving no room for argument as he focused back onto his phone, scrolling through random social media and notifications. Ichimatsu glared at him before going back to his task.

Choromatsu glanced at the door. You were behind it, laying on a bed, sleeping soundly through the pain. For now.

The same feeling as before came bubbling up to his throat, filling his senses with a sort of worrying feeling. He grit his teeth tightly. If he was being honest, he didn't like this feeling. Not one bit. Ever since he laid eyes on your broken form, the feeling wouldn't go away.

This was bad. Very bad.

And yet, he stayed in his seat. Waiting for you to wake up so that he could see you first.

——————☠︎——————

[ —

You were remembering a time where the sun was bright, and the grass beneath your fingers was a vivid green. There were mumbled words echoing around you, and you looked towards the hazy sky, a plain azure stretching as far as the eye could see.

There was a ball in your small hands. Its canary yellowed stripes across the white background gleamed brighter the longer you stared in confusion, unsure of what you were supposed to do with it.

Your name was called, distorted and far away, carrying itself in the wind until it reached your ears. It was telling you to throw the ball towards them. Somewhere ahead of you. The sunlight reflected into your eyes, removing your ability to see who was there.

But you threw it anyway, putting all your strength into your arms, eyes screwed shut in determination. There was the sound of the hollow, plastic ball bouncing along the ground until it came to a stop. There was laughter, drifting further away from you. Your lower lip curled into a pout — why couldn't you see where it was coming from?

' You did so well! '

Where had you heard that voice before?

' Come here, throw it again, sweetheart! '

Okay, you thought to respond. You felt the buzz of words on the tip of your tongue, however your mouth failed to move. Regardless, your stubby legs stumbled forward, arms reaching out to grasp at whatever had hidden itself behind the veil of light, fingers curling and unfurling around nothing but air. The sky was fading into a pure white, obscuring your view, yet you pressed onwards.

You were becoming desperate now, calling out for whoever was there. Their name was on your lip, resting right on the edge, you knew it, but it didn't fall. Your throat was tightening as tears of frustration welled in the corners of your eyes. The luminosity was becoming blinding, and the grass no longer tickled at your skin. Your eyes fell closed as you felt the warmth of the sun dissipate, the air becoming colder and more frigid.

Where was the voice? Where was it? Where?

Silence greeted you as an old friend. You found yourself unable to move, arms stuck to your sides and legs tucked under you as they became numb. You had opened your eyes and you still found darkness. Your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach, thundering against your body as you held your breath.

You were sure you had called out for that voice. There was no response. There was never a response.

A deafening clang of metal sounded from behind you, and your heart had now leapt to your throat, mixed with a sickening concoction of bile that threatened to spill if it was pushed just enough.

Deep footsteps, weighted and unwavering. They rounded your left, stopping in front of you, too close for you to be comfortable with. The muddied boots that were now in your vision suddenly and unexplainably terrified you. What could be so frightening about a pair of boots?

And then, when an unforgiving hand grasped at your strands and lifted your face upward ever so slowly, you realised. For it wasn't the boots that terrified you, but the one who was wearing them.

You were sure that the bloodied smirk on the face in the shadows was the last thing you would see before death became permanently splintered across your cheek.

— ]

Your cheek throbbed painfully as you snapped your eyes open, pupils contracting dangerously thin as they darted around the unfamiliar room.

A cold sweat had made itself known as you shuddered, coating your skin in goose-bumps whilst your tried to find your bearings.

That same light bore down on your eyes painfully, the burn making you flinch to keep your eyes closed, but you knew you had to keep them open. You had to know where you were. You had to know what was going on.

Willing the fog of confusion to remove itself from your mind was no easy feat, and the heavy breaths that left your chest heaving made you all the more lightheaded. Your vision began to blur, your teeth gritting in shame. You hated crying. You didn't want to cry anymore. Tears, however, have minds of their own, and they made that clear as they traversed down your temple and clung to your hair, some even making it down to your lip, the twinge of salt making you grimace.

It hurt to breath. Every inch of your body felt as if it were on fire, prickling and feverish, in desperate need of relief. Your parched throat begged for a sip of water, but your arms were still restricted from movement. Your left arm in particular felt rigid, with only your fingers being just about moveable.

Sudden flashes of memory that supposedly lead you to your current position appeared before your eyes. The gruesome feeling of bones cracking and blood bursting from your torn skin made you squirm. You didn't want to go through that again. You would do anything to not go through that again.

The room around you was morphed and irregular, the double vision that swirled your eyes together faintly fading in and out. You could barely make out the shape of the rectangular door in the far right corner of the room, it's golden handle glinting ahead of you.

It was then that you heard the numerous garbled voices sounding from the other side of the door. With each pump of your heart, they got closer and closer, your panic increasing at the thought of whoever it was entering the room.

It was too late, though. The handle had already begun to turn, the small crack between the doorframe growing larger, enabling the voices to now be heard clearer in your ears.

There were three men, none of them looking your way as they seemed too preoccupied in the conversation they were having. A small whimper escaped your throat at the sight of unfamiliar people coming close to you, and you struggled harder to move away from them, knowing all too well that you wouldn't be moving anywhere.

You came to an immediate halt as their heads turned to you synchronously, watching you with slight surprise in their eyes.

They hadn't expected you to be awake so soon. Taking your dishevelled appearance — from the tangled mess of hair on your scalp to your torn clothing and bandaged limbs — one man stepped forward and away from his small group. He slowed his movements upon seeing your chest rapidly rising and falling, your swollen lower lip wobbling with worry.

Your mind vaguely registered the gentle smile he gave you, raising his hands in surrender. Your eyes trailed down the beginnings of a blue scale-like tattoo on his upper arms, disappearing under the black shirt he wore before reappearing on his exposed chest.

"We aren't here to hurt you, my dear."

His tone was low, gently reverberating through your nerves. The soothing baritone in his voice calmed you for a short second, and you watched as he crept closer to your bedside, not stopping until he hovered over you. His dark eyed swept over your injuries, thick brows furrowing as he looked back into your eyes.

"Do you remember your name, flower?" Lowering his voice to a murmur, he waited patiently for an answer. You cast your sight towards the other two men in the room, who were stood silently by the door, watching you. One of them appeared to be scowling at the man beside you, whilst the other crossed his arms over his chest, fingers tapping impatiently against his bicep. He caught your eye before turning away, the frown on his lips tightening further.

Speaking was a difficult task in itself. Your throat was parched, leaving your tongue dry and voice croaky. You stammered your name out as clearly as you could with a small nod of your head, shuddering pained gasps as your lips ached with each formation of words.

The man's smile returned, relief evident on his face as he moved away from you. He wasn't speaking to you now, but to the men at the door.

"I feel it would be best to sit her up," he gestured to the bed you lay in.

"...Don't put too much pressure onto her." The man with his curling locks tied back into a messy ponytail and tired eyes mumbled brief instructions, not making a move to leave his spot. The man beside him sighed with a tut, grumbling as he made his way to the left side of your bed.

You eyed him warily, looking back to the tattooed-man for reassurance.

"You're safe here, darling. No harm will come to you here," he spoke to you whilst manoeuvring his larger hands under your back from the left. "We only wish to help you."

The sincerity in his words rolled over like honey, oozing sweet kindness and glowing golden. Tears sprung to your eyes once more — you could trust this man.

Once they had you sat up (with only a small amount of struggle to not hurt your further), a glass of water was held close to your lips, the tattooed-man urging you to take a sip. You wrapped your lips around the rim of the glass hesitantly, but as soon as the first drop of cool water fell down your throat, you began gulping down the drink in one go, desperate for that cooling relief on your throat and mind.

The man settled the glass down on the bedside table before taking a seat in an empty chair behind him, crossing one leg over the other as he took a deep breath.

"[L/N] [Y/N]," he began. You looked over to him in worry, his serious tone making you expect the worst. "If it's alright with you, we would like to ask you a few questions."

...Questions? You tilted your head slightly, shuffling your back against the large fluffy pillows resting behind you.

"About what..?" Your voice was doing a lot better than before, still holding a slight rasp in your words. You cleared your throat as discreetly as you could, unable to cover your mouth as your arms felt so heavy.

"About the events you have just been through. You do remember what happened to you, yes?"

The very mention of recalling such memories made you visibly shudder. Nodding hesitantly, you concluded that you couldn't exactly get out of this. You were stuck there until they decided to let you go, and until then, you would just have to go along with what they asked.

'Who knows what will happen if I don't listen..' you thought, an undertone if bitterness lacing into your mind.

"Before we begin, I believe introductions are in order." He placed a hand over his chest, bowing his head politely. "My name is Laamcung. Pleasure to meet you, my sweet." The continuous use of pet names baffled you, unsure as to why he kept using them on you, but you brushed it aside for the sake of not pissing him off.

There was a moment silence before Laamcung sighed. He pointedly looked towards the other two men by the door, who rolled their eyes at him.

"Ceoicung." The man wearing a black V-neck t-shirt quickly spat his name out, not even bothering to look at you. The one beside him, with the curly hair and golden hoop in his ear, seemed to shrink into himself as all eyes turned to him. He appeared to want to be anywhere but in that room.

"...Zicung.." you were barley to catch his name with how low he had mumbled it. Laamcung sighed, smiling apologetically to you.

"My apologies, dearest. My brothers aren't exactly the best at formal introductions, but I assure you, they are nicer than they appear to be."

You didn't entirely believe him, but it was better to nod along and not question anything at all. You briefly acknowledged the fact that they were brothers, realising that it only made sense, seeing as they had very similar faces. Triplets weren't too uncommon.

Laamcung readjusted his legs, switching from his right leg resting over his left to his left over his right, pressing his hands over the curve of his knee.

"I understand that you may not feel comfortable recalling such events," Laamcung began, "But I must ask you to tell us what happened. From before you were kidnapped to when you know it ended, and anything that you think could have lead to you being a target. All of this information is vital, angel, so I must implore that you tell us everything that comes to mind."

The pressure placed back onto you mentally was heavy. He was right, it was going to be extremely uncomfortable for you to talk. You didn't know if you could do it.

"..Hey. We don't have all day."

Zicung's rough growl of annoyance made you shrivel up, forcing yourself to swallow your nerves so as not to tick him off.

"Zicung." Laamcung sent him a stern glare, silencing his brother with a word of warning. You saw Ceoicung dig an elbow into the man's rib, keeping him quiet. "Take your time, [L/N]. Ignore him, there's no rush."

Nevertheless, you wanted to get this over and done with. Forcing yourself to take a deep breath, you kept your eyes glued to your left arm, apparently finding the sling and bandage around the limb to be very interesting as you spoke.

"I don't know how I got there... Nothing out of the ordinary has happened before I was t-taken, so I don't know what could have led to this happening.." you furrowed your brows. It was the truth, and the more you thought back on the day before your kidnapping, the more you became confused. Why were you a target? Was it because you were an easy catch? Was it because you were a nobody, so it wouldn't cause a big fuss? Why, out of the thousands of people in Cekcung, were you taken away from your normal life and thrown into this hell?

"All I know is that I went to bed like I always do, and the next time I woke up, I wasn't at home anymore."

The three brothers glanced at one another. It all sounded like a simple coincidence, then, that you had been a victim to their enemy, Reznov. But if they knew the sly man, then they knew that it was anything but a coincidence. He always had a motive, whether it was complex or downright stupid, it didn't matter to him — a motive was a motive.

"Has anything happened to you throughout this week, then? Or even before that?"

"..I'm sorry, I don't really understand what you mean."

"Have you done anything to piss anyone off." Ceoicung was now the one to cut in bluntly. You chanced a glance up to him, and upon finding his narrowed eyes boring down onto your face, you decided to stick with looking at your bandages. Hmm, yes, this bandage was so interesting to you.

Your mind reeled back to yesterday, then the day before, and then jumping to the week before that, your brain filling with images of merging memories of anything you could think of, before you stilled.

There was something.

"...I think so."

The brothers raised a brow to you, leaning in slightly to catch onto every word you were going to say.

"I run a small bakery, and that day about a week ago, I hadn't gotten much sleep, so I was out of it for most of the day.." the more you spoke, the more that sickening feeling in the pit of your stomach seemed to grow. How had you not noticed it before?

"I kept making a few slip ups here and there while I was working; I just couldn't seem to concentrate very well. But luckily, a lot of the customers that came in were regulars, so they didn't really say anything. Until, this one customer.." You struggled to remember his face for a moment, the first thing you remembered about him though was that he was tall, almost tall enough to brush his head against the short ceiling in your shop.

"He ordered something, and I must've messed up the order, since he suddenly started yelling at me once he opened the box. I was so tired, though, so I wasn't really paying attention.. I don't remember much of what he was saying, and he just got angrier.."

You remembered him slamming his fist down hard onto the counter top, the way the change in the cash register clattered loudly in its metal box ringing in your ears.

"All I remember him saying is... I-Is.." your throat closed up again, and the urge to bury your face into your hands was strong. Squeezing your eyes shut, you recalled what he looked like, now. His features were all to familiar. Especially that same, dark, twisted smile he had sent your way before he made his way out of the shop, muttering the words that had allowed you to get caught up in this mad, crazed world.

'Looks like I found myself the perfect ragdoll to play with.'

#choromatsu x reader #choromatsu matsuno #osomatsu san #osomatsu san au #matsunoir #mafia!au #yakuza!au #the bakery #romance #trigger warnings #tw//abuse #tw//nightmares #nightmares #choromatsuxreader #karamatsu matsuno #ichimatsu matsuno #osomatsu matsuno

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