#once again. so many murder dollars

[gibbearish]

love when ppl defend the aggressive monetization of the internet with "what, do you just expect it to be free and them not make a profit???" like. yeah that would be really nice actually i would love that:)! thanks for asking

[hanjisick]

Orders.

genre. mafia au. bodyguard!lee know x fem!reader

desc. your father is an elite, high ranking official in a mafia family. after your first kidnapping, a bodyguard was hired to ensure your safety.

warnings. nsfw. fingering & sex. torture. kidnapping. murder. violence.

wc. 10k

✉️ : this is my first writing after a 9 month hiatus. i apologize for the unannounced break and i will be answering and writing again shortly. enjoy! :)

You sit in a wooden chair, wheezing and thrashing from days of sleep deprivation and torment. Your body aches, wrists bruised and bloody from the ropes, and you almost feel like giving in and spilling Daddy’s secrets— allowing them to kill you and the family.

But you knew better than that. You knew that you'd be saved.

The gunshots and cries for help weren't unexpected from above the dark bunker.

With an ear-piercing creak, the door swings open and the shadow of a man emerges through the doorstep, shoes squeaking with fresh blood underneath.

He doesn’t let out a single word as he kneels to grab your face and examine it. Your attention follows the ring on his finger. An insignia that he is part of the family. You can depend on him.

But still, you wince, sharply inhaling as his fingers aggravate your wounds.

“Don’t get their blood in my wounds, I don’t know what kind of freaks they are,” You grumble, voice husky from days of screaming.

You let him turn your head, retaining eye contact with the floor as you grit your teeth.

“Relax,” he mumbles, “I don’t bite.”

He leans closer to examine your wounds. “You took a lot of hits. How many people are here?”

He draws back as you reply, “Can’t tell you exactly.”

“About four of them grabbed me while I was leaving the house— stupid on their part, no wonder you were here so shortly,” You trail off before catching yourself back on topic.

“But I’ve only seen three different men since I’ve been here. Only to beat me and interrogate me. Don’t worry, I didn’t say anything to put Daddy at risk.”

“I heard two other unrecognizable voices. That would make nine people in the building that I know of. Of course, there could always be more. How many did you shoot?”

“Six,” he responds before looking down at your scrapes and wounds again.

You feel him caress your cheek once more, his cold skin sending shivers down your spine.

“You’re in bad shape.”

“If there’s more here, we need to get out as soon as possible. We can worry about my wounds as soon as these people aren’t on our ass.”

You struggle in your bounds, the ropes burning your already bloody wrists, “Could you untie me, first?”

“Don’t move.”

You obey his command, halting as he unties the ropes, uncovering the painful burn marks and blisters.

“That fucking hurt,” you rotate your wrists, “I could’ve gotten out without your help eventually, though.” Your voice is rough, breath coming out in harsh, sharp drags.

“Sure, you would’ve.”

You stumble to your feet as he pulls you into him for safety. He reeks of gunpowder and high-dollar cologne— presumably something that Daddy has made sure that he has the money for.

“Stay close to me, when we get to the front, you go out first and then I’ll leave right after.”

You follow the unfamiliar man out of the maze, almost slipping on the floor blanketed in blood.

You adjust to the bright sunlight— and it feels gentle against your damaged skin. It seems like time has stood still while you were captured. “Did Daddy order you a car?”

“Yes,” he answers, “Some men are waiting out front to take us to the closest hospital— which isn’t too far.”

“I’m being hospitalized?” You follow him into the backseat, finally slacking for a moment ontop of the fresh leather.

“It’s not my choice to have you taken to the hospital, it’s the orders.”

“Do I have a statement to tell the nurse?” You look at him in concern.

“Am I supposed to say, ‘Oh, I was kidnapped by Daddy’s enemies! By the way, he’s in the mafia! Who wants to arrest Daddy?’”

“Tell them you fell down the stairs.” His flat tone contrasts your own, remaining unfazed.

“How would that cover up my wrists' burn marks?” You hold up the bloody and bruised dents, “Nobody gets these from falling down the stairs. There's way too much blood— and some of it isn’t even mine.”

He raises an eyebrow, looking over to the burn marks on your wrist and then back to you.

“Then tell them you accidentally burnt yourself while cooking.”

“Are you even listening to me? Are you stupid?”

He doesn’t respond for a moment, not seeming to care about the situation.

“It’s not hard to pay them to be silent.”

“How about I tell them that I was heavily bullied at school and a couple of classmates did this to me? I think that could work.”

You two arrive at the front entrance of the emergency room, he follows behind you, strolling through the automatic door.

“I’m fine, really, I was just beaten by classmates,” You lie through your teeth to the front desk, “My boyfriend took me here to get it checked out.”

He raises an eyebrow.

You comply with the nurses as they check your weight and interview you.

“I don’t have any stab wounds, at least I don’t think so— I don’t remember what they did to me. I was held captive for a few,” Your voice trails off as you wince at a sudden pang.

You glance down at your bleeding side and are unexpectedly whacked with all of the distress that you had been repressing at once.

Your vision starts to fade, face pale as a ghost.

The man rushes over as they carry you to a bed, and he kneels beside you to review your condition. Your body is pale and cold, breathing jagged and rapid.

You hear the whispers of the staff panicking. One nurse checks your pulse, and another elevates your legs.

“I need my blood sugar up,” the first words that come out of your mouth sound weak and painful.

You look over at the man beside you.

You need to lie. But you don’t even know his name.

“Boyfriend,” you determine, “please get me a sugary drink from the vending machine.”

A subtle smirk forms upon his lips, but it vanishes as soon as it appears.

“Fine,” he rises to his feet.

You hiss as the nurses sterilize your wounds, shrieking and thrashing on the mattress at the sting. You try to stay still, but the pain is intolerable.

Footsteps echo and you find the man returning with a chocolate bar, which he holds out to you. He brings it close to your lips and holds the chocolate against your mouth for you to take a bite, “Slowly.”

“I told you to get me a drink,” You disregard his command, biting the chocolate quickly, almost aggressively.

His lips turn up, amused by your action.

The nurses finish stitching up your deep gashes and bandaging your wounds, recommending that you stay the night.

“Pay for the bill with Daddy’s cash and let’s get out of here,” you state coldly, “I need to shower and get all of this blood out of my hair. I don’t want to stay here.”

“As long as you can walk by yourself, we can leave right away.” He replies. The man takes out a wad of bills quickly counts the money and pays for the bill.

You stay speechless until entering the car.

“Who are you?”

“I’m your bodyguard. Your father hired me to look out for you after the kidnapping.”

You nod in acknowledgment. “Will you be staying at the estate with me? Or is it a ‘only when I leave the house’ kind of deal?”

“My primary duty is to protect you from anyone or anything that could harm you, whether that be outside or inside the house. I could go wherever you wish me to follow you, and I will be there.”

“You won’t sleep in bed with me though, right?”

He stays silent for a moment.

“You are correct, I am here to protect, nothing more. I will not sleep next to you. I am merely your bodyguard and take your orders.”

“Good boy,” you grin, “I bet Daddy will pay you very nicely. Why else would you take this job? How much does he give you? Either way, I’m sure you have enough to buy a mansion.”

The bodyguard holds back an eye roll. “I will have more than enough money. Not only that but he also provides me with a home.” He adds with a smirk.

“Good.” You reply.

You fall silent, allowing him to drive, taking in the past few days.

You were never worried about surviving, You understood that Daddy would handle it. But you didn’t expect to be as hurt as you were.

He could’ve saved you sooner.

“When we get home, order the chef to make me something sweet, I deserve a treat,” you state, “I’m going to shower and you are not allowed to enter my bathroom under any circumstance. Even if I’m dying.”

“You would die before letting me enter your bathroom? I get it.” He retorts.

Once you both arrive at the estate, you stumble out of the car. You don’t linger for him.

You’re welcomed by a handful of workers as you enter the home, but ignore them as you make a beeline up the stairs and towards the bedroom.

The door locks behind you and the room is silent. You feel the weariness creep on as your wounds sting. You lean against the door, sliding down.

After a moment of peace, you head towards the shower to comb the dried blood out of your hair.

You scrub your face carefully, avoiding the stitches above your eyebrows.

You wash your body entirely, removing the blood stains with soap, water, and a wash rag. Then you comb out the dried blood.

Once you finish, you dry yourself off and dress in a plain, silk nightdress.

Leaving your bedroom, you turn to look for your guard. He is at the doorway of your room when you walk out. His eyes roam around your body for a brief moment, examining the nightgown.

“Do you require assistance?”

“Did you place an order for something sweet, like I asked?” You peer at his suit, moving in to adjust his tie.

He follows your hand as it moves, eyeing you for a few moments before he utters, “I did, the chef will be bringing it to your room once it’s prepared.”

“Good boy.”

You look up at his face once you are pleased with the positioning. You grimace at his sharp, cold face. The blood was dried, brown, and unpleasing. The man’s hand relaxes on the gun holstered on his hip.

“I order you to come into my bedroom.”

His eyebrows crease. He understands his role as your bodyguard— nonetheless, he doesn’t get a kick out of being ordered around in this tone.

He takes a deep breath. “Your wish is my command.”

The room is massive, a silk-covered canopy bed sits in the center of it. He pays no mind to looking around, concentrating on the job at hand.

“Sit down on my bed,” you demand, steering towards the bathroom and pushing open the double doors.

He obeys your orders without question, crossing his legs, and keeping his hand resting beside his gun.

The bodyguard keeps a close, attentive eye on the doors, supervising the way that you soak a washrag with warm water, squeezing out the excess.

You sit beside him, grabbing his chin and leaning into his face. He tenses.

“Relax, I don’t bite,” you smirk, reiterating his first words from the moment he met you back to him, massaging the dried blood off of his face, “No guard of mine will have a messy appearance.”

You can tell that he feels uneasy, but he can’t reject you. If you wish for him to relax, he will make an effort to relax.

You can’t help but notice his complexion when he isn’t scowling. The apathy melts away as you wipe the dried blood, giving you a new perspective on his appearance.

“You’re handsome,” you state bluntly, “Especially without blood covering your face.”

You toss the rag into the laundry basket carelessly, waiting for a maid to take care of it.

“Thank you.”

“What is your name? You never told me.”

His eyebrows arch slightly at the question.“It’s Minho.”

“I am Y/N,” You reply, holding out your hand to shake his own. His grip is firm and warm.

He keeps a stoic face as he glances at your face and back at your hand, as if he is searching for an ulterior motive behind this handshake.

The food.

The bell rings and the sound of it shatters the stillness of the room. Minho’s head jolts towards the door, hand back on his gun.

He rises instantly, opening it to reveal the maid with a tray of sweet snacks.

He takes it from her. “I will bring it in.”

“What a good boy, Minho,” you praise, clapping your hands together as he sets the tray on your lap.

“I don’t take you for a man who enjoys sweet food much. Do you like sweets?”

“Sometimes.”

You unwrap a piece of high-dollar chocolate, “I command you to open your mouth.”

Minho can’t deny you, it would be disobeying your orders.

He opens his mouth as the chocolate is positioned between his lips.

You relish in the chocolates with Minho and once finished, you set the tray on the floor for a maid to pick up at sunrise.

“I don’t think I mind you being around all that much, Daddy makes good decisions.” You lay down on the mattress.

“Your father does make good decisions.”

His gaze wavered on your face until you drifted off to sleep. Only then did they slowly trail down to your body.

The way your body was built captivated him. Minho was glued to your sleeping form.

He stayed in the room, taking a seat on a chair in the corner to watch you.

He didn’t know how long it had been since you had dozed off, but by the way that the room was now pitch black and noiseless aside from your figure rising and falling, he would imagine that it had been a couple of hours.

“How long are you going to sit there?” Your sleep-filled voice questions him, causing him to snap out of his daze, hand reaching for his gun out of instinct.

“Do you sleep? Are you allowed to sleep?”

“I will only remain in the room as long as you order me to. I do sleep,” He replies, “Now is there anything else you need my assistance with? Or can I return to my duties?”

“So you’re only staying in the room because I ordered you two hours ago?” There’s a tinge of dismay in your voice, but it was masked by sleep, “You can leave if you want, I don’t mind.”

Minho felt a sudden pit in his stomach. You sounded disappointed by his statement.

Your words are perplexing him, and he can’t conclude what you want from him. To stay or to go?

“Should I stay for a bit longer?”

You were already asleep again once he had responded.

You and Minho both wake to a maid opening the blinds and ringing a bell. You groan, stretching your body.

“Miss, let’s get you dressed for today.”

She pulls your nightgown up above your head as Minho’s eyes wander toward your laced underwear.

“What’s on my schedule for today?”

He quickly forces his gaze to look away and stares back at the maid.

“We want you to heal from your injuries, miss,” she answers, “we will start with a nutritious breakfast to encourage recovery, and attend to your injuries, and then you will speak with Daddy about your incident.”

The maid buttons your fitted dress, glancing in Minho’s direction, “Your bodyguard will need to be there for your conversation with Daddy.”

“He will?”

“He needs to tell Daddy what he witnessed from the facility.”

You nod, following her lead down the stairs and towards the breakfast table.

Minho follows suit, remaining at your side the entire time and he watches you eat, staying observant and cautious.

“Are you hungry?”

This question catches Minho off guard.

“No.” He adds in a dull tone— but in actuality, he is starving. He was entrusted to watch over you. He shouldn’t eat on the clock.

“Maid, go order,” You look Minho up and down, “A side of crepes. Blueberry crepes. And two cups of coffee.”

The maid hurries to the kitchen to place the order, and it is brought out a couple of minutes later.

He stares at the crepes being placed on the table, and his belly grumbles. “Thank you.”

The maid carries the mugs of coffee to the table. But it doesn’t take Minho long to catch sight of her cunning smile and the perplexing liquid that the maid slipped into the mugs of coffee.

He stares quietly, calculating his next action.

“Don’t drink it.”

“Why not?”

Minho’s sight narrows as you bring the cup of coffee to your lips.

This time, his tone is warning and direct. “It’s better that you don’t.”

You halt your sip at his harsh command.

The maid pulls out a handgun swiftly after realizing that she has been caught, aiming it at you.

A switch swiftly flips inside of him.

He lunges forward, grabbing the woman’s wrist and twisting the gun to the right, snapping a couple of fingers in the process.

It’s a rapid movement, and he had little time to think before shooting her in the head, watching the life leave her body. His face is apathetic and almost casual.

The maid’s blood spilled onto the floor as the others ran to clean it up.

“He passed the test, we can keep him. A promising guard so far,” Daddy compliments from behind you, “Urgently acting to protect. He knew that she was mindless and weak. He comprehends crises well.”

The older man slips a wad of cash into the breast pocket of Minho’s suit. “Good on protecting her. That was a setup with a stupid maid who was just aching to betray us. You will have the same fate if you are wavered by another team.”

“I think he’s a good boy. He won’t betray me.”

“Y/N, meet me at my office. Guard, follow her.” He swiftly turns away to lead the two of you as you eye Minho.

“You can relax now. No more tests.”

He nods in understanding, heeding silently towards the office.

“Tell me about what you saw at the facility.”

You nod. “Four men had taken me from our garden entrance and used Chloroform to knock me unconscious. I woke up in their van, where my hands and legs were tied. I heard them talking about what they planned to get out of me. They had intentions of murdering me if they got to a week of no answers.”

Minho listens to your explanation with hawk-like eyes, paying close attention to all the details and descriptions.

You clear your throat, running your fingers across your bruised wrist, “I was tied to a chair in their questioning room, and they used forms of torture for me to open up.”

“I was deprived of sleep and beaten if they caught me closing my eyes— trying to get my lack of sleep to cause me to open up about your activities.”

Daddy nodded solemnly, leaning into his chair.

“Waterboarding was their favorite method, but they enjoyed beating me. I assume that was mainly for fun.”

You continued, “Minho appeared and killed a couple of them and saved me, but most are still alive.”

“Still alive? You didn’t find and kill them, bodyguard, why?” Daddy’s intense eyes moved toward Minho, who appeared unbothered.

The fact that he missed a few guys is enough to drive him crazy.

“I had to get her to safety as soon as possible.”

Daddy merely nods. “I will send my men after them. Y/N, did you get any names?”

“They wouldn’t tell me anything about themselves, but I saw a couple of signs of their rival gang.”

“Guard,” he veered towards Minho, “Describe the faces that you saw. I need as much information as possible.”

“They look to be between the ages of 20 to 30, their faces covered in scars. One man had dark skin, and his facial scars were faded. His most notable feature was a slit across his brow. He wore a dark suit. I left him alive but with a bullet in his arm. The other man had a lighter skin tone and his scars were similar to knife wounds. He had gotten away.”

The boss nods.

“Good. I can work with that. Never let my little girl get into trouble like that again, alright?”

The second the words ‘my little girl’ leave his mouth, Minho can’t help but gaze at you. He observes your reactions and motions.

His heart beats by hearing his boss call you that, and his attention is now focused on every single twitch that you make.

“The nurses will be waiting in her bedroom shortly. Be good and do as they say.” He adds, snapping Minho back to him.

“Guard, do not let her go against any of the nurses' rules. She can be convincing. Do not give into it.”

“Yes Sir.”

You roll your eyes, turning away to leave the room.

“Stay safe.” That is the last utterance of the boss before you drag Minho out of the room and towards the bedroom.

“Sit on the bed,” a nurse commands you, and you quickly obey.

She dabs at your abdomen stitches with antiseptic soap and your eyebrows furrow.

“You can’t move around much, got it? No exercising for three weeks until we get these stitches out.”

You agree as she moves on to your wrists, rubbing cream into them, “You’re going to visit us twice a day for six days until the healing is almost complete.”

She yanks a bandage off of your face, causing you to groan in pain. She rubs another ointment on it before substituting it with fresh dressing.

Minho supervises each step that the nurse takes, noticing how she takes care of your body as if it’s her most precious gift.

She turns to Minho, “I need you to make sure that she’s well rested, drinking enough water, and not doing many straining activities. Take her back here once again in the evening, and then we will see her again this time tomorrow morning, got it?”

“Yes, I will take care of her.”

“What about him, nurse?” You eye the small cuts across his face and hands.

She smiles and leans over to you. “He is well trained. Trust me, he’ll survive a few scratches.”

Your eyes narrow. “I order you to treat his wounds to the best of your abilities.”

She sighs. “Yes ma’am.”

She moves towards Minho and checks his wounds, patching the ones that were newly caused. She brushes his face softly with an ointment.

“I don’t like it when my guards don’t keep up a good appearance,” you try to explain away your worry for him, “and being injured will only slow you down when protecting me.”

The man stares straight ahead, listening carefully. “I’m fine. I’ll recover just fine. I don’t need much care as you do.”

“Let her rest now,” the nurse tells Minho, “order the maids to bring her a glass of water and have her sip on it until lunchtime.”

Once she leaves, Minho turns towards you, “I’ll make sure the maids bring you water. You need to stay hydrated”

Once water is on your table, your gaze returns to Minho

“Now, I order you to sit down on my bed with me.”

He examines you with a neutral expression and waits for you to say what you mean, not wishing to assume or take anything wrongly.

“Sit down with me,” you demand again, patting the spot beside you, waiting for him to follow suit.

As soon as you ask him to, Minho does not waver. He sits down beside you, body brushing your own.

You turn to meet his cold expression with intensity. “Do you like your job so far?

Minho is taken off guard by your switch of topic. He stays where he is sitting, but turns his body as well and faces you.

“I enjoy my duties.”

“Good. Because I’m fond of you. You’re handsome, and you are good at your job.”

He stares at you with slight surprise. “Thank you.”

Your hands grab for his, playing with the ring on his finger.

Then, you reach your hands higher, tugging his sleeve up to reveal a cluster of scars littered across his forearm.

“How long have you been in the business?”

“Since I was fourteen. I was trained from a very young age.”

“Have you always been in Daddy’s family?”

“I was loyal to your Daddy from the moment I knew what this life was like. I haven’t had a moment of doubt.”

“Good. That means you won’t leave us, right?”

“I will serve your family until my last breath. You have nothing to fear about that.”

“What a good boy,” you reach to ruffle his hair, landing a swift kiss on his sliced cheek. “That’s exactly what I like to hear.”

Minho stiffens.

“I order you to take off your jacket. I want to see your body. To see if you’re strong enough to be a good guard.”

Your words are sharp as a knife and they cut deep through his defense system. His jaw clamps and his breathing accelerates.

Minho swallows his breath, nodding his head. His movements are rigid, starting to cautiously peel off his jacket. It takes him a moment to unbutton it, but once his jacket is off, he stays there, waiting.

You slide his jacket to the floor, touching the muscles of his bicep through his button-down. “You’re fit. That’s good.”

Minho yearns for you to keep feeling him. To keep praising him. He swallows. Your words sound like a honey trap to him, and it’s working as intended.

“I order you to take off your tie.”

“Yes.”

That is all that he says, slowly slipping his tie from underneath his collar and tossing it aside.

Unexpectedly, you’re climbing on top of his body. “Take off your button-down.”

He unbuttons his shirt as your eyes sear into his chest. He is now only wearing a black undershirt.

“So many clothes,” you sigh out, groping his bare arms. You run your hands across his biceps, listening to him shudder underneath the touch.

“Take off your undershirt now. I want to see your chest.”

You can feel the heat radiating off him as he shivers. His body is now sensitive, and your hands are making it worse for him.

Your orders are evident, and he hastily lifts off his undershirt, waiting for what is next.

You can see his whole chest with all of its blemishes, with every muscle covered in sweat, exposed for you.

Your hands travel down his chest and abdomen, feeling each ragged scar with your bruised fingers. The delicate contact causes his breath to catch and a soft groan leaves him, fighting to not show that he relishes in your touch.

“Let me kiss you.”

He stares at you for a moment before his eyebrows slightly shift— his way of showing you that he approves of that request.

Minho leans in slightly and closes his eyes, gently placing a timid kiss on your lips.

You smirk against him, pushing him to lie against the bed frame and deepening the kiss. Your hands reach for his dark hair, clasping a handful in your grip.

He kisses you deeply and wraps his arms around you to pull you in closer, offering full control to you. His breath speeds up.

You pull away after a moment, lips brushing against his as you catch your breath, but only for an instant before moving towards his jaw, sucking marks onto his skin.

Minho quivers at your touch, his breathing speeding up once more as you leave red and purple blemishes on his skin. He bites his lip to stop himself from groaning.

Your mouth moves from his jaw to his neck, leaving kisses and hickeys all across him, making sure that he is covered in them.

Your hips grind against him, breathing heavily with anticipation as you make your way to his chest.

Your hands and mouth are touching all of him, and each sensation triggers a reaction that he tries to conceal.

Your lips hover back to his lips, staring at him longingly. “Do I have to command you for you to do anything to me? You don’t have to ask. You have my permission. Do whatever you want.”

You can see his gaze shifting from your eyes to your mouth, to your neck, and then towards your chest.

You swiftly lift yourself off of him to let him remove your dress, leaving your body as bare as his own.

You grasp onto his neck, bringing him in for another deep kiss. Minho remains silent as he kisses you, allowing you to leave him as many marks as you desire.

“What are you thinking, Minho? Speak to me.”

He takes a moment, letting out an unstable breath. “I’m thinking of what you are doing to me. I,” he stammers, “I want to make you feel good.”

“Then do it. Please.”

“I don’t want to harm you,” he breathes out, “you’re injured.”

“The nurses said to not do,” Minho presses his eyes shut as you bring your hips up to meet his, “fuck, anything straining.”

“Remember what Daddy said? I can be convincing.” You sneer as your bodyguard fails to keep his cool composure, but the aching cock pressing into you is giving his true desires away.

You eye his internal struggle between following your orders and his cravings, or the nurse and his boss.

“I don’t want to hurt you. I can go relieve myself in the bathroom.”

“I like being hurt.”

You notice his lip twitch at the comment, and you decide to provoke him further, grinding into him, and set a steady rhythm with your hips.

He groans as his head drops back, tugging onto your hair and trying desperately to control his breath, “Please, Y/N, I just want to take care of you.”

“You can take care of me in another way.”

“I need to follow orders.”

“Then I order you to fuck me.”

His eyes pinch shut as he tries to clear his head and reason with himself.

Perhaps if he were gentle, it would be alright.

But how long could he remain gentle when you were splayed out in front of him, willing to take anything that he gave to you?

He made his decision, gripping your shoulders gently and flipping you, pinning you to the bed, and surveying your face for any discomfort.

When he finds none, he impatiently unclasps his belt, throwing it to the floor along with his dress pants, leaving him in just his boxers.

You hold yourself up by your elbows, thighs pressed together and mouth watering at the man in front of you.

His hands were delicate, although they could easily snap you in half, as he unclasped your bra, leaving your top half bare.

Minho stopped to take in the view for a moment before grabbing at one of your breasts, his mouth attaching to the other.

Your whines were like music to him— something that he wanted to hear more of.

Your back arched in pleasure as he moved one hand down to your thigh, caressing it for a moment before slowly slipping his hand into your panties.

“Try to stay quiet, darling, I don’t want any staff checking on us,” He hushed you with his lips attaching to your own once again, feeling your wetness all over his calloused hands.

His thumb brushed against your clit and you whimpered into his mouth, clenching around nothing.

Minho then plunged two fingers deep inside of you and curled them. He was becoming lost in pleasing you, overlooking his own ache between his legs.

Your thighs shook beneath him, feeling him brush against your g-spot brutally. “Minho please, please just fuck me. I want you inside of me so bad.”

At your request, he slipped his fingers out, feeling your cries against his lips from the loss of friction.

“Yes ma’am.” He pulled away from your lips, replacing them with his now dripping fingers, lapping it up with his tongue.

Next, your ruined panties were yanked off of you, with his boxers soon to come after.

One hand gently relaxes on your hips, cautious to avoid aggravating your injuries as he uses the other to guide himself inside of you, a deep groan followed by your whines.

He gives you a moment to handle the stretch, but you hardly need it, already begging for him to move.

Minho cautiously thrusts, taking in a deep breath and furrowing his eyebrows in concentration. 
This is the ultimate test of patience for him. He needs to be as gentle as possible with you.

Ultimately, he sets a slow pace, hands locating themselves on either side of you, letting out uneven breaths as he tries to control himself from how good you feel around him.

“You really do care, don’t you?” Your hand reaches to cup his face, gazing into his eyes that are hazy with pleasure.

He keeps his response short, too concentrated on the waves of bliss through each thrust, “I do care.”

“Is it because you’re my bodyguard or something more?”

You study him, watching his adam’s apple move as he swallows deeply, inhaling sharply. He halts his thrusts for a brief instant.

“Both, maybe. I can’t tell.”

That was enough for you to continue, grabbing another handful of his hair and bringing him in for another hungry, deep kiss.

With each deep thrust, Minho’s mind got hazier and hazier, losing himself to pleasure bit by bit. You could feel it by the way his rhythm became rough and desperate, and his pace picked up.

One of his hands left your side, creeping towards your throbbing clit, causing you to let out sobs, all of which he ate up with his mouth against your own.

“Are you gonna cum for me?” He coos, knowing that you’re too lost in bliss to respond.

He takes your whines as a ‘yes’, his thumb rubbing circles faster, coaxing your orgasm out of you.

Your walls fluttered around him, squeezing your eyes closed and letting out a lengthy, drawn-out moan as his pace picked up even further.

“Just like that. You’re so good for me, so, so good, fuck,” he talked you through your orgasm between his thrusts, chasing his own high.

His brows crease, hips stuttering at how good it felt to have you gripping so tightly onto his cock. Finally, he let go, his load spilling inside of you and seeping out.

Both of you took an instant to catch your breath, coming down from your highs.

His hands slowly traced your curves in contentment, paying attention to the way your chest rose and fell.

Finally, he has a justification to gape at your body up close.

From your jawline to your hickey-covered chest, down to your bruised sides and stitches near your abdomen, and— Oh fuck.

Your wounds.

Minho slowly pulls away, feeling a sense of post-nut clarity and fright.

His hand slides away from your body, staring at you with concern.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, your own anxiety suddenly displayed on your face, “Do you regret it?”

“No! No,” He panics, “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?“

Back in reality now, your wounds ache and your head pounds with exhaustion and overexertion.

His mind calculates the solutions to the situation— ways to explain to the nurses, to fix you, to help you feel better.

It was his shortcoming, after all. He let his urges get to him.

“Let’s run you a bath.” He pulls himself up, tugging on his boxers and heading towards the bathroom.

You hear the tap turn on, lying in bed trying to catch your breath. Your breath is harsh from both adrenaline and pain, but you can’t help but feel as though the latter is more of the cause.

You had slept with a small handful of men, primarily Daddy’s men, but none of them were quite like Minho.

He was tough but breakable. He was still kindhearted at his core— something that wasn’t all that common in the business.

You could tell from the way that he ran the bath, bare muscles glistening from sweat, running his hand through the water to make sure that it was the ideal temperature. How concerned he was about your protection, even through his pleasure.

Not many other men that you’ve met throughout your life have been the same way.

You’re quite fond of the man that you have just met.

You hear the water shut off and footsteps coming towards the room. He holds a faint smile as his steps come towards the bed. Your gaze slowly wanders to his physique.

“It’s ready for you.” He says in a slight whisper.

“I order you to pick me up and bring me to the bath.”

He nods at your order, hooking his arms underneath your thighs and back, his strong grip securing you.

You inhale the powerful stench of gunpowder stuck to his skin, finding comfort in your bodyguard’s presence.

“Will you wash my hair?”

Studying his expression, it’s hard to read, but you let him carry you and place you into the water.

‘I do care,’ you recall his words.

‘Is it because you’re my bodyguard or something more?’ ‘Both, maybe. I can’t tell.’

Perhaps you had feelings for the man, especially while he massaged shampoo into your scalp with tough hands, making sure to rub your temples.

“Have you ever been a bodyguard before?”

When Minho hears your question, he hums while he proceeds to wash you, working on scrubbing the areas where he touched you earlier. “No, you’re the first one I’ve been a bodyguard for.”

“I did things for your father before this. Not as a bodyguard, a more, I guess, dangerous role,” he dismisses the question.

“Is that so?” You fall to silence as he continues to wash you, taking his time and guaranteeing that he gets every part. He hesitates when he washes around your injuries— every stroke and movement of his hands is smooth and temperate.

“Let me relax for a minute alone,” you murmur, “You should put your clothes back on, the maids should be here any moment to take my order for lunch. They won’t find it suspicious that I’m bathing, but they will question why you’re with me.”

Minho nods and pulls away from your body.

He stands up and his feet splash on the wet floor. He takes a double take at your closed eyes.

The way your body floats in the bath is something that catches his attention. You look very pleasing in such a vulnerable position.

He leaves the room, cracking the door to make sure that you are safe.

Minho buttons up his wrinkled shirt, pulling the jacket over it and smoothing it out to ensure that nobody suspects anything.

Minho’s eyes turn to the maid who enters the room with the ring of a bell.

His demeanor is unfazed, a hand on the gun in his pocket once more. He holds eye contact, his stare intense.

He would make sure that there wasn’t another incident.

“Where is Miss Y/N?”

“She is bathing at the moment.”

She nods, walking towards the bathroom and knocking on the door.

You hum, allowing her to enter.

“What would you like for lunch, ma’am?”

“I don’t know, surprise me.”

A few seconds go by as you immerse yourself entirely in the water before rising back to the surface.

“Minho,” you call out, “What would you like?”

You hear the faint sigh that Minho gives as a response back to your question.

“I’ll just have a sandwich or something, whatever you have is fine.” He replies to both you and the maid as she exits the bathroom, fulfilling her duty of reporting your lunch choice.

The bedroom door shuts behind her.

“Minho!” You call out once again, “I order you to take me out of the bath.”

A few seconds pass before you hear Minho’s footsteps come near the bathroom once again. He grabs a towel as you stand, body bare and dripping with water.

His eyes have an intense focus as he reaches out his hand.

Minho pulls you up from the bath wraps the towel around you, making sure to cover all of you, and begins to dry off your hair.

“Minho,” you begin, “Daddy can’t know about what happened. He’d shoot you dead on the spot.”

Minho pauses for a moment, his eyes darting across the floor.

He is silent for a moment. “I won’t reveal anything to him.”

“Good boy,” you cling to the towel covering your body, “Go fetch a maid to dress me. While she does so, I want you to change out of that suit and shower before lunch.”

“Then I’ll go shower now. I’ll be back.”

You hum in agreement, stepping towards your bedroom as a maid rings the bell.

You drop your towel, letting her sift through your drawers to find decent clothing.

She eyes a hickey on your breast, along with the other injuries across your body from the kidnapping.

“Your injuries look agitated, Miss Y/N, are you sure that a bath was the best idea for you?”

“Don’t question me,” you grumble, “I took a bath because I wanted to.”

“Yes, miss.” She pulls the dress above your head smoothes it out, and clasps a necklace behind your neck.

“You’re all set for lunch.”

The moment that you come out of your room, you can feel his presence. He is leaning against the front door of the room with an unreadable expression.

He has another suit on, a fresh one. Minho’s previously muskier, dark scent has been replaced by a new, sweeter fragrance.

“First shower at the estate?” You question, “Our soaps are quite lovely and mild on the skin. You smell wonderful.”

Minho’s lips curl at the compliment, looking you up and down, “Seems that we both are putting our best foot forward.”

You look around to see if anyone is watching before leaning to ruffle his damp hair and leave a kiss on his cheek, taking the man by complete surprise. He makes an effort to regain his composure, but you can see that his cheeks are blushed from the touch.

As soon as you lean in to lock arms, you feel him lean over to you to whisper something.

“I would love to do that with you again.”

You froze in your spot, heat rushing to your thighs.

You must regain your composure, caught off guard by his blunt words, something unlike the ordinary nature of Minho.

He takes a seat across from you, watching every move that the maid makes to be sure that she doesn’t try anything— he has learned his lesson.

“Pressed Italian Picnic Sandwiches and tea,” The maid states, setting the plates on the table.

You scrunch my nose up. “What’s in it?”

“Artisanal prosciutto, aged provolone, and sun-dried tomatoes inside of a crusty ciabatta,” She doesn’t hesitate to list the ingredients, “and a fragrant blend of rare loose-leaf teas with fresh cream and sugar cubes.”

She sets the teapot and cups out, along with a carton of cream and a bowl of sugar cubes.

Minho’s hand rests on his gun, waiting for her to leave before taking a sip of tea.

You follow his action, dumping a couple of cubes into your tea and bringing it to your lips.

I finish my lunch with Minho.

“Let’s go back to my room now. I'm exhausted.”

Minho nods his head and you both finish up the meals quickly.

You both leave the dining area and stroll back to your bedroom.

As soon as you get back into the room, you feel Minho close the door behind you.

You don’t hesitate to climb into bed and lie down.

The guard looks over at you, observing the way that your chest rises and falls as you breathe. He notices every movement that your body is making.

“I command you to lay down with me.” You lean back against the bed, your body still and eyes focused on his unmoving body.

He slips off his shoes silently, slipping into the canopy bed.

You grin, curling at his side, pressing against his body.

His breathing is deep and steady as he struggles to get into a more comfortable position.

Your mind began racing with questions about the mysterious man that you were slowly falling for, burying yourself further into the sheets.

“Minho,” you start slowly, “How did you become tangled with our family?”

Minho stays silent for a few moments and you feel his body shift a little against yours.

“I didn’t have a lot of money or family growing up,” he kept his answer short and simply, “the moment that this job came my way, I took it. The people connected to this business have always stayed on the down low, so this is an easy job to keep."

“Daddy seems to like you,” you grit your teeth.

Minho turns to you on the bed and sits up a little. He looks at you from top to bottom, reading the worry on your face with ease.

“You don’t have to worry about me.”

“He will kill you on the spot if he finds out. He’s done that to almost every man who has flirted or slept with me.”

You pause for a moment. “God forbid the one he hired as my bodyguard.”

“I am not so easily killed.” The words leave his mouth with a tinge of arrogance.

“I trust you.”

“Good.”

There is stillness between you both for a time, but he breaks it by grabbing your chin and leaning in to kiss you. You soothe into his touch, smiling against his lips briefly before he pulls away.

“I order you to stay here. Like this.”

It’s not difficult for you to drift off to sleep beside him, and as always, Minho pursues your request, keeping a close eye on you. You relax, your breathing slow, and he notes all of the occasional twitches and movements that you make in your sleep.

A couple of hours later, the door is knocked on by a maid.

“Dinner order?”

Minho jolts awake from the knock on the door, a hand swiftly placed on your shoulder to protect you from any threats before turning his head towards the noise.

His voice is full of sleep. “Repeat that?”

As she opens the door, there is a look of inquiry on her face, one that she won’t ask to ensure her job and health.

“Is she asleep?” She questions instead, glancing over at your peaceful figure.

He turns his head towards you to double-check, observing your napping body.

“Yes.”

“Alright. I’ll advise the chef to prepare her dinner later tonight.”

She gives a sharp nod to the guard and scurries out of the room, quietly shutting the door to not disturb the girl.

Minho’s eyes rest on the door for a moment, fully alert now with a hand resting on his gun.

Eventually, he turns over to you. He has his eyes on you for a few seconds before leaning down to kiss you on the forehead, letting out a small sigh.

You stir at the warm touch, scrunching your face up and stretching your body.

“What time is it?” You ask groggily before burying your head into his neck.

“Dinner is in about half an hour. You hungry?”

“Not really,” you pull yourself up and rub your sleep-filled eyes.

He notices your body shiver as you pull yourself up. Minho lets out a short exhale.

“Did you sleep?”

“A bit.” He doesn’t look away or turn his head as he admires the way you stand and stretch your body, smoothing your dress of its wrinkles.

You walk towards your vanity mirror, plopping down in the chair to readjust your necklace to the center. A few marks on your collarbone catch your eye.

“The nurses will be in shortly.” You grit your teeth. “I hope they don’t notice.”

“They won’t notice.”

His figure can be seen from behind you in the reflection of the mirror. His lips are turned upwards as he watches you fix your appearance.

You pull out a couple of foundations and concealers, working on concealing the marks left from earlier.

“The maids wouldn’t, but the nurses will tell the difference between a hickey and a bruise. Especially since these are fresh.”

Even though you are busy with your makeup and covering up the bruises, Minho’s eyes are never off of you. It is a feeling that you will have to get used to— always having a watchful eye on you.

Once you were satisfied with the coverage, you rose from your seat quickly.

“Get up, we’re going to dinner.”

“So bossy.” He retorts. “What will you have?”

“I want to go out, let’s go somewhere fancy. Daddy will pay.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You want to go out when you have had a beating just two days ago?”

He asks it like he thinks it’s an absurd idea, almost condescendingly, yet his tone of voice is soft and full of concern for you, causing your stomach to flip inside out.

“I’m tired of staying inside already. This estate is suffocating,” you pull on your slip-on shoes.

“That’s how I got myself into this mess in the first place. I left the house and got kidnapped. That won’t happen with you here.”

“I guess you’re right. We’ll go somewhere nice.”

“Good. I’ll go tell Daddy.” You leave the door open for Minho to come after but don’t wait for him, yet you can tell that he follows behind silently, attending to the way your body moves in the dress as you make your way down the halls.

The door is slightly ajar, so when you knock, it pushes open with a creak, revealing your father inside.

Minho stands behind you like a shadow, his lips pressed into a straight line, gaze locked on your father, keeping his distance from the both of you.

“Come inside,” the older man invites both of them with a welcoming grin, “sit.”

You can sense that your father has something on his mind, which is never a good sign.

“I was going to call you to my office shortly, anyway.” Instantly you assume the worst.

You sit down, taking a seat in front of him. Minho is still standing in the back, his priority on you and your father.

The man looks over at Minho. Their eyes lock for a moment. “Guard, go lock the door. There is a conversation that needs to be had.”

Minho nods and he turns his head, locking the door behind him.

He turns his attention back to you, who is frozen in your seat, breath hitching.

The elite man fiddles with a pen at his desk, clicking it to drown out the tense silence.

The silence in the room seems so heavy that you wonder how neither you nor Minho is feeling sick. Judging by the thick atmosphere between the three of you, it is easy to tell that he isn’t pleased right now.

He fidgets with the pen and you wait for him to finally speak.

“Do you find my daughter to be precious, Guard?” He addresses Minho with a stern voice, finally setting the pen down at his wooden desk with a smack.

“Yes sir,” Minho replies flatly.

“Are you willing to protect her at all costs, even at your life?”

After moments of silence, he answers back confidently. “Yes sir. I am.”

A hand comes to rest at his side, toying loudly with a handgun, which he eventually pulls out of his pocket.

Tears begin to well up in your eyes, yet Minho stays concentrated. There isn’t a single sign of fear on his face. He is unshaken, calm, and collected as if he had been foreseeing this exact scenario.

“Do you know why you were assigned to guard my daughter, Minho?”

“I know the reasons.”

“There was a leak to the rivals from a previous staff member that I had a precious daughter in my life,” He turns towards you, “the one that I had climbed to the top of my career to protect and assure her safety and security.”

He cleared his throat before darting back to Minho, “It took less than a day for her to be taken from my hands and placed in the hands of one of my greatest enemies.”

Minho pays attention to every word that he speaks and clears his throat, waiting for your father to continue.

“I care for my daughter more than anything in the world. Which is why I had appointed the most valuable, honest, and competent man in the family to ensure her protection.”

Minho nods.

“Please don’t kill him, Daddy.”

The boss meets you with cold eyes, disregarding your words to proceed with his lecture. “You are my most prized possession. I would hurt anyone or anything to make sure that not a single person touches you. The men who kidnapped you are all taken care of, wiped out by my command.”

He continues. “I know everything that goes on in your life. Every meal, every kiss, every injury, the staff must report every minor thing that occurs in your day. I have eyes on you at all times, and you’re more than aware of that.”

Your shoulders stiffen. He knew.

“Minho,” his stare is burning into the other man, “I’ll get to the point. Did you sleep with my daughter?”

He doesn’t blink. His body tenses up and his voice remains neutral.

“Yes.”

The boss turns the safety off of his firearm and you dig your head into your hands, unable to observe the scene that is about to unfold.

The gunshot is fired, but the man deliberately aims to the left of Minho, grazing his cheek with the bullet before standing up instantly from his seat. The guard doesn’t react with more than a blink as the blood pools at the cut.

“I trust you, Minho. You are a good man. If there is a single person who I would choose to give my daughter to, it would be you.”

Finally, Minho takes this as a sign to let his guard down for a moment as his shoulders drop, lip quivering slightly. It was evident that there was more emotion that the guard was holding back, especially when he took a moment to look away.

“You have my approval.”

Your eyes widen.

“Take care of my daughter. If you break her heart, I’ll feed your own heart to her for supper.”

“Understood.”

“Take her to dinner,” a wad of cash is pulled out from one of the drawers, “buy her flowers and anything else that she asks for.”

“Yes sir.” He responds, “I’ll make sure that she gets the treatment that she deserves.”

You run to embrace your father, to which he places an arm around you, rubbing your back before pulling away.

“Get yourself dressed more sufficiently, I will have a car ready for you soon.”

Minho follows you out of his office, letting out a breath that he had been holding in once the door was closed.

“Did you hear that?” Do you know what this means?” You beam at the man before grabbing at his cheeks and pulling him in for a kiss.

He lets out a surprised noise, hesitantly wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing back.

When you break the kiss, he stares back at you with the first big smile that you’ve seen from him displayed on his face.

“Let’s get you ready.”

[wardenparker]

You know I need me some Connie forehead kisses, so Detective Tim Rockford and “Wait! Don’t leave.”

I mean, there’s so many options so I’m tossin’ that one up there, but I’m also gonna say “Connie’s Choice”! You hit a massive milestone so you should getta celebrate however you see fit, darlin’.

Detective Tim Rockford and “____” <- You fill in the prompt.

*points to my forehead*

Right here! When you’re ready. No pressure. 😁😘🥰

My darling Dax 🧡 You get ALL the forehead kisses, but unfortunately also a very sad microfic.

Tim Rockford. 2,332 words. "Wait! Please don't leave!" Co-written with @absurdthirst Warnings: Explicit descriptions of crime scene, death, murder, domestic dispute (verbal), angst

The rain beats against the windshield, his knuckles tight against the steering wheel as the headlights slice through the inky black of the night. Tim doesn’t pay attention, he can’t. The blare of the police radio cuts through the silence in the car, his thoughts racing in circles as he drives as if he’s on autopilot.

Sharp winds whip around his car outside, an annoyance of white noise in the background that only makes his blood pressure rise when it shakes his little car. He knows the address he’s driving to. He knows it by heart.

******

“I just wish you would put me first once.” You express as he jams the loose items that are scattered across the dresser into his pockets. Two dollars and thirty-seven cents in change, a pocket knife, a losing scratch off ticket, a receipt from Jimmy’s Hot Dogs, a random mint, the ever present cigarette lighter and his wallet. The badge is tucked into his jacket, along with his car keys, hanging on the coat tree near the front door.

“I got a call.” He huffs, annoyed by the guilt that is settling on his shoulders. “You know the drill.”

“Can you even tell me the last time you ate dinner at home?” The last thing you want is to be cruel to him but you’re trying to make a point. Your husband of seven years and partner of ten has been slipping further and further from your fingers with every passing day and you’re at your wits end with how to get it to stop.

Your name is like a sigh of frustration and he pauses, turning tired eyes on you. He’s tired of the same arguments over and over again. “I’ll be back.” He tells you, turning and walking towards the door.

“Tim, wait!” The anguish that cracks your voice comes with tears — guilty, burning ones that you were trying not to let free. “Please don’t go.”

His resolve cracks and he turns, his hand on the door knob. “Babe, I have to go.” He doesn’t— not really. It’s not his case, but he feels like it’s connected to that fucking mystery that has taken over his life. As soon as he can solve it, he will fix this gully between the two of you. “I’ll be back in a few hours and we can talk, okay?” You don’t answer, but he takes that as your agreement. “I love you.”

“Be safe.” Unable to even bring yourself to say that you love him back — because you do, you absolutely fucking do but right now it feels like he’s just saying the words to placate you — you turn away and slip back into the kitchen. Tim is never home and you work a 9-5, so the chores pile up relentlessly. Maybe you’ll put dishes in the dishwasher and clothes in the dryer and go to bed early.

Walking out the door feels like he is fighting against himself, but the urge to close this case, to finish things off is too great to ignore. He pushes back the sight of your hurt face out of his mind and pulls his cell phone out of his pocket. Walking towards his car, he’s not Tim, your husband, he’s changed into Detective Rockford.

******

“Detective Rockford?” The primary on the case is already there, and he wasn’t expecting back up. But the seasoned detective that he knows well is a welcome sight, even if Rockford doesn’t quite look himself.

“Hey Jimmy.” Tim gives a wan smile before looking towards the tape. “What do we got?”

The young detective has worked hard for his place on the force and seen plenty, but this one is a lot even for him. “Female. Forties. Stabbed to death in her own living room. Pretty gruesome stuff, honestly, and you know these things don’t usually get to me.”

Tim swallows, closing his eyes and swaying where he stands. “Do—” he chokes out and his voice falters. “Do we have the guy?” He manages after a moment, trying not to cry right there.

“We have tire tracks, finger prints, and plenty of detritus under the vic’s fingernails. She fought hard.” Jimmy shuffles, not used to seeing his mentor this emotional. “Some of the wounds look defensive. And the weapon was left at the scene.”

His lip trembles and he inhales sharply. “Are you— are you sure it’s the homeowner?” He asks shakily, praying for a miracle.

“ID in her purse matches.” The younger man confirms. “Seems like she had barely gotten home. Might’ve been a robbery gone bad, but we need to take a more thorough look before that call gets made.”

Tim shakes his head, body trembling and he screams out your name, rushing towards the house. “Baby! Baby, come out!” He shouts, ducking under the tape and bolting through the door. “Sweetheart? Baby? Answer me!”

“Detective Rockford!” Jimmy swirls to run after him, not understanding what’s caused such a monumental break in his colleague’s behavior. Obviously he knows the victim, otherwise it makes even less sense.

Tim can’t stop, doesn’t even hear Detective Fallon as he rushes into the house and over to the body that is draped in a white sheet, the thick material slowly being soaked red with blood. Choking as he drops to his knees, he reaches up to draw the sheet back.

“Ma’am, you really can’t be—” Detective Fallon’s voice is part of a sea of white noise, unheard and unnoticed by Tim as he reaches for the corner of the sheet he absolutely shouldn’t be touching. “Ma’am, this is an active crime scene!”

But you don’t hear him, blasting past the young detective to stumble into your own living room, where the figure of your sister is crumpled in the middle of the carpet and covered in a sheet. “Get away from her!” Is all you can think to say, burning tears choking anything but fear and anguish out of existence.

Your voice makes him freeze, head whipping up to see you and his eyes widen. Choking out your name, he then whispers— “Is it— are you?”

“Tim?” He’s the last person you ever expected to see again, let alone in this house, but suddenly you’re actually glad for it. He looks like he’s seen a ghost, but you’re shaking with fear for the reality of who is under that sheet.

You are alive. His eyes dart back to the sheet and he looks back at you with a small frown. “You’re here.” He breathes out, immediately understanding. Since the divorce, you had lived with your sister. He stands and moves over towards you. “Baby.” He knows this will hurt you and he wants to take away the pain if he can.

“Is that…” You don’t have to finish the question. The boot poking out from under the sheet is the pair she borrowed from you, and the blood spattered purse with an evidence tag next to it is so familiar you would know it in your sleep. “She accidentally grabbed my purse when she left for work this morning.” You choke out the explanation but lurch forward when your knees buckle and your heart squeezes up into your throat. “Was it—were they—was it supposed to be me?”

“I don’t know.” You are about to break, he’s witnessed enough families to know. Stepping closer, he strokes your arm and looks into your beautiful, devastated eyes. “I don’t know baby, but I’m going to find them. I’m going to find who did this.” He promises.

******

The fluorescent lights of the station are harsh and the coffee in your hand is burnt, but it's better than being in your house. At this point you doubt you can ever go back there again and you're definitely trying to figure out where you're going to go or what you're going to do once you leave the station.

Tim comes back with a bottle of water for you, offering it to you when he walks up, and exchanges it for the coffee that you aren’t really interested in. “Preliminaries look like it was a mugging/burglary gone wrong.” Tim tells you quietly, aware that he probably shouldn’t say anything about this, period, but this is your sister. And you used to be his wife. “Camera footage from the neighbors show that the suspect approached her when she opened the door.”

"I don't–" Your head bobs in thanks when he takes the coffee from your hands and replaces it with the water bottle, though you still don't do anything but hold it. For your whole life you were always the person to be able to take charge and provide comfort in a crisis. Now that the crisis is your own, you're drawing a blank. "Will they let me go back? For–for clothes and stuff, I mean? I need to find a hotel..."

Tim grimaces. “It’s….still a crime scene.” He tells you reluctantly. “No one goes in right now.” He bites his lip, knowing that the DA would be pissed, but he would log a record of it in the case file. “If you want to make a list, I could get you some things.” He wants to offer to let you stay with him, in the old house you used to share, but that might be too much for you.

"No, I...I don't want you to get in trouble for me." There are strict rules for crime scenes. You were a cop's girlfriend and then wife for long enough to know that. "I can just get some stuff from Target tomorrow. Temporary stuff..."

“I can.” He offers, squatting down to look at you. “Do you have a friend…a boyfriend, where you can stay with them?” He asks, even if the idea makes him sick. He lost you, he has no right to be upset if you’ve moved on. “You shouldn’t be alone tonight.”

"No." For as long as you and Tim were together, he knows you never really had an extensive circle of people close to you. You're an introvert and most of your friends were either his coworkers or the spouses of those coworkers. The friends you made in college have all gone their separate ways by now, and you had had your best friend in your sister. "No it's just Liz and me..." It was just the two of you, anyway.

Tim sighs softly and his brow furrows in concern. “You can— you don’t have to— but, you can stay with me.” He offers, unsure of how you would take his offer. You had told him during the divorce that you couldn’t wait to be done so you would never have to see him again, and circumstance had changed that. He still hasn’t told you he hadn’t had to be at that crime scene. He had just memorized your address and when it came over the radio, his heart had dropped.

"Wouldn't you get in trouble?" That has to be a conflict of interest or something, but the idea of being safe tonight has you shaking all over again when you suddenly jolt at the memory of why you even need safety in the first place.

“No.” Tim shakes his head. “You aren’t a suspect, never were. And the captain knows who you are.” He wants to reach out and wrap his arms around you, keep you safe, but he doesn’t want to overstep. “Or I can get you a hotel. Wherever you want.”

For maybe the first time since you walked into your house to see him standing there, you actually look up a little and meet Tim's eyes. "I don't think I should be alone, either," you admit quietly.

His heart breaks at the loss in your eyes, the sense that you are adrift and unsure of your course. He nods. “Then you don’t have to be alone, sweetheart.”

"There's not...not anyone at home who would be upset?" You have no business being upset if there is – after all you're the one who filed for divorce, not him – but you still stop your hand for reaching for him when it's halfway out.

He doesn’t miss the gesture and reaches out to take your hand. “No.” He promises. “Just a really lazy cat named Twix.” He licks his lips, heart pounding at the touch of your skin against his and he pushes those feelings down. He just means to comfort you. “No one since you left. Your blanket is still on the couch.”

“I—” There's no reason to refuse, and you're a little too shell-shocked at the moment to know whether or not you could actually manage all the logistics of a hotel on your own. Besides – again – the idea of being alone doesn't sit well with you. "Thank you." you manage finally, gripping his hand tightly in gratitude.

“You’re welcomed.” He knows he should get you home, his home, and he squeezes your one last time before letting it go. “Let me go finish up for the night, and we’ll get you settled.”

"Wait." Your hand tightens instinctively, holding him beside you. "Please don't leave?" Even in a room full of bustling people doing their jobs, without Tim beside you, you feel completely alone. And even though you know he has to do his job, you just – you need that comfort for a few minutes more.

It’s the same words that have haunted him for years, the ones you had uttered one desperate night that he had disregarded, signaling the end of your relationship. He regretted that night in the middle of the lonely nights that followed, wishing that he could somehow go back, do things different. He can’t change the past, but he can show you the compassion you need. Shifting to his knees in front of you, Tim looks up at you, his eyes wider than normal as he gives you his promise. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here, sweetheart.”

______

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My Masterlist!

[delicateflowerss]

Don't Worry, Darling: Three

After marrying the love of your life, Rafe Cameron, you thought you couldn't be happier. But when a murder shakes the island, you learn you don't know your husband as well as you thought. When does Paradise become Hell?

Warnings: 18+, eventual NON-CON, verbal/domestic abuse, dark!Rafe, mentions of murder, mentions of pregnancy/having kids, kook!reader, non-canon ages

Word Count: 3.9k

Series Masterlist

“So, let’s go over that again. You left the office around 11:30, correct?”

Shoupe’s stare is set on Rafe, almost like he’s waiting for your husband to blink at him wrong, anything to show he isn’t telling the truth.

“It was around that time. I don’t remember exactly.”

You can tell Rafe is fighting the urge to tell the police to fuck off, given the heavy annoyance lacing his tone. You worry he might, his impulse control only lasting so long.

Their incessant questions don’t help, going over every detail of the night Rafe last saw Chase alive.

It’s a strong case of déjà vu for you, Shoupe and the same officer as last time, sitting in the exact same spot on your couch. Except, you can feel the gravity of the situation now. A man you know has been killed.

“And nothing struck you as odd about Chase that night? All he said was bye as he was leaving?”

“That’s all I remember. How many times do I have to tell you I barely saw him that night?”

Whatever Rafe was holding back, he isn’t anymore, his anger getting the best of him. It doesn’t sit right with either officer, their meaningful glances toward each other telling you more than they’ll ever say.

As your eyes rake over your husband, you don’t know why he seems nervous, unable to stop the shake in his leg.

You reach your hand out, the denim of his pants rough under your skin as you stop the uneasy movement.

“I think what Rafe is trying to say, is he’s answered all of your questions, more than once,” you placate. “You seem to be wanting an answer he just doesn’t have.”

Rafe watches you, an appreciation shining in his eyes that he wouldn’t know how to voice to you.

“We would love to help any way we can. But he’s told you everything he knows.”

Shoupe mulls over your words, seeming almost annoyed that you’re making a good point.

“Fine,” he concedes, looking over both you and Rafe. “But if there’s anything you could possibly think of, you know where to find us,” he adds, standing up.

 “Of course,” you reply, showing them the way out.

“It’s important to us you find whoever did this,” you say, giving Rafe a pointed look, motioning toward the officers, needing him to show his support.

When he spots this, he nods. “Catch this guy before something else happens. Don’t put our tax dollars to waste.”

He keeps his eyes on Shoupe, his mouth fighting a smirk.

You don’t understand the exchange between the two men, Shoupe’s stare also heavy.

“That’s what we’re trying to do,” Shoupe finally retorts after a few tense moments. He’s the first one to look away, nodding toward you. “Have a good day, Mrs. Cameron.”

Once they’re gone, your eyes find your husband, brows pulled together.

“What was that about?” You ask, trying to find an explanation for his rude behavior.

“What?” Now his unpleasant mood is aimed at you, lips parted, brows matching yours, and you almost regret saying anything. “He’s wasting his time with me. He’s wasting my time. He could actually be out there, catching the person who did it.”

You take in his explanation, arms crossed, eyes glancing to the floor before meeting his.

“I get it. But they’re just doing their job,” you explain. “I mean Chase was murdered, Rafe. You know, the guy you used to see at work every day and liked to invite us over for dinner.”

You try to make it clear to him why he should think about someone besides himself.

He swallows at that, now it’s him who can’t meet your gaze.

You sigh, deciding it’s best to drop it. You know how Rafe is, how difficult it is for him to not only process his own emotions, but others as well.

You step closer, your hand finding his by his side, fingers threading together. You feel the cool touch of his gold, signet ring against your warm skin, along with his wedding ring.

He doesn’t move away, and you can’t help but think he looks like a scolded little boy as he finally looks up at you, hair failing into his eyes.

“I know this has been a lot for you,” you start. “You know you can always talk to me. About anything.”

You watch him, hoping he’ll finally open up to you about this whole situation.

Instead, he just nods, his hand falling from yours before he walks to the kitchen, finding his phone.

You have to stop yourself from sighing, showing your disappointment.

“I talked to my dad earlier,” he calls out, walking toward you with his phone in his hand. “He wants us over for dinner on Sunday. Something about wanting everyone together since Sarah’s back for the summer,” he mumbles the last part, and you can tell he’s trying his hardest not to roll his eyes.

“Oh, that should be nice. We haven’t been over there in a while.” You keep your tone optimistic, hoping it will influence his own outlook.

But by the look on Rafe’s face, it’s not working. He seems more distracted than anything else.

“I gotta take this,” he holds his phone up, excusing himself to his office upstairs.

You’re more than aware of Rafe’s strained relationship with his family. Part of you wants to tell him to forget about his father, thinking it would be best for him to release himself from the shackles of desperately vying for his father’s approval.

But you also know that this house didn’t pay for itself. Even if the name Cameron holds weight in certain places, you’d be lying if you said Rafe could get a job anywhere, especially as good as the one he has now.

You thought Rafe having to work for his father could only help the relationship, and it does seem like they’re friendlier to each other, Ward seeing his son as somewhat competent. But the pressure still lies on Rafe to be good enough.

So, all you can do is keep the peace.

Maybe you have your own motives to keep things nice between Rafe and his family. Sometimes, they feel like the only family you have, even if it’s a bit dysfunctional.

You’re an only child, and your parents decided when you moved out that they were going to spend most of their time on vacation, seeing the world they didn’t get to when you were growing up.

Right now, they’re on a Caribbean cruise, the last time you saw them being your wedding.

You miss them, but you don’t really blame them. Maybe you’ll feel the same one day, when your own children are grown up and married.

They were always extremely supportive of your relationship with Rafe, never seeing any issues. Their happiness at the possibility of their daughter marrying into the Cameron’s blinded them.

You’re glad they didn’t see the things you saw because they might not have been as forgiving. You saw firsthand how hard Rafe worked to clean up his addiction, and to stop the tendency to get into fights with Pogues.

But you wonder if they had known, would they have even batted an eye?

JJ doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to sitting in your kitchen. He thinks you’re only pretending not to notice how much he stands out, because you never seem bothered by it. You just smile as you hand him an ice-cold drink. This time, it’s iced tea.

You were folding laundry when you heard JJ slip into the backyard. This time, he didn’t put up a fight, letting you invite him in.

“So,” you say, sitting across from him at the kitchen table. “I heard Sarah’s back for the summer. Is she still with John B?”

“I thought you were her sister-in-law or whatever, wouldn’t you know?” He asks, taking a long sip of his drink.

“Yeah, well, Rafe and Sarah don’t really talk.”

JJ raises his eyebrows, humming, an understanding washing over his face.

“They’re still together. She’s over at The Chateau almost every day now,” he answers.

You smile, nodding. “So, you still see your friends a lot?”

You were pretty removed from the people Sarah started hanging out with during her high school years. They were younger…and they were Pogues. But you cared about her enough to want to know about her friends.

You also knew them for other reasons, ones having to do with a dumb rivalry stemming from your husband’s hatred of Pogues.

You never got to know any of them, talking to John B the most out of all of them.

Until now.

“Yeah. Everyone’s doing their own thing now, but we get together all the time,” he casually says.

“I’m glad to hear that. I remember you all being so close.”

“Hm.” He stops, his brow furrowing. “You remember that before or after we would get the shit kicked out of us by Rafe?”

Your smile falters, eyes finding the surface of the table.

Before you can say anything, he continues, “but he’s different now. So, I should just forget about it.”

Sarcasm drips from his tone, using your own words against you. He raises his eyebrows again, taking another sip, making his point.

“I never said you should forget about it,” you scoff. “I know what Rafe did was wrong. Do you hold what he did against Sarah too?”

“You can’t choose your family,” he shrugs. “I mean she barely talks to him as it is. You married him.” He pauses, blue eyes staring into you. “That means you looked at all that, and thought, I want to be with this guy for the rest of my life.”

He immediately begins to feel bad when you frown. He sighs, realizing he took it too far.

“I’m sorry, okay?” He apologizes bluntly. “You seem nice and all, I just can’t trust someone who’s married to Rafe Cameron,” JJ explains.

“You don’t have to trust me,” you level with him. “And I can apologize for all of Rafe’s wrongdoings over and over again, because I am sorry. But is that really going to make you feel better?”

He looks to his lap, bottom lip between his teeth. He knows you’re being sincere, your eyes genuinely curious.

“You’re right, there’s no point in holding it against you,” he admits quietly.

You nod, taking a moment before saying, “Good, because I actually like talking to you, for some reason,” you add the last part with a smile on your face.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone say that to me before,” he says with a smile, the same joking tone.

You’ve been to Tannyhill more times than you could count, and it never fails to impress you.

Rafe has told you more than once, usually when he has a few drinks in him, that one day it will be “ours.” You think it’s somewhat morbid that he’s waiting for the day his father can’t physically have it anymore. But you also can’t help but feel a glimmer of anticipation about being able to call it yours.

As you walk side by side, you can feel the nervousness radiating off of Rafe, even if he tries his hardest to stamp it down.

You say his name, stopping a few feet from the front door, turning toward him.

He looks at you, a question in his eyes.

Before he can say anything, you bring your hands to his firm chest, smoothing out the black polo shirt he’s wearing. You feel him let out a sigh.

“Babe-.”

You cut him off with a kiss, lashes fluttering against his cheek.

“I just wanted to do that before we went in there,” you quietly say against his lips when you break apart.

You get your satisfaction when his lips turn up into a smile.

But your attention is quickly moved when you hear the door creak open.

“Dad said to get the door,” Wheezie says timidly, eyes shifting around.

You meet Rafe’s eyes again, both of you hiding your laughs.

“Hi, Wheezie,” you greet, walking into the cool air of the house.

You hear Rafe say the same right behind you, shutting the door.

“Are you still taking me shopping before Midsummers?” She doesn’t waste a second to excitedly ask you. “Sarah’s too busy and I’d rather go with you than Rose.”

She grimaces at the mention of her stepmother.

“I’ve been looking forward to it. Why don’t we go sometime this week?”

You don’t notice how Rafe watches you make plans with his little sister, an indescribable emotion swimming in his blue eyes.

“We were wondering when you’d get here,” a booming voice announces.

Ward walks into the room with a grin on his face.

“How you doing, sweetheart?” he asks, pulling you into a hug.

“I’m doing good. Nice to see you, Ward,” you reply, still smiling.

As he steps away from you, you notice how Rafe shifts a little, standing up straighter.

“Hi, Dad.”

“Son,” is all Ward says, patting Rafe on the back, his smile more tight-lipped now.

They share a look, something wordless between them before Ward turns to you.

“Rose is in the kitchen, getting dinner ready. And Sarah should be down soon. I’m just going to borrow Rafe for a few minutes. I hope you don’t mind,” he checks with you, eyebrows raised.

“No, go ahead,” you nod, watching them head toward his office.

“I’ll go see what Sarah’s doing,” Wheezie says, also going upstairs, leaving you to wander into the kitchen.

It’s not uncommon for Ward to pull Rafe aside to have a conversation, usually about work. But the glance they gave each other was tense, a seriousness there that you don’t know the reason for.

“This looks delicious, Rose. You’ll have to give me the recipe,” you comment, staring at the sauce she’s stirring.

“My mother used to make this all the time. One of my favorites,” she remarks before being interrupted by Sarah barreling her way toward you.

“There’s my favorite sister-in-law,” she calls out, wrapping her arms around you.

“I’m your only sister-in-law,” you say, laughing, squeezing her back.

“Well, I still think if you really wanted to see me all the time, you didn’t have to marry Rafe to do it.” Amusement dances on her lips. “You could’ve saved yourself a lot of trouble,” she says, trying not to burst out laughing.

“What? You mean, I didn’t have to do that.” Your tone matches hers, and she’s the first one to laugh as you step away from the heat of the kitchen.

“So, tell me all about your first year at UNC?” You ask, eyes on her.

“It was good,” she says with a lack of truthfulness, her furrowed brow giving her away.

“Are you sure?”

She shakes her head, looking around to make sure she’s out of Rose’s earshot.

“I don’t know. I’m just not sure if college is for me,” Sarah says quietly. You nod and she continues, “I just would rather be doing something else with my life. Not being stuck in a classroom with a bunch of other rich kids who are just going to end up working for their fathers.”

You raise your eyebrows, the implication of her words not lost on you.

“Sorry,” she draws back. “That was harsh.”

“No, I get it. You want something different.”

“Yeah. And I want to be with people I actually like.”

“Like John B?”

An involuntary smile makes her lips twitch as she looks down, her cheeks turning rosy.

“Yes, like John B,” she admits, not fighting her smile anymore. “And before you say anything, I know what it sounds like,” she pauses, staring directly at you. “But I won’t be dropping out of college for a boy. It’s for a lot of reasons.”

“I mean, even if that were the case. I can’t really judge you, can I?” You ask, thinking of your own past, and how picking a school was completely dependent on Rafe. “I think you should do what makes you happy.”

“Can you explain that to my dad now?” She jokes, but her smile is appreciative, like it’s all she needed to hear.

Rafe didn’t say much by the time he came back from his dad’s office, just sitting down for dinner like everyone else. You want to ask him about it, but you know it’s best to let him tell you first.

You all eat under incandescent lighting from the chandelier, shining off the silverware and fine china. There has been slight small talk, but things shift when Ward clears his throat from the head of the table, setting down his fork.

“I just want to say, how grateful I am to have the whole family here, together. The year’s not even close to over, and I don’t know if I can express how proud I am.”

Emotion seeps through his words as his eyes rake over the table, everyone intently listens.

“Sarah just completed her first year at college, with straight A’s,” he adds, his smile only growing bigger. Sarah returns the expression, but you can see the slight insincerity to it.

“We also, officially, welcomed Y/N to the family. Of course, I would say she’s been part of this family for years.”

You sheepishly smile, catching Rafe’s eye.

“And Rafe,” he pauses, staring at his son. “Rafe has been working very hard in his position at Cameron Development. Harder than almost anyone, and I’m not just saying that.” He laughs a little. “That’s why, I’ve decided to make him Cameron Development’s new Chief Operating Officer.”

Your lips part with surprise, quickly turning into a smile as you put an arm around Rafe’s shoulders, placing a kiss on his cheek.

“I’m so proud of you,” you whisper, catching the happiness in his eyes.

“I won’t let you down,” he tells his dad.

Wheezie smiles, thinking it must be a big deal, Sarah doesn’t look impressed, and Rose just casually sips her wine.

“Now, I’m not saying I’m expecting any, but maybe an announcement about a grandchild before the end of the year would be nice,” Ward says, half-jokingly.

Your first instinct is to tense up, even if you try not to, your arm moving so just your palm lies on Rafe’s back.

“I think that very well could happen,” Rafe practically promises.

Your face falls a little, trying to keep a sense of lightheartedness in your voice.

“Well, maybe not this year.”

Rafe turns to you at that, giving you a look only you can see. But he bites his tongue from saying anything.

Ward doesn’t push further, saying he’s happy as long as he gets a grandchild. But the damage is done, Rafe not meeting your eyes for the rest of dinner.

Another silent car ride, this time, you can feel the minutes pass by. Rafe doesn’t say a word to you, and honestly, you’re grateful, knowing you don’t want to argue while he’s behind the wheel.

You dread the moment you get home, but at this point, you should be angrier than he is.

He’s still not talking to you when you get home, setting his things down before going upstairs.

He’s almost casual in his actions, but you can tell by the tightness of his jaw and how he can’t look at you, that he’s upset.

You follow him upstairs, repeating his name.

“Rafe,” you call out. “You’re going to have to talk to me. You can’t just give me the silent treatment.”

You find him in the bedroom you two share, slipping off his shoes.

He finally looks at you, and his eyes are ablaze.

“Did you have to say that?” He bitterly asks.

“Say what? The truth?” Your tone matches his. “I just don’t understand why you’re mad. Do you really not want your family to know we’re waiting?”

His teeth sink into his bottom lip, like he doesn’t believe what you’re saying.

“It’s embarrassing, Y/N,” he spits out.

“Embarrassing?” You ask, unsure if you heard him correctly. “It’s embarrassing that your wife gets to decide when she wants to have a baby?”

“That’s not what I meant.” He shakes his head but doesn’t explain further.

“Then what do you mean?” You press.

“It-It’s embarrassing that it looks like we’re not on the same page,” he finally explains, flexing his fingers.

“I agree, Rafe. Then why did you say that? Why did you agree with him when you know I want to wait?”

“Exactly. You want to wait.”

You’re left speechless by his implication, lip almost trembling while you take in his words. This is the first time you’re hearing of this, but you realize certain comments you brushed off might have meant he wanted a baby sooner than later.

“Honestly, it sounds like you don’t want kids at all,” he continues. His face is twisted up, pacing back and forth away from you.

“What?” You ask, your brows knitted together. “I do, you know I do. I just want to be able to grow my career before we have any. You know that.”

“What career?”

You start to feel your chest getting tighter.

“What?”

“You sit at a computer a few times a week. How is that stopping you from having a baby?”

You can feel your eyes starting to sting, not being able to remember a time where Rafe said something so hurtful to you.

“Rafe…” You start.

He shrugs his shoulders. “It sounds like an excuse to me.”

You shake your head, eyes getting glassy.

“Just because you got promoted, doesn’t mean you get to tell me my job doesn’t mean anything.” Rage runs through your voice. “And I hate to say it, but you only have that job for one reason. At least I got my job through my own hard work.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, regret fills you.

Somehow his eyes harden even more as he steps closer to you.

“You mean the job you barely get any money from?” He asks, getting closer until you have no choice but to step back, your body hitting the wall behind you. “Remind me, who paid for this house? Or for your clothes? Or for-for that stupid soap you insist on ordering from France?”

He’s almost spitting in your face as you feel your shoulders dig into the wall.

“Who paid for all of that?” His voice is loud as he asks again, his fingers still flexing and unflexing as you look up at him with tearful eyes.

It feels like an eternity before you answer.

“Your father,” you rasp out.

You watch in fear as he takes a step back from you, his breathing getting rougher before his fist collides with the wall next to your head.

You flinch, moving your face away as you feel his arm almost graze you.

Tears fall freely from your eyes as he tries to steady his breathing, glancing at his red knuckles.

Finally, you see the realization hit him, his eyes softening at your cowering figure right next to the hole in the wall he made.

“Y/N-.” He begins, stepping closer to you.

“Don’t,” you yell, holding up a hand and stopping him.

He tries to say something, but you speak instead.

“Just go away,” you urge him, and after a moment, he does, leaving you at the scene of the crime.

Tags:

@fangirlwithlou @thebuttofcaptainamerica @lovedetlost @kkmstblog @whorefordrew @gillybear17 @alinaharlow @coriellesmarya

Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist for this series!

[onlyhuis]

the king's gambit: en passant (teaser)

member | seungcheol x f reader teaser genre | angst (kinda), enemies to lovers series genre | smut, angst, fluff, happy ending; one-sided enemies to lovers, mafia boss!cheol, ceo!cheol, sugar daddy!cheol word count | this teaser - 0.7k; full fic - tbd (estimated 25k+) synopsis | Millionaire CEO Choi Seungcheol has never relied on anybody: not his parents, not his friends, no one. The only person that’s gotten him through life is himself and the power his name holds. But even now, with everything he could ever want at his fingertips, his life lacks purpose… until he meets you. teaser warnings | mention of alcohol series warnings | murder, gun violence; poisoning; kidnapping/hostages; mentions of blood; descriptions of sex workers/sexual acts for money; unprotected sex, BDSM elements; mentions of food and alcohol; warnings are subject to change as i continue writing! notes | this is a very short teaser for the 95z collab i'm doing called the king's gambit! there is no completion date for this yet as i'm still working on it (and struggling quite a bit— plot is not my usual thing lol). i've got a solid 13.1k down for now, which is by far the longest i've ever written, and there have been a lot of challenges getting to this point but i'm so excited to give you a little snippet of what's to come! once it's completed i will also be posting this fic on ao3 for readers who find that platform easier to use. i hope you enjoy, and if you do, don't forget to add yourself to the taglist for more updates!!

collab masterlist • taglist form • my ao3

it’s no surprise that seungcheol finds himself back at the casino, making his way over to the bar.

there’s not as many people in the casino at this hour of the morning as there were last night, but even still, most of the machines are full and a few of the blackjack tables are crowded with people eagerly awaiting their turn to waste away all their money.

you scoff when you see him sit down at your end of the bar. “damn, you look rough, mr. choi.” he hates the way his name sounds in your mouth, sarcastic and cruel. he hates that you don’t even know him, yet you already think you have him figured out. “did you have another long and tiring morning of partying?”

he growls under his breath but lets the comment slide, not wanting to do any more fighting today. he’s had enough of it as it is. “if you make me a bone dry martini i’ll give you a thousand dollars, right now.”

“of course, sir. anything for the vip paying customer.”

he sighs, pulling out his phone and setting it on the counter. “if you drop the snarky comments i’ll make it five thousand.”

you pause, the bottle of vodka in your hand. he sounds genuinely exhausted, and you almost feel a little bad for him. you don’t doubt that he has that much to spend, but that much money just for you to stop berating him seems a little extreme. “coming right up,” you say softly, grabbing a glass from the sparkling silver rack. “and you can keep the money.”

you finish pouring the drink and set it on the counter with a cocktail napkin, and he pulls out a thick stack of crisp hundred dollar bills from his wallet. you try to refuse him again, but he slaps the bills down, grabbing your hand and placing it on top of the money so you can’t pull away.

after a second he lets go of you, picking up his drink instead. “i’ll transfer the rest to your account today. go buy something useful.”

you look up at him with wide eyes. “mr. choi, that’s really very generous of you, but i don’t think—”

but cheol interrupts you, sighing again. “just keep it. don’t argue with me. please.”

you study him for a second, noticing for the first time the dark circles under his eyes and the way his hair is mussed like he keeps running his fingers through it. you nod silently, sliding the bills off the counter and pocketing them in your blouse pocket.

cheol’s eyes watch your movements closely, studying you in return. “don’t you have a safer place to hide that? casinos can be a dangerous place.”

you almost want to tell him, what on earth would he know about danger, but you bite your tongue and keep it to yourself. he’s had a long enough day on his own, it seems like; he doesn’t need to hear about all the times you’ve been catcalled and harassed, just inside his own casino. though, even if you did, he doesn’t seem like the type to care.

you shove the cash in your drawer beneath the bar and cheol nods, downing the rest of his drink with surprising ease, considering how strong it is. he sets the now empty cocktail glass down, wincing a little before he slides off of his stool and starts to walk away, leaving without another word.

“wait!”

he stops and turns around, waiting. 

you freeze, standing there in silence. you hadn’t expected him to stop. you don’t even know why you’ve stopped him. to ask him if he’s okay? clearly he’s not. to tell him to be… happier? to cheer up? you sigh. this was stupid. “nevermind, i’m sorry. have a nice day, mr. choi.”

he gives you a halfhearted smile and a wave. “yeah. you too.”

you watch him walk away, shoulders hunched and suit wrinkled. you can’t help but be curious about what he’s been up to that’s made him so exhausted, and you begin to wonder if maybe there might be more to this millionaire ceo than you first thought.

> no taglist since this is just a teaser; but, you can join the main taglist here!

> please consider reblogging + leaving feedback! this is the first time i've attempted a longer story like this and it has proven incredibly difficult for me, but knowing you guys are equally as excited for it as i am helps me stay motivated to keep going :)

[nerdieforpedro]

A New Tradition with Frankie

Frankie "Catfish" Morales x GN reader

Fanfiction rating: Teens and up

My blog overall is 18+ MDNI

Masterlist / Frankie “Catfish” Morales Masterlist

Summary: An adventure in baking leads to fun and laughter at your expense. But in the end, his smile is what matters.

Warnings: likely bad baking directions, jokes in very poor taste, cursing, Frankie having fun at your expense, domestic fluff

Notes: I wanted to give Frankie some fluff. In my previous Frankie Fridays, I've been having that man work through his trauma. He needed some pure fluff and laughs. I did look up how to make gingerbread cookies but unlike many of the wonderful baking posts by @avastrasposts I have no idea what I’m doing. 😆 I made a post yesterday about what my chocolate chip cookies looked like and I cannot be trusted with an oven.

Word Count: approx. 1.2K

The directions had been clear and you read them twice before starting. You even tailored your shopping list to them and had double checked you had all the ingredients two days ago. Why do they all look like piles of lumpy dirt?

Now the ginger, cinnamon, brown sugar, molasses give it the brown color which makes sense. The wet ingredients you added after the dry because that’s what they always did on one of your favorite shows ‘Nailed it!’ and you made fun of the bakers who dumped everything in at once. You swear you’re not like them. You promise. 

The dough sat in the fridge for two and a half hours. The minimum was two but you were checking emails on your phone and lost track of time. A rolling pin was bought for this, you hadn’t owned one, never needed one but you got one. A good one not from the dollar store, but from Target. Rolled out the dough, shaped the little gingerbread cookies, set the oven to 350 degrees and put them in, rotating them halfway so they would bake evenly. The cookies had been rising and rising and maybe they rose a bit too much, but maybe it would fall like a cake. They all rise and fall right?

But now, these cookies mock you, they’re huge, puffy, oblong. Not the cute circles you’d cut out less than 30 minutes ago. What can you do with them?

“Hermosa (gorgeous), I’m home. Benny lost to the Raz guy again. He’s really got to train harder.” Your husband walked in, setting his keys in the dish by the door and slipping his boots off. He was making his way to the kitchen. You threw a dish towel over the cookies in a vain attempt to hide them. He’s a pilot whose job it is to keep track of minute details that can disrupt a flight plan. You’re not hiding anything. 

“Hey Frankie. Benny lost again? Maybe he should take a break for a bit like you said.” You smiled, your fingers nervously tapping your thigh. He was scanning you and the room.

“Hermosa. What’s under the cloth? This isn’t the day you murder me for wearing shoes inside the house is it?” He laughed moving toward you and those abominations called cookies. 

“No. And I mention one time how I don’t like dirt tracked in the house and you go right to murder Morales. Jeez.” You crossed your arms in false offense before pulling him close to you by his arms. “You have to pay the toll, you know. Just gonna walk in this house and think you don’t. Mighty full of yourself sir.” You grinned and placed a soft peck on his lips. Frankie smiled and put an arm around your shoulders, deepening the kiss before stepping back, holding the dishcloth.

“I’m a man who pays his debts.” He took one look at the oversized cookies and doubled over in laughter. “Hermosa no, baby why? These are the gingerbread cookies you talked about? They look like…like..”

“Don’t say it…” You covered your ears. You’d hear him anyways, but it didn’t stop you from being mortified that he saw them and what you both knew they looked like.

“Like what came out of Santi’s dog after he gave him that kibble with the extra fiber..!” Frankie continued to bellow with glee, clumsy stepping back. Your hands went from your ears to your hips, face burning with annoyance but also glee that he was able to laugh so freely. It used to be difficult to get a chuckle out of the man when he wasn’t with his brothers in arms. 

“I used to like you Frankie. Damn it.” At this point, you’re biting your lips to hold back your own laugh. Morales is red in the face, starting to wheeze.

“Hermosa, you know I love you.” Despite his eyes starting to water, he’s stepping toward you, in an effort to get away from him, you move to the other side of the table when he easily uses his long legs to intercept and catch you from behind, nuzzling his chin in your neck while still chuckling. “I love you and your shity looking cookies.”

“You’re lucky, you’re cute and I’m a sucker for men who like my shity looking cookies.”

You finally gave in and giggled in his arms as he rocked you from side to side.

“Did you try them? Are they edible?” He asked, waddling back over to the cookies with you.

“I hadn’t tried them yet. I was so taken with what they looked like.” You admitted. 

The both of you agreed to break a cookie in half to try. Now standing side by side, you counted to three and bit into the cookie. It was warm, fluffy and actually tasted sweet. Like gingerbread.

“Damn mi vida (my life), they look horrible, but taste great. This is your first time making them right?” Frankie asked, chewing it and downed the other half. He kissed your forehead, leaving a few crumbs from his patchy beard which you brushed off your head. 

“Yeah. I wanted to try and make a tradition for us, and surprise you. I guess I did both. Not exactly how I planned though.” You finished your half of the cookie as well, licking your lips. Proud that you did at least make something that tasted good. In the midst of studying the cookies, you saw a glint of something. Turning, Frankie had pulled out his phone and was snapping pictures of the cookies. “Morales! Don’t you dare!” You lunged in an effort to grab his phone from him, he put his hands up and out of your reach.

“I gotta save the memory of these cookies! You understand mi vida?” That booming laugh of his returned as his hands snaked around your sides. You twisted your mouth, determined to let him know that you weren’t ok with him taking pictures of your baking disaster. But he was laughing so much more, more than he had been in months.

“Just don’t send them to the guys. Please Francisco.” His smile curved into a grin.

“I’m Francisco now? Well maybe I should, since I’ve been downgraded to Francisco.” He touched his prominent nose to yours, rubbing it slightly. It tickled and you drew back before rubbing yours against his. 

“I just called you by your name. I’m serious. Don’t. Benny still calls me Baby Legs from when I did shots with you guys.” Morales bites his bottom lips before digging his face into your shoulder, you feel the vibrations of his laughter on your skin.

“I know, I know.” He assured you when he picked his head back up, he put his phone in his pocket and placed his palm on your cheek. “Next time we’ll bake them together, alright mi amor (my love)? We’ll make it a tradition like you said.” You both took another look at the bloated cookies and laughed together, echoing so the neighbors could hear if they chose to.

Tag List:

@fhatbhabie @morallyinept @pedritapascal @pascalsanctuary @nissaimmortal @grogusmum @theywhowriteandknowthings @beefrobeefcal @goodwithcheese @iamasaddie @psychedelic-ink @megamindsecretlair @pamasaur @pedrodascal @marcus-is-my-muse @clawdee @mintypossum @trulybetty @perotovar @joelslegalwhre @josephquinnswhore @mandoisapunk @secretelephanttattoo @for-a-longlongtime @tessa-quayle @legendary-pink-dot @sin-djarin @maggiemayhemnj @rhoorl @magpiepillsjunior @intoanotherworld23 @linzels-blog @joelmillers-whore @guelyury @laurfilijames @missladym1981 @pamasaur @alltheglitterandtheroar @din-djarins-riduur @daddy-dins-girl @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @yorksgirl @saturn-rings-writes @gwendibleywrites @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @undercoverpena @musings-of-a-rose @gnpwdrnwhiskey

[muertawrites]

False Pretenses (Eddie Munson x Reader)

Summary: eddie accidentally finds out a secret you've been keeping about your friendship. cuteness ensues.

Read Time: 5 mins

Warnings: the devil's lettuce, idiots to lovers, robin having better game than the guys

Author's Note: everyone is aged up by a few years. this came to me out of nowhere and i thought it was too cute not to write

"What do you mean you don't smoke weed?"

The entire house seems to go still, Robin and Steve staring at you with wide eyes. Eddie stands at the foot of the stairs, holding the case of liquor he went to retrieve from his van, parked in the driveway of Steve's parents' house.

"Hanging out in the basement, just like old times"! Except you forgot about the tiny little secret you've had for years - the entire reason you're in this basement in the first place.

Eddie crosses the room and flops down on the couch in front of you, tossing the hefty box of booze he's holding into Steve's lap (which he receives with a pained "oof"). He crosses his arms, leaning his elbows on his knees, eyeing you like one of the many Hawkins police officers who busted him for possession in his youth.

"You bought from me for five years," he states. "That's how we met."

It is how you met. Your senior year of high school (his second time around), you made your way to the picnic table in the woods just beyond the campus grounds and asked the eccentric metalhead you'd stared at every day for the past three years for a gram of his cheapest weed. He taught you how to grind the buds, to roll a joint, to hide the smell so you didn't get caught; he then took ten dollars of your babysitting money (seeing as it was your first time) and every week for the next year, you met him in that same spot and bought the same strain at the same amount.

When you graduated and went to college a few hours away, it became once a month. When a portal to hell opened up and killed one of his customers, and you were the one aggressive enough to get Hawkins PD to investigate further and stop suspecting him of murder, he started giving you anything you wanted for free.

And even though you never smoked it, just gave it away to friends or crushed it up in the garbage disposal, you still took it because it meant you got to see him. To hang out with him. To laugh with him and listen to his demo tapes and talk about anything at all that came to mind. Of course, your friendship got to the point where you didn't have to conduct business to be able to see him, but the routine was nice. It was only when you both moved to the city and he got a better paying job that you stopped buying from him, because he was no longer selling.

The weekly hangouts still continue, though. They've become too much a part of your lives to stop, especially when you still live so close to one another.

You give him a bashful smile, unable to hide the mortification blazing across your cheeks.

"Well... I sort of had a crush on you in high school," you admit. "And I wanted a reason to introduce myself and get to know you. So... I bought weed from you. Even though I don't like to smoke it."

Eddie stares at you for a long moment, his eyes flicking over your features as if he's trying to figure you out for the first time all over again. Then he huffs an exasperated sigh, standing so he can pull his wallet out of his back pocket and rifle through the bills inside. He holds a stack of twenties out to you.

"I'll give you the rest later," he mutters.

You don't take the cash. Instead you look up at him with a furrowed brow.

"Eddie, no, you don't owe me," you tell him.

"Yes I do," he quips. "You spent hundreds of bucks on drugs you didn't use just so we could hang out? Of fucking course I owe you! How the fuck else am I supposed to pay you back?"

"You could take her on a date," Robin suggests.

Your heads snap towards her, shocked. She rolls her eyes.

"Oh come on," she groans. "You're the only two idiots in the world who can't see you've got it bad for each other. Eddie, that groupie at your show last week was practically in your pants by the end of the night, but you didn't take her home because she wasn't the girl you wanted. I was the one who ended up taking her home."

Steve leans over and gives her a little fist bump. You turn back to Eddie.

"... Is that true?" you wonder. "I'm the reason you don't hook up? Don't date?"

Eddie shrugs, his turn to be embarrassed.

"I mean... yeah," he confesses. "I don't really wanna fuck anyone but you."

His eyes bulge, realizing the implications of his words.

"But I also don't wanna date anyone but you!" he quickly clarifies, words spilling out in a rush so that they're crammed together. "You're so pretty and funny and tough and I just... I dunno. You're my best friend. Nobody really compares to you."

If three sets of eyes weren't watching you so intently, you might have let yourself cry. You take a deep breath, reaching up for Eddie's hand; he takes it, lowering himself onto the floor in front of you. His fingers are shaking.

"... Will you be my person?" you ask.

His features break into a smile, that same gorgeous grin you fell so hard for as a freshman in high school. Nobody compares to him, either.

"Sure," he agrees. "... Even though you lured me in under false pretenses."

You smack at his arm and he laughs, reaching out to wrap you in a tight, loving hug. You melt into his touch, burying your face in his shoulder and savoring the feel of his body against yours. Just as it should be.

"Eddie confessed first," Robin says to Steve. "You owe me twenty bucks."

"Nuh-uh, no way," Steve argues. "She told him she had a crush on him in high school and you manipulated him into talking. You owe me twenty bucks."

"Hold on, wait," Eddie interjects, breaking your hug to look at them. "You took a bet on our relationship?"

"We've been doing it since the spring before you graduated," Steve tells him. "We thought for sure you'd finally get laid after you almost died."

Eddie snatches an empty beer can off the nearby coffee table and lobs it at Steve's head, which starts a wrestling match that ends with Eddie straddling him, holding him in a headlock and demanding Steve concede and admit he gets more opportunities for action, despite turning them down.

Yep. Just like old times.

[icannot3]

Menstrual Dilemma

(Frat) Kyle Spencer x reader

Word count: 1k

Warnings: talks of periods? Kyle buys you pads lmao. That's the plot.

Taglist: @taintandviolent (comment if you'd like to be added!)

....................

Excruciating pain was all you could feel. It left you doubled over, rolled in a tight ball and rocking around in agony. Your arms squeezed your abdomen tightly, short-lived waves of relief feeling like the holy grail before your ovaries once again continued their monthly, almost murderous routine. It was as if a knife had been stabbing you aggressively from the inside. The pain- along with other symptoms of inconvenience, such as headaches and nausea, had made you an uncrossable force not to be reckoned with. Being in far too much anguish to move, you'd sent Kyle to assist you.

Kyle deeply considered himself a gentleman. He'd do just about anything for his little lady. But when given the task of fetching you menstrual products, the job was perplexing - to say the least. Not only did he not have any deep knowledge about the use of these products, but he also had no idea where to find them. You'd told him to grab pads. After a painful amount of time scanning through the aisles of the nearest grocery store, refusing to ask for any help, he'd finally found the brightly lit women's care section. Before he entered, he did a quick loop around, making sure no one was close enough to see him enter. He felt a bit flustered being near the products in plain sight.

Finally, he'd made it in. His eyes scanned over the very large selection organized across the shelves. From what he'd gathered by looking at them, there were seemingly infinite options. The variety amazed him, really. The pads alone had so many sizes, but then there were just as many tampons up for selection. His hand trailed across the shelves, noticing a small box with bright purple packaging. The label read "menstrual cup", he'd flipped around the small cardboard box with curiosity. His eyebrow cocked up quizzically after seeing the product. Kyle's mind raced with endless questions. How did that even stay in there? Why would someone leave that inside of them? Did it hurt? Fairly astonished, he set the box back in its rightful place and made a mental note to ask you about that later. Regaining his original focus, he went back to the task at hand. He needed pads, right. He looked back at the intimidating selection, attempting to choose the best option.

He tried his hardest. He really did. But he truly had no clue what he was getting into when he accepted your request. He picked up one smaller package that seemed to lay in the middle flow-wise, gathering that it was the safest option. Kyle looked at the price tag from where it sat. Almost ten fucking dollars? For a medical necessity? His eyes widened like saucers, disturbed by the ridiculous cost of just a fancy cotton ball. He'd finally felt a small ounce of feminine rage and frustration over these matters. It was outrageous. Even the ones that weren't name brands were ridiculous. And the large packages for people with heavy flows? Screw that. Kyle gathered that if he had a period, at this rate, he'd shove a washcloth down there and call it a day.

His head snapped over, alarmed at the sound of a shopping cart. A mother had walked into the aisle with him. She had a small child in her cart as she browsed the selection. She looked at the prices, comparing them with her pointer finger whilst letting out a defeated sigh. Kyle understood, watching her try and look through the cheaper generic brands at the bottom. He still felt unsure about his choice. Putting all embarrassment aside, he got her attention.

"Is this stuff good? I'm here for my girlfriend." He showed her the pads he selected, desperate for help of some kind. She smiled kindly at him, nodding her head. "Yes, they don't have wings, though. You may want to ask her if that's what she prefers?" His brows furrow, he continues to grow confused over yet another technicality.

"What are wings?" He politely asks her. She giggles, pointing at another products photo. She gives a brief explanation, telling him about the benefits. Gratefully, he nods, grabbing that one as well. Just in case.

When he greeted you at his return to your shared apartment, just seeing you bundled up filled him with an immense amount of guilt. Not only did you have to deal with these ridiculous prices, but you were suffering. He set the bag next to you, pulling your exhausted form into his arms. You greeted him happily, pulling him into a tight embrace.

"How do you feel?" He inquires, rubbing small circles into the small of your back. You took a deep breath, soaking in his warmth. "Better, the cramps are starting to fade since I took my medicine. Were you able to find the pads?" He gives you a small smile, nodding his head in response. "A really nice woman helped me pick some out." You laughed, shaking your head at the thought of him getting advice on periods from a complete stranger. He found you precious, looking absolutely beautiful, snuggled into his chest. His fingers twirled through your hair and brushed your soft locs. Kyle, in that moment, vowed to always be as understanding and sympathetic towards you and any woman who complained about their monthly. He felt disgusted from his lack of knowledge alone.

He tapped your shoulder, silently asking you to face him. You hummed, eyes catching his own. "I have a question." He placed a kiss to your brow. You tilted your head, ready to answer whatever it was.

"Do you use menstrual cups?"

[beigehearts]

This is a random smut post I was thinking about… was debating posting this on my main since I haven’t been on in so long or on my private account… but anyway.

Two heroes unlikely to be friends, find a shared interest that brings them to work closely together. Had you only noticed the signs sooner, you wouldn’t be in this position. Aren’t you supposed to be a great villain?

Yan!Hawks/Reader/Yan!All Might

CW: violence, murder, animal death, blood, PTSD, gore, drugging, stalking, noncon, breeding, double penetration, size kink, knotting, forced pregnancy (mentioned)

The quirk to pull things from thin air, something not many have inherited. But it’s not like you’re magically creating things, you’re simply pulling items from different points in time and space for whenever and whatever you need. You imagine it as your backpack sort of, it took a long time to expand the size of your magical backpack but you managed to turn it almost into an endless void.

“The villain is here!” A cop yells out and is followed by the pounding of armored footsteps. You have about twenty seconds before they reach you. Todays mission? Freeing a high security prisoner for a high price. Why? You don’t know, and you don’t care. You do a job and get paid.

You touch your pointer and thumb together and feel out the timeline to see who has a thumb print for the lock. No typical guards have it but… the warden does. You pull a pair of bolt cutters from your backpack and find the wardens location, which is in the downstairs office. With a quick snip and a yell that you can hear through the floors, you now have the key to the lock.

You pull the thumb from your backpack and press it against the lock, blood and all. It beeps and turns green, and the door opens up. A monster lays in the corner with a collar and shackles, staring up at you with a blood thirsty grin. You toss the thumb to the monster and it gobbles up the flesh in one bite. You pry off the locks with the jaws of life you have in your backpack and lean down low to the furry ear to whisper,

“Go get ‘em’ Fido.”

With no hesitation the monster jumps to attention, and sprints from the dark cell. Men and women scream as they’re mauled and ripped apart limb by limb. Bullets ricochet off of the creatures fur and fires back at the officers, turning the prison into a giant blood bath.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you pick it up, “He’s headed your way. Just having a snack first.” You answer with.

There’s a small chuckle on the other side of the phone, “Very well. I’m depositing the other half of your pay into your account now. Exactly fifty million dollars, and fifty cents.”

“Pleasure doing with business with you.” The line clicks and you drop the phone on the ground, standing up and crushing it beneath your boot heel. There can be no evidence.

You lean down once more and grab the SIM card, pulling out a pair of scissors and snipping it up into pieces.

After your long day you headed home to your luxury apartment and your favorite being in the world, your dog. He’s a big Doberman who always greets you at the door and always wants to cuddle. And on cue, you hear him whimpering before you even enter your apartment. The moment you open the door he starts wagging his butt in the air and drooling everywhere. He follows you around the apartment as you decompress and get ready for bed.

He waits outside of the bathroom door as you shower and brush your teeth, watches you obediently as you pour food in his bowl, and lays down next to you once you settle in bed. The same routine you do every single night. You wrap an arm around him after setting your phone on the nightstand and let out a sigh. You know you’ll never get a peaceful sleep with the horrors that replay in your head every time you close your eyes… but at least you know you’ll get a safe sleep with your beloved Doberman, Kevin.

Your eyes shut, and it begins again, the never ending nightmare. Faces that have been torn apart, blown apart, and pounded in stare back at you. All of the people you’ve murdered with your bare hands. Their eyes judge you in a seething way. When you shut your eyes it’s like where ring another labyrinth with more and more of them. Each time they get closer and closer. If you try to hold your eyes open they force themselves shut as if you have no control. Each time their gazes grow closer.

Until finally, one stands face to face with you. He bends his neck down so that he can get a better look, his eyelids have been burned off and no longer shut, making his gaze that much more intense. His hair has been ripped out at the roots and you remember the man you first murdered. The man who killed your baby sister. While looking at his battered remains of a face strikes terror in you, it also reignites the rage you had once felt.

He leans in closer and the stench of blood assaults your senses. It’s so heavy, the smell of so much iron makes you nauseous. No wait… this isn’t a smell you’re imaging. It’s real.

You jolt up in your bed and sweat trickles down your barely clothed body. Glancing down you notice that your tank top and panties are drenched in sweat. But that smell is what’s worse than this feeling of being on fire. Quickly you move to rest a hand on Kevin but your hand meets the comforters instead. Where did he go?

The bedroom door is wide open, and you never leave that door open. In the doorway is Kevin’s chain collar, only visible by the moonlight between the curtains. It’s as if the collar has been placed there purposefully, to taunt you. The smell was so overwhelming you hadn’t realized that its eerily quiet, so much so that you can hear your own heartbeat. You reach for your phone on the nightstand but that doesn’t seem to be in its place either.

Fuck, you’re going to have to go out there. All you can do is find something to protect yourself. You’re a well trained and skilled fighter so why are you so scared right now? You stand from your bed quietly and reach into your backpack, grabbing a pistol with a silencer on it, already loaded. You’d be an idiot if you weren’t prepared while being in the line of work you are.

You hold it straight out, arm slightly bent, finger on the trigger and ready to fire. You approach the door and peek around the corner to look in the hall. No one’s in the hall and all of the bedroom doors are shut. As you tip toe through the hall and out the stairs that overlook your living room, the stench of blood gets stronger.

Taking your first step down the stairs you make sure to disperse your wait as evenly as possible to avoid making noise. But your efforts are futile when your toes step in something thick, wet, and warm. You slip down the stairs and tumble all the way to the bottom until your back collided with the wall and knocks all of the air from your lungs.

Still holding the gun tightly you gasp for air and try to focus your gaze through the haze and dizziness. The back of your head and your entire spine screams in pain but you can’t just lay here. You try to stand up, slipping in the process but managing to get to your feet. Why is there so much of this liquid in the floor? You bring your hand to your face to examine the liquid… why is there so much blood in your home?

You reposition so you can shoot on sight now and walk more carefully. There’s nobody here, and not a single sound to guid you… only a blood trail leading you to the dining room. Turning the corner you see something worse than any nightmare you’ve ever had.

Laying on the table, is Kevin. But you don’t even need to check if he’s alive, because he’s been disemboweled. His intestines trails from his stomach and onto the ground, organs slowly slipping out on a blood trail. What absolute monster would touch your dog? What fucking monster? You’re going to have their head on a pla-

There’s only the sound of a tiny gust of wind from behind you, but you’re far too slow to turn around and face it. Two large arms wrap around you, joined by a pair of large red wings. In less than the blink of an eye, you’re sitting on the couch, held against your assailant. One of your assailants.

Before you can even try to lift your hand with the pistol, the man’s hand grips yours tightly until you hear something crack. But you’d never give the satisfaction of screaming, and instead, drop the gun. It’s not like you don’t have more.

You begin moving your fingers to press your thumb and pointer together but he’s still faster. His large hand grips your thumb, tugging on it loud with a loud popping sound. In less than thirty second he had effectively dislocated the thumb that controls your quirk in its entirety. Not even police had figured that out yet… these assailants have done their research.

You’re snapped out of your thoughts when a large shadow envelops you. You look up, feeling your heart pound when you see who has taken part in the ambush of your home. “You are mighty intelligent. I have to give it you.” His voice is deep with a bass that resonates in your chest.

Voice trembling, you manage, “Why are you here All Might?”

He chuckles and leans down on one knee, still managing to be a good half a foot taller than you and he whispers, “Did you not hear me on the news? I said I’d be coming for you, the shadow of the night.”

He stands back up and your gaze follows, he sighs and crosses his arms, “I never thought I’d have such a hard time just finding a villain. You take a lot of precaution in hiding your identity. And your operations are so fast, that you’re just a shadow in the night…”

The man holding you who had been so quiet you’d almost forgotten he was, leans in close and whispers, “You underestimated how fast a hawk can be.”

The pounding in your chest starts up again and finally your fight or flight response kicks in. Adrenaline rushes through your veins and you quickly try to find a solution. With adrenaline pumping you won’t feel pain, so you’ll just force yourself to touch your thumb to your finger.

You smash your hand into the side of your thigh, pressing the tips of your fingers together and producing a knife. The only weapon that can get you out of a situation like this. You dig the blade deep into the hero’s thigh and he hisses out in pain, not budging. Once you manage to get your blade out you go in for another stab but you’re stopped in your tracks.

A large hand grabs your wrist and the other grips your pointer finger and thumb in one hand, you’re unable to even think about pulling out another weapon because the gaze of all might puts your body into so much panic that you freeze.

“You can pull out all the weapons you want.” His voice gets lower, “You’ll never be able to escape us.” In just a moment, he quickly pulls your thumb and finger all the way back, there’s a loud crack and with every single millimeter of those bones broken, you can’t help but let out a cry.

You’ve never felt something so painful. To have a gunshot wound is one thing, but to have every single spot in multiple bones completely shattered is something unimaginable. It’s as if they’ve been ground into a dust.

“Obviously she isn’t going to behave, she stabbed me for fucks sake.” Hawks says to the larger man as you waver in and out of consciousness.

“I guess you’re right, and she’ll probably wake up pretty quickly if she passes out like this.”

With the okay now, the man holding you quickly grabs a plastic baggy with a cloth in it, pulls it out and presses it firmly against your nose and mouth, with your one free and you try to rip his hand off of you but with your useless fingers waving around like limp sausages, it’s no use.

The drugs the cloth has been doused in kicks in not too long after, engulfing you in a warm sleep, one without nightmares.

Head is pounding… body searing in pain… and you can’t feel your fingers. You peel your eyes open that have been crusted shut and analyze your surroundings. You’re on a strangely large bed with large comforters on top of you. The large windows have tape over them so you can’t see in or out. There’s a television mounted on the wall with a small plain couch facing it. This room seems fairly nice at first glance.

Ignoring the pain in your body, you lift your arm from the sheets and look to examine your fingers. They’ve been completely bandaged along with the rest of your hand and wrist. They did take a pretty bad blow. While you could unwrap them and force yourself to press your fingers together, you’re a bit scared to see what they look like since you can’t even feel them.

Standing up right now seems unimaginable, probably the pain from falling down the stairs that you were to adrenaline filled to feel. The remote is laying next to you on the comforter and with your good hand you turn on the television. It’s set to the news and you set the remote back down to listen. It’s five days since the attack according to the corner of the screen.

While watching television seems like the dumbest thing you could be doing right now… what else are you supposed to do? You can’t walk, and you can’t use your quirk… you’re basically defenseless.

“Mr. All Might sir! There has been an incredible drop in crime for the past few days. Some say that you’ve even apprehended The Shadow! Is it true?” The reports all quiet down to hear the hero’s answer. The camera focuses on his face and you notice a dark flint in his eyes that you’ve never noticed before. While you may be a villain it doesn’t mean you didn’t admire heroes. You’ve seen All Might plenty of times on tv but never noticed this darkness behind his eyes.

The hero breaks the silence with a loud guffaw, “We have not apprehended The Shadow! The Shadow must be scared after seeing my most recent showdown!”

Another reporter chimes in, “Do you have anything to say to the infamous Shadow?”

All Might takes a moment to think, and averts his gaze straight into the camera. With the darkness you had saw in his eyes now dripping into his voice he says, “Wherever you run, wherever you hide. I will find you.”

There’s a small thud on the bed next to you and you practically jump out of your skin. Sitting there, so casually and relaxed, is the man who killed your dog, restrained you, and chloroformed you.

“Finally awake? I was starting to get worried, you’ve been out for days birdy~.” The man pulls his legs up on the bed and turns to face you, “You can’t worry us like that. Okay?” He coos in such a charming way that it almost makes you want to say okay.

“Get lost chicken.” You bite back.

He chuckles and places his finger on your lips, pushing at them as if he’s enjoying it. “I know you’re probably confused, but you’ll understand in time.”

You bite at his finger and with his lightening quick speed he grabs you by your cheeks, fingers digging into your flesh and leaving you unable to talk.

“Maybe I should have elaborated. You’ll understand your place. You’ll understand that you’re nothing more than our brainless wife.”

Wife? Did he say wife? Your eyes go wide and you stare at the winged man in horror. They aren’t going to put you in prison, you’re already in it. This is their fucked up game of house isn’t it? It’s always the men with power who have these fucked up fantasies.

“You figured it out already? You’re pretty smart… I was hoping you’d play dumb a little longer.” He sighs and his bruising grip on your face loosens. “That’s alright, soon enough you’ll be too dumb to understand anything.”

His hand drops form your face and down to your chest. Pulling at the t-shirt that they must have put on you. You ball your left hand up into a tight fist and throw the hardest punch you can muster into the side of his head. But your punch never lands, he grips your fist tightly, and you begin panicking, not wanting to repeat last night.

Hawks furrows his brows and presses your hand into the bed, “I’m going to do you a favor, and keep this hand in tact. I won’t be so kind next time.”

He lifts the pressure off of your hand and sits back on his heels. He shakes his head and another sickening smile stretches on his face, “You’re probably hungry huh? I’ll go make you some breakfast.” He jumps up from the bed and as he leaves he calls out, “Call me Keigo by the way!”

Psychopath. This man is an actual psychopath.

Two more days passed before anything eventful happened. You spent the days laying in bed, eating when given a meal, enduring small talk when he began to threaten you, and sleeping with no dreams at all.

According to the small clock on the nightstand it’s 1:03am. The front door opens and shuts quietly, as if not trying to disturb anyone. There’s some shuffling from the entrance, to the kitchen, and then to your door. You shut your eyes and listen closely as the door to your room opens.

Footsteps approach your bed, but Hawks has heavier footsteps so it can’t be him. You feel your bed sink besides you and a hand begins to pet your hair. “I’m so sorry I haven’t been home princess. I’ve been working on some hard cases lately.”

This voice is deep but so kind and gentle. You open your eyes and see a lanky but tall man with deep sunken eyes looking back at you. “Who are you?”

He chuckles and rests his hand on the side of your face, “I know I look different right now, but you’re smart.”

You analyze him closely and keep finding yourself looking at his eyes. They’re so blue, a deep beautiful blue. “All Might?” You ask, but this time you don’t feel terror gripping your body.

“See? I told you that you’re smart. Oh my smart little princess, how have you been?” He lifts your from your spot as if you weight nothing and sets you down on his lap, cradling you as if you’re a child.

“Oh uh… my body hurts.” You mutter. Still on guard, but knowing that fighting him will help nothing if it really is All Might.

He smiled weekly and places a kiss on your forehead. “I’m sorry darling. I had to make sure you would be good and come home with us.”

Come home with us? Your theory of this being them playing house is confirmed. You shake your head and place your battered hand on his chest, pushing him back slightly. “All Might can I as-“

“My name is Toshinori, call me Toshi.” He interrupts, still smiling.

“Ah, okay Toshi…” you take a deep breath, “Why did you bring me here? How did you bring me here?”

He nods and pulls you back to his chest, preventing you from pushing back, “Of course Princess.”

He repositions do that he’s laying down and you’re resting on his chest, his arms holding you to him tightly but not painfully.

“Never had I ever seen any crimes committed so gracefully. It’s as if someone could teleport into these high security building or you could appear from the shadows. That’s why I gave you that nickname.” He hums and one of his hands lowers to you waist, gripping it roughly but still not painfully. “I couldn’t even find you on CCTV. So I studied your crimes and while I was in the middle of it, someone approached me. He told me that he had also been searching for you, and he was going to go crazy if he couldn’t apprehend the shadow. I’ve never seen him so riled up about something work related. And never in a million years did I expect him to come to me for help.”

He massaged circles into your waist and his other hands plays with your hair. “For months we studied you and your varying patterns. And after finally applying the pattern to the right crime, you fell right into our trap. That entire building was lined wall to wall with cameras. Not only that, Keigo was there.”

For months they had tailed you and you had no idea? I’m the many years you’ve been in this line of work, no one has ever even gotten a sniff of you before. “He took photos as you set that mutant monster free. The one that has murdered more than two thousand people. He had been waiting in the only air vent on top, with his phone camera recording, and eyes watching.”

To know that he had been there, in arms reach, terrifies you.

“It took us so long to figured out where you lived. Because after you did your job, it’s as if you turned into thin air. Keigo said you left the room, and then you were no where to be found. But of course we already knew where you lived by then. One of your exes had loose lips after we cut off his ears.” He chuckles, “Oh man he sure did sing.”

They both must be completely insane. Is it the pressure of being a hero? Or something they were born with? Regardless, these men are completely insane.

“After we finally got our first glimpse of you, we both fell in love. Though to say we already hadn’t fallen in love by the true beauty of your work would be a lie.” He moves his hand from your hair to your cheek, caressing it gently once again, “We’re just so happy you’re finally ours.”

Over time they became more and more affections with only Toshinori to tell Keigo when he’s gone too far. Over time you’ve slowly been fighting this reality that crushes you, yelling at you to just obey. Over time, you have not regained any feeling in your fingers. You have not bothered to use your quirk because the idea of looking at your fingers nauseates you. You don’t even look when they change the bandages.

While the days now seem to be routine, this one would change that monotony. You drag yourself from bed, and into the shower, as you do each and every morning. You brush your teeth and your hair and get dressed. Keigo and Toshinori bought you some makeup since they noticed you always wore it during your missions. Sometimes you wear it and sometimes you don’t. Today you just put mascara and gloss on.

You walk back to your bedroom and stop when in the doorway when you see your bed. The pillows have been rearranged and seemingly multiplied, arranged messily into something resembling a nest. What are they up to this time? They’ve given you multiple presents and surprised to try and cheer you up so this must be one of them.

You walk into the kitchen and Toshinori is standing in a t shirt and sweat pants and a pink frilly apron. He’s cooking something that smells delicious and before sitting down at the island you glance at the front door. You had tried to escape… once. For miles all that surrounds you is forest. No sign of civilization anywhere, and you always seem to end up back at the house. Neither of the heroes even chased you out, they just waited at the door until you tired yourself out and came inside. They forced you to bathe and then cuddled with you on the couch, watching Netflix.

You sit down on the stool and take a sip of the hot coffee and Toshinori had prepared. “Goodmorning Princess, how’d you sleep? Any nightmares?”

Now that you think about it, you haven’t had a single nightmare since you moved in. How would he know about that? It doesn’t matter. They already know you better than you know yourself. “No nightmares… I’m just hungry.”

The sound of wings flapping makes me turn my attention to one of the other bedrooms where Hawks comes out bleary eyes in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs. He enters the kitchen and places a kiss on my forehead before sitting down.

Toshinori scoffs and pours him a cup of coffee. “Could you at least put on some pants?”

Hawks shakes his head, “Nope! You scared our wife is gonna like me more?”

Toshinori pauses but continues plating some omeletes, scones, and assorted fruits. “Not at all, no one wants to see your eggs popping out of your boxers is all.”

Keigo looks down and his face flushes red and he quickly readjusts. “Ah shut up already. I’m hungry.”

You all eat together on the couch and watch some Sunday morning cartoons, their attempt at a regular family weekend.

Out of nowhere your head begins to pound, and you curl over gripping it while moaning. Unbeknownst to you, the two men share a look before tending to you.

Toshinori rubs your back soothingly, “What’s wrong princess?”

Keigo grabs one of your hands in his and kisses the back of it, “Does your head hurt birdy?”

Toshinori nods, “It must be, go get the medicine from the bathroom.”

You groan and Toshinori picks you up and takes you to your bedroom, laying you down gently on the plush bed. Somehow the bed is more comfortable with all of these pillows, you thought it would be lumpy.

Keigo comes in and sits you up a little bit and signals you to open your mouth. You do as your told and he places two pills on your tongue. He helps you wash it down with a glass of water from your nightstand. “Alright birdy why don’t you rest for a bit.”

“If you need anything just call for us okay?” You can barely cling onto his words before passing out without even being able to put up a struggle.

Your whole body aches. It’s as if you’re burning up and your sweat drenches your body. It’s as if there’s fire stemming from your stomach, it’s unbearable. You sit up, ignoring everything in your body begging you to lay down again. You shuffle your legs and there’s a loud wet sound. Looking down you realize not only are you covered in sweat but whatever this slick was that’s pouring from your panties.

It’s the middle of the night now, you slept all day. You turn your head to the door which is slightly ajar, and even darker in the hallway. You would think living with two heroes would provide you with a sense of security especially at night. But it’s nothing like that.

You climb over the pillow mountain and stand up, legs shaking and body trembling. The sweat doesn’t let up, still pouring from your skin. You step out of the room and can hear rain pounding on the roof, followed by the sound of booming thunder. Finally after trailing your hand across the wall you find the thermostat, hoping to turn it down. It’s already at 65… why are you so damn hot?

You struggle towards the bathroom and lean on the sink for support. You open up the medicine cabinet and look through it for some fever reducing medicine. Advil… vitamin C… Heat inducer? You pull the bottle from the cabinet and examine the label.

Heat Inducer for animal morphs

Not made for consumption of beings that are more than 60% human

One drop under the tongue to induce heat for breeding sessions

Had they given you a heat inducer? You’re nowhere close to an animal morph, there’s no telling what it could do to you. You keep looking through the cabinet, desperate for anything to relieve this pain. All you find is a bottle of sleeping tranquilizer pills, making you realize this situation was even more dangerous than you thought.

“Oh Birdy, you should be in bed resting. Unless you’re ready?” He asks with a grin on his face.

“You’re a fucking psychopath.” You spit.

He chortles and shakes his head, “Oh darling, wasn’t that obvious?” He closes the gap with one step and grabs you by your waist, throwing you over his shoulder.

He marches back towards your bedroom but not before making a stop. He knocks on the door it Toshinori’s bedroom and calls out teasingly, “Our little birdy is ready!”

Fuck, you need to get out of this situation fast. You begin unwrapping your numb fingers frantically but squeal when you feel a sharp slap against your pussy.

“You’re so wet birdy! I can’t wait to fill you up.” He picks up his pace and you hurry on unwrapping your fingers. Finally you manage to get it off when you’re thrown across the room and onto the bed.

As Keigo approaches you you grab your finger and thumb with your other hand press then together. Nothing happens. You begin slamming them together, surely rebreaking the bones but you can’t help it as you feel your only hope slip away.

Keigo hovers over you and presses his lips against your ear, “He destroyed all the nerves connecting your fingers to your hand… you’ll never have a quirk again.”

Your body freezes and heart skips a beat. What? This was their plan all along? To strip you of the one thing that gave you power in this world? Every day you realize something worse and worse about them.

Keigo presses his hand flat against your pussy and you scramble to grab it and pry it off. He doesn’t budge, his finger rubbing slowly against your clit, relieving your pain momentarily.

You know the effects of heat, it overwhelms your body until the only thing to take away the feeling happens, sex, and being knotted. You arent going to let this drug take over all of your inhibitions.

You reach one hand up to the back of his head and throw your head forward, head butting him and leaving you with blood dripping down your face. You’re dizzy but still able to gather yourself. Keigo is laying on his side, rubbing his head and groaning.

With perfect timing someone else enters the room. A man you’ve seen every day but something has changed. The lanky man approaches you, and without a word he wraps a hand around your neck and press you back down into the bed. With his other hand he slaps your hard and you even feel your consciousness waver.

He grite his teeth and places a finger under the strap of your panties. “Is that any way to treat your husbands?”

In one fluid motion he rips off your panties and pulls your legs on his shoulders, burying his face in your warmth. Your hands shoot down to his head, gripping his hair, pulling at it and begging.

His long tongue prods at your hole and you buck your hips despite holding back. His tongue trails up to your clit and begins pushing it around with the slick he gathered from your hole. It’s like this burning sensation increases where he touches but soothes every pain in your body.

Two fingers punch your nipples and you squeak, bringing one hand to your mouth to stop your moans. Keigo looks bored as he pinches and pulls at your nipple, “Toshi’, I wanna fuck her already.”

Toshinori lifts his head momentarily, “All right all right, let me just prep her a little okay.”

Before you have time to process their words Toshinori’s tongue is back to torturing your clit. Two long slender finger begins prodding at your hole and you squeal out, “No! Don’t!”

Keigo laughs, “We all know that’s not what you really mean.” He leans down and his mouth latches onto one of your nipples sucking and leaving you shivering. You’ve never felt a pleasure like this before.

The two fingers you had almost forgotten about thrust inside of you without warning, scissoring and poking at your walls. Your hand can’t contain your moan and it echoes throughout the room. He continues fucking you with his fingers and licking and nipping at your clit. That mixed with the sensation of your sore nipples being played with you can’t contain yourself. Your back arches off of the bed and you let out a loud, high pitched moan.

Despite your obvious orgasm, the men don’t let up, in fact they get hungrier. Toshinori pushes Keigo off of you and flips you over with your ass in the air.

“Hey! It’s my turn! I didn’t get to taste her yet!” Keigo barks at Toshinori.

“Fine, but don’t… fuck her yet okay?” The lanky man begrudgingly agrees.

Keigo takes Toshinori’s position and you don’t have time to move with their speed. Keigo lowers his head and stretches his tongue to lick your clit from behind. Your fists grip the sheets and you bury your face in a pillow to hide the lewd sounds you’re making.

His tongue trails up and pokes at your hole, but it doesn’t stop there. It keeps going up until it makes contact with your asshole. You buck forward but two firm hands on your shoulders stop you. You look up see Toshinori on his knees in front of you, “Why don’t you suck on something to help ease the pain?”

You’re not given much of an option, Toshinori pulls out his dick and you find yourself fearful again. This time at the sheer length of his dick, “Don’t worry, just suck the tip okay?”

He presses the tip of his dick in your mouth forcefully and at the same time Keigo presses a finger into your tight add hole and another in your needy pussy.

You try to cry out but the vibrations excite Toshinori more, pressing his dick a little further into your mouth. The taste isn’t great but for some reason right now it addictive, you lick the underside of his shaft and he shivers, pressing his dick back until it presses the back of your throat. Normally you would have thrown up on the spot but with this drug in your system it’s like there’s no resistance at all.

Toshinori begins fucking your face violently while holding your head up by a fistful of hair. Behind you Keigo moves both of his fingers to your asshole, thrusting them in and out, stretching you in a new glorious way.

“Toshi finish up. She’s ready.” Keigo calls out from behind you, removing his fingers and slapping your push again.

The slap holes you forward and Toshinori begins pressing your face all the way into his pubes, leaving you unable to breathe. You thrash around but his pounding doesn’t stop and you feel yourself begin to black out.

Toshinori holds your face against his pubes and his dick twitches in your mouth, and you can feel his hot cum sliding down your throat. He pulls you off of him quickly and flips you over so you’re between his legs, head resting on his chest.

“You’re such a good girl for daddy. It’s time for your present.” He kisses the top of your head and your thoughts become hazy.

Keigo sits between your legs and you feel something heavy slap your pussy a few times. Each time you flinch but can’t find it in yourself to move. You glance down and see Toshinori smiling innocently with his hand gripping his thick dick. It’s curved and far longer than any man should be allowed to have. Putting that in someone would break them.

He slides it between your folds and it dawns on you, he’s going to put that thing in you. You jump up and cling to Toshinori, “Please don’t, please! Its- it will break me!”

They both laugh and Toshinori pets your head, “It’ll just be a tight fit at first that’s all.”

You beg Toshinori to not let Keigo impale you but instead he reassures you that you’ll be fine and holds you against his chest so Keigo can fuck you.

“P-please Kei’… Dont.” You whimper.

Keigo smiled and places a hand on your face gently, “Birdy… You’re mine now. You don’t have a choice.”

He thrusts his dick inside of your pussy, not warning you, and not caring that you’re flailing and crying. The stretch from his girth is so painful but he doesn’t even give you time to adjust, just starts fucking you like an animal.

“Keigo be gentle.” Toshinori protests.

Between heavy breaths and not stopping his thrusting he retorts, “You haven’t felt her yet. So stop talking.”

The pain slowly melts into an overwhelming pleasure. Your screams turn into moans of ecstasy and you can feel drool drip from your lips as you bob around on Keigo’s dick like nothing but a tiny doll. Toshinori reached his hand between the two of you and rubs your clit, not needing lube as your slick has gotten everywhere by now. He rubs tantalizingly slow circles, bringing you close to orgasm but ripping it away when he stops suddenly.

“Fuck I’m gonna cum.” Keigo mutters.

Toshinori begins rubbing circles more vigorously on your clit and you begin to spasm, every muscle in your body freaking out. Keigo grips your waist, nails digging into your sides and wings shivering. Your walls tighten and contract around him, forcing the cum out of him.

His cock literally expands inside of you, sending you into another mini orgasm while being completely overly sensitive. Toshinori keeps rubbing circles and with his other hand he tugs at your nipple.

You can feel it forming. The knot. He keeps trying to thrust but as the knot gets bigger he can only manage small ruts. Then it happens, it all releases inside of you, your walls squeezing and sucking the cum from his dick. He groans as his dick goes back to normal size, and your belly expands, showing just how much cum he fucked into you.

He falls backwards and wipes some sweat off of his forehead, “Give me a few minutes Toshi.”

Toshi nods and you assume it’s over. There’s no way they expect your body to handle anything else. But at the same time, the moment he pulled his dick out of you this burning painful feeling returned. Toshinori lifts you carefully and turns you so that you’re facing him.

“Alright princess, I’ll try to be gentle.” He holds your limp body over his dick, slowly sitting you on top of it.

“Too much… too much- Toshi.” You mumble.

“Oh I know princess but you’re being so good!” He coos.

He lowers you on his dick and just the tip stretches you more than Keigo did. He moves slowly but each time you recover from the pain of the last inch, the pain of the next inch creeps in. About half way down his dick he sighs, “This is never going to work, I’m sorry princess.”

Expecting him to lift you off you sigh in relief, but you couldn’t be anymore wrong. He pulls you down forcefully onto the rest of his dick and you find yourself screaming again with a sore throat.

“Hah, and you told me to go easy on her.” Keigo laughs from behind you.

“At least I’m giving her time to get used to it.” Toshinori holds you down on him firmly, your squirming will never get you out of this position.

Gently he lifts you up by two inches, and cruelly he slams you back down. He does it over and over and no words can escape you, only animalistic sounds of ecstasy and desperation.

From behind you Keigo had gathered himself together, dick already painfully hard from seeing his fellow husband fuck the shit out of you. He lined himself up from behind you and takes on the role Toshinori did before.

He begins playing with your clit and sucking on your neck, leaving you with bruises and bloody bite marks. But right now, everything feels like ecstasy, even teeth sinking into your skin. You’re too busy trying not to cum to feel Keigo lining his dick up against your asshole. It’s sopping wet with the slick from your pussy.

He places it perfectly so that when Toshinori brought you back down his length again, you’d have his dick in your ass too. Electrifying pain shoots you your spin and you fall limp against Toshinori’s chest. Neither of them spare you any kindness, thrusting deep inside of you, Toshinori fucking Keigo’s cum even deeper in your pussy.

But just as it happened with the rest of your pain, the pain of having your asshole and pussy stretched at the same time becomes pleasurable. The men bounce you on their dicks in sync, fucking you fast and hard, gripping different parts of your body and leaving you bruised.

You can feel another tidal wave of an orgasm coming over your body and Toshinori grunts out, “Fuck I’m so sorry princess I can’t help myself.”

Before you can interpret his words, there’s a poof sound and a cloud of smoke. Instantly your pussy walls begin to stretch, until you’re sure you’re going to tear in half. It stays stagnant inside of you, his dick now too big to even move if he didn’t want to pull Keigo out of you. You can feel the veins in his dick pulsating and pressing against your walls, a new kind of pleasure that no person should ever be exposed to.

“Fuck Toshi. Warning please! You’re practically crushing my dick!” Keigo yells out.

“Sorry Keigo, I couldn’t help it.” Toshinori says somewhat ashamed.

“Fuck I’m cumming again.” Keigo’s hands falls to your waist and he sits up more so he can thrust you on his dick and Toshinori’s dick.

Your head falls back onto Keigo’s shoulder, unable to catch your breath as your fucked so violently in a way that satisfies you endlessly.

It happens again, the knot starts forming. Toshinori groans as the knot presses against his dick through your walls. His dick stretches inside of you, heating up and releasing.

Suddenly, Toshinori reaches over you and grabs Keigo by his face, “Get the fuck off of her. It’s my turn.”

Hearing the hunger In Toshinori’s voice, Keigo pulls himself from inside of you and stands up to put his sweatpants back on. Toshinori pulls his pulsating length from inside of you, and grabs your by your hair. He throws you down on your stomach but you can’t even sit up before he pushes his hand on the back of your neck and lifts your ass up with his other.

“Try and lift your head and fuck you until you break.” His words scare you, because you know he’s not bluffing.

He lifts his hand from the back of your neck and presses his thumb into the whole of your pussy, managing to hold in the cum. His dick lines up with your asshole and you know you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.

He presses in the tip, forcing your legs to quiver. It’s one thing to have his dick stretch inside of you, but another to have it penetrate you at this size, he presses it in slowly, ignoring your whimpers until he’s all the way down to the base. It’s instant, his hips snap forward and he begins fucking your asshole, stretching you until you finally notice the bulge in your stomach. You don’t even have to look, you can feel it.

Somehow the idea that you’re being penetrated by this huge man turns you on more. And you start moaning as he claims your ass. It doesn’t take long for his violent thrusts to slow down and his dick to start twitching erratically. His cum is just as hot as before, filling you up even more than he had before. He pulls his dick out of you but still doesn’t give you the chance to rest.

He grabs your ankles and lifts you up by them, “Sorry princess, gotta plug you up and we don’t want to leak anything.”

Your head is so numb that nothing he says registers with you. Keigo walks back into the room with two plugs in hand. Toshinori pulls your legs apart and Keigo pushes the plugs inside of you, earning one last moan from your abused body.

Toshinori sets you down in the bed and pulls your back against him. “Oh you were so good princess. You did so well today.”

Keigo lays down next to the both of you and rests a hand on your hip, “And tomorrow birdy, we’re gonna tie your legs up in the air, and fill you with our seed whenever we feel like it.”

“You don’t have to be so crass.” Toshinori grumbled at Keigo.

Keigo chuckles, “Why? She’s gonna love it. Our beautiful little birdy is going to be pregnant with our child, all nice and chubby with big swollen tits. Doesn’t that sound great?”

You’re drifting to sleep but you can feel Toshinori’s boner forming once again, “Yeah, it will be great.”

[tmntxthings]

request: can I get a platonic Rise!Turtles(mainly Mikey cus I love that boy way too much, also can you add April if possible?) x GN/Male Reader. The prompt is that the reader is this omniscient spirit-like entity from a different dimension who likes to travel through worlds and interact with them or simply watch them from afar through astral projection and just so happened to lend into this one and had caught an interest by the Turtles(because they're the only beings so far that radiate magic energy) and decided to follow them around

In This World

author’s note: omigosh so sorry for the wait, I rlly rlly rlly rlly hope you enjoy >.< to tumblr, u need auto save, like I was almost done (._.) three perspectives are missing, don’t do this to me AGH

warnings: platonic relationships, fluff, comfort, unedited

—————————————————————————

Leo

Leo never thought a silly game of ouija board would amount to anything other than him scaring the bejesus out of Raph and Mikey, he didn’t have any hopes to scare Don. But as fate had it, unbeknownst to them all, you were watching the game and decided to have a little fun.

Now Leo had planned on pushing the piece around the board, and acting as if a ghost had done so. But before he could apply much pressure the little glass piecing was already moving to the letter ‘y’ after he had asked “Is anyone out there?” Leo immediately suspected Donnie had went ahead and moved it so Leo shot him a glare

But Donnie was raising his eyebrows and giving him a look that said what?? “Alright wait a minute, everyone let go..” Leo said and everyone retracted their fingers from the glass piece. “Is anyone out there?” He asked again and watched in horror as the piece moved on its own. Spelling out yes.

All the brothers were up from their spots around the board, running to the edges of the room and screaming bloody murder! “A GHOST IS HAUNTING US!!!” Leo couldn’t believe it, he thought everything had a rational explanation, but he couldn’t exactly refute what his eyes were seeing.

After things settled down and more questions were asked, full blown conversations had with not a ghost they found out but you! Turns out Donnie’s whole theory about the multiverse and space time continuum was true, Leo didn’t know what that all meant but basically it meant you weren’t dead, nor a ghost, nor haunting anyone, though you admitted to them all that you found them very entertaining

Leo might’ve become a little more entertaining after that, but the coolest part was when you finally revealed your astral projection/image, the two of you got into trouble plenty of times after that, mega pranks being pulled, if Leo was ever bored out of his mind, he’d go to you with a big smirking expression on his face, “Y/n~~~~ who do you wanna prank this time???”

Donnie

After finding about your existence you better bet your bottom dollar that Donnie is taking the ouija board in his lab and asking all the questions his big brain can think of, this turtle has some hard hitting inquiries too. “How is this possible?” “How does your power work?” “How many realities have you been to?” “What made you stop in this one specifically?”

Come to find out, the turtles mystic energy is off the charts after the events with the kraang. I was drawn to your power signatures but I stayed because it’s never a boring day here, you tried your best to answer all of Donnie’s questions, you found it quite endearing how curious he was, to you having become used to the traveling you didn’t think it was that special

Donnie would try conducting experiments once you revealed your astral form, though much to his dismay he found that he couldn’t exactly hook you up to a bunch of wires, they’d just fall to the ground right through you, what boggled his mind completely was when you would hand the wires back to him with a shrug, not being able to explain how you could touch things, yet things couldn’t touch you

The logic befuddled the genius turtle, but it seemed a lot of things as of late were defying logic and reason, don’t even get him started about the whole gravity situation by metro tower during the kraang invasion, some things just weren’t meant to be explained, he guessed he would have to classify it as magic: science that has yet to be understood.

“Y/n I think I’ve come up with an alternative method of experimentation,” Donnie said as soon as you floated into the lab, “but if this fails I have 36 new questions I would like to discuss.” His goggles come down looking real scientific, definitely meaning business as you held back a smile, his enthusiasm to learn knows no bounds!

Splinter

Splinter was used to the crazy weirdness of the world. So he wasn’t that shocked when his sons finally introduced you to him. You reminded him so much of the Hamato Clan legacy, how they too showed up in a similar form as yours, helping Splinter and his sons when they needed it most.

He didn’t mind your presence when you came to float by his recliner in the projector room. As time passed he came to accept you just like he had with April. “Hello friend #2” he’d smile, Hello Master Splinter~ you would reply. You would indulge him as he talked about his past and adventures as Lou Jitsu.

Sometimes late at night when the brothers were all asleep, you would float back into the room to see Splinter was still awake, on those nights he would talk to you about his worries, how he didn’t think he did a good job raising his sons, how he wished he could’ve done things better, he wished he would’ve thought more about them than himself..

Well, I think they turned out to be just fine, but I think you still have time! They may be teenagers but they still look up to you greatly! Splinter would nod, it would get quiet and he’d stare off at the projection, not paying much attention to the commercials. “Yes, I think that is what I shall do.”

“Don’t tell my sons, but you are my favorite.” Splinter said sneakily as he looked over the recliner to make sure neither Red nor Orange heard. Purple would be absolutely devastated. Blue probably not so much, though Splinter loved him, all his sons. Your secret’s safe with me you promised.

Raph

Raph would be skeptical about you at first, he didn’t have a good track record with beings from other places. Especially since they had finally recovered from the kraang. But with time he came around, realizing you were different, you meant no harm to them or the rest of humanity for that matter.

Though you did like to pull pranks with Leo, which Raph was a victim of plenty a times. Poor guy actually would let a high-pitched scream every time you would pop in to hang out with him. Raph may be the biggest and strongest, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have fears. He hated scary movies and you resembled what he would call a ghost for a lack of a better term.

“AH! Oh- it’s you!” He’d breath out in relief as you smiled sheepishly. The whole lair would know whenever you tried to hang out with Raph. Which would mostly be when he was working out or training. One time when he had finished a particular brutal workout he had been too tired to pick up the weights.

I can help, you offered and floated over to the heaviest dumbbell. You picked it up with ease and floated over to where they were stored. All the while Raph’s mouth was gaping in complete shock. “You’re really strong!!” He gushed, the only other person who could lift that besides himself was Mikey when he was using his mystic abilities.

You didn’t have the heart to explain to Raph that it all came down to mental will, which as a reality shifter you had a lot of, so it just came down to how badly you wanted to pick up the weight. He watched as you quickly cleared up the rest, Raph would definitely be asking you to workout with him!

Mikey

Mikey was also afraid of you at first, but he came to trust you way more swiftly than Raph. He absolutely loved the idea of having a friend who was ready and waiting to hang out! He’d call out to you to do just about anything together. “Hey Y/n do you wanna watch me color? Look I made this for you yesterday!”

Wow Mikey, it’s gorgeous! Thank you so much you beamed as he added it to your designated pile since you didn’t have a place to put them. He would ask you if you wanted to watch him cook, or to watch videos with him, or if you wanted to go out to the surface together!

Mikey rarely wanted alone time, and if you weren’t hanging out with one of his brothers then you were there by Mikey’s side, listening to his rambling. One day he took you by surprise, turning to you, looking down as his fingers came together. “Y/n?” Yes Mike? “Do you think if I made a portal, I could reach your reality? Then maybe we could hangout.. for real?”

You listened intently, you knew of Mikey’s powerful abilities, his mystic energy was the greatest out of all his brothers. You had been drawn to it like a moth to a flame. Though that may be possible, I am perfectly happy with the way things are now… thank you for the offer though Sweet Mikey

You smiled at him as he looked up with a slight smile, sighing, “yeah you’re right things are fine this way,” he didn’t want to admit it to himself but it would probably take a lot out of him to make another portal so soon. As long as you were happy though Mikey wouldn’t do anything risky. “You just let me know if you change your mind Y/n, maybe Donnie could help too!”

April

Now you weren’t exactly the normal friend that April had been hoping for, but a new/astral projection/person was a friend nonetheless. During the day when the turtles were asleep you would hang out with April. She was very aware you were around during school, seeing you pull pranks inconspicuously.

Those pranks were mainly pulled on the students who gave April a hard time, aka bullies. They’d be bending down to use the water fountain and it would suddenly be spraying them in the face. You tried to keep it toned down since you didn’t want rumors of the high school being haunted spread around.

April would always shake her head saying she didn’t you to do that. But you could tell she secretly liked the thought of having a friend who wanted to stick up for her. Someone who could extract a little harmless vengeance. “Yo! Y/n you there?” April would be walking home from a long day at school and the sidewalks quieted down with little to no traffic. You would appear floating next to her, Yup! How was your day?

April rolled her eyes, like you didn’t already know every little detail. But she obliged, telling her point of view and how she was feeling, what she was looking forward to. “I’ll be heading to the boys later tonight, can you let them know for me?” You gave her a thumbs up and she waved goodbye as she entered her apartment complex.

[pudgewizard]

Day 16!

Discount Candy

I wrote a short story :)

~~~

Zach was taking a walk downtown, enjoying the cool weather that had finally arrived. Being able to take walks without the sun murdering them was a relief. The farmers market was finally bustling with people again. Having nothing else to do, Zach checked it out.

Many unique treasures were sold here, such as sweaters, paintings, necklaces, so much more. Zach didn't have much money on him to buy anything too expensive, much to his dismay. Then he saw a small stand crammed in-between two other stands. It was labeled, "Discount Candy". Curious, and intrigued by the word "discount", Zach approached the stand.

"Welcome!" The man greeted Zach. "These candies were handcrafted with the sweetest sugar, grown by yours truly! No artificial flavorings! And the chocolate? Real cocoa beans! 5 pounds of candy costs only one dollar! Whaddya say, pal?"

Zach was amazed. What a generous offer! He gave the man one dollar and he was handed his bag of candy. Satisfied with his purchase, he strolled back home.

-

Zach sat on his bed, which creaked under his weight. He wasn't particularly hungry, but he was craving something sweet, especially after the man's advertising. First, he unwrapped a small chocolate bar. He chucked it in his mouth, and he immediately moaned in pleasure. The chocolate melted as soon as it made contact with his tongue. It tasted even better than Hershey's! He could almost feel his taste buds orgasm with pleasure as they enjoyed the sweet chocolatey taste. As he swallowed the chocolate, he dug for another piece. This time, he found an orange flavored hard candy. And once again, Zach was greeted with a heavenly flavor. It didn't taste like orange soda, but rather real, citrusy orange. He swirled it in his mouth for what seemed like forever, savoring the taste. As he finally bit down on the candy, which was now eroded to a small ball, a bit of juice popped out, which made Zach moan in pleasure.

After they finished that piece, they began to devour the whole bag. The chocolates were decimated. The hard candies were licked to atoms. After about 15 minutes, there was one tiny chocolate bar left. As Zach began to reach for it however…

*BRBRBLRR*

…his stomach gave an ominous gurgle. They paused for a moment as they realized just how much candy they've eaten over a short period of time. Zach belched and then groaned as they held their aching belly. He looked down to see it was completely distended. His shirt just wouldn't go past his belly. Zach's belly burbled again, as he whined in response. He rubbed his poor tummy as it continuously moaned and grumbled. He couldn't move. His belly had pinned him to the bed. The only thing Zach could do was try to nap off this belly ache, with the only sound accompanying him being his belly's symphony of overstuffed growls.

[parkkrys]

Hey, if you are still taking prompts, how about where Aemond changes boyfriends too quickly and everyone is worried, since all of his boyfriends seem like good people but none sticks.

Luke who never got the courage to admit his feelings just watches miserably as he brings one guy after another at every family event. Now, interestingly, one guy gets drunk and tells some member of the family there is no use hoping for more with Aemond because he is in love with some guy who he has known since they were children but they cannot be. Stuff happens and eventually Luke and Aemond end up together. Happy end please.

Always happily taking prompts my friend! This really grew nto a monster and I tried my best not to let it go too far out of control haha. Hopefully this is alright and sorry for any grammar mistakes!

I have also posted this on A03 which you can find here

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

Luke was miserable, and has been for a long time now as he dreads every family dinner that involved everyone getting together playing catch up. Somehow, against all odds, no one has been murdered yet. Luke is still surprised it hasn’t happened yet considering. 

But like every year for the past five years he expects something to chance but nothing does. Ageon still drinks, Daemon still makes comments to piss Otto off, Alicent and his mother are either best friends or enemies depending on how the greeting goes. Jace and Cregan are always the love couple that everyone coons over because when are they going to get married? It’s been six years now. 

Aemond brings a new boyfriend every year. 

Every year Luke feels the pain deeply because all of them are wonderful guys and Luke hated to admit it, but he got along with all of them even though he knew they wouldn’t stick around. He couldn't remember a lot of the names as much as he did like the guys, but after saying hi to five of them, he wasn’t sure he could bother saying hi to the sixth one. 

And he was right. The sixth one was around here somewhere, he had already forgotten the guy's name, but he was sure he would hear it again somehow. 

“You know, if I could get a hundred dollars for how many guys Aemond brings to these family reunions, I would be six hundred dollars richer,” Aegon drawled and Luke could only roll his eyes. 

“Aren’t you already drunk?” 

Aegon only scoffed as he brought the beer he was holding up to his lips, “Of course I am, but it doesn’t matter. Because I am right.” 

“You don’t even work,” Luke couldn’t help but to say and Aegon could only wave him off before he was walking away.

Every interaction Luke has ever had with Aegon only led Luke questioning his own sanity each and every single time. How the hell were they related he shall never know, he blames it all on Alicent. It had to come from her because the rest of them are somewhat sane. 

He only says somewhat because Daemon was known to be never sane when it comes to protecting his family. The man he calls his step father had a trigger that had him switching from loving husband and trying his best as a father to a murder war machine who doesn’t spare any mercy. 

Luke still couldn’t tell anyone if he ever had a good father son bond with him. Simply because he always felt like Daemon couldn’t care less about him, Jace and Joffrey and only tolerated them because he was in love with their mother. Jace believes it's the opposite and Daemon adores them all. Joffrey just thinks Daemon is cool and has no other opinion about it. 

But that was enough thinking about Daemon and how he felt about that topic. He can think about that at another time, which mostly meant later tonight as he stared at his ceiling, sleep escaping him once again. 

Thankfully, he was saved when Rhaena walked towards him, a smile on her face as she ignored how her grandfather and Daemon were bickering with one another. 

“You look overwhelmed.” 

Luke only groaned as he rolled his eyes, “Why does our family have to be so big? And so dysfunctional?” 

She only huffed in amusement as she stood beside him, “Because that is just how we are.” 

There was a time where everyone expected them to be together, didn’t exactly work when Lucerys came out as a gay man and Rhaena fell in love with another who was not present. Everytime someone were to ask, she would only shrug and say she didn’t want them to scare her partner away. Luke was the only one who knew that she was worried about how her grandparents would take it if they knew her partner was a woman. 

Which, valid since Rhaenys had high expectations from her granddaughter. 

“Be my saving grace and tell me what his face name is?” Luke asked and Rhaena only huffed as she giggled. 

“You really need to know this better, he may actually stick around this time.” 

“Like the other five did?” Luke asked as he took a sip from the drink he had in his hand. It was non alcoholic because he is a good boy, plus he just hates the taste of alcohol really even if he is now nineteen. Old enough to want Aemond and hope Aemond may actually see him for a potential boyfriend. It shall never happen but he hoped anyway because apparently he likes the pain. 

“Jokes on you, apparently from Helena this is actually boyfriend number eleven.” 

Luke proceeded to choke on his drink, his lungs burning as he coughed harshly. Rhaena made a surprised sound as she quickly patted him on the back as Luke only heaved for breath, his lungs now officially on fire. 

“Eleven!?” He managed to choke out and Rhaena only nodded, “What the actual fuck?” 

How the hell did Aemond manage to have eleven boyfriends while Luke can’t even manage to get one? Probably because Luke was never going to settle on anyone but the man he scarred for life. There was something wrong with him. 

“Why so many?” 

Rhaena only shrugged as she gave him a look of pity. She knew of his massive crush on his own uncle that was very wrong but they were Targaryen's. It was expected of them at this point in the eyes of the public. 

“I don’t know, but Alicent is worried for him and Aegon thinks it’s the funniest thing ever. Helena knows the truth but won’t tell anyone is what I heard from Alicent telling our mother. It seems like everyone is puzzled about it.” 

Luke could only nod as he stayed quiet, deep in thought before he sighed and tried to once again, not think about it. 

“His name is Bryan by the way.” 

“What a boring name,” Was all Luke could say and Rhaena only gave him an even more sad look and that was enough of that as he excused himself and walked away. Maybe he should consider moving on or finding someone to help him move on. 

Once again, somehow nobody murdered anyone and Lucerys was once again surprised by this. And slightly disappointed, he had hoped there was going to be some entertainment by the end of the night but nothing really happened. Instead everyone mingled some more, all full with dinner as they all lazed around the fire pit. 

Luke couldn’t stomach the scene from the other side where Aemond and his boyfriend were cuddling. The man with the brown hair that kind of looked the same shade as his own but that doesn’t need to relate to him really, many people have the same shade of brown as him and he did have pretty blue eyes. Bryan is attractive at least. He could never handle jealousy well, it only made him feel sick instead of angry like it made everyone else feel. 

“What are you up to buddy?” 

Luke only jerked slightly before he looked up at Cregan who only gave him a small smile. The man was basically another older brother to him and he instantly always felt safe around him. Luke also suspected that Cregan knew about his feelings for Aemond but never spoke about it, which Luke was always grateful for. 

“Nothing really, just waiting for something entertaining to happen. I’m kinda bored.” 

Cregan laughed as he took the chair beside him before he glanced over at Aemond. He only sighed a bit before he looked over at Luke and gave him a grin. 

“I was hoping to actually ask for your help on something.” 

“Oh?” Luke hummed in curiosity as he sat up, interested in what the wolf had to say. They were alone, or as alone as they could get with several people gathered and distracted by their own conversations. 

“I was hoping to ask if you could help me with proposing to Jace. I don’t have any ideas and I was hoping you had some? And to ask for your blessing of course. I already asked your mom and Daemon but I know how important you are to Jace. You are his favourite person Luke.” 

“Yeah man, of course you have my blessing. You guys have been dating since forever. You’re basically my brother already.” 

Cregan could only beam and Lucerys couldn’t help but to smile back. Cregan’s smile has always been infectious, if the man was smiling it was most likely everyone else was too. 

“Do I need to be worried about you two scheming something?” 

Luke jumped, a small squeak past his lips while Jace only laughed loudly at him. 

“What the actual fuck dude! You can’t just sneak up on people like that!” 

“It was funny though,” Cregan chuckled and Luke only shot him a betrayed look. They were sharing a bonding moment and the damn wolf had to betray him right after. 

“Awful, the both of you.” 

Jace only laughed harder before he plopped himself right into Cregan’s lap. It was awfully gross how in love the two of them were, they were perfect for one another. Luke was not jealous. He was and it only made him feel more sick. 

“You love us,” Jace teased and Luke only smiled at that because his brother wasn’t wrong. It would take something huge and hurtful to get Luke to hate the two of them. Soon enough they were all laughing and at some point Baela and Rhaena joined them. Luke was so distracted he actually forgot about the jealousy of Aemond and his boyfriend until Bryan stumbled upon them. 

“You guys seem to be having a good time,” The man slurred and all of them stared at him. 

“Dude how drunk are you?” Jace asked and Bryan only grinned. 

“Blame Aegon for that, he challenged me to a drinking game.” 

“That’s a rookie mistake,” Cregan laughed and Bryan only smiled prettily at them. Luke kind of wanted to stab him. He could see how Jace narrowed his eyes at the man for smiling so sweetly at his boyfriend. 

“Yes, I think your father told me that afterwards.” 

Luke snickered, yeah that sounded like Daemon. He would let you walk into a mistake then laugh at you afterwards for being an idiot. 

“Well if you want, take a seat and join us for a bit. We are just talking really,” Baela offered and Bryan only beamed at them like he was a puppy before he happily got himself comfortable. 

“You know, I didn’t believe Aemond when he first told me that you bunch were wild. I thought he was just overreacting but god I was wrong. You lot are loud and so much fun.” 

And as if the universe wanted to prove Bryan right it was at that moment where Alicent squealed loudly. Luke glanced over to see his mother laughing loudly at her as she wiped tears from her eyes as Alicent continued to shriek about something while Daemon chuckled at the both of them. It was nice to see that they had decided to get along this time. 

“Too bad I won’t stick around long enough to get to know any of you,” Bryan sighed and everyone froze as they stared at him. Bryan actually seemed to be mourning, “As much as Aemond tries, he won’t keep anyone at this rate,” He continued to stammer as he sniffled and everyone glanced at one another, unsure of what to say.

“Bryan?” Jace said softly but Bryan only shook his head, drunk enough to have spilled his thoughts onto everyone. 

“He is in love with someone he can’t have apparently. A childhood friend or something? I don’t know but he is trying to replace this person he is in love with but it isn’t working, and I fear it never will.” 

“I don’t think-” Baela started but Bryan only shook his head once more. 

“I don’t even know why he brought me here, you know? Maybe give me a taste of something that I will never have? Aemond is cruel but so beautiful.” 

“Aemond is cruel,” Luke says and everyone turns to look at him, “But everyone is, and you saying all of this to his family is cruel as well. You are drunk, you should go.” 

Bryan only stared at him with tears in his eyes before he nodded slowly. It was pitiful to watch him struggle to stand up but eventually he stumbled away to find Aemond and Luke only felt anger as he looked away from everyone. He knew they were all staring at him and he was sure maybe they thought he was cruel for saying what he did. 

“Well shit, now what do we do?” Jace muttered and Luke finally looked at him. 

“Pretend that never happened.” 

“Luke-” 

“Pretend,” He said harshly before he took a breath and kept going but much more softer, “Pretend it didn’t happen. It is not our place to say anything to Aemond.” 

Eventually they all nodded and Lucerys could finally breathe for a moment even though his brain was stuck on the thought of who the hell is Aemond in love with. It was clear they all wanted to discuss it and weren’t sure if they were allowed too. All he knew was he didn’t want to be there when they did so he made some excuse and walked away from the group. 

Lucerys needed to think alone. 

(This is long so I inserted a keep reading here, hopefully you don't mind!)

It was three days after the family reunion and Luke was back at his mom’s place, curled up in his bed as he stared at the ceiling once again. His mind was still plagued with thoughts about who the hell this childhood friend was. All he had to work with was someone Aemond couldn’t have. Which wasn’t much to work with. 

Despite him telling the others to pretend Bryan didn’t spill his secrets out, by the end of the night everyone knew. Aemond even knew, they could all tell with how tense his uncle was by the end of the night, anger settled deep beneath his skin as Bryan only kept muttering under his breath. 

It wasn’t long until Aegon texted him saying Aemond and his now ex boyfriend had split up. 

He was not surprised. 

He was surprised when he woke up the next day with a text from Aemond himself. Thanking him for telling Bryan to go home and that had confirmed that Bryan did in fact remember everything he had said to them. He hopes Bryan regrets it. Regrets embarrassing Aemond like that and spilling his secrets. 

He had simply texted back and ever since then they keep in contact. It ranged from how their day was to silly stories to pictures of their cats. Luke adored it and maybe his hopes were up but this could be something here. A small part of him hoped maybe he was the one that Aemond couldn’t have even if his mind told him it possibly couldn’t be him. 

Why would Aemond be in love with the boy who took his eye when they were younger? 

It just wouldn’t make sense. But it seemed like Aemond was reaching out and if friendship was all it was going to be, well Lucerys could come to terms with that. No matter how much it would hurt. 

He was so busy day dreaming as he stared out the window of his room, he almost missed the vibration of his phone. He had almost missed the call but in his panic he managed to swipe to answer but he never got to see who exactly was calling him. Probably a scammer. 

“Hello this is Lucerys Velaryon speaking.” 

“Is that how you answer every phone call nephew?” 

“Aemond?” Luke asked in surprise, jerking a little bit before he steadied himself, leaning back against his pillows, “Didn’t expect you to call.” 

“Don’t have my phone contact saved?” Aemond asked amused and Luke only huffed. 

“I didn’t get to see who actually called me you jerk.” 

The sound of Aemond's deep laugh really shouldn’t have made his chest flutter as much as it should have at that moment. He decided that he loved the sound and wished he could hear more, maybe even be the cause of it more often. 

“That does sound like something you would do, doesn’t it?” Aemond said. 

Luke only grinned, “Oh hush you. Now, why did you call?” 

“What I can’t call my nephew now?” 

“You never called me before Uncle,” Luke was quick to answer and the silence was only brief but he knew that Aemond was trying to figure out what to say to that piece. 

“I want you to meet me if possible. I wanted to talk to you about something that isn’t over the phone.” 

Now that did catch his attention fully as he shifted slightly, “Okay where?” He asked without hesitation and he knew his Uncle was pleased with his curiosity. 

“I will pick you up in an hour, be ready. I don’t like to wait,” Was all Aemond told him before he hung up. 

Well, that’s interesting Lucerys thought to himself before he moved the phone away from his ear. He supposed he had to get ready now. And within an hour he was showered and dressed. He couldn’t remember what exactly he said to his mother but he knew he said some excuse before he was out the door and in his Uncle’s car. 

Aemond only gave him a brief nod, a smug smile on his lips before he was on the road. No matter how many times Luke asked where they were going, his Uncle wouldn’t give him an answer to his frustration. He could only hope that Aemond wasn’t taking him away to murder him and drop his dead body off somewhere. 

Turns out the place was Aemond’s fancy apartment. 

“Wait so you kidnapped me so you could take me to your place?” Lucerys asked and Aemond only shrugged as he opened his apartment door for Luke to go first. 

“It’s not like you know where I live, Lucerys.” 

God the way Aemond said his name was sinful. Now was not the time to think dirty thoughts Luke thought to himself. His Uncle would only tease him harshly about that if he ever were to find out how much Lucerys wanted him. 

Would probably feed his ego even more than it already has. 

Aemond was quick to have Luke sitting on the couch and it felt as if his Uncle was ready to confess every sin he had ever committed with the way Aemond sat on his own table, staring at him as if he was prized meat. Luke was tempted to call Aemond an animal, tease him for sitting on his own table but he held his tongue. His curiosity won over the urge to rile his Uncle up. 

Aemond was so pretty when frustrated and worked up. 

“Okay Aemond, you have me here. What did you want to talk about?” 

“You.” 

Luke only blinked in surprise before he tilted his head to the side, “Me?”

“Yes, you Lucerys.” 

“Why?” 

“Because you are the object of my desire,” Aemond confessed simply. 

Lucerys didn’t know what to say or even do as he stared at him in silence. Aemond seemed to have expected it as he kept going, as if he wasn’t giving Luke whiplash. 

“Bryan has spilled my secret and as much as it had angered me, he wasn’t wrong. And I know everyone is wondering who the hell it is I am in love with so I figured I would get it done and over with. That way if you were to reject me, I was hoping we would never speak of it again.” 

Lucerys only stared. But he did notice how scared Aemond actually was telling him all of this. He could tell that under all the carelessness he was trying to show, he was terrified of Luke rejecting him. Terrified of what Luke would say to him and it made him feel sad. 

Because after all of this time, Aemond probably thought that Luke would hold this over him and hurt him even more. More than he already has. Lucerys only felt terrible as he tried to hold his tears back. 

“Aemond-” 

“Why are you crying?” Aemond hissed and Luke wanted to curse at himself for being so damn sensitive. 

“I’m not crying because you are telling me this!” Luke yelled and Aemond only glared as if he didn’t believe him, “I am crying because you thought I would hurt you because of this.” 

That seemed to have taken Aemond by surprise as he only looked at him in bewilderment, as if he didn’t expect Luke to pick up on that fact. His Uncle would be even more surprised because Luke could read Aemond to some extent. Lucerys enjoyed watching Aemond and trying to figure him out but Aemond was so damn hard to read. 

“I know I have hurt you before,” That made Aemond narrow his eye at him and Luke wanted to burn in shame, “And I know you believe I could or I would hurt you once more. But I don't want to! I feel ashamed for hurting you so much Uncle and I know that doesn’t fix anything, that anything I do would never have you forgive me because I do not deserve that forgiveness.” 

“You’re right, it doesn’t fix anything Lucerys, but I have forgiven you for it.” 

“Well take that back then,” Luke begged and Aemond only widened his eye as he stared at him in silence but Luke wasn’t done, “And why would you love me? I took your damn eye! Don’t love me, you should hate me.” 

He probably would have kept going if Aemond didn’t grab his throat in his hand, his grip harsh as Lucerys briefly choked before his Uncle loosened his grip as he pulled him forward. The impact of his knees hitting the floor was harsh as he was dragged from the couch and Lucerys was quick to wrap his hands around Aemond’s wrist to ground himself. 

Aemond only brought his face closer to his so their noses brushed one another as he finally spoke. 

“And I did hate you, no, I despised you Lucerys. For so long I wanted to hurt you.” 

“Then what changed?” Luke gasped out and Aemond only chuckled darkly before he brought his other hand to pet his cheek. 

“I found that I couldn’t bring myself to hurt you. I don’t know when nephew, but my hatred towards you has changed to desire and no matter how much I tried to deny it, no matter how much I tried to find someone else you were there in the back of my mind. That was when I knew I would never be satisfied with anyone else. You have claimed me the day you claimed my eye.” 

Lucerys once again, found himself not knowing what to say and Aemond faltered a bit before he let go of his throat, pulling away and Lucerys only whined in distress briefly. Aemond stopped at the sound, staring at him once more and Luke had no idea what was happening. 

“Would you love me Uncle? Or would you ruin me?” Lucerys finally managed to ask and Aemond grinned. 

“I asked myself that for a long while, little one. I didn’t know the answer but I want to do both. I want to ruin you for anyone else and love you for I want you to be mine.” 

“I think you will be surprised to know how much I want to be yours, Aemond. I have wanted to be yours for a long time,” Lucerys confessed and Aemond only seemed to be relieved by the declaration. 

“Would you be mine no matter the consequence?” 

“Yes.” 

“Would you be mine without hesitation?” 

“Yes,” Luke breathed and Aemond fell onto his knees before him and gently reached out to cup his jaw, bringing him close. 

“Then be mine, Lucerys,” Aemond demanded and Luke reached out to grab onto his Uncle tightly. 

“I am yours, have been for a long time, Uncle.” 

Aemond only grinned at that and Lucerys allowed himself to be devoured, allowing himself to melt into the fire that was his Uncle as Aemond kissed him. As Aemond took what was his before he pulled back and Luke only whined once more as he forced his eyes to open to meet the gaze of Aemond. 

“I am yours as much as you are mine Lucerys. There is no going back, I will not allow anyone to have you.” 

Luke only nodded, “I don’t want anyone else, how many times must I say this?” 

“As many times as you can until I am satisfied little one.” 

“Then I will repeat it until you are satisfied.” 

“Good little one, good,” Aemond whispered before he claimed his mouth once more and Luke felt giddy at realizing that Aemond was his as much as he belonged to him. That he will no longer have to watch his love be with anyone other than him. He finally settled into the place he belonged. 

[average-giant-kissing-enjoyer]

G/t July #19: Trickster

"Welcome, Mr. Nilsson. You may open your eyes now."

Giles Nilsson blinked deliriously at the sudden bright light and the sterile white of this holding cell. He was seated in a chair, a white chair, at a table which was also white, and he wore a pitch black suit that he knew he didn't own. Across from him sat a stranger in white, the man who had addressed him a moment ago. This had to be some kind of weird dream. How did he get here?

"You may be wondering where you are right now," said the stranger in a calming baritone. "Unfortunately, I am not at liberty to say. Anyway it doesn't matter. You are here because I have a choice to present to you. Once you have made this choice, you are free to go."

The stranger pulled out a small black box and placed it on the center of the table. On the top of the box was an enormous round red button.

Nilsson perked up suddenly. "Hold on, I know this one. It's one of those sadistic choices where I have to push the button or die. Who are you again?"

"Ah, I forgot to introduce myself," said the stranger. "I am Loki."

"Uh, like the norse god?"

"Exactly," he said. "I am he."

"You're a god."

Loki nodded. "Yes. The gods are real. All of them. All of them except for Set."

Nilsson was sure he was being pranked. "Wait, why Set?"

"It's obvious," Loki replied. "I don't think I need to explain it."

"But all the other Egyptian gods are real?" Nilsson asked.

The god rolled his eyes. "It feels like we're straying from the topic a little. Mr. Nilsson, I have brought you here as I have brought many others because there is a choice you need to make - a choice that will determine the course of the rest of your life."

"But all choices determine the course of the rest of my life," said Nilsson.

"Shut up. Wouldn't you like to know the choice?"

Nilsson thought for a long moment and then nodded. "But if you're going to offer me money on the condition I kill people or something then the answer is no."

That answer seemed to please Loki, who smiled slyly. "Nothing quite so obvious. See, you humans are always so concerned with morality and feelings. Far too few of you are easily tempted to murder, even for millions of dollars."

"Then what happens when I press the button?"

"Patience, Mr. Nilsson," Loki said, waving one hand casually in the air. "If you press the button, you will be shrunk. And - "

Tap. Giles Nilsson had already pressed the button.

Loki paused with his hand still in the air. "What are you doing?"

Nilsson shrugged. "You said the terms. I pushed the button. Can I go now?"

"I don't think you understand, young man," said Loki, a look of confusion crossing his face. "If you press the button, you will be shrunk a little. For real. I am going to take inches off your height. I am a god and I can do that."

"Neat," said Nilsson, pressing the button again. Tap.

"Stop that! I haven't even explained the other part of your sadistic choice."

Nilsson froze. Somehow he had forgotten that. What if someone had to die because of him? He'd pressed it twice! Were two people already dead? "Oh god, what's the bad thing that happens?" he said, his voice flat.

"That is the bad thing!" Loki growled, grabbing at his hair in frustration. "I'm going to shrink you, but…"

Tap.

"Mr. Nilsson, I don't think you understand. Your choices are cumulative. For every time you press the button, I shrink you more."

Tap.

Loki yanked the box back out of his reach. "Okay, you have to wait until I finish talking. For every time you press the button, I take an inch of your height in exchange for cash. The more you press, the smaller you get, but the more money you make. The pot starts at 1 dollar and doubles every time you hit the button."

"But then I shrink," said Nilsson.

"Then you shrink," Loki repeated.

"Okay, so what's the limit? How many times can I push the button?"

The god looked genuinely unsure. "Nobody's ever pressed it more than… wait, that's none of your business."

Nilsson took advantage of his brief confusion to reach across the table and wrest the box out of his grip. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. "Why isn't this thing working? I haven't shrunk at all!" Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Just as quickly, Loki grabbed the box right back. "You get shrunk all at once at the end of this. I don't think you realize. This is permanent. You'll be tiny forever!"

"Give me that!" Nilsson cried, diving over the table and tackling Loki to the ground. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

"Well I hope you like being a little guy!" Loki roared. "I lied about the money! I am the trickster god. You've fallen into my trap! You are - "

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Loki pushed Nilsson off him and stood, while the man kept tapping the button. "That's it, I quit. Humans are weird. You're sick. I'm done trying to trick you people. STOP PRESSING THAT BUTTON"

[goddesspharo]

Sugar's pregnancy cravings are batshit; luckily, crazy food provides her Bear fam with a perfect distraction from the equally insane task of living life.

[Send me the first sentence and a pairing and I'll write the next five.]

Sugar's pregnancy cravings are batshit, but since everyone else is either an experimental chef or a fucking Fak, only Richie seems to be concerned that there might be a serious nutritional deficiency causing them. Honestly, if Sugar hadn't shown him the sonogram last week when he found her crying in the bathroom over impending motherhood ("Natalie, if I can parent a kid without completely fucking her up, you're going to make it so that your kid overcomes Pete's genes and joins Mensa!"), Richie would've driven her to the hospital to get checked for pica right now in the middle of Sugar's tirade about how far up the ass Richie will have to take it from the health inspector if he tries to explain that they didn't hire professionals because "the mold wasn't that black or moldy."

Richie's not trying to judge a pregnant woman's right to eat whatever she wants. Tiff consumed so many bananas when she was pregnant with Eva that he's still mad at himself for not buying stock in Chiquita. She'd have them sliced with her morning oatmeal, baked into bread as a post-prenatal yoga snack, smashed into PB&B sandwiches for lunch, frozen and dipped in chocolate the weekend the AC crapped out while Fak was in Philly for a Fucking Fak Family Reunion, and once even flambéed when Richie made forgive me for missing the anatomy scan because Mikey was on a bender and about to hurl himself off the State Street Bridge apology dessert. At one point, Richie had to google if banana toxicity was a thing and then kept worrying even after Google said that it wasn't.

But there's a difference between eating tons of fruit and whatever the hell is happening with Sugar's taste buds right now. Richie decides that Carmy and Sydney are using her cravings to soft launch their chaos menu once Syd puts down a plate of pickled zucchini coated in Marcus' leftover birthday cake batter, deep fried in ghee, and dusted with confectioners' sugar.

"Bet that would taste so good dipped in Smuckers ice cream topping," Fak suggests because he doesn't need to be pregnant to have the palate of a garbage compactor.

"Please don't eat that with that," Richie begs when Natalie trades Fak a bottle of Pepto for the jar of fudge he just took out of the microwave.

"Fuck off, Richie," Sugar snaps with a glare that makes it clear that she's not above murdering him and pinning it on pregnancy hormones. "I'm growing a human being inside me!"

Debatable, he wants to say because he's not entirely sure that they're in Juno instead of Alien, but Richie bites his tongue because he really doesn't want to have to put his last twenty-dollar bill in the asshole jar again.

[loveisbraveandwild]

Taylor can donate more money in secret than she would ever be able to make a difference by calling for a ceasefire not even the head of the UN could get anyone to agree to. This is nearly a hundred years of horrific politics in the making, she can't do anything about it. She's a pop star! Not an elected official. Everyone who is her fan to the point of caring about her opinion already, most likely, is anti-genocide considering she is a role model for the soft hearted. She's already a target of violence and hatred; if tumblr users can loudly want for her death then gun-wielding zionists or violent misogynistic Republicans will too. She let us know what side she's on by going to a fundraiser for Palestine. Lucy and Phoebe are her friends and there's absolutely no way they haven't talked about it and therefore donated to one of the many causes Lucy has been posting about. I think just maybe Taylor deserves for us to trust her about this.

blah blah blah blah blah blah blah i dont really know how to explain to people how taylor’s silence hurts. i dont really care abt the private conversations she’s having with friends. also, if lucy and phoebe r posting on social media and she isn’t, i hope she’s asking herself why. there’s a reason phoebe and lucy r posting abt it- because their platforms matter and they know that. i disagree that her privately donating matters more than speaking out. yes, sending money and resources to gaza is essential, but i’m also interested in a global interrogation of the western world and the harm western governments have done to billions of people globally, namely Brown and Black people. Money doesnt STOP the genocide, it just gives the people being genocided food and medicine MAYBE ?? until they probably die. i also think her asking people to donate and getting 10% of her followers to donate $10 is over 300 million dollars and there’s no way in hell do i believe she’s donating THAT much. i disagree with ultra rich people asking regular people to donate, but at this point, i’ll take anything. also sure, she went to a fundraiser, but again, sending money to a relief fund isn’t the same as taking a stance. am i supposed to pat her on the back for showing up to one event in an outfit that could feed a Palestinian for an entire year ONCE during an almost 130 day genocide? I am also so sick and tired of people talking abt her safety. i care abt her safety!!! but i dont care abt her comfort, especially when quite literally millions of palestinians are unsafe she’s also one of the richest people in the world and im not convinced that there aren’t a plethora of things she could do to keep herself safe. in the wake of advocating for what is just, what is right, and what is beyond necessary to stop the endless, brutal, vile murders of tens of thousands of Palestinian people.

[suspicious-whumping-egg]

Rock Bottom: Moneymakers Fanfic/AU, Part 1

This is the first installment of a story based off of an AU idea for @coldresolve’s Moneymakers series. The masterlist for the series is his pinned post. Go check it out!!

~~

That oh-so-despised feeling of boredom was beginning to creep into Renee’s mind again. The kind that made his fingers twitch, his leg shaking restlessly even as he paced furiously around the kitchen, scrolling through his phone so quickly that any glimpse of information he might gather would be subliminal at best. His music was turned up to full blast, yet he could barely hear it. He needed a line, a pill, something.

He stalked back to his room and threw open the drawer he already knew would be empty, clawing at the compartment with shaking hands and slamming the drawer back shut as his fingers ran over smooth wood and nothing else. No coke, no money, not even a cigarette. 

He slammed a fist into the wall, hissing in pain as his knuckles split on the impact. If nothing else, the pain was better than that itching sensation crawling in his chest.

He scrolled to Lazarus’s contact without thinking, fingertip hovering over the call button. He’d already tried to fuck himself into a deal one too many times, at this point, he was surprised the man hadn’t blocked him. But since Davin (Kit? Jared? Seth? Caleb?)  had jumped ship with Conrad and the money, he didn’t have many options left. 

“Sorry man, you’re just not worth the risk. You draw too much attention. And you know you can’t do it without me, but I can do it without you. It’s just business.” 

He hadn’t even confronted him in person, just left a stupid fucking note on the kitchen counter and a trail of tattered dollar bills trampled by dusty tire tracks. 

He threw another punch at the wall, his anger ripping from his throat in a furious roar that tapered off into a wounded cry. 

“FUCK—” 

He fumbled for the gun at his waist, firing without even pausing to glance at a target. The lamp shattered off his nightstand with an ear-splitting crack, glass and ceramic exploding back at him in a stinging wave of shards. 

The silence that blanketed the room was enough to draw Renee back to his senses, at least for a moment. He needed his drugs. And for that, he needed money. 

He switched the gun’s safety on and kicked it across the room— he couldn’t trust himself with it, not now. Not when holding the muzzle to his head and pulling the trigger sounded like the only thing that could give him the rush he needed at the moment. 

Instead, he flipped open his laptop and began searching. 

He’d always known there were other people like him— torturers, murderers, people looking for a quick, bloodstained buck. And since he didn’t have Davin’s skills, he only had one thing left to offer. 

Willing to offer red room participation for 20% of profit— might be easier to have a victim who’s not trying to escape off camera. Male, 26.  Pictures on request. 

He left his phone number at the bottom of the post. 

His head spun with the recklessness of it all. If nothing else, the novelty of being beat up in someone else’s red room would be a rush of its own.  And if he hated every second, he’d get enough money out of it to replenish his stash. 

How bad could it be? 

~~

Waiting for a message sent restlessness crawling up his spine once more. Renee stalked in laps outside around the house, the bright and sunny day doing nothing to improve his mood, and the fresh air he breathed in just served to remind him he had nothing stronger to put in his lungs. 

When his phone buzzed in his pocket, he nearly jumped out of his skin. A text from an unknown number had appeared on the screen. 

He swiped frantically with one hand, the other itching to hold a joint. 

Your offer sounds tempting. I’d like those pictures you’d promised. 

His heart kicked with a fresh thrill. Let’s do this shit. He’d get his money back, get his drugs back, and be ready to find another victim of his own. Hell, maybe he could even steal Conrad back once he was on his feet. 

But he had to take this one step at a time. 

He decided on several of his standard best-angle-best-lighting selfies, and a screenshot of a snapchat he’d sent to Lazarus after a fight: a crooked nose dripping blood all the way down to his neck, lip split, bruises littering his cheekbones, and an unmistakable, shit eating grin. Written over it was “you should see the other guy”. He scoffed at the youthful stupidity of the photo but kept it with the rest— if he was trying to get a side job in a red room, they’d want to see how he looked while covered in blood. 

The other person responded nearly immediately. 

Hot ;) Looks like you’ve got yourself a deal. Meet me at 3252  Collinswood Lane. Albany, NY. Tomorrow, 11 pm. 

Renee was taken aback. Already sending a location, this quickly? 

How do I know you’re not just gonna kidnap me for real once I get out there? 

He waited for the response with bated breath. 

You're asking for 20%.... looks to me like you can't say no even if I won't make any promises.

He barked out a dry laugh. When was the last time he’d done something this spontaneous? This crazy? He’d missed it. With a resigned scoff, he began to type. 

Get me the drugs I need and you’ve got yourself a deal. 

With any luck, he wouldn’t have to spend all his money on his drugs. With any luck, it would all be over in a month or so. 

He opened another tab and booked a one-way train ticket to Albany. 

~~ 

The address led him to a run down, abandoned old factory. When he got out of the car, pockets loaded with knives, phone flashlight on full power, there was no one to be seen. A bush rustled behind him, a stick snapped, and Renee flinched, turning towards the sound. Nothing was there. 

He sighed. It was 11:15. Maybe the guy had driven off at 11 sharp, convinced Renee had chickened out. Maybe he was being led out here to be murdered. 

His hands shook. He needed a cigarette. 

He checked his phone again, resisting the urge to chuck it at the brick wall in front of him when there wasn’t a single notification. 

Instead, he shot a text to his unknown patron. 

I’m here. You coming?

He didn’t expect an answer, yet it arrived just the same. 

Light flooded the crumbling sidewalk that led to the factory, illuminating a dark-clad figure who leaned against one of the lampposts. 

“I was waiting for you to notice me,” an amused, silky voice stated. 

Renee could have punched them, then and there. Instead, he gave a weak shrug. 

“Guess I’m off my game,” he muttered hotly. “Any specifics on your end of the deal?” 

“Hold up, we don’t have to be all business just yet,” the man countered. “You got a name to go with that pretty face?” 

“Renee.” He said it without thinking. Davin had taught him better, but he couldn’t be bothered to care. It wasn’t like his life could get much worse. 

“What’s yours?” 

“You can call me Corbin.” 

Renee scoffed. “Ya make that up on the spot?” 

“Not exactly.” Corbin pulled out a lighter as he spoke and held the flame to the end of a joint. 

Renee’s body surged with sudden craving. “D’you have anything else on you?” He said, unable to contain the desperate edge in his voice. “Coke?”

Corbin shook his head. “Not on me. You’ll have to settle for weed.” He offered his lit joint like a peace offering, the signature stench of weed filling the air.

“I’ll take it.” He snatched it up as soon as Corbin held it out, bringing it to his lips like it was his last breath of life. And while the high was mild, it was something. It was enough to remind him that he could still feel alive, hell, that he could still feel anything at all.  

Corbin dug in his pocket for another joint for himself, lighting it with a practiced flick and taking a long hit. 

“Let’s get out of here.” 

~~

Corbin’s car was a black gullwing BMW, sleek and stiflingly expensive. Renee ducked under the door and slid into the passenger seat without a word, one hand holding tight to his joint while he clutched his phone in the other. What had seemed like such a brilliant idea at the moment had turned into a reality, one that got much more frightening with every passing minute of tense silence.

“There’re gonna be limits, right? To a degree?” Renee said tentatively, hitting his joint while drumming his fingers on the pristine leather seat. “Like. Break a finger, sure, but don’t cut it off?” 

Why the fuck had he agreed to this? Why the fuck had he volunteered? Why the fuck had he bought a one-way ticked before asking basic questions?

Corbin shrugged, taking a long drag of his own joint. 

“To a degree, yes. But it’ll be real enough that you’ll be paying for your cut with blood by the ounce, trust me. But if I decide it’s not good enough, then it doesn’t count. And if that happens, you’ll find those limits to be… tested. Gotta give ‘em what they want, you know how it is. It’s just business… Renee, was it?” 

He was tempted to say no, just for the hell of it, but he nodded. It seemed the two of them were more alike than would be good for him. 

“Yeah,” he muttered. What the hell had he gotten himself into? 

He pulled out his phone to share his location with Lazarus, on the off chance this went wrong, and Corbin swerved so hard that the car nearly spun off the road. Renee lurched sideways, his head smacking against the window with a thud even as he tried to catch himself on an armrest. 

“Give me the fucking phone,” he snapped, the suave business partner facade melting off in an instant. 

He reached into his coat and shoved a gun in Renee’s face while keeping one hand on the wheel, the end of it so close that it practically dug into his jaw. “Don’t think I won’t do it.” 

Renee’s heart nearly stopped, his chest seizing in a sudden moment of clarity that cut through the easy relaxation that had come over him from the weed. He knew, if Corbin was anything like him, he truly wouldn’t hesitate to shoot. He tossed his phone in the man’s lap, resisting the urge to whip out a knife or throw a punch. He couldn’t stand a chance, not against a gun. 

“You weren’t ever gonna give me the money, were you?” Renee asked bitterly. It wasn’t like he hadn’t had a sneaking suspicion, wasn’t like he hadn’t fucking known better. Davin had been right— too impulsive, too willing to do anything to get the rush he needed. He’d dug himself into this hole, and now it was too deep for him to crawl out of it. 

Corbin shook his head, chuckling. 

“Why would I? It’s not like I have to.” He turned to give him a devious wink, opened a window, and hurled Renee’s phone out, and Renee couldn’t help but wince at the distant sound of shattering glass. 

He was truly and utterly fucked.