#violence settles into them it becomes their constant. scream.

[too-much-tma-stuff]

As Long as we can Hold On (Part 20)

Previous | Masterpost

tw: descriptions of violence, gun violence, gore

It was bitter sweet to return home after the week away, mostly to return to the Gotham weather and constant overcast skies. Danny would miss the stars, even though he was very glad to be home and to hit the streets and patrol their haunt again making sure that everything had gone alright in their absence. Everything seemed calm but Danny had a bad feeling and his gut instincts were usually pretty good, something was off. Whatever it was he was sure he would find out soon since they had a meeting scheduled with their various lieutenants and  other people of note the next day just in case them being missing for a week had inspired any… ideas. 

The next monthly meeting with their lieutenants and dealers was in two days so there was no point bumping it up. That gave them a couple of nights to settle in and to do a couple more low-key patrols to sooth Danny’s anxiety about potential issues in their haunt that always reared its head when they were away for more than an overnight. It soothed his restless spirit to confirm their haunt and nest were still as they had left them. The first night back in their bed, after a patrol, Danny just couldn’t stop purring snuggled against Jason’s chest, feeling the very edge of responding hum even as Jason teased him about it.

Danny slept well tucked in his own bed and his lover's arms, and by the time they had to meet with their subordinates Danny felt settled in his own skin again though something still itched at the back of his mind. He and Jason got to the meeting location, one of the warehouses that had been set up as a sort of boardroom, first and were there to greet people as they came in. Once everyone was settled in their assigned seats, in various stages of ready for a professional meeting with a folder of papers, and sulking with their feet on the table, Red Hood and Hyena went to stand at the head of the table. 

“Alright I want everyone’s reports,” Red Hood said, his voice distorted and almost inhuman through the modulator. “And don’t leave anything out, I have eyes everywhere so I probably already know.” 

Before the first person stood up to give their report Danny’s ears twitched at the sound of a small click. Years ago he would have thought nothing of the sound, but being with Hood he had become intimately familiar with the sound of the safety being taken off a gun. His head turned sharply, just in time to see a man they had thought was loyal level a gun at Red Hood.

“Look out!” Hyena yelped and jumped in front of Hood, there was a bang and everything went dark. 

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

The executioner shots weren’t perfect since they hadn’t been meant for Danny, the shot to the forehead took out one of Hyena’s eyes and the shot meant for the heart went through a lung. But the result was the same, Hyena was dead, and not the intended target. He collapsed to the ground in a puddle of blood, one remaining eye vague and unseeing as the room was filled with gasps and at least one scream. The would-be assassin tried to flee, stumbling away from the table and knocking over his chair before Red Hood’s bullet found him, shattering his knee and sending him to the floor, howling in pain.

“You and you, bring him up here,” Hood said, his voice cold and flat as he pointed to two of his other subordinates who scrambled to obey. After just being betrayed and losing his partner they were sure any hint of disobedience or hesitancy would earn them the same slow, painful death Red Hood surely had planned for the turncoat. “You, bring up the chair,” he ordered a third, who obeyed as well.

Everyone sat in nervous silence as Hood tied the assassin to his chair and then just… waited. And waited, the tension in the room rising and rising the longer the only sound in the room was heavy breathing and the injured man’s whimpering.

“Um, Boss? What are you going to do to him?” Someone spoke up hesitantly when the silence became too oppressive. 

“Me? Nothing, Hyena will want to handle this,” Hood said calmly. 

Around the table various gangsters and outlaws gave each other nervous looks, it seemed like Hood really couldn’t process the loss of his lover. Neither of them had seemed entirely sane, but he couldn’t believe that Hyena was still alive with part of his head missing?!

“Boss, I don’t think he can do that. I think he’s-” Someone started, as gently as possible, before being cut off by a fucking horrifying rattling breath. 

“God damn it,” Hyena wheezed, blood dribbling from his lips with his words as he pushed himself up. His one eye was still missing but the other was bright with life and rage again as he glared at the man who’d shot him. “Do you know how long eyes take to regenerate? And that fucking hurt!” 

Someone fainted, but Hyena seemed completely unaware of the wave of horror that spread through the room as he stood with injuries clearly incompatible with life. His attention was fixed on his would-be (Should be) murderer as he stumbled forward towards them. He whimpered and shrunk even further back in his chair but couldn’t get away as Hyena slumped into his lap. 

“I’ve worked so hard to keep this a secret and act like a normal human and you fucking ruined it!” Hyena snarled, clapping his hands together with a crackle of electricity before pressing them against his attacker’s chest, who screamed as electricity surged around both of them before fading into sparks. 

“Welcome back My Love,” Hood laughed, stepping forward and running his fingers through Hyena’s hair without fear even before all the sparks had faded. 

Hyena grinned under his muzzle and leaned into Red Hood’s hand, before turning his head away from their audience to hide his face as he lifted his muzzle to spit out a mouthful of blood and something that glowed green. “Right,” He practically gargled looking back at their captive. “Who put you up to this?”

“I-I was working on my own-” He started before Hyena electrocuted him again, cutting off his words. 

“Wrong answer,” Hyena snarled. “You’re not imaginative enough to have thought of this on your own,” He said with a horrifyingly wet laugh. 

“I-I-” He stuttered, eyes flicking around frantically, looking to their audience, as if any of them were going to save him! Hood and Hyena had been terrifying enough before they found out Hyena was apparently a meta! And surely a powerful one at that if he could survive a fetal injury like that, and regeneration clearly wasn’t even his only power!

“Cat got your tongue? Here, let me help you loosen it,” Hyena cackled, starting to rub his hands together and generate sparks again. 

“No!” He yelped, shrinking back in the chair he was tied to. “It was Penguin! He said he’d make me a millionaire, and even if I died he’d give the money to my family. My girl is pregnant, I just wanted a good life for them.” 

“Save it with the excuses,” Hood snapped before resting both hands on Hyena’s shoulders, causing him to shake his hands dispelling the sparks. “Penguin huh? Ballsy of him, didn’t expect that to be honest. I thought he was more soft power then trying to make moves on other crime bosses like that these days,” He hummed. 

“We’re going to have to teach him a lesson aren’t we Boo?” Hyena nearly purred as the hole in his head finally started to fill back in. 

“Oh absolutely~ We’ll make him regret messing with us. Now what about this one? Should I kill him or do you want the honour?” Hood asked Hyena. 

“You go ahead,” Hyena shrugged, sliding off off the other man’s lap and rolling his shoulder to stretch out the brand new flesh and chunk of lung his body had finished generating. 

“No nonono please I’ll be a double agent! I can get you info, Please don’t-” He begged, though he should have known better after hurting Hood’s partner. Honestly he couldn’t have been very bright to think that there was ever any way that he was going to make it out of this alive. Even if he had managed to kill Hood, Hyena would have ripped him apart for it too. His pleas were cut off in a gurgle as Hood shot him through the throat, silencing his voice and making him gurgle on his own blood. 

“Get him out of the way please Beloved,” Hood asked Hyena, who stepped forward and easily picked up the man, who was significantly larger than him and tossed him into a corner to slowly bleed out or drown on his own blood. “Right, moving on, I want to hear your reports.” Red Hood said matter of factually, gently ushering Hyena into a chair and standing behind him with his hands on Hyena’s shoulders.  

They watching intently as everyone took a turn standing on shaking legs to deliver their reports, trying to ignore the gurgling breaths of the man dying in the corner, and not look at Hyena’s slowly regenerating eye. By the time Hood was satisfied everyone was still loyal, and suitably scared, and dismissed them Hyena was completely healed and the wet gasping from the corner had faded into silence. 

“No one speaks about what happened in this meeting. At least not until after we have dealt with Penguin,” Hood ordered as everyone stood up and gathered their things. “If he has warning that we’re coming there aren’t so many of you that we can’t follow up with each of you… individually,” He warned darkly, watching intently as they all filed out. 

Once they were alone he felt Hyena’s shoulders relax a little under his hands. Jason relaxed too, that was the first attempt on his life he had gotten in a while and he didn’t like it. He couldn’t say he was strictly surprised, attempted murder was sort of part of the crime lord gig after all, but he was still affected by it. And Danny even more so he was sure, since he had come dangerously close to losing Jason.

“How do you feel, Moonlight?” Jason asked gently, sitting down and drawing Danny onto his lap. 

“Like I want to bring Penguin's precious tacky empire down around his traitorous ears,” Danny hissed, pressing his face into Jason’s chest. 

Jason ignored the blood being smeared onto his shirt in favour of holding Danny and combing his hands through his lover’s dark hair. “Are you sure? Regenerating that much must have taken a lot out of you, especially in your human form. If you’re tired revenge can wait till tomorrow.”

“No! I want to do it now. Unless you want to think of a more subtle plan then just storming into the club where he is and confronting him head on?” Danny asked looking up at Jason curiously, deferring to him as usual. He wanted revenge, but he would control that if Jason wanted o be diplomatic. 

“Oh no, a full on assault sounds perfect to me,” Jason assured with a distorted laugh. “But that would mean exposing most, if not all of the powers that you have access to in this form and you’ve been so adamant about keeping them secret. Are you sure you want to do this? Wait, don’t answer that now. Whether we do it or not we have to go home first to get cleaned up, change clothes, and pick up some more weapons. Answer me once you’ve had a shower and you’re in some clean clothes without holes in them.”

“Alright,” Danny sighed and got up from Jason’s lap, offering him a hand up. “Let’s go home now then. Do we want to do anything with that body?” 

“No, no point. Someone will probably come clean it up later and if it is found all the witnesses know better hen to say anything if they value their fucking skin.” Jason chuckled, getting a slightly shaky smile from Danny in return as he led the way out of the warehouse and to his bike. 

The drive home passed in silence but when they got home Jason could see that the set of Danny’s jaw had only gotten more stubborn. As he headed into the bathroom he grabbed a spare Hyena suit instead of normal clothes. Alright so they really were doing this tonight. 

As the shower ran Jason rushed around their apartment gathering weapons and his suit with extra armour, but also the engagement rings he’d picked out and the new gloves he’d been working on in secret. He had a feeling this would be the perfect opportunity, something true to them while they were protecting what was important to them. And a political move as well, once Penguin rebuilt they could claim his club as a place important to them as well so they could spend more time there keeping an eye on the slimy little fucker. 

By the time Danny was back in costume and back out of the bathroom Jason was ready to go. He didn’t bother reminding Danny to grab any weapons since he knew very well his lover was perfectly capable of ripping through an army with his bare hands, and they left again without having to say a single word and they were on their way to the Iceberg Lounge. 

Jason skidded to a halt outside the lounge and Danny dismounted first, stalking towards the entrance. The bouncers tried to intercept of course, telling him to wait, but Danny froze them in their tracks and broke one of their arms when they tried to reach for their weapon. Then they were in, Jason drawing his guns as Danny pushed open the doors and shot two of the speakers with blasts of ice cutting the volume of the music in half. 

“We have business with Penguin,” Jason announced loudly to the room.

“If any of you don’t want a part in this fight please file out in an orderly fashion,” Danny said, taking a half step to the side and mockingly bowing people towards the door. There was a quick exodus after that, which was a relief, they didn’t want any collateral damage to innocents if they could help it. 

“Red Hood, what is the meaning  of this?” It wasn’t Penguin, it was one of his lieutenants, they did not want to talk to her. 

“Did you know about the Penguin's attempt on my life? I assume not or you would damn well know while we’re here,” Red Hood snarled at her, sending a ripple of gasps through the people who were left. 

“No he did not!” Harley gasped slamming her hands on the table and standing making Danny jump. He hadn’t realized that Harley and Ivy were here tonight. But hey, having some friends to pack them up just in case, and to make them seem like more of a threat, could only be for the better.

“Yes he fucking did! We got it out of the attempted assassin before we killed him. So we have a bone to pick with Penguin, get him out here or we will tear down this entire building,” Danny snarled. 

“And we’ll help,” Ivy said, rising gracefully from their table and going to stand behind Jason and Danny, with Harley stomping along at her heels. 

“Actually I think we should bring the building down whether he comes out or not, just to send a message,” Red Hood said dryly. 

“What a good idea Boo~” Hyena cackled, before grabbing one of the metal stools and throwing it through one of the windows. He picked up a chair and ripped the leg off, and handing it to Harley to use as a bat so she could start her own path of destruction. 

It seemed that was as much unfettered destruction as they were going to be allowed as a well trained looking troupe of bouncers came rushing in and Jason locked on to them. He was sure they were wearing bullet proof vests so he didn’t bother with body shots, he was perfectly capable of disabling them without killing them, and they were just doing their jobs. Hyena threw up a shield of ice around them, leaving Jason a window to fire through. 

“Damn I didn’t know you could do that,” Harley muttered to Hyena. 

“I can do a lot more than that,” Hyena laughed. 

“Focus please both of you,” Ivy said as she sent a wave of plants out, cracking the tiles as they rushed towards the people shooting at them and soon the room was filled with the screams of those Jason had shot and the silence of those unfortunate enough to have been dealt with by Ivy instead. 

Danny dropped the shields of ice freeing him and Harley again to cause more visceral and hands on chaos. It was amazing to see them work as Hyena practically flew over the bar to start smashing bottles of alcohol and Harley rushed off to smash whatever she could get her hands on with her makeshift bat. 

“Come on out Penguin, answer for what you’ve done,” Hood called as he reloaded his guns. He knew there would be at least one more attempt to force them out first, maybe he even had some metas on payroll, but they were not going anywhere. “We’re not going to kill you. We just want to talk, make sure you know what you did was wrong. The longer you take the more you’re going to have to replace, the more people you send out after us the more medical bills you’re going to have to pay.” He was sure Penguin was watching on the cameras from whatever nuke proof bunker he had squirreled himself away in. Hopefully he had his listening ears on. 

Apparently not because instead of Penguin the people who came through the doors next were a group of metas, and it seemed like Hyena had lost his patience. He was the one to leap into action, jumping from the ground floor up to balcony where they had entered, skipping the stairs entirely to get at them. They weren’t expecting him to come in so quickly and one was down before they had the chance to respond and Hyena had blood on his claws, his eyes glowing green as he snarled inhumanly. The remaining metas fell back a little, looking nervous and unsure, whatever confidence they’d had before rattled in the face of his ferocity. 

“Alright that’s enough,” Penguin’s voice rang out, he was trying very hard not to sound or look rattled, but he was out of breath and his hair was ruffled like he had run there. “I assure you I have no idea what you’re talking about, I would have never gotten involved in underground politics like that and shame on you for-” he yelped as Hyena grabbed him and jumped down from the balcony again, ripping his cane out of his hand and tossing it aside as he dragged the offending villain back to Hood like a hunting dog with a hare. 

“Is that so? Nothing to do with it?” Hood drawled, the projected eyes on his helmet narrowing as Hyena held Penguin in front of him. 

“Yes! Nothing at all!” Penguin insisted, though there was nervous sweat visible on his brow, matting his bangs to his forehead already. He tried to shrug off Hyena’s grip but he wouldn’t budge. “Unhand me you, Ow!” He yelped as Hyena tightened his grip to the point the boned in Penguin's arms creaked ominous. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. I’ve given Hyena permission to go all out with his powers tonight, and I’m sure you understand an attempt on my life already has him very upset,” Hood drawled curiously. “If you didn’t send him, why would he have said your name under torture?” 

“I’m sure I don’t know! You and I both have plenty of enemies who might have made a play against both of us simultaneously,” Penguin simpered. “It would be win win for them, either he killed you or you killed me and either way there would be a player taken off the board right? Surely there are plenty of people you can think of who might want that?”

Hood didn’t believe it, but he couldn’t deny it, and he didn’t want to kill Penguin if he could help it because that would leave a power vacuum in the underground that he wasn’t actually interested in filling. He sighed and subsided back a bit, which was Hyena’s queue to lessen, though not release, his grip on Penguin. “Well that’s a little disappointing, here we were planning to make an example of you,” He said, his gaze sweeping over the entirely ruined lounge, broken and stained with blood. “Though I suppose in a way we did, and I hope you’ll remember this too, if you ever do get any stupid ideas.”

“Yes of course! But this is going to cost so much to repair! Coming barging in here without any proof-” Penguin started to fuss. 

“Pengoo!” Hood interrupted with false friendliness. “Be glad we’re letting you leave with your life, and shut the fuck up.”

Penguin looked like he’d bitten into a lemon, but he did shut up, and when Hyena let him go he darted away quickly. 

“Good, with that out of the way. Hyena I’ve been meaning to ask you something, and here after watching how fiercely you defend me and defend out home, in the presence of a couple of our best friends, and romantic role models,” He winked at Harley and Ivy. “I just can’t think of a better time to ask. So,” He got down on one knee and pulled out the ring box from his bag. “Will you marry me?”

Danny gasped and covered his muzzle with both hands, next to them Ivy smiles softly and Harley bounced on her toes and tried not to squeal. Tears gathered in Danny’s eyes and Jason barely had time to brace himself before Danny was diving into his arms. “Yes!” He yelped enthusiastically. “Yes yes of course I’ll marry you! Yes of course!” He said before finally backed up so Jason could take off one of his glove and slide the ring onto his finger and then dove back into Jason’s arms making him laugh as he picked Danny up and spun him around. 

“HELL YA!!” Harley screeched and practically tackled both of them.

“Darling let the young lovers have their moment,” Ivy chided affectionately though she made no attempt to pry her away from Hood and Hyena since they were both laughing as well. 

“Congratulations to the happy couple,” Penguin butted in bitterly. “Now get out of my club, feel free to come by for a complimentary drink to celebrate, whenever I get this place open again.” He huffed, but this time they were willing to leave and go find somewhere better, and more private, to celebrate.

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

By the time they got home they were both exhausted, and just a little bit tipsy since Harley had insisted they had to get some drinks to celebrate. They tumbled into bed together, giggling and almost deliriously happy to finally have the masks off and be able to kiss each other properly, and they did, for a long time. Finally they just lay together, legs tangled together as Danny purred tiredly. It had been a very long day, but there was one more emotional thing they needed to get through. 

“Danny?” Jason asked. Danny responded with a questioning hum. “Have you thought about what you’re going to do after I die?” He asked, and backtracked when Danny immediately tensed. “Not any time soon! I’m certainly not planning on dying any time soon! But you said you're functionally immortal right? So you’re going to outlive me. What are you going to do?” 

Danny relaxed again slowly and then sighed softly. “I’ll stay with you,” He said softly, nuzzling against Jason’s chest. 

“You can’t-!”

“Not like that! But I’m half dead, I have access to the afterlife. And you’ve been around me enough, and I give off enough death energy that I can feel you becoming a little bit liminal. It won’t affect you much, but it pretty much guarantees you’ll become a ghost when you die, and a decently powerful one at that. You'll be with me in the Infinite Realms so unless you want death to do us part, it doesn't have to.” 

“What's a liminal?” Jason asked, he understood what most of Danny said meant but he needed a little clarification. 

“It basically means that your living soul inside your body is starting to develop a ghost core before death. If it happens early enough in development people tend to get some ghostly traits in their living bodies but it doesn't affect adults as much,” Danny explained willingly. 

“Huh,” Jason sounded, taking a moment to process all the new information before smiling slightly. “I guess we'll have to change our wedding vows won't we?” 

“Ya, from death do us part to ‘as long as we can stand each other’,” Danny joked, though Jason could hear the insecurity under his words. The silent ‘as long as you can stand me.’

“How about, as long as we can hold on to each other,” Jason suggested instead and Danny's smile softened and became more sincere. 

“Ya, I like the sound of that.”

[babyblue711]

Temptation

Ettore (High Life) x Reader - Part 1 Summary: Tired of the monotony of everyday life aboard the spaceship, you decide to start a little game to taunt Ettore. But your plan backfires and now you must deal with the consequences of temptation. This fic was heavily inspired by these two songs. I recommend giving them a listen before continuing: "Fill the Void" by Lily-Rose Depp & The Weeknd and "Little Girl Gone" by CHINCHILLA Words: 6.3K

Warnings: PLEASE READ! NSFW, Smut, Mature Themes 18+, Sexual Content 18+, Noncon, Dubcon, Rough Sex, Physical Violence, Mention of Suicide, Mention of Physical Abuse, Language, Degradation A/N: Consider Part 1 to be "just getting warmed up". I hope you all enjoy! Thank you to @arcielee for beta reading and @myfandomprompts for providing most of the pics and gifs! Dividers by @firefly-graphic

Every day was the same.

Trapped on this doomed spaceship that was destined for hell, every day felt like a relentless loop of monotony and misery. Same work, same people, same experiments, same old bullshit every fucking day. 

The utilitarian living quarters of the spacecraft make you feel like you are in a mental hospital, cold and uninviting. Every facet of the interior is minimalistic; a mix of sterile clinical spaces and dimly lit, shadowy corridors. Blue light shines at night that’s supposed to help the inhabitants sleep. The bland functionality and oppressive “sameness” just makes you want to scream.

Some days it all becomes too much to bear and you feel a small part of you snap. You despise feeling helpless and not in control of your life anymore; with each beat of your heart, white hot fire courses through your veins. At times, you yearn to unleash your fury on someone, anyone, to let out the pent-up frustration that has been building within you for far too long. But then the storm inside of you passes and you settle back into your repetitive routine once more. 

Your fellow shipmates are a bunch of criminals and weirdos. You try to make due with what you have, except for Dr. Dibs, whom you hate with your whole heart. Her cold demeanor and cruel experiments are a constant source of dread. She seems to derive pleasure from the suffering she inflicts upon you and the other girls aboard the ship.

Although you aren’t really sure you could call them friends, there are a few people you were “ok” with, mainly the other girls that also had to suffer through Dr. Dib’s sick experiments. A few of the guys are alright too; Monte is a loner that mainly keeps to himself and you’ve never heard him say an unkind word. Tcherny’s favorite place on the ship is the makeshift garden and you couldn’t blame him since it reminds everyone of Earth, of home. 

Ettore is…unusual. He has a certain aura that just feels…off. Your hair stands up on the back of your neck whenever you catch him staring or whenever he passes too close in the corridor, as if an electric current surrounds him, radiating off of his body. He’s a man of few words; you’ve rarely ever heard him speak. 

Amongst the girls, it’s well known that he doesn’t give a fuck if he is caught staring or leering, which he often is. Boyse especially dislikes him because he gives her the creeps. She normally has trouble sleeping at night because she says she can feel her skin crawl when he looks at her. You try your best to just ignore him most of the time. 

Until one day, during lunch in the cafeteria, you are sitting with the girls, mingling and talking quietly, when you feel a tingle go down your spine. You glance up and immediately make eye contact with him. 

His eyes lock onto yours, and you find yourself momentarily captivated by the intensity behind his gaze.

You were already having a bad day and you can feel the beginnings of another storm brewing inside. You’re sick of Ettore’s shit so you stare right back, issuing him a challenge in a silent duel to look away first. The air seems to sizzle with tension as you watch his glare harden when you don’t look away, like most of the girls normally do; he looks positively predatory with his sharp angular face and dark blue eyes. 

You refuse to let him intimidate you. Your eyes are watering but you’re too involved in this stupid little battle of wills to concede to him now by blinking. Thankfully, a welcome interruption arrives in the form of Monte. Having not noticed the little contest between you and Ettore, he walks right in front, breaking the spell between you two. You blink rapidly and take a deep breath, watching as Ettore leans around Monte to look back at you, an unspoken promise in his stare that seems to say, I’m not done with you yet. You roll your eyes and look away.

“What are you looking at, Y/N?” Boyse asks from beside you, snapping you to attention. 

“Uh...nothing,” you mumble back, not really wanting to engage with her.

“That fucking creep. He sits across from us to stare at us on purpose, have you noticed?” Boyse says, noticing the trail of your gaze.

“Yeah, I know but don’t let it bother you, Boyse, just ignore him,” you try to diffuse the situation. You don’t want to be involved in yet another incident where Ettore made a girl feel uncomfortable. Boyse goes back to picking at her food silently and you do the same. 

You ignore him now; he isn’t worth your time or attention. Even though you get a bad vibe from him, you can’t help but notice a certain attractiveness about Ettore. He is tall and lean, with corded muscles on his arms, toned chest, and abs. He has a very angular face, strong jaw and chin with a sharp nose and luscious lips. You have to admit that you had never seen a man with as beautiful lips as his.

Lost for a moment thinking about his body, you bring yourself back to the present. You scold yourself; perhaps the monotony of this ship really was driving you insane, lusting after someone who gave off such ominous vibes. You swore to hate men for all eternity after what you had endured. That’s how you ended up in this hell hole to begin with….

After years of torment and physical violence of both you and your mother, you finally snapped and murdered your abusive stepfather in his sleep after he was passed out from another drunken rage.

But, despite arguing in court that your actions should be considered self defense after years of abuse, the jury found you guilty and sentenced you to life in prison...or join this sick experiment in space. You aren’t remorseful that you had killed your step-father. He got what he deserved and no other woman would have to deal with his violence ever again. However, when your mother learned that you had chosen to accept this mission in space, she couldn’t bear the pain of losing her only daughter. She took a bunch of pills and never woke up. 

Now, you are an unloved, unwanted murderer and no one cared if you lived or died. This mission is perfect for people like you. 

You’re standing in line for the shower that evening, towel in hand, when Ettore walks by; his hair is still wet from his shower and he’s wearing a fresh set of scrubs, towel slung over his shoulder. You see him coming and avert your eyes so as not to attract his attention. He saunters over anyway and you know he’s trying to annoy you on purpose.

He stops right beside your left shoulder and you reluctantly bring your eyes up to meet his gaze. His presence is imposing and you can't help but notice how much taller he is compared to you, making you feel small and vulnerable in his shadow. He leers, invading your personal space and it takes everything in you to not step back from him as he looks down his nose at you. Your eyes lock in a tense standoff, each daring the other to back down. 

Despite your inner resolve, you feel a knot of tension in your stomach, and your hand instinctively tightens around the towel you're holding. It takes all your strength to hold your ground, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing you flinch. 

“I know what you’re doing,” he sneers in a low voice. 

You realize that he is trying to intimidate you with some stupid alpha-male shit, but you are not afraid of him. Fire burns hot in your blood and you are ready for a fight.

“I’m not doin’ shit, Ettore, now fuck off,” you say back aggressively, letting him know you won’t be an easy meal with your tone.

“The fuck you aren’t,” he growls lowly, deep in his chest. He steps closer to you, suddenly trailing a finger from your eyebrow down the side of your face. The gesture is so unexpected that you flinch and freeze, staring up at him with wide eyes mixed with confusion and defiance.

“C’mon, love, I know you’re just playing hard to get,” he whispers as his eyes look you up and down suggestively. Finally, he turns and walks away.

As he exits the bathroom, you let out a breath that you didn’t realize you were holding and think, What the fuck was that? You curse internally; you knew you shouldn’t have started anything back in the cafeteria. Now he thinks you’re interested or some shit. But…maybe you were, in a way? You feel conflicted, knowing that he thinks of you as an easy target. 

Finally, it’s your turn for the shower. You undress quickly and start to relax as the hot water streams over your shoulders. As you’re washing your hair, an idea comes to you and butterflies flutter in your chest at your wicked thoughts, the most excitement you’ve felt in a long time. Because of your abusive past, you refuse to let anyone ever make you feel small and insignificant ever again and decide on the spot that Ettore is going to become your next target of torture. You knew his weakness; you’d exploit his obvious sexual deviousness, which was probably fueled by the rules on the ship that the inmates couldn’t engage in any sexual behavior with each other.

A dark chuckle escapes your lips. You’d show him who’s boss. Given the lack of privacy on the spacecraft, you’d never fear his retribution; you could tease him mercilessly and always be able to evade any potential advances if he thought he would take things further…or so you hoped. 

A tiny alarm bell rings in the back of your mind. You knew that what you were planning was the equivalent to waking a sleeping dragon but you didn’t care. You are so beyond sick of the monotony of everyday life that you convince yourself that you needed this little extra bit of spice as an escape from the mundane reality of your circumstances.  

So, you allow this little game to proceed between you and Ettore, a cocktail of emotions swirling within you: boredom, lust, anger, hatred, desire—all of them fuel this strange dance.

As the days pass by, you continue to provoke him with stolen glances and lingering eye contact that says more than words ever could. He responds eagerly to your meager attention, just as you knew he would. His advances quickly became more pronounced as simple stares turn into physical contact: brushing your shoulder on purpose as he walks by, daring you to react. Anytime you are in the same vicinity as him, you feel a magnetic energy pulling the two of you together. You have created this friction on purpose to drive him mad, but you can’t help but feel like you are getting caught up in it too…  

Something had awoken in you that night when he touched your face in the bathroom. A wild, feral animal rattles at the bars of this proverbial cage that you had locked away deep inside a long time ago. Women aren’t supposed to be sexual creatures in the same way men are. It was a part of yourself that you have spent years hiding because you are afraid you’d just be labeled a whore or a slut. But what did it matter anymore on this dreaded spaceship? You can’t deny that you, too, feel a deep void, an ache in your chest, a need for something more.

Upon arriving back at your bunk one evening, you hear a deep breath from behind you. You whirl and see Ettore across the hallway, standing in another doorway, watching you. It’s the most provocative he’s looked thus far since he’s shirtless, wearing only a pair of black sweatpants. You hesitate, then decide to make a show of looking him up and down, biting your bottom lip, secretly admiring his toned chest and abs. When your eyes flick back up to his face, his gaze locks onto yours as he reaches into his pants and starts pleasuring himself right in front of you, not caring if anyone saw. 

Your eyeballs pop in shock at this brazen display of desire. Your heartbeat picks up and a million thoughts start to race through your mind. Should you tease him in return? What if he decides to come into your bunk? Red flags wave a warning in the back of your mind and you knew you were walking on a razor’s edge. You think he’s about to take a step towards you when, thankfully, a door slams nearby and Ettore vanishes into the shadows. You let out a deep breath, doubting your stupid plan to taunt him that was working way too easily. A ripple of unease flows through you. You could feel that he was like a volcano waiting to explode. What would you do when he did?

You decide to ignore him from now on to try to diffuse the tension you had built between you both. He needs to get a grip and, honestly, so did you. So, as much as you despise it, you release your frustration within “The Box” when it all becomes too much to bear. 

A few nights later, you are walking back to your bunk after visiting The Box. Still unsatisfied, you turn the corner and see Ettore scrubbing the floor in front of you, his back to you. He is shirtless again, dressed only in orange cargo pants. He doesn’t look around and you don’t think he’s heard your approach. You pause behind him, admiring the way his shoulder and back muscles ripple as he scrubs the floor. He has three tattoos, all black triangles; one on his right forearm, another on his left bicep, and finally, one on the right side of his neck. You assume they are symbolism for some type of gang. You’re staring, openly, almost hypnotized by the movement of his muscles. 

“I know you’re there,” he says suddenly and you jump out of your revere, heart leaping into your throat. He continues to mop the floor, not even bothering to turn around.

You feign nonchalance and start to walk by him, glancing down just as he is looking up at you.

“I can do you better than that box, you know,” he purrs at you with a cocky smirk. 

He doesn’t miss the way your eyes widen at his words. Your heart pounds and you know you can’t give him any encouragement, so you give a noncommittal grunt before hurrying back to your bunk. When you lay in bed that night, you know, deep down, that if you stood there and watched him any longer, half naked on the floor, you might just be tempted to find out for yourself. 

The next day starts like any other. You’ve been assigned to organize the storage room; a redundant and mundane task, located in the bottom level of the ship. You’ve been at it for a couple of hours, in the middle of inventorying the stockpile of supplies, when you feel a presence from behind. You don’t know what tipped you off exactly because he hasn’t made a sound, but you turn to see him silently shutting the door behind him and locking it, staring at you with a predatory gaze.

“The fuck do you want?” you ask aggressively, firing up at once. Anger is your first line of defense as your heartbeat picks up, but the smallest thrill of fear laces up your spine. An alarm bell goes off in the back of your mind, a small voice is screaming a warning to get out of that room. You are quite alone down here in this part of the ship and you doubt anyone would hear you if you try to scream. This was it…you had pushed him too far and now the consequence was right in front of you, looking at you mercilessly. 

“I think you know what I want,” he almost growls, voice deep. “You have a choice, we can do this the easy way….or we can do this the hard way,” his gaze hardens as he stares at you.

“Fuck off,” you say defiantly back. Inside, you are cursing fluently. You knew this day would come, knew he wouldn’t be able to resist temptation. He chuckles as he steps closer until he’s right in front of you, looking down.

“You wanna know what I think?” he says, and you really don’t care what he thinks but you know he’s about to tell you anyway so you don’t even bother responding. “I don’t know what you did to land here on this cursed spaceship, but I think, deep down, you’re just a good little girl, pretending to be bad, aren’t you?” He says this as if hoping to corrupt your innocence; you smirk to yourself, thinking he has no idea who he’s messing with.  

You raise your chin, looking him straight in the eyes and you just can’t help the words that escape from your mouth. “Well…this good little girl is only a bad girl for the right man,” you say with fire in your gaze, taunting him on purpose even though you know it’s a stupid thing to do. “And that sure as hell isn’t you.” 

You could feel the heat radiate off of him from the proximity of his body so close to yours. He smirks and his eyes darken dangerously as he takes the bait.

“Is that so?” he says easily. “You’ve been provoking me for weeks. You think I didn’t know exactly what you were doing all along? I saw you staring at me too. I think you want me as much as I want you.” His eyes seem to burn into you with desire, lust blowing out his pupil.

“It was just a stupid little game, Ettore. It didn’t mean anything, it’s not that serious,” you know you’re babbling as you try to remain calm by playing it off like you don’t know what he’s talking about. His nostrils flare as he sniffs out your lie and you suddenly feel like a mouse that has just wandered into the lion's den. “Besides, you know we can’t,” you say sternly, referring to the rules, trying to get him to see reason. 

“That’s bullshit and you know it. And I don’t give a fuck about Dibs’ rules,” he says menacingly. 

Rage starts to come to your rescue as you realize he’s not going to listen to a word you say.

You level him with a hard glare. “I don’t fucking want you, Ettore,” you growl back at him.

Panic seizes you for a moment when he reaches for you suddenly and cups your face with his hand. His thumb runs over your cheek in an unexpected gentle caress before moving over your lips, pulling your bottom lip down. His eyes flick up to yours as lust surges through your core at his touch.

“Such a smart little mouth you have,” he says quietly as he takes a deep breath. “I won’t have a problem fucking the brat outta you.”   

He moves so fast you don’t even have time to blink as he lunges for you, spinning you around and smashing you against some cardboard boxes stacked against the wall nearby. His fingers have a tight grip on your hair as he pushes your face into the box, using his knees to kick your legs apart, unbalancing you, one hand grabs your left arm and twists it behind your back. He moves at such a lightning pace that it momentarily takes your breath away.

He pulls your head back from the box by your hair and bends your neck to the side so he can run his nose from your ear to your shoulder, groaning like an animal in heat as he savors your smell. Your heart hammers in your chest. Shockwaves roll over you at the speed of his assault and you can’t even form words yet, only whimper slightly from the pain of having your hair pulled. At the same time, wetness pools at your center. 

“I gave you an opportunity, didn’t I?” he whispers darkly in your ear. “It didn’t have to be like this, you stupid little cunt,” he grunts as you try to struggle with all your might to get away from him, but he’s just too big, too heavy, too strong to break free of his grasp.

Rage boils in your blood as you realize just how well and truly trapped you are. Deep down, you knew this would happen. You realize he saw an opportunity to get you alone and he took it.  You know what’s about to happen and you know you can’t stop it, but you aren’t going down without a fight. 

Your breathing is fast as he starts kissing your neck, biting down on your pulsepoint, feeling your heart race.

“Fuck you, Ettore,” you say through gritted teeth. 

Provocatively, he grinds his hard cock against your ass through your clothes. “Oh, you will,” he growls as he lets go of your hair to effectively pin your arms behind your back with one hand. With the other free hand, he starts exploring your body, running his hand over your breasts and squeezing until he trails down lower, dipping his fingers under the band of your pants. 

You truly lose it at this moment as you feel him reach for your core. You struggle and fight for all your worth and he's forced to stop his path to your center and hold onto you tighter to keep you from getting away. His fingers latch around your throat and he squeezes hard, immobilizing you easily as you struggle to take a breath. His body pushes you further into the boxes, leaning his weight on you.  

“Stop fighting me,” he loudly growls into your ear aggressively. “You stupid little bitch, I know I do things to you too, just the same as you do me,” he breathes harshly. “Look how your body responds to me,” your nipples are pebbled against your shirt and he could clearly feel them when he assaulted your front a moment ago. 

“And I bet, if I touched you right now, you’d be wet, wouldn’t you, love?” he licks the outer rim of your ear and releases his grip on your throat. As you gasp and suck in air, as his fingers reach below your panties and his fingers find your slippery core. You whimper and draw shallow breaths as he groans into your ear when he feels how wet your cunt is. 

He dips down to your opening and gathers some slick, bringing it up to circle your bud and you feel the fight slowly leave your body. It has been so long since a man touched you, you feel like a switch has been flipped, lust now running rampant through your veins, like a shot of ecstasy to your system. He feels you relax under his hand and loosens his hold on your wrists that are still pinned behind your back. You moan softly and lean into him.

“That’s what I thought, you little slut,” he whispers in your ear. You allow yourself to enjoy this moment, but you’ve already formulated a secondary plan and intend to make him pay for this too. You’re simply lulling him into a false sense of security right now. By loosening his hold, he’s actually done exactly what you wanted. You let him circle your bud for a few more times, before you tense, spinning around and shoving him away from you as hard as you can. You aren’t the only one who’s going to feel pain today as renewed rage pounds in your chest.

You leap at him and the fight for dominance ensues as you grapple with each other, falling onto the floor. Physically, you know you are no match for him, but taking your anger and frustration out on him just feels so good. You kick and punch and scratch and scream. He’s doing everything he can to block and contain your flurry of blows but he’s not hit back yet either. Even if he does, that’s nothing new to you; you still have plenty of scars from your step-father.

You’re on top at first, but you’re under no illusion that you’re “winning”, just simply letting the frustration out as you claw at his chest. He quickly decides he’s tired of being your punching bag and he flips you over and lays his full weight on top of you, pinning you to the floor. 

You wrap him in a bear hug on the floor, thinking that if he can’t lean away from you to punch you, you’re safe from any strong direct hits from him. You’re both breathing heavily, Ettore trapped between your legs and you try to kick him from your position but he grabs your hip and pinches harshly, causing you to yelp in pain. 

He wiggles free of your arms, pinning your hands above your head with one of his as he looks down at you, fury in his gaze.

“Are you fuckin’ done yet?” he taunts you, knowing you’re pinned now. 

You literally growl back at him like a rabid, wild animal and show him your teeth; maybe he’ll think you’re insane and he won’t want to continue this anymore. It doesn’t work...

He smirks instead. “There she is…you weren’t lying earlier about the bad girl thing were you? I got myself a right little she-devil, haven’t I?” He chuckles darkly, a menacing sound causing fear to tingle at the base of your spine. “Don’t worry, I’ll have you tamed by the end.”

You don’t respond, distracted by his other hand that has traveled up your shirt, roving over your breasts. You try to buck him off but he’s just too heavy and you barely get him to budge. In alarm, you realize you’ve missed your chance to escape. He watches your face as he touches you and you glare back up into his eyes, hating feeling helpless like this. His touch is surprisingly gentle as he squeezes your breasts and then runs his warm hand down your ribs. 

Hatred and fury pound in your chest, but you’re caught off guard that he isn’t beating you to a pulp. It’s what you had come to expect from men, especially after the physical altercation you just had with him. Involuntarily, you feel yourself relax a little at his touch and your breathing becomes a little more steady. After a few more moments, he notices the tension leave you and suddenly his lips find yours in a violent kiss that’s all teeth and tongue. He starts grinding his pelvis into your aching cunt and you moan into his kiss, hating yourself for liking this but you succumb to his attentions, unable to resist more. Animalistic lust and desire blooms from deep within, your head swirls from his kiss, your body aches for his touch.  

You surrender the fight. “Take your shirt off,” you say when you both come up for air from your kiss; he knows he has to let go of your hands in order to remove his clothes.

“Are you going to stop fighting me?” he asks and you nod. He smirks, “so you gonna be a good girl now?” 

“Shut up, Ettore, it's your dick I want, not you,” you growl back at him and his grin widens. 

He lets go of your hands and quickly pulls his shirt over his head. You notice the red marks on his chest from where you clawed him earlier. You watch his abs contract with each panting breath, noticing his defined chest and lean muscles of his arms. You feel more wetness pool in your core as your eyes appreciate his body. 

You reach for the bottom of your shirt and surprise him by removing it yourself, your breasts pebbling in the cool air; you barely bothered wearing a bra anymore. He looks down hungrily at them, running his hands softly over your nipples. You arch your back and he immediately takes one in his mouth, the other rolling your nipples between his fingers. Your hands are in his hair as you grind your hips into his hard length. He bites down on the skin of your left breast, sucking a bruise onto the skin while massaging the other one firmly with his other hand. He moves upwards, kissing along your collarbone until he reaches your neck, biting, licking and sucking at all of your exposed skin. You rake your fingernails down his back, becoming impatient for more. 

He pulls away from your neck and sits up, reaching for your pants. You lift your hips so he can remove them completely. He admires your naked body, laying bare on the floor beneath him, the swell of your breasts, the curve of your hips, your wet cunt open for him. From his position kneeling between your legs, he takes your knees and spreads them apart, opening your pussy more for his view, groaning deep in his chest as his eyes feast upon your body. Deciding to tease him a little, you reach down and start playing with your bud and he stares shamelessly.

“Fuck,” he murmurs and watches you for a few moments. “Such a needy little slut aren’t you?” 

You moan and grind into your own hand, fingers dipping down to your entrance to gather some slick onto your fingers. You bring them up to your mouth to taste yourself, knowing that you’re about to drive him absolutely wild. Since he’s seen your “feral animal” wild-side, now you want to see his too. 

His mouth hangs open, his chest rising and falling rapidly with his breathing as he watches your lips close around your fingers as you taste yourself and moan. His restraint snaps in an instant.

He pulls down his pants, freeing his large, veiny cock and gives it a couple pumps, watching your face. Your eyes widened at the sight; his cock is bigger than you expected, long and thick, a pearl of his spend visible on the tip. Your eyes meet and you’re sure he can see the slight trepidation in yours as he smirks. 

“You can fuckin’ take it,” Ettore says confidently, as if this is supposed to reassure you. He doesn’t waste any more time as he lines himself up with your entrance.

You were wet and willing and ready for him but you cry aloud as he sheathes himself fully in one thrust, not caring to take things slow with you. You pant and arch your back as his large cock fills you so completely full, eyes popping a little at the intensity of the intrusion. The stretch burns more than you anticipated and you focus on breathing through the pain.  

He gives you a few shallow thrusts before mumbling, “Fuckin’ hell, your pussy is so fuckin’ tight - sorry if that hurt a little after all,” he says in a voice that doesn’t sound sorry at all. 

He pauses for a moment as he watches your face wince at the pain. He doesn’t give you long though, knowing that he’s hurting you but can’t seem to control himself as his hips start to snap into yours at a steady pace. 

After a few thrusts, you’ve adjusted to his size and pleasure starts to course through your core. You begin to meet his thrusts with your hips. He seems to take that as a sign to speed up as he suddenly pounds into you, much harder, causing you to cry aloud not from pain, but from pleasure.

His hips snap into yours as he fucks you hard, brutally, wickedly, deliciously, and you groan as lightning races from your cunt into your chest. Pleasure starts to build deep inside as his thick cock continually rubs your g-spot. He grabs one leg and puts it over his shoulder and leans over you, changing the angle, driving you wild and your walls start to clench around him.

“Gonna cum for me already?” he pants, an amused smirk on his luscious lips.

“Fuck, Ettore,” you mewl as the pleasure starts to overwhelm your senses. It had been so long since you felt this good. “Harder,” you challenge him, as if he isn’t already fucking you hard enough.

He glances up at your face before withdrawing completely and you feel momentary emptiness at the void left behind as he pulls out from your aching pussy. Flipping you over on your stomach, bringing your ass back in the air as he kneels behind you. You prop yourself up on your elbows as your knees dig into the cold, hard floor; you know you’ll have bruises on your knees from this position. He thrusts back into your aching core with a guttural groan and you feel a stinging slap to your rear end. You cry aloud and mewl pathetically, then feel him yank on your hair from behind. He pulls you up so that your palms are now resting on the floor, your neck pulled back, held by his grip in your hair; he fucks you ruthlessly as he rides you from behind. His other hand grips your hip so hard you know you’ll have more bruises tomorrow.

You both are panting heavily as he lands another blow to your ass, harder this time, you’re positive a red handprint remains and you may even form yet another bruise with the strength of his slap. He doesn’t even bother to run his hand along the tender skin to soothe it, he just keeps thrusting with single-minded intensity. The slaps sting but in a pleasurable way as you feel your core become impossibly wetter each time he hits you.  

You reach a hand down to play with your pearl, your walls clenching around his thick cock as pleasure coils low in your belly.

The bites, the bruises, the ache around your throat from being choked, the pull of your hair on your scalp, the sore spot on your ass cheek from his repeated slaps, the drag of his thick cock inside your wet, tight pussy causes your mind to go blissfully blank, all of the sensations overwhelming you. Your eyes roll in your head and you idly wonder how much pain and how much pleasure your body could handle until it snaps. 

Ettore can feel your orgasm approach as your walls start to spasm around him. 

“Little slut, gonna cum all over my cock, aren’t you?” he growls, increasing his tempo. 

You have the wherewithal to get out one request before it’s too late. You try to speak in between his brutal thrusts. “Please…Ettore,” you pant. “When you cum, pull out.” All of the women who had gotten pregnant through Dibs’ sick experiment ended up dying. You didn’t want that fate just yet.

He doesn’t respond, continuing his pace and your breathing becomes harsh as you approach the precipice of your orgasm. The coil snaps and your release rips through you, obliterating everything else, your vision goes white. You cry out his name as he continues to fuck you through your high. 

“Fuckin’ shit,” he grunts as he feels your cunt clench down on him. Your orgasm is still rolling through you but he can’t hold back any longer, he pulls out and paints your ass with his spend. 

He finally lets your hair go and you collapse onto the floor and he falls next to you. You both pant and breath harshly for a few minutes, not saying anything. As you come down from your high from your intense orgasm, reality sets in: part of you feels satisfied for the first time in a long while, the other part of you feels like you can’t believe you just let that happen to you. You wanted it but you didn’t want it; you didn’t know how to feel. You feel relief that he at least listened and pulled out. 

Finally, he sits up and starts looking for his clothes. You take one last deep breath and are about to do the same when you unexpectedly feel him clean his spend off of you with his shirt, making you jump a little. He’s a little rough with the wiping but the gesture is almost nice for Ettore. He throws your shirt and pants over to you and you both get dressed in silence. 

He helps you up off the floor and lifts your chin with his finger.

“Don’t tell anyone about this,” he warns, looking deep into your eyes. You nod in acquiescence, there is no way you’d ever tell anyone, but you give him the reassurance that he needs.

A smug smile plays on his lips. “So compliant now, I see. I told you I would fuck the brat outta you.” You scowl and try to pull away from him but he’s trapped your chin between his thumb and forefinger. He leans in closer and you think he’s about to kiss you, but he doesn’t. 

“You’re mine now, mine to use whenever I want, my own little slut, you fuckin’ belong to me. Don’t forget it,” he squeezes your chin and gives you one last dark glare before opening the door and exiting the storage room, leaving you stunned. 

You watch him go and feel a little paralyzed. You feel as though you just opened Pandora’s box. 

What monster have you just unleashed?

>>> Part 2

Tags: @peonamay @quinnquinn317 @pandemonium105 @aemondsscar @cyeco13 @multyfangirl @chainsawsangel @boundlessfantasy @bellaisasleep @sylas-the-grim @megatardisbaby

[stigmvtas-archived]

welcome to marina, PALOMA "BABE" MORI ( demi woman, she/they ) ! they are a TWENTY SEVEN year old who has lived on the island for THEIR WHOLE LIFE. word on the street is they’re currently living in TOWER HILL and works as a TAXIDERMIST / STRIPPER. everyone also says they look a lot like NANA KOMATSU. what do you think? — JAMES, 24, THEY/THEM, EST.

MENTIONS OF PARENTAL DEATH, CAR ACCIDENT, NIGHT TERRORS, MORE DEATH, STALKING, HARASSMENT, GUN VIOLENCE (IMPLIED), DRUGS. UMM. YEA.

profile.

full name: paloma mori.

birthday: august 13th, 1996.

astrology: leo sun, leo moon, leo ascending.

sexuality: bisexual.

currently listening to: 8 now by food house.

last known location: [[[cannot be found]]]

PINTEREST.

brief history.

parental death / car accident; she's raised by her maternal grandfather and uncle, smack dab between her two brothers - their parents died in a car crash when her younger brother was just a baby, babe still too young to remember them much, or the accident that took place.

they live in a small apartment atop their grandfather's restaurant - a small noodle & beer shop that welds just enough profit for them to get by.

has been called babe her entire life - sometimes her grandfather says its because after her older brother had watched the movie of the same name, he thought she looked so pink and pig - like.

night terrors; is diagnosed with night terrors at a very young age - her cries and screams wake their household nightly, tiny limbs thrashing about like undergoing an exorcism. every night, on repeat - again and again. sleep paralysis becomes common - strange figures always lurking in her doorway, fingers curling over her doorframe - insomnia after that, because babe can no longer stand to sleep.

as a kid there's only so many explanations to her diagnosis - none feel right, a girl always in denial - settles on the belief that maybe she's a medium. that maybe what she sees are just spirits reaching out for her - wanting her help. she's so young, her family just thinks she'll grow out of the belief - but she never does. it's better than acknowledging the truth - of the deaths she's tethered to.

grows up the weird girl - the girl who talks to nothing, the girl who says she's really seen bloody mary in the mirror - the girl who's always bruised from taking a fall from her skateboard, over and over again - the girl who never learns. the girl who set the robotics club room on fire, and was banned from competitions from there on. always plenty smart - but terrible at utilizing it.

death; her grandfather dies shortly after babe's high school graduation - and college seems like a distant memory. she'd been serious about it, once - but now she needs to help out where she can. her uncle's taking over the restaurant with her oldest brother in tow - her youngest already picking up jobs when he should be studying. babe hates to see them struggle - hates how palpable the grief is in the air, how thick it is - how she can barely breathe.

she gets a job at the strip club as a dancer - she's young and charismatic, muscle built from years of roughhousing - it reels in plenty money, enough to help out her household and have some leftover. she picks up taxidermy classes, because college still seems so far away - babe knows how to move forward, but not how to pick up the pieces and continue where she's left off - dozens of projects left half - finished, plenty of relationships dropped without warning. the only constants are piper, her best friend since diapers, practically, and reggie - the boyfriend she breaks up with, but never truly leaves. she's known him for so long - it feels impossible to ever really part.

stalking / harassment / gun violence; years later - babe's a known face at the club with a plethora of regulars, customers who adore not just her body, but her personality, who respect her - who pay her plenty. a new customer begins to get a bit too - affectionate towards babe. too close, too interested. the club's good about discomfort - and he's escorted off premises after he tries to follow her into the dressing rooms. it doesn't end after that - an obsession that carries outside of the club, that follows her - he follows her, to and 'fro - the police useless, because he hasn't touched her - and when her oldest brother finds out, he decides to take matters into his own hands. the man doesn't die - but he comes close to it, and when the police come knocking this time 'round - it's babe's uncle who steps up; who confesses to the crime. a crime he hasn't committed - but will protect his family from.

it's been a year since then; her oldest brother's taken over their family's restaurant - and the guilt swallows babe daily. she's only semi - recently gone back to work, much to the protest of her brothers; her oldest brother still upset about her decision, and still not talking to her.

facts & temperaments.

has unironically called herself an empath and in her defense she sort of is. feels emotions so so deeply that they hurt. a big crier, can't help it. tends to let them get the best of her - an irrational thinker who always jumps to conclusions, whether it's about you loving or hating her.

a little performative, dramatic - feels like she needs to be, like if she's not a caricature of sunshine then she's just the girl with a should - be - dead stalker and an incarcerated uncle. the girl with the dead animals, and the profuse swearing of mediumship.

a big - time partier, a known raver; self - proclaimed scene queen. always wearing rave attire, even in the cold - loves big, bold colors, the more neon the better, her arms consistently covered in kandi that she gives out like candy to her most favorite people of the week, sometimes the hour.

drugs; big big big on psychedelics and like. party drugs. loves poppers. will never admit that she has a problem - thinks she can always just reel it in.

has probably said rawr :3 in the past 24 hours.

loud and bold and talkative - isn't afraid to point out things that others may not; doesn't get the hint when to shut up. a bit of a blabbermouth, but she can't help it.

needs to be validated often that she's still liked and loved and adored, it's a bit of a problem. tends to latch onto others and form the occasional obsessive attachment. it's no big deal. sometimes it lasts for days, sometimes months. she finds most people interesting, and sometimes the most random things draw her in. thinks there's more beneath every person and she wants to know Every Layer.

a little hypersexual - a coping mechanism to deal with. Everything. but also just loves love! will also get incredibly jealous at times, but it's almost as a joke? but only babe finds it funny, and only after everyone's like babe wtf? then she's like omg jk haha im not that possessive :3 (kind of is)

once again, a big crier - at minor inconveniences, at sad movies, at misunderstandings; even when angry, it's just more tears. purposefully wears mascara that runs for the aesthetic. has probably never taken her eyeliner off.

big on adrenaline - seeking and cheap thrills. loves the idea of overcoming danger. believes in ghosts and cryptids and probably wants to fuck mothman, experiences medium revelations like several times a day.

has several tattoos that are just the @'s of people she's fucked whether it's their instagram or twitch or what. she thinks it's funny. and it's like, girl? kind of matches how her shitty little honda civic that's always falling apart is covered in bumper stickers on the outside and like. actual stickers on the inside. like she's just vomited lisa frank.

downs several monsters or various other energy drinks a day. aforementioned car's floor is littered with the crushed cans and general. gross shit ngl. we love her though.<3

[os3npaio]

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⚠️CW: Manga spoilers, blood, violence, Age age (40 & 21), Sugar Daddy / Baby⚠️

WORD COUNT:3441

Artwork by oS3NPAIo | DO NOT REPOST

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Part One: Blood Riot

Time and money were nothing to Eijirou. He has been alive enough to know that money was materialistic, and power was everything. When he was younger and more foolish, Eijirou wanted to be a hero. He strived to be great along with his "friends."

Which was a complete and utter joke.

Eijirou Kirishima.

Red fucking Riot.

To class 1-A he was the cheerful friend but, in the background, he was the traitor of UA. He gave the league the needed information in exchange for being promised a spot in their organization. When he went through the League of Villains it was bizarre how some of them were down to earth. There was a healer named Dante, his quirk specialized in healing wounds from one body to his. He was the right-hand man along with the hothead Dabi. Both Eijirou and Dabi never saw eye to eye with things he did for the league. Eijirou believed in keeping a lot of profile when Dabi was eccentric. He didn't want to reveal himself until it was the right time. Dabi wanted Eijirou to reveal himself before kidnapping Katsuki from camp, but Eijirou thought it was too soon.

As the years carried on it was becoming increasingly obvious how his tendencies changed. No longer did he care for others' well-being. Eijirou was growing tired of the constant back and forth.

That was until the war.

Once that happened, it was his grand entrance and he revealed himself as the traitor. It felt like an enormous weight lifted from his shoulders. The one person that took it the hardest was Bakugo Katsuki. Deep down, Eijirou saw Katsuki as a friend. He even gave him the offer to join the League.

To stand by his side.

However, Katsuki had the heart of a Hero. He refused Eijirou's offer and vowed to turn him back to behind a hero. That he refused to accept that Eijirou was a villain. It took a long time for the League to settle into a new place after the war. It wasn't easy for them to find a new goal, but they didn't stop their plans to take down hero society. It wasn't until years later that Eijirou had another run-in with the heroes and Katsuki happened to be a part of the patrol. It was supposed to be a simple heist, in and out but of course, it didn't happen the way it was supposed to.

The fight was long and brutal.

Eijirou kept up Unbreakable longer than he wanted to, but Katsuki was persistent. Blast after blast only pissed Eijirou off as the fight continued to drag on. The banter was continuous, the blows were getting harder to block and his body was tired. Katsuki had slipped up before charging an AP shot, he wasn't watching his positioning and Eijirou stepped forward. He reached forward with his large hand to grab Katsuki's arm and the AP shot went past his head. It only missed him by a few inches before Eijirou used the force of his body to slam Katsuki into the wall. The impact alone cracked the brick underneath Katsuki's body.

All Eijirou could see was red.

This battle happened time and time again.

It never failed.

They were both in their mid-20s now. So much time has passed since the war and Katsuki was still trying to change Eijirou. He was still using that stupid hero persona. Everything inside of his body boiled in anger because he wanted to be left alone.

He was tired of fighting.

He was tired of Katsuki's annoying heroics.

He was tired of Katsuki.

Eijirou repeatedly slammed Katsuki's body from wall to wall like a rag doll. Everything around Eijirou fell silent as he repeated his brutal actions until he heard a snap. A blood-curdling scream followed, and he looked down to see Katsuki's body on the ground. He was clenching his arm or what was left of it. Eijirou realized he was holding what remained of it in his arm from its elbow. Katsuki pushed himself until his back was up against the brick. His breathing hitched as he clenched onto his wound.

"Fucking hell.." he hissed under his breath.

"Take this as a lesson, Dynamite. I am tired of playing this game with you." Eijirou's words were cold and direct.

Katsuki snapped back. "Fuck that! I'm not going to give up on you, Ei!"

"You are a fucking moron." He threw the remainder of Katsuki's arm at him, "If you are fast enough the old broad can reattach it."

The arm landed in Katsuki's lap as he glared up at him. "Am I supposed to thank you? Fuck off."

"The next time we meet I will not hesitate to kill you. I'll finish you off like Tomura should have a long time ago."

"You don't mean that.." Katsuki whispered as he looked down.

"I don't? I just ripped off your arm." Eijirou knelt to look at Katsuki with a smirk on his face. "Take the fucking hint. I'm done with you Bakugo Katsuki. The next time we meet I will rip your fucking head off and mantle it on my wall."

Katsuki's eyes went wide as Eijirou pointed teeth turned into a wide smile. Eijirou scoffed at the broken her before him before wiping the blood on his costume. He left Katsuki in the alleyway to find himself. By the time he got back to the hideout his final villain's name was solidified as Blood Riot because of the blood dripping from his body. That began his reign as one of the most fearsome members of the new league. Eijirou was ruthless towards heroes and villains alike. He didn't care if they lived or died at that point. If he benefited from deals, he was fine. All he cared about was that his name was feared on both sides, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

As the years trickled on, Villain's work went further underground. Some heroes were even turning a blind eye to what was going on. Eijirou's blood lust calmed down when he reached his 30s. A lot of people he worked with in the League had either died or gone into hiding. Only a few members were left Dabi, Toga, Dante, Libbi, and himself. The others had died either in the war or along the way.

Twice was killed by Hawks, Compress sacrificed himself and Shigaraki was killed in battle by the heroes. No one knew what to do when Shigaraki fell. Dabi took the mantle to lead but as time went on it was harder to maintain a falling empire. Eijirou watched what was once his safe place crumble down in front of him. That childish persona and villains that he held close just faded.

Dabi ended up leaving without a trace soon after. After his revealing to the world who his parents were, it was hard for him to find that drive. When he went against Todoroki and Enji it didn't end well for him. It wounded Dabi's pride before he retired into underground work. He did what he needed to do but he wasn't successful in taking down Endeavor the way he wanted to.

Toga was different.

She clung to the past and stuck around. After losing Twice, Toga was never the same. Her mental state was in shambles for a long time because she was the last person to see him before he died. It fucked her up a lot more than she let on.

Dante had slowly started to distance himself along with his soon-to-be wife Libbi at the time. The war had taken a toll on his health and needed recovery. He was their main healer with a transfer quirk but he overused it near the end of the war. His wife Libbi was the one who pushed for them to leave and Eijirou didn't blame her. She did not want them to be caught up in the fall. Dante said that he did not want another member of their group to be a target of the heroes. His concern was his wife and wanted to find a place to live safely. Eijirou didn't fight for him to stay but offered his help if anything were to happen to his family. They kept in contact with Eijirou as much as he possibly could.

For a while, everything was quiet, but it wasn't peaceful.

Eventually, it was time for Eijirou to slow down with his dirty work. The older Eijirou had gotten, the harder it was to get his hands dirty and walk away unscathed. When his missions started to dwindle he started to itch for any type of company he could find. In his youth, he probably would have found ways to fuck back then. He was a rascal back in the day and he would fuck anyone he could get his hands on.

Man or woman, he didn't care.

It was the thrill that hooked him.

It was harmless at first because it was a fling here and there. That was until it had become an addiction and a huge problem. Eijirou depended on all those sexual encounters to get through the day because he was bored. He would be angry until he was able to release that tension with someone else. His mind was constantly thinking about it until he was driving himself mad. That's when he started to feel guilty after sex. He felt dirty and alone once he was alone.

Eijirou never understand why until he met a woman that had a quirk that saw into his mind and his future. It was a low-crime villain that had a quirk that relaxed his feral behavior. He could see he was destroying himself from the inside out.

Like he was missing something.

She told him that if he continued like that, he would end up dead. Eijirou never feared death, so he shrugged it off. That was until she mentioned someone would make an appearance in his life in the future.

When he asked her who that may be the only response with: "Look out for a pair of blue doe eyes."

From that day on, any person he saw with blue eyes made his skin crawl. Eijirou had to watch his back more than ever because of it.

Was it an enemy?

A hero?

Eijirou on the other hand was in a state of limbo.

He didn't know what he wanted to do and had a lot of money to blow on useless shit. He already owned a penthouse with a nice car but that didn't bring him much joy. Whenever he needed company, he would use a Sugar daddy baby app when he got older. There were plenty of women and men that wanted company. He wanted a night with someone, and they wanted money.

It was a perfect match.

Eijirou matured over the last decade from being angry and destroying himself to relaxing. He valued human company over simple pleasures. His hair was no longer full of a bright red as he grew out of his roots with the ends in a red tone. His face and full body had battle scars that he fondly liked to show off. It was a reminder to those who knew his name.

Not a lot of Sugar Babies took him up on his offers because of how rough he looked. They got scared off easily when they saw him in person. Eijirou never truly let it get to him and would still pay them the allowance before excusing himself. He didn't want the girls to go home empty-handed.

He was still a man with honor after all.

Eijirou looked down at his phone, looked at the calendar with a grunt, and rolled his eyes. It was his 40th birthday and here he was at home by himself smoking a cigarette on his balcony. He slipped it between his lips as he opened an app for a sugar date. Eijirou figured that since it was his birthday he should go out with some company. He posted a request for a Sugar Baby with no requirements besides dinner. Once he posted it, he took another drag of his cigarette before flicking some of the ends off in an ashtray. A lot of requests were in his inbox after a few minutes, but no one stood out to him.

He took a drag of his cigarette and scrolled through his messages.

It was the same old same old shit.

Women asking for more money and expensive brands to meet up. He clicked his tongue as he exhaled smoke through his nose before scrolling further down. There was a message that stood out from the rest of them. They weren't asking for expensive brands or money right away. He hummed as he tapped his cigarette again and he read the message again.

oSweetCupcakeo sent a message:

Hello sir! I would love to meet up for dinner if you will have me!

I am free for the whole night. I hope to hear back from you!

He leaned back in his seat, scrolling back to look at her profile picture with a smile. She was a woman with a bright smile, thick plump curves, and pastel-pink hair. He took another drag of the cigarette before smashing it into the ashtray. From the photo, the woman looked like she was laughing, and her eyes were closed.

Worth a shot.

Eijirou hummed to himself as he sent her a message to ask to meet up for dinner. To his surprise, she immediately responded and agreed to meet up at a local restaurant in a few hours. Eijirou quickly messaged her his number and went to his closet to pick out clothes. He pulled out a black love-sleeve dress shirt, black pants, and shoes to compliment. He placed a leather jacket down next to the clothes on the bed.

He quickly set his phone down on the dresser and walked into bed to the bathroom. He turned on the shower with a hum before undressing. He washed his hair and his body with a smile. Once he was done, he stepped out with a towel wrapped around his waist. Eijirou turned his head toward the phone and dried off his hair with another towel.

(555) 555-0986

Hello, sir!

Texting you so

you'll have my number.

Looking forward to tonight!

Do you like chocolate, vanilla, or strawberry?

('｡• ᵕ •｡') ♡

Eijirou blinked at the message. It's been a long time since he's gotten a message that wasn't formal.

How do I respond?

Eijirou:

Hello, kitten.

Looking forward to tonight as well.

Weird question but I like strawberries.

Eijirou slipped on a pair of boxers before his pants. He let out a sigh before unbuttoning his shirt to slip his arms into. He buttoned up the shirt but not all the way to the top. He rolled up the sleeves before slipping a watch on his right wrist. He walked over to the bathroom to look at himself in the mirror. He spiked up the usual parts in his hair and combed out the back of his head. His large hand pulled it back into a high ponytail. He grabbed his cologne to spray on his body with a hum.

Tonight was going to be interesting.

It had been a while since he had been out on a Sugar date. His hand slipped up to click off the light after he brushed his sharp teeth. He let out a sigh before scooping his phone, wallet, cigarettes, and keys off the dresser.

Hopefully, this one doesn't walk out.

It didn't take Eijirou long to find the restaurant that the woman suggested. He parked his car in the parking lot. He turned off the engine before pulling his keys out of the ignition. The place looked decently packed, but he didn't mind. He stepped out of the driver's side and shut the door before locking it. He adjusted his leather jacket before heading toward the front of the building.

Eijirou grabbed onto the door and opened it up. He walked over to the hostess and told her he was waiting on someone.

"Is that person a woman?" the hostess asked.

Eijirou paused. "Yes, ma'am."

"She came and reserved a table. I'll take you to her." The older hostess giggled. "Cute girl too."

Eijirou followed the hostess as he shoved his hands into his pockets. This was the first time someone arrived before him, and it made him feel weird. The hostess took him to the furthest table in the back and he saw the woman sitting in the booth with her back to him.

"I found him for ya, sweetie." The hostess tapped her hand on the table with a smile.

"Oh! Thank you." his heart skipped a beat.

The woman stood up from the booth and readjusted her dress. It was a cute white cocktail dress that was littered with a Rose pattern. She was wearing a pair of small vintage gloves and white heels. Her long pink hair was in curls and her makeup was Smokey with soft pink lips. When she looked up at him, Eijirou's heart skipped a beat as a sparkling pair of light blue eyes looked back at him.

"Hello! I'm sorry I got here early. I guess I was way too excited." she apologized with a giggle.

She moved forward to wrap her arms around him for a hug. His body tensed for a moment, and she pulled away with a smile.

"Shoot! Do you not like hugs? I'm sorry." she bowed her head with an apology and perked back up. "Oh, before I forget."

She turned back to the table and reached for something. She handed him a small bag with a bright smile.

"I made this for you. Since you said it was your birthday."

Eijirou opened the bag to see a small cake inside of it protected by plastic. It was a white frosting cake with strawberries on top of it. He looked back at her, dumbfounded at her generosity.

"It's a strawberry cake with filling inside and a buttercream frosting. I topped it with a few strawberries on top."

So that's why she asked what I liked.

"Woah, thank you," he whispered under his breath. "You didn't have to do that."

"Oh, I wanted to! It's your birthday and it should be celebrated with a cake." she clapped her hands with a big smile.

His heart fluttered.

Eijirou moved his hand so she could sit back down in the booth. She smiled at him before taking her seat inside the booth. He took the seat across from her and set down the bag at the other end of the table.

"I'm Evangeline by the way. I never got to introduce myself."

"Eijirou Kirishima," he answered as looked back at her gloved hands. "You are very friendly. You took me off guard then you hugged me."

"I'm sorry about that. I got ahead of myself, and I forget that not everyone is used to that." she tilted her head.

"It's okay. Not a lot of people do that to me." he crossed his arms with a chuckle.

"Should I ask next time? I'm sorry if I offended you, sir."

His mouth twitched.

"No, it's all right." he held up a hand and used his other hand to pull out an envelope. He handed it to Evangeline.

"Your allowance for the date." Eijirou nodded his head.

"Thank you, sir." she slipped it into her purse.

Eijirou raised an eyebrow at her. "Aren't you going to count it to make sure it's enough?"

Evangeline looked back at him. "No sir."

"Why not?"

She smiled at him. "Because it's rude. I'm not going to do that in front of you, in the restaurant, and on your birthday. Today is about you."

Eijirou's heart fluttered again.

"I see. So, what do you do for a living?" he asked.

"I bake! I have a small business that I do cupcakes and cakes for." Evangeline giggled softly. "It's a little slow right now. So, I took up being a Sugar Baby. It pays the bills for the most part."

"How many sugar daddies or mommies have you had?" he raised an eyebrow.

Evangeline put a finger on her chin with a hum. "I've had a few here and there. Some were temporary but I did have a long-term Daddy but not any longer."

"What happened to him?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "No clue because I got ghosted."

"Well, that's a shame. Evangeline, you look young. How old are you?" he hummed.

"I turned 21 a few months ago, sir."

She seems so calm around him and it was making him feel anxious. There was no uncomfortable behavior or excuses to leave.

Eijirou was out of his element.

Wait.

He watched her talk.

It was like the room lit up with that bright smile. He found himself smiling at her.

She doesn't know who I am?

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Beauty & the Beast Index | { Next Part } Loading |

[thequeendomhq]

NAME. Froy Instad AGE & BIRTH DATE. 24 & March 21st, 3000 GENDER & PRONOUNS. Male & He/Him NATIONALITY. Iskaran SPECIES. Druid ( Primal ) FACTION. N/A OCCUPATION. Jarl of Skohfjell FACE CLAIM. Darren Barnet

biography

( tw: violence, death, loss )

Beneath the shadowy canopy of dark ironwood leaves, Froy entered the world with a robust scream—a sign of vigorous health that was a rare blessing in the coal-mining town of Skohfjell. His father, Jarl Sven Ingstad, attributed this miracle to Froy's mother, Marisol, a spirited woman from the distant island of Caribella. Having spent her youth as a pirate, Marisol eventually retired from her adventurous life at sea to become a merchant, traveling throughout Taravell. It was on one of these journeys that she met Sven, and despite their different backgrounds, they fell deeply in love and married. In Skohfjell, a town that prided itself on self-reliance, the union brought no political repercussions. The townspeople, having no need for political alliances, welcomed Marisol warmly. Her piratical charisma was as captivating to them as it had been to their Jarl, swiftly winning over their hearts.

Named for his grandfather Freyr, Froy grew up enveloped by the Ironwood forest, his days spent exploring the dense woods where he never once lost his way, always finding a path back home. To the townspeople of Skohfjell, Froy seemed to carry a touch of luck; he was their unwitting charm. He could always pick the ripest tomato from the garden or crack a joke that would halt even the most persistent coughs. On the days his father brought him to the coal mines, accidents seemed to vanish and productivity soared.

Initially, his father dismissed it all as mere superstition, but a change in his son’s demeanor gave him pause. There was a distant, contemplative look that occasionally crossed Froy’s face—a look eerily reminiscent of one Jarl Sven himself had borne years ago, which he had since struggled to forget. When pressed about his distant gazes, Froy simply said he saw "markings" that others could not. The certainty of Froy’s destiny only deepened when the nightmares started.

Froy's nights were tormented by vivid nightmares: his home and the entire town of Skohfjell engulfed in flames, witchers descending amidst chaos. The smoke from the burning Skjaldwood choked him, and his voice would fail as he tried to scream for his parents. Yet every night, without fail, they were there to soothe him awake from his terror. He shared with them the worsening visions, the recurrent images of arches—the singular constant in his dreams.

Sven recognized the signs all too well; he had experienced similar calls in his youth, visions urging him to journey to the sacred arches and embrace the druidic path of the Dúnedain. But he had resisted, prioritizing his duty as the future Jarl over the mystical calling, a choice that haunted him after the visions ceased and regret settled in.

Seeing these signs in Froy, he knew his son faced a monumental decision. Determined not to let his own regrets hinder Froy's potential, he resolved to support him, no matter the laws of the High King. Froy's path would be his own to choose, and the Jarl would ensure he had the freedom to pursue it.

Leaving behind the safety of the Ironwood and his family filled Froy with trepidation, but his father’s resolute decision and his mother’s reassurances convinced him that this was the path he needed to follow. At twelve, his journey began secretly through a port arranged by his parents, leading him to Westreach of Lysara.

Awaiting him on the other side at Marinus Bay was the crew from his mother’s past, ready to honor their old friend’s request. Though they initially brought him on board for their ventures, Froy quickly became more than just a passenger. Over three years, he sailed with the pirates, visiting ports including his mother's native Caribella. To the crew, he was a talisman: winds favored their sails, their raids met little resistance, and prosperity followed them. Froy, with his gentle nature, even taught some crew members to read and write.

Yet, even amid these adventures, his nightmares persisted, growing in intensity and clarity. The arches in his dreams called to him with an urgency he could no longer ignore. Realizing his destiny lay elsewhere, Froy bid farewell to the pirate crew during a stop at the Queenset Isles, determined to answer the call that beckoned him toward his true path.

As Froy traversed the lands of Lysara, his connection to the natural world deepened, gradually diminishing the frequency and intensity of his nightmares. When he felt prepared to heed the call of the arches, he followed runes only visible through the Mist, embarking on a series of trials that would challenge his essence and shape his destiny.

The Trial of the Past: Froy found himself once again aboard the pirate ship, amidst a raging storm. Here, he realized his unique role: only he could prevent their doom through his emerging abilities. As he was poised to save them, the arches reappeared, compelling him to abandon the crew despite his heartache. The harsh lesson of sacrifice weighed heavily on him as he departed but he did so as he was highly aware of the dire consequences of ignoring the call.

The Trial of the Present: This trial brought him back to the serene embrace of the Skaldwood. The tranquility of the forest was distinct, almost nudging him forward when the arches manifested again. It was here, amidst the ancient trees, that Froy sensed the spirits of past Dúnedain. Their essence felt strangely familiar, a comforting presence that seemed intertwined with his very being, suggesting a deeper connection to his lineage.

The Trial of the Future: The final trial was a stark vision of chaos and destruction at his home in Skohfjell—his worst nightmares made manifest. The apocalyptic scene unfolded with harrowing realism: his parents and townsfolk perishing, the land ablaze, the cries of the dying filling the air. Faced with this vision of potential extinction, dread replaced hope, driving him to flee towards the arches with a desperate desire to escape the catastrophic future.

Upon emerging from the arches, Froy was overwhelmed by the brevity of his physical absence contrasted with the eternity he had experienced within. Seeking solace, he found a stream and immersed himself, feeling an immediate, profound connection with the natural elements around him. The earth, water, and air didn't just surround him; they became extensions of his being. In a moment of realization, he snapped his fingers and watched a small flame flicker above them—a tangible sign of his newfound abilities.

Over the following years, Froy roamed Taravell, deepening his bond with nature and honing his druidic magic. Despite his growth, a persistent tug pulled him back toward Skalwood—not from nostalgia, but from a sense of duty. Upon his return, he was enveloped by the familiar embrace of the ironwood, a protective presence since his childhood. His father was worried but with the help of his mother Froy assured him that this was the correct path.

As he delved deeper into the forest's secrets, Froy discovered runes scattered throughout—runes crafted by his ancestors. With this revelation, he learned of his Ingstad lineage: a long line of druids who were the first settlers of Skohfjell. Once plentiful, their numbers had dwindled with the rise of witchers, as many forsook their calling to safeguard their families or, like his father, to serve their community.

Living among these ancient markers, Froy uncovered that he was the first in many generations to heed the druidic call. This realization bestowed upon him a sense of destiny—to revive the magic of his ancestors and restore it to his people. As he prepared to embrace this role, he understood the magnitude of the task ahead and the potential resistance he might face from those who had long feared the mystical.

In the waning days of peace, Froy cherished his moments within the embrace of the ironwood. However, this tranquility was shattered when Skohfjell was besieged. Amidst the chaos, his parents fell, their loss a grievous blow that threatened to unravel him. Yet, in the face of this devastation, Froy found the strength to lead and protect, saving many of his townspeople from the same fate.

Now, leading the survivors farther north and eventually to Lysara, Froy carries the weight of being a jarl and the responsibilities it entails. The runes, those ancient symbols of destiny, still guide him, hinting at a greater purpose that remains just beyond his grasp. As he leads his people towards a new beginning, Froy is determined to be ready for whatever challenges this destiny may bring. He holds onto the belief that his role in the unfolding events of the world is pivotal and that the answers he seeks about his family's legacy and the survival of his people are tied to the very magic he has learned to wield.

personality

+ Compassionate, Resourceful, Courageous – Overcautious, Secretive, Burdened By Destiny

played by toge. est. he/him/they/them.

[krytus]

babygirl i can draw parallels between media you've never even heard of

[angry-geese]

For Myself

Sukuna x Reader

Warnings: nsfw mention. mention of violence, blood, injury, and cannibalism. implied murder. starts off kind of dark but gets fluffier towards the end. gn!reader.

obligatory warning for my poor editing skills. if theres any egregious errors i'll get to them when i get home from work

Summary: some fluff where Sukuna comforts the reader while they're sick

Word Count: 2.4k

He's certain you would be more comfortable in his lap than on the floor. Even as he beckons you to sit, you refuse, turning your gaze away. You adjust your position to a more comfortable spot on your knees. The floor is hard and cold, but you don't have much longer to wait anyway. Sukuna has grown bored of the man standing in front of him. A peace offering, in exchange for not razing their village. A young woman, brought here against her own will. Her life to replace yours. It's nothing Sukuna wants, nor can he make use of her. She’s no sorcerer, likely no good in a fight, and too frail to be worth eating.

Worst of all, it insults you.

An insult to you, is an insult to Sukuna himself.

The man was only delaying the inevitable. Humans have a habit of doing that. They’re resilient, like cockroaches. You can squash, poison, trap, or drop a nuke on as many as you want to, but they’ll always come back.

He planned on killing him from the moment he stepped foot in the door.

And when he kills him, he makes sure to have the woman watch. She lays curled at your feet as you regard them both with cold eyes. Not a scream passes her lips. She’s either frozen with fear, or knows that moving is the worst thing she can do.

She begs for her life.

Sukuna leaves it up to you to decide.

It was an insult to you, after all. In a past life you could see yourself letting her go. There's many things in life you used to do that are no longer habits of yours. You were in her shoes years ago. Time has hardened you, made you cruel. If a past version of you could look at you now, you don't know if you’d recognize yourself. Not all change is bad. People are meant to change, and they’re going to do so.

You give her a minute to start running. After that, it's up to Sukuna with what he wants to do with her.

She takes the opportunity, thinking she has a chance to survive, and flees. The guards and servants let her. Your word is second to Sukuna’s. The only person who could overturn an order put in place by you is Sukuna himself. He usually doesn't. The resulting chaos from anything you do is good entertainment. And he has all the time in the world. Being immortal leads to a lot of boredom.

Sukuna would hunt her down before she could escape the estate.

Nobody got away from him. Not even you. Nowadays you’re much less serious about leaving but you still threaten it if he dares piss you off.

He'd never let you go. You know that. Try as you will, you're never getting free.

Not that you have anything to go back to. And you're rather comfortable here. Comfortable may be a bit of a stretch, but you're housed, fed, and protected. The basic human needs are taken care of. Sukuna cares about you in his own, twisted way. You may have first been just a plaything to keep his stomach full and his balls empty—a toy to be discarded after a day or two—but you've earned a place by his side. He wakes up next to you, he goes to sleep next to you. He's grown used to having you around. And you to him.

You're just as much his, as he is yours.

Everything about the man is selfish, and all-consuming. But when he is with you, he finds himself giving for the first time in his life.

He gets a servant to draw him a bath. He has the decency to scrub the blood off before finding you, and asking you to join him. His bloodied kimono is replaced with a clean one. It's black, the sleeves are wide enough to accommodate his four arms. Blood doesn't bother you, but he doesn't want to track it all over his house.

Something is wrong.

He doesn't remember you getting hurt, but you’re acting like you’re injured. He thinks back to this morning, how he had to drag you out of bed. How sluggish you acted.

Worry creases itself between his eyebrows.

Your mortality was something he knew of, but never gave much thought. There was no need to. The mortality of others was something he didn't care about. You weren't supposed to be kept long. You were merely a sacrifice, meant to appease Sukuna, and in turn he wouldn't raze your village. While young, and pretty, not good enough to save your people. He planned on fucking you, burning your village to the ground, then eating you. Not necessarily in that order, but that was the plan.

He's taken everything from you. Your home, your life, your family. Even as you were forced to face your fate, you never gave in, never lost your bite. You defied him and lived. You had a malicious streak in you. You were never as sweet and as innocent as the people of your village first played you up to be. Years later you still put up the same fight. It's a constant back and forth between you two.

You’d never be able to hurt him. As much as you'd scratch and bite, you'd never so much as draw blood. Harming the King of Curses was not an easy task.

His 'love' was much more material at first. As you got settled down, survived more than a week, gifts appeared. Jeweled hair pins and beautiful, expensive kimonos appeared. All made just for you. He'd never admit to being behind it. You were not complacent, but you were comfortable. You were his spoiled pet. That didn't stop you from clawing at his eyes whenever he picked you up when you didn't want to be touched. Being spoiled didn't make you nice.

None of his pets have lasted quite as long as you have. At least eight times the trees of his estate have shriveled and turned brown in winter, and the ground has hardened with frost. At least eight times they've bloomed and have had the life of spring breathed back into them, and the ground has thawed and turned muddy. You just did what you had to in order to survive. You've more than just survived. Some would say you’ve thrived. You would beg to differ. If you were the begging type.

He still views you as a pet. You’re human after all. Though sometimes it feels like you’re becoming more curse than human. Being viewed as an equal to him is impossible, but he values you. You're not something that can easily be replaced.

His hand touches your shoulder from behind. You don't flinch. You used to flinch. Then you started swinging. You're never able to hurt him. You're strong, but not that strong.

"She was far too frail to eat," you say, "I assumed you didn't want to keep her for that."

You don't eat human meat. Or try not to. Early on in your stay, before you knew better… It wasn't pork. Uraume was a wonderful cook, but not for anything you ate. Personally it's not your thing. Non-human meat is hard to come by around here, so you’ve stopped eating the stuff altogether. If you wanted it, Sukuna would make a servant get it for you, but you are content without it.

"You made the right call." He says. You always do.

He slips beside you, watching as you remove the intricate pins from your hair. You always loved your hair. Even at your darkest moment you took great care of it. It was a source of pride for you.

A wave of nausea rolls over you. Sweat beads in your hairline, rolling down your back, under the thin fabric of your—his—robe. You have little need for clothes. It doesn't get that cold here. Sukuna tears them off you anyway. Covering yourself up isn't necessary, but you do it out of modesty, and a sense of normalcy. You protest as he pulls at the fastenings of your robe, the flimsy fabric pooling at your feet. You have no plans on getting wet, you’d much rather go to bed. You’re tired, and you don't want to be bothered.

The tub is large enough to fit several of you. You guess it's fitting. The man is huge. He settles into the water behind you, pulling you to his chest. Try as you will, you’re not going to be able to struggle out of his grip. You’re too tired to put up much of a fight, though you do complain.

One of his sets of arms wraps around you, effectively trapping you in place. The other pulls a washcloth from the side of the tub, into the water with you. As much as you hate to admit it, the warm water feels nice against your sore muscles.

Sukuna is not a sentimental man. But with the way his hands trace across your skin, soft, lovingly, like he’s reading a book of braille, makes you think otherwise. He doesn't leer at the curves of your body like he normally does. His eyes scan across your body, looking for any sign of injury.

When he deems you clean enough, and your skin has turned a nice shade of pink from the hot water, he lets you go. You're the first to get out, drying yourself off. You never realized how cold the room was before.

He hauls you into his arms. You do little to protest, which worries him.

The King of Curses has no need for sleep. The bed mostly serves for asthetic purposes, though he's not opposed to fucking you across any flat surface, you seem to favor softer ones.

Much like the tub, his bed is large enough to fit several of you. You feel dwarfed by its size. The man is huge, he needs a bed to fit. You could sprawl out as wide as possible and never have any of your limbs hanging over the sides.

He follows you, silent.

He can't recall ever letting any of his pets share his bed before. Some have tried. Tried. He can't recall any of them surviving as long as you have, either. He finds himself irritated at the thought of anything bad ever happening to you.

He doesn't join you in bed.

He doesn't need sleep the same way humans do. He can, but if he were to decide not to, it would bring no harm to him. He used to never dream. It was something he did, back when he was human, but that time has long passed. But whenever he dreamed, he’d wake up next to you. Experiences like that made him realize just why humans like to sleep so much. Before he never woke up rested; he was never tired in the first place.

You shove the covers aside and crawl underneath. They smell like him. He snubs out the candle burning on the side table with his index finger and thumb. Though it's dark, there’s enough light in the room to make out his much-larger form.

You shiver, although sweat forms along your skin in a thin sheen. Sukuna knows it's not cold. He sits on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. The back of his hand presses to your forehead. You’re burning up.

You were warm before, but he thought it was because of the bath. He’s not really sure what to do. It's rare moments like these that he's forced to face your mortality. He knows you're fragile—compared to him—but he can't bear the thought of something bad happening to you.

One of his large hands moves to cup your cheek. It's just as warm as your forehead. The pad of his thumb runs across your cheekbone.

"Stay with me." You say. You stretch your arms out towards him, making grabbing motions with your hands.

You’re not one to beg. Even when faced with death, you look it straight in the eyes. Call it bravery, or lack of self preservation. He admired that about you. You ignored your mortality because it did not matter to you.

“What's the matter, pet?”

“I don't feel too good.” You say.

Though he doesn't say it, he can tell.

“I’ll get Uraume-”

“No,” your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him back towards your chest, “no. I’m okay.”

He settles down beside you in bed, on top of the covers. When he opens his arms, you go right into them. He makes sure to keep the blankets tucked around you. Sukuna runs warm naturally. You huddle close to him, trying to steal his warmth. Though your face feels abnormally warm, you shiver. His much larger body lays partially on top of yours, his head resting on your chest, ear pressed to your skin. He can hear your heartbeat. Steady, and alive. Something low in your chest rattles when you breathe.

He should get a servant to bring you water, or some tea. It occurs to him how little he knows about the mundane things humans do to make themselves feel better. Not that he ever needed to care. In all the years you’ve been by his side, he’s never seen anything like this happen. He can't decide, and instead calls for both. If you need medicine, he’ll get that too, but you don't seem to be at that point. Uraume knows more about humans than he does. He’s no doctor, but he’ll work. If he asks you, you’ll just say you’re fine.

He holds the cup up to you, beckoning you to drink. The glass is cold against your lips. Even as your hands wrap around it, he doesn't let it go. He sets the empty glass on the side table with a soft thunk.

His large hand smoothes over your head, brushing your hair out of your eyes. His nails feel nice against your scalp. Nothing about the man is soft, but when he’s left alone with you, moments like this are bound to happen. You allow yourself to be pet. The heat, combined with the weight of his body, threatens to lull you off to sleep. The ache in your joints keeps you from doing so.

When he kisses you, you taste like a curse.

[goldengoddess]

soooo the idea is a fic set during king of scars where the reader is nikolai's childhood best first and we stumble into his room one evening and we actually see him change into the demon and just absjajnsns

i am yours - nikolai lantsov

* KING OF SCARS & RULE OF WOLVES SPOILERS *

pairing: nikolai lantsov x reader

a/n: okay this is absolutely garbage rae i am so sorry pls forgive me,,, i KNOW this is not how nikolai’s demon works and he wouldn’t just like turn back but for the sake of this fic pls pretend <33333

for the lovley @wtfrae !!! i love u pls go read her work everyone <3

warnings: spoilers! some angst n like threat of violence but y’all know me, everything is good and happy by the end

nikolai had always been the one person you could turn to. since the two of you were kids, it had always been an unbreakable bond. something no one else seemed to understand. how to kids, tossed aside by their family, tested in every way possible, were able to find each other and bring out the best in one another. nikolai made you better, made you good.

life in ravka was never easy, it was a constant struggle. especially in the years leading up to nikolai’s reign. the two of you almost hadn’t made it out alive then, and while nikolai had been out fighting with alina in the fold, you had stayed at the spinning wheel helping the injured.

but when things finally settled down, alina and mal safe and away, nikolai had told you so many stories. the two of you had spent months apart. so out of nostalgia, every night you’d sneak into nikolai’s room and listen to your best friend tell you stories about everything. all the battles he’d fought along as sturmhond, what the battle against the darkling had looked like.

and even when nikolai ran out of stories, and you ran out of questions, you kept sneaking into his room to talk to him. he was the king of ravka, during the day he never even stopped to take a breath. but his nights were reserved for you. just so he could hear the sound of your voice before he was bound to his bed by chains.

nikolai loved you dearly, you were the only constant he had ever known. but he couldn’t bring himself to share what had happened to him during the battle with the darkling, what he’d become. instead, he told you the stories he told everyone else, how he was captured and tortured. it hurt him, to lie to you. but he couldn’t have you seeing him the way he saw himself, a monster. so even though lying to you pained him every night, he would do it to hear your excited questions and giggles as you snuck out of his room.

he always made sure you were gone before zoya came in. he wouldn’t be able to explain the drugging potion. or even worse, his horrible transformation into the demon that lived inside of him.

but secrets almost never stay secrets.

“saints nikolai,” you gasped, rushing off his bed to grab grab your coat, “it’s past midnight. i can’t be in here!”

nikolai sat up and looked out his window, you watched the color drain from his face. he cleared his throat and walked over to you, “you’re right you should probably go.”

you nodded and shuffled away from him, but before opening the door you paused. you turned back to the blonde haired boy, “nikolai?”

“yes sweetheart?” he answered, facing you.

“i could,” you hesitated, “i could sleep over. one night, i’m not saying tonight. just some night. i’ll sleep on the floor but, i spend all of my night here anyways. just like when we were kids.”

as nikolai slowly walked closer to you, you waited for his teasing remark and eventual acceptance. the two of you w had a sleepover since before he left ravka. of course it wouldn’t be the same, as he was now king, but he was your nikolai.

instead, he gently tucked a piece of your hair and kissed your forehead. “i don’t think that’s such a good idea sweetheart.”

your heart shattered at his words and his at the fact that he had to say them. there was nothing he wanted more. nothing that would bring him more peace than holding you in his arms until the sunrise. not just for a couple of hours right before bed, not having to pretend that everything he felt for you was strictly platonic.

“oh” you said defeatedly. “that, yeah that’s okay. i’ll see you tomorrow nikolai.” and with that you rushed out of the room.

later, as zoya gave nikolai genya and david’s potion to knock him out, all he could think about was the horrible look on your face.

at some point in the night you’d made the decision to go talk to nikolai. the two of you couldn’t go on like this, attempting to be way you have been before the darkling and alina while tip toeing around these new feelings you had for eachother.

but as you made your way to nikolai’s doors, hand on the doorknob, you heard a soft growl coming from inside. you covered your mouth with your hand to prevent a gasp from escaping your lips. you slowly turned the handle and stepped into the room.

on nikolai’s kingly bed was a dark giant looking demon. it’s wings were the color of the night sky seen in the window of the bed room. it took your breath away.

you pressed your back against the wall, trying to move back towards the door without making any noise. but the demon heard you and snapped it’s head in your direction.

every part of your body was screaming to run, to scream even. but something stopped you. the eyes. they stopped you. they were dark and pitch black but there was something familiar about them. not the color but the way they watched you. like they were trying to remember every single part of you just in case.

nikolai was the only person who you knew looked at you that way.

“nikolai?” you whispered to the monster.

the creature craned its neck to the side, similar to the confused head tilts that nikolai used to give you during lessons. you took a hesitant step forward, holding your hands up to show that you weren’t going to cause harm.

“nikolai” you tried again, with more conviction in your voice.

the creature let out a small growl as a response and you flinched away. at your movement it out a whine and moved away from you.

you shuffled closer, “hey no no i’m okay. nikolai?”

slowly, as you repeated your best friends name over and over, the creature became less beast and more man. slowly morphing into a messy set of blonde curls and body you’d hugged more times than you can recall. your nikolai.

he curled up in a ball and leaned his back against the end of his bed.

“nikolai” you attempted softly, falling to your knees in front of him.

he scrambled away to a corner of the room, “please. please leave. i’m begging.” his voice was raspy from misuse, thought the two of you had spoken only hours before.

“nikolai i’m not leaving, please explain to me. what was that?” you pleaded with him.

“that was nothing, now go. please please” he sobbed into his hands.

you crossed your arms over your chest in a stubborn gesture that he couldn’t even see, “you’re lying to me again! i’m not leaving until you explain what that was. why can’t you tell me the truth for once?”

“that was me!” he yelled as he lifted his head and met your eyes for the first time.

you let out a sigh of relief at the familiar hazel color of his eyes. you crossed your legs together, “that was you?”

“yes that was me. that is what the darkling did to me. now please,” he let out an exhausted sob “please leave sweetheart.”

you felt tears swelling in your own eyes at his voice. how broken he sounded. your nikolai never sounded so defeated. and if he ever felt that way, he had never shown you. you crawled over to him slowly and placed your hands on the sides of his face, rubbing away the tears.

“what are you doing” he whimpered and dropped his head into your hands, “i could hurt you. sweetheart, you have to go.”

“my nikolai” you whispered, pushing his damp hair away from his forehead.

he closed his eyes and you couldn’t tell if it was from anger, exhaustion, sadness, or a mix of all of it. “i cannot be yours. i’ve lied to you, i’m a demon, a monster. you can’t possibly want me to be yours.” he spit each word about himself as if it were venom, like the words ripped away a little bit of his humanity, or his confidence.

you shook your head and softly placed your forehead again his, still holding the sides of his face. “no. you’re my nikolai. you always will be.”

you placed two soft kisses on his cheeks, one on each side. “my” kiss, “nikolai,” another kiss.

“oh sweetheart, i am yours” he sighed and opened up his knees so you could fall into his embrace. “i am so sorry.”

“you should be” you mumbled into his chest. “what if you had died nikolai? and i wouldn’t have known what was happening to you until it was too late. i could have helped.”

he kissed the top of your head, still hesitantly. “im a fool, you can spend the rest of my life reminding me. i didn’t want to ruin this, us. it’s the last precious thing i have in my life.”

“we are still precious” you whispered and clung to his shirt like your life depended on it. “the same way you are still the nikolai i have always known, since childhood. you are still good. we will fix this.”

“and if we can’t?” he asked so softly that you almost couldn’t hear him.

“then i’ll have to get just as familiar with the demon as i am with you” you joked.

and the rumble of nikolai’s laughing chest told you that everything would be perfectly fine. demon and all, he was still your nikolai.

taglist;

@deardiarystuff @bookishcrows @kazsimp @vintagebitc @obiwansjedi @thegirlwiththeimpala @hybrid-in-progress @mrs-brekker15 @mrsbrekkers @simplyluvzuko @ode-to-joy @gallysonegoodlung @sixofshadowandbone @castielcouldbeasecretdentist @meiitanoia @caaarstairs @itisroe

if your name is in bold, it means i couldn’t tag you <3

[showrunnerihardlyknowher]

26 for the prompts? perhaps w the cat n mouse lads :3 (also look danny i did it i sent a prompt are u proud)

I...actually don't remember what the prompt was for this one, but I'm 87% sure it was "I'm not that scary, am I?"

So fine since y'all keep asking for 'em, here's more of the cat and mouse bois. Shoutout to @gabbydafurry and an anon for finally giving them names.

--

“C’mon.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“I said no.”

“I’ll make pollo asado for dinner, we can eat it together while we watch!”

Aaron sighed and rubbed his hands against his forehead, trying to ease the dull throb that had yet to wane over the past two days. His headache certainly wasn’t being helped by the constant badgering of his...roommate, for a lack of better words (as well as being a title so eagerly self bestowed by the cat in question) but much like many of their other interactions, his resolve was starting to wear thin. Usually, he was able to hold his ground for at least a week until he was bribed into giving the other some type of social interaction with the promise of his favorite foods. Today, however, the poor mouse just wanted a moment’s peace free from knocking on the walls or calling through the cracks until he answered, and if that meant watching some stupid movie then fine.

Plus, Lucas did know how to make some incredible Mexican food.

“...fine,” Aaron conceded after a pause, the pressure behind his eyes giving him a sharp pang before fading to its usual ache, almost like his own body was projecting how horrible of an idea this was.

As soon as the mouse slipped out from behind the curio, he came face to face with the massive grin of the cat mere inches away from the opening. Seeing the grin only split wider when he was fully in view of the other normally would have instinctively sent a shiver up his spine, it was kind of difficult to be intimidated seeing how Lucas had strangely contorted his body to lay on the floor between the curio and the bookcase. Most cats seemed to be fairly flexible, so it probably wasn’t too uncomfortable for him to be so bent and curled up, but he definitely lost some of that hunter’s prowess with his back twisted sideways and one leg leaning against the shelving.

In a flash, Lucas had managed to untangle his strange positioning to instead be crouched on his knees, now looming over Aaron in a way he wasn’t sure he would ever get used to. He flinched back when his hand started to reach out towards him, fully intending to scoop him up to dizzying heights without a second thought, but the appendage stopped just short of touching him at all. Instead, he dropped his hand palm side up and waited, smiling all the while. At least he was getting better at remembering Aaron’s explicit request to not be grabbed without permission, though he did always apologize with a sheepish look and some little treat whenever he forgot.

Once Aaron climbed onto the awaiting hand that radiated a delightfully intense warmth into his already aching muscles, Lucas was already jumping up a chattering a mile a minute about how much the mouse was going to love the movie he picked out, how dinner would be ready soon, how he wasn’t expecting him to actually agree to watch a scary movie with him since he never seemed like the type who would be into that sort of thing but--

“It’s a scary movie?” Aaron interrupted, the noise finally registering beyond the headache. Truthfully, he tuned a lot of what the other said out for almost every conversation, not that it ever seemed to make a difference. Yeah, sorry, I’m a bit of a chatterbox, he admitted once, but it’s less weird talking to someone who doesn’t respond than to talk to yourself, right?

Debatable.

Lucas tilted his head and snorted. “Uh, yeah? That was one of the first things I told you about. You know that one actress who’s in almost every one of those Christmas movies we watch, who’s always the jealous best friend?” Aaron has no idea who he was referring to given that he never absorbed anything from those stupid romance movies he was boarderline forced to watch, but nodded anyways, “Right, this is supposed to be her big break out role, or something. It’s the first thing she’s doing as a lead actress, and you know, good for her! I’m glad she’s getting out of that typecast she’s been in forever. Horror probably wouldn’t be my first choice for her, but I guess since she has those singing vocals it could carry over to being a scream queen. Kind of like when--”

And Aaron was out of the conversation again.

Lucas continued to drone on about the actress’s entire film career, or at least that’s what the mouse was assuming he was doing when he occasionally zoned back in to pick up a stray word here and there. The headache he had been staving off to the best of his ability was starting to come back with twice as much force as it often did in the later days. He probably could have just asked the other for some aspirin, maybe even some cold medicine as that was no doubt what this bout of illness was turning into, but asking the cat for anything was always out of the question. Of course, Lucas tried to sway him numerous times into thinking it most certainly was not and that he could always ask for whatever he needed, never to his avail. Aaron was indeed willing to prolong his suffering if it meant not having to stomach the dreadful embarrassment that would come to being indebted to the feline, no matter how insignificant.

Unfortunately, he was only setting himself up for failure in thinking this “agreement” would be providing him any sort of relief. His headache was treading dangerously close into becoming a full fledged migraine and the flashes of light and screams from the television would not be doing him any favors. His only saving grace was that, after he had been settled on the couch and Lucas scampered off to get the dinner he promised, the cat turned off every other light possible to, as he put it, really get them in the spooky mood!

The smell of the food was delicious and nauseating. His stomach both wanted and revolted at the idea of anything filling it, which would only serve to worsen his headache no doubt. Damn it all, he wanted to throttle both himself and this illness, the first for agreeing to watch this stupid movie when he was already feeling under the weather, the second for preventing him from getting his half of the deal. These movie-dinner dates deals were the only reason Aaron continued to stick around, even if he thought the torment of being forced to watch awful romcoms in exchange for a hot, homemade meal was a little unfair. No, that wasn’t entirely true, Lucas was a freaking culinary genius as far as the mouse was aware. It was a wonder why he wasn’t majoring in a cooking field.

“I’m not hungry right now,” Aaron lied when Lucas had asked why he wasn’t eating. “I’ll try some later.”

The cat looked at him strangely before shrugging. “Alright, just let me know. If you don’t like it, I can always make you something else.” There he goes again, offering things he knows the other can’t accept. At least he could let it slide this time as he had no appetite to think of any other dish.

Lucas finished his own meal in silence, completely fixed on the television as the opening scene carried on, introducing the canine main character that Aaron did, in fact, vaguely recognize. This was fine, he figured, the dark apartment coupled with a painfully slow movie, a warm body moving to curl up behind him as it so often did during these deals, he could probably get a few moments of real rest in before the credits rolled. As much as he loathed to admit it, the cat was actually rather...comfortable to be forcefully cuddled by. He wasn’t like other movie goers that needed to make a comment on every character’s decision, steady breathing and the occasional purr helping the mouse slowly relax.

That relaxation was cut short as soon as the romcom actress tore her tiny avian neighbor to shreds by the end of the first act.

Aaron had hardly been paying attention to the storyline up until this point, something to do with the girl being bitten and experiencing insatiable hunger lately. The sudden carnage of the otherwise trusting little prey creature made both of them flinch in surprise, though Lucas was quick to laugh it off. From then on the mouse’s unwavering attention was glued to the screen, but not by his choice. A chill ran through him each time she claimed another unsuspecting victim, always a prey animal, and ripped them apart with her teeth and nails like a starving animal. The way the tiny’s incredibly realistic viscera was slurped into her bloody mouth made him queasy, all too easily imagining himself in their shoes.

Eventually, her hunger became too strong and she began attacking fellow predator species as well. Ripping into throats and soft bellies was far messier than snacking on a tiny creature in three bites, making her feast all the more gory. While the violence still unsettled him, it was a touch more bearable now that he couldn’t picture his own body being mangled between the teeth of a predator he thought he could trust. Speaking of…

The mouse gulped and risked a glance behind him at the other who had hardly moved, save for a few jolts and snickers whenever a particularly good jump scare managed to startle him. It didn’t go unnoticed that every time Aaron had physically reacted to a sudden screech or attack, the cat would curl just a little bit tighter around him, hiding a laugh behind a rumbling purr. He wanted to believe this was meant to be an act of comfort and not something equally as nefarious as the canine plotting her next kill. Regardless, Lucas was equally transfixed on the movie, except he seemed to be enjoying every minute of the horror aspect. His tail would flick in interest during the high tension scenes, even more so when a chase sequence was underway. It made sense, considering that was his favorite game to make Aaron play.

Whatever the case may be, the mouse couldn’t help but be unnerved tenfold that the other had the audacity to enjoy a fictional movie he was interested in seeing. The last thing the mouse wanted was for Lucas to get any more ideas when it came to chasing him around the apartment, much less awaken any sort of primitive instinct to maim his prize after it had been captured. To this day, it remains a deep seated fear in the back of his mind that every time the cat cupped his hands over him, his teeth would be quick to follow. Natural instincts were hard to shake for a reason when it came to prey animals such as himself, he could only hope the same wasn’t true for predators.

His imagination was running rampant, enough so that he completely missed how the movie ended. Something about a cure, something about being put down, whatever. The only thing on his mind was the morbidly hilarious thought that if Lucas were to go feral like the canine, would he eat him raw or would he cook him up in another fantastic dish?

Aaron jumped when Lucas moved to sit up behind him, only now registering the credits scrolling across the screen. He stretched a bit, the quickly fading warmth that had been surrounding the mouse making him realize just how tight the other must have been snuggled around him. How did he not notice?

“Wow,” Lucas said, pursing his lips. “That...was one of the worst movies I have ever seen in my life.”

That wasn’t the reaction Aaron had been expecting him to have, but it was certainly better than to hear him go on about how it was a brilliant masterpiece. He got up to flick the lights back on, still laughing as he recounted each poorly written scene and cheesy effects. “I mean, oh my god, right? The mail man saved everyone? Seriously? I actually feel bad for making you watch that, you totally have dibs on the next movie night.”

He turned around to look at the mouse who was still huddled tight on the couch, wide eyes glued to the screen even if it was just names moving along with ominous background music. Lucas gave him another quizzical look, smirking.

“C’mon, even you have to admit those tinies had zero survival instincts. Like, who goes up to a rabid dog and asks for directions? I get suspending my disbelief and all, but they could have made it just a pinch realistic. This is so going to tank her acting career…” The cat shook his head and moved closer to the couch so that he stood right in front of the television, finally drawing the other’s attention to himself. “Hey, you hungry now?”

Oh, absolutely fucking not. An hour and a half of being tensed up gave no relief to his aching muscles and now that the lights were back on, so was his pounding headache. His stomach rolled, the nausea a mix of dizziness and disgust from the special effects. He didn’t even want to think about food, he didn’t want to be out in the open anymore, and he most certainly did not want to spend another minute in the cat’s company right now.

“S-sure…” Aaron finally squeaked out. He just needed Lucas out of the room, distracted somewhere so he could make a break for it. In some instances, he would have just darted off whether the cat saw him or not, but that always resulted in a game of chase that had a 50/50 success rate, the other loving it anyways. All he wanted was some peace and quiet to rest up and heal and not think about how easy it would be for the other to bite off his head whenever he felt like it.

Lucas stood there for a minute, studying him, and just when Aaron genuinely feared he was going to pounce, he flashed an innocent smile. “Cool, just give me a couple minutes to get it heated up.” And with that, he disappeared into the kitchen.

Aaron decided to be bold and waste a few precious seconds of his head start to collect himself. Deep down, he knew he was being ridiculous. Lucas had been nothing but kind to him. Aloof, but still kind all the same. But as a prey animal that spent the better part of his life living in walls and stealing to survive, trust was a risk he simply couldn’t take. There was hardly any benefit to keeping up this con if the end goal was simply to eat him. For all he knew, though, Lucas was nothing more than a merciless sociopath that was willing to milk every ounce of fear he could before chowing down. A sociopath obsessed with romantic comedies and wore an apron when he cooked and had begged Aaron for two months straight to tell him when his birthday was so that he could make him a miniature cake.

...okay, so maybe Lucas wasn’t a sociopath, but that didn’t mean he was trustworthy. Evolution gave him sharpened fangs and agile reflexes for a reason and the mouse was not about to find out what it was like to be on the receiving end of those one day.

With his head as clear as it was going to be for the time being, sans the dull throb behind his eyes, the mouse finally pushed himself up to make his way over to the couch arm. Slowly, as to not overwork his stiff joints, he climbed his way down to the floor and skittered under the couch for a little extra protection. Strangely, he noticed that he didn’t hear any noises coming from the kitchen just up ahead and when he stopped by the doorway, he couldn’t see anyone either. Losing track of the massive cat should not be possible, especially considering this was a one bedroom apartment and there was literally nowhere else for the feline to go without coming back through the entryway. Aaron should have taken it as a blessing, but of course he couldn’t leave well enough alone.

He proceeded to be daring and come out from under the couch completely to peek into the kitchen, confirming it was empty. Again, that shouldn’t even be possible for Lucas to slip out without having to directly pass the living room to go somewhere else. Unless he had, which would mean Aaron missed him somehow. He had been in quite a deep thought process on the couch...but he could have sworn he was only collecting himself for a minute!

The answer became glaringly obvious when the mouse took a few hesitant steps back and turned to retreat under the safety of the couch, only to come face to face with Lucas. He damn near jumped out of his skin, slamming his back against the wall in an effort to gain another inch of distance between himself and the face taking up his entire view. Really, this was nothing too out of the ordinary for the cat, he loved to sneak up and pounce whenever the opportunity presented itself and Aaron wasn’t too obviously close to heart failure. What made his heart stutter, however, was the fact that Lucas didn’t look like...well, Lucas. There was no smile, no warm eyes, no words being talked a mile a minute about nothing.

No, there was just a frowning cat with his ears pinned back and pupils slit, stalking closer with a terrifying rumble in his throat.

Instinct overtook him as soon as he saw the other’s lip twitch, trying to dart under the couch for safety and having his path immediately blocked by a hand being slammed down, claw out. Aaron couldn’t even yelp, the bile in his throat threatening to turn into vomit if he idled around too long. So, he didn’t. Instead, he turned on his heel and scampered in the opposite direction with the cat hot on his trail. He very nearly dodged a swipe, Lucas hissing that his blow didn’t land while Aaron only tried to speed up his sprinting. They circled maybe half of the living room, the mouse weaving under furniture while the cat knocked into them in an effort to jarr his prey into taking a misstep.

It worked, unfortunately, when Aaron took a sharp turn at the bookshelf and caused Lucas to clip it with his shoulder. The small bump did nothing to deter the cat on his hunt, but the two books that came tumbling down were enough to make the smaller skid and trip to avoid being squashed under the novels. He ended up twisting his ankle awkwardly, stumbling flat on his face while the momentum of his running made him roll twice until he landed on his back. Despite being winded and the additional pain in his leg, he knew there was no time to waste, trying to pull himself. It was too late, though. The cat was already on top of him, hand coming down to pin him under his palm while only his head poked free from between his fingers.

That cold, terrifying face came nearer, eyes tunnel visioned on its prize. Oh God, Aaron would give anything to have the other Lucas back right now. He’d watch a thousand sappy movies, do a date night for every meal, actually move into his bedroom like the cat had suggested he do a dozen times. He wanted...fuck, he wanted his friend back. What he thought was his friend, anyways. Not this killer, not this predator who was baring his teeth and was now mere inches away from biting off his face and--

The growling above him broke off into a snort shortly before turning into a full blown laugh. Aaron wasn’t sure when he had closed his eyes in preparation for his certain death, but when he dared to open them and blinked away the budding tears, he saw that smile he had been wishing for again. Kind and warm, just like eyes, and it was like Lucas had never even taken the form of a starving hunter in his life. Like he hadn’t been moments away from devouring his beloved roommate.

“Oh, come on,” he howled with laughter, “You can’t be serious! That movie actually scared you? I mean, I thought you looked a little freaked out by it, but wow!”

The movie...so this...this wasn’t real. Lucas was just pretending, just playing a prank on him. He thought that the movie had simply wound him up and made him jumpier than usual, no different than watching a zombie flick and popping out from behind a bush at your friend later on.

Except it was different. It was different in the fact that zombies aren't real, but predators are. Predators didn’t need an excuse to go feral and maim and consume their tiny cohabitants, they simply could by the laws of nature. And yes, it may be illegal and have several laws in place to protect prey species, but if no body was ever left behind, who could say if foul play was involved? That was the whole plot point in the otherwise dull movie they sat through together, the reason why the woman was able to avoid suspicion of her sickness by feeding on tinies that could only be reported missing at most.

Lucas’s laughter had tapered off, still clearly enjoying himself. “Alright, note to self, no more horror movies.” Finally, he released Aaron from under his hand to sit back on his haunches. “Man, I really didn’t think you would scare that easily, especially from a B-movie like that. Anyways, are you actually ready to eat now? I put your stuff in the oven so it would reheat better, but it should be done by now….Ronnie?”

Aaron hadn’t moved an inch since he was originally pinned, not even after the hand had been lifted off of him. He just stared up blankly at the cat, trembling and wide eyed, unable to do anything as the rapid succession of events sunk in. The cat’s humor died down a little, smile hesitating.

“Hey, look, I’m sorry. I just couldn’t resist, you know?” He shrugged a little sheepishly. “You didn’t even notice when I came back so I thought...I don’t know, it was funnier in my head. I almost broke character and started laughing before you ran!” With still no verbal response, Lucas reached out a hand. “Aaron? You good? Come on, I’m not that scary, am I?”

The reaction he got probably wasn’t what he was hoping for with Aaron suddenly scrambling to push himself away from the outstretched hand that might trap and tear apart his limbs. He gave a sharp squeak, managing to find his footing only to come crashing down as soon as he took the first step, his ankle noticeably swollen by this point. His cry of pain was muffled into a desperate grunt, trying so hard to drag himself away as a last ditch effort to avoid the same fate as the bird and the squirrel and the mole in the movie.

Lucas gasped. “Oh, Ronnie, your leg!” Both hands were reaching for the mouse now, aiming to cup around him and scoop him up before they surely put him out of his misery. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry! I didn’t...oh my God, I hurt you.”

Yes and no. In truth, Aaron had been the one to hurt himself by making his body move in ways it physically shouldn’t. But that didn’t change the fact that Lucas had shown his true colors. Perhaps in hindsight, that wasn’t a fair assessment, as he really did think he was playing a harmless little joke on a skittish friend. The pain came from knowing that the cat could turn feral, though, no matter how genuine he was being. There was still clearly an instinct within him, one that knew how to hunt and bare his teeth and hiss, one that knew deep down where they both ranked on the food chain. It hurt in knowing everything he thought about his friend, everything that kept him from really letting down his walls like the other so desperately wanted, was right. Cats and mice were not friends.

“Get away from me!” Aaron shrieked when the hands came too close. Though they withdrew quickly, he didn’t bother to watch if they would move again as he forced himself up to stumble back to his nook behind the bookshelf.

“Aaron, wait!” It was a fruitless request and Lucas knew it as he didn’t even try to stop the mouse from disappearing behind the furniture back into the walls. It would only make matters so much worse. “Aaron, please, you’re hurt, just...at least let me help you. Please. I...I’m so sorry! It was an accident, I promise!”

The cat shuffled closer, leaning down in hopes that the other could at least hear his pleas better, could hear how sincere he was trying to be. “I would never hurt you, Aaron. You’re one of my best friends. Look, it was a stupid prank and I’m an asshole and I’ll never do it again, just please come out. Just let me know if you’re alright?”

It didn’t matter how hard or for how long he tried, Aaron was long gone within the walls.

[onbeinganangel]

warmup ficlet for @the-starryknight! she picked 'i know we’re not together but i might die today so i’m going to kiss you just in case there is no later' from this wee list of kisses and asked me to drarry it up and I rubbed my hands together in glee knowing fully well i was about to put together a hell of an angst sandwich

not beta'd, not edited, just angst with a happy ending directly from my heart to yours! (cw: some canon-style mentions of blood, violence, injury and also kind of patient/healer relationship)

damned if you do it and damned if you don’t

(draco/harry, 1.8k)

Draco had pictured it so often throughout his life he sometimes couldn’t honestly believe he had made it all the way to twenty-seven.

He remembers saying it after being thrown on his arse by the family Abraxan. He’d been very little, then. Five or six, maybe. He’d cried, big fat tears running down his face, and when his Mother finally managed to pull his tiny fists down and stop him from hiding his crying behind them, he’d announced, “Maman, I am dying.” She had assured him he very much wasn’t. They’d had scones with big heaped spoonfuls of clotted cream and raspberry jam in the garden and he’d soon forgotten about his fall.

A few years later, he fell off his broom and straight into the lake. Dobby had spelled him dry to avoid him getting in trouble and he was still heaving, coughing up water and panicking when he told the Elf, “Dobby, I am dying.”

Then there was the incident at Hogwarts. He still felt the sharp talons on his skin way after the hippogriff was far, far away, as he bled, holding onto the gashes on his arm and announced to the whole class, “I am dying, it’s killed me!”

Between the ages of sixteen and eighteen, it was more constant. It was the heavy burn of the Mark settling on his arm, it was the feeling of all his organs lighting up in pain and his bones breaking under Crucio after Crucio, it was the sounds of Nagini slithering outside his bedroom door at night, the sickening thud of death, the unsettling screaming, his aunt’s shrill nails-on-chalkboard voice, Greyback’s growls. A neverending chant of “I am dying, I am dying, I am dying, I am dying” inside his head.

It was confiding in a ghost, it was crying because the fear of failure was so intense he reckons he would have preferred to be dead then, it was the only person he believed was actually kind and pure and incapable of willingly inflicting pain on anyone slashing him open and leaving him for dead on a bathroom floor. Draco had looked at Snape, murmuring spell after spell over him, and he’d whispered, “I am dying.”

It was learning how to be numb, how to not feel, how to keep everyone out of his mind and away from his thoughts, it was the paralysing terror of crawling around in the shadows, the bone-deep dread of dropping leftover bread rolls on the floor by the bars on the dungeon and kicking them swiftly into the other side, where they kept his classmates. It was sneaking a blanket or two down and saying to himself, “If they find out…”

It was the persistent horror of knowing you don’t believe in what you’re doing and knowing you’re damned if you do it and damned if you don’t. Between the ages of sixteen and eighteen, Draco would lie in his bed at night — his own at home, his own in the dorms, Pansy’s in the girls’ dorms when it got bad, and he would say it to himself, hoping it would become true, “I am dying.”

But he hadn’t. Despite all odds, Draco is happy. Twenty-seven. He’s got friends, a flat, a job he loves and he’s good at. He’s no longer spat at on the streets. He survived, he made amends, he managed it all. Most of all, he had managed not to die.

Until now, that is. This time he’s pretty certain he won’t be afforded such luck. He feels the curse hit him square on the chest. It’s his own fault, really, for not realising there was someone already in the room he entered. He’d been too busy throwing a rather flourished Incarcerous across the room at the two potions dealers he’d been running after for the past five minutes to notice the third man.

Draco is falling backwards before he has time to even think about anything, his wand clanking noisily seconds before he joins it on the floor.

Then: “Incarcerous.” He hears it — muffled but there. And after, “Fuck, Draco.”

He’s way too familiar with the way his Auror partner works not to know it’s him when the strong arms wrap around him and pull him up. “Oh, Merlin,” he hears. His eyes flutter back open for a couple of seconds and he can tell he was right, even if it’s all blurry: red robes, orange hair, worried blue eyes.

Fear. “I am dying,” he thinks. “Harry,” he says.

“You’re gonna see Harry alright,” Ron says. “He’s gonna have words about having to heal you again,” it’s almost like a joke. Like a Ronald-typical joke. But there’s an edge of worry there. There’s panic. Ronald doesn’t panic.

And it dawns on him. Draco tries to look down but it’s all red. The burgundy of his robes, the sticky dark red of drying blood on his hands and the fresh and vivid blood still pouring out of his chest. He’s not gonna make it to St. Mungo’s, he’s never going to make it to Harry.

“I am dying,” he says, and Ron makes a noise that can only be described as half agony, half agreement.

It smells like St. Mungo’s when he wakes up thinking “I am dying.” Very faintly, he hears the same voice he always hears in his dreams. Maybe he is dead. The voice never sounds like this in his dreams, though: disembodied, frantic, quick. Draco catches half words, half sentences, half conversations that don’t make sense. A different voice is saying “just do it” and “you’re powerful enough” and “sod protocol” and “I am his partner, I brought him here.” The voice from his dreams responds with things like “unstable” and “I don’t know” and “can you please try” and a “I can’t get in touch with her” and “not without consent forms” and a louder, angry “he’s not going to d—“

Draco tries to move towards the voice.

“Draco!” Says the first voice and three pairs of feet come towards him.

“Don’t try to open your eyes, don’t try to talk, don’t try to move, okay? We have stopped the bleeding for now, but we’re still trying to reverse the curse.”

“Harry.” His Harry.

“Yes, hello. We have got to stop meeting like this.”

“I am dying,” Draco croaks out.

“I won’t let you.”

Draco wants to speak. He wants to say “I am dying, I don’t want to die without telling you,” but he has no strength. His thoughts are going faster than the newest Firebolt as he hears Harry tell whoever else is in the room (Ron?) to leave. He wonders if this is it. This what they show you in the films: your life flashing before your eyes right before you die. He thinks of Harry shaking his hand after his Auror graduation ceremony. “Well done, Malfoy,” he’d said. He thinks of that first time he’d been invited over to Ron and Hermione’s, a few weeks after he became Ron’s partner, and Harry had laughed at his stories, lips wine-red and plump, eyes kind like he’d never expected. He thinks of every moment of almost in between them, every moment where Draco considered blurting it out, saying what was on his mind. The Christmas Gala as he towered over Harry and fixed the little chain on his robes for him, and that night at that dingy club for Hermione’s birthday where they’d stared at each other for forty minutes and when Draco had decided he couldn’t take it anymore, he found out that Harry had left. Or just last month when they’d gone out to buy a housewarming present for Luna and ended up eating leftovers on Harry’s sofa, exhausted from people and walking. There are too many. Too many instances of hesitation, too many “nearly-but-not-quites.”

And he’ll die and won’t ever get the chance to tell him, to kiss his handsome, stupid, precious face, and it aches — it hurts almost as much as that spot just to the left of his breastbone where the Curse had hit, where he was profusely bleeding not long ago.

“Closer,” he manages, very quietly.

Harry approaches, but not close enough, not even close enough for Draco to grab at him.

“Cl— clos—uh—closer,” he tries again.

And Harry’s right there, by his bed and he looks beautiful in his Healer robes (unheard of, really) and Draco is blinking his view into a sharper focus and listing all the things he knows he loves, the things he doesn’t want to forget: the white-ish storm of a scar that slashes through Harry’s eyebrow, the shiny (shinier than usual?) green eyes, the touch of stubble, the slightly crooked nose, the lips — oh, the lips, plump and sweet looking and Draco will never get to find out just how sweet. And then, he has to do it. Because if he’s going to die anyway, he may as well use his last breath on this.

He pushes himself off the pillow slightly and his hand pulls Harry’s green robes closer until their lips meet, clumsily and hard — Harry not expecting it, Draco waning from the efforts of pulling Harry closer, but Draco will die knowing he’s kissed Harry. And if there’s no later, at least he’s done it. At least Harry knows.

“Stop. You’ll hurt yourself,” Harry says, and pushes him back down. Gently, like everything he does.

“But—“

“I know, darling. Me too.”

Darling? Harry… too?

“I’m going to heal you, okay? I’m going to heal you and we’ll do that again. I’ll take you to dinner, or brunch, I know you like brunch. Or just coffee. We’ll go to the pictures. I’ll hold your hand. We’ll go flying. We’ll go clubbing and I’ll dance with you, I promise I will, and I’ll let you tell me how bad I am. I’ll find you a copy of that book you were talking about with Hermione, no matter how much it costs. I’ll throw my name around if I have to, okay? And we’re going to do that again, properly. When I’m not your healer and you’re not hurting. I’m going to heal you now, you just—“ he stops, then, breathing wild and panicked.

Then, a small sob. A kiss to his forehead. Draco doesn’t remember closing his eyes.

“You just hold on, yeah? Don’t go anywhere.”

And Draco would cry if he had the strength, he would say yes to all those plans and more, but he focuses on the feeling of Harry’s magic sinking into his body like and he holds on, just like he was told to. He holds on, even if he doesn’t know exactly to what. And he thinks maybe he’ll get lucky again, and he’ll stop picturing himself dead like he’s been doing his whole life. Harry’s magic feels like love, like poetry, like cascading words of affection whispered into the space between his ribs, it feels like hope. And Draco holds on and thinks to himself, as loud as a thought can go, “I am not dying.”

[keilemdarkmode]

preened

🚫contains themes of abuse, noncon/dubcon, yandere 🚫

(r18+)

hawks | takami keigo x (fem)reader

word count: 4.2k

settling in keigo’s arms was far easier than facing his weapons and wrath.

warnings: noncon/dubcon/rape, blood violence, manipulation, yandere, drowning, mention of branding, abuse, somehow STILL soft, bathing/bath tub shit

--

a/n: wow fellas, first yan hawks piece!! PLEASE!! heed the warnings!! this is not soft and tender, it is fucked up, sad, dark, and tender! if its not your thing, please keep scrolling ❤️

that being said, this piece was beta’ed by the lovely @hawnks. it was interesting and new to explore these themes and ideas and im happy to share them now :’^) enjoy!

||||||||||||||||||||

Keigo could be cruel.

You knew that too well.

But, lately, he’d been kinder. Softer, without so many barbs and blades just behind his words and actions.

You knew, very consciously, that this was due to your good behavior after the ‘feather’ incident, but that knowledge didn’t dull the sweetness too much.

(Only a little.)

...

“Dove, are you falling asleep?” Keigo’s voice was far too mirthful as he carded a hand through your hair.

You grumbled, something lighthearted and muffled into his chest.

You had been nodding off, Keigo’s arm slack over your shoulder as he idly watched a film that you were sure he wasn’t paying attention to.

An afternoon off together was rare, and you didn’t want to spoil it.

Asking Keigo to put on a movie and ‘snuggle’ got him red-faced and poofy-feathered, he all but dragged you to the couch to pamper you for the day.

It would’ve been endearing if you’d wanted to be there.

Maybe, sometime back, you would’ve fought.

When Keigo brought you the fluffy, red blanket he loved sharing with you, you might’ve spit on it, maybe on him. Thrown the blanket back into his face only to laugh at the anger and rage he would inevitably erupt into before throwing you over his knee.

Maybe, once, you would have tried to scald Keigo with the steaming tea he brought you (prepared just as you liked, it was one of the first things he memorized about you). You would’ve probably aimed for his face— maybe, his wings, if you were feeling particularly stupid.

Now?

You smiled, maybe something real, as you took the blanket from his waiting arms. You let him blow on your tea with his pretty pink lips as he insisted he’d ‘never let you get burned’.

(You both knew that the ‘fire’ incident was too far. You’d been vacant for a month after Keigo had pulled that stunt.)

“Thank you,” You kissed his cheek, like he wanted you to.

Maybe you should’ve been disgusted. Instead, the contact felt nice. Touch starvation had long since set in, and Keigo was your only outlet. And he was very willing.

The afternoon had been easy, nice. You’d let him play with your hair, mindful to tuck your braced arm to your tummy under the blanket. Keigo tended to be a bit more on edge when he was reminded of the ‘feather’ incident.

It was easier to keep it hidden.

“Dear?” Keigo asked, nuzzling into the crown of your head. “When was the last time we gave you a proper bath?”

You tensed so hard, you might as well have been stone.

Baths were still bad, even after so long.

You figured it out, after a while. It was one of Keigo’s subconscious avian instincts, to keep him and his mate clean and looking well.

It was why he always sat in front of you to allow you to pick through and straighten his feathers. It was vulnerable, the way he shivered and shuddered and fucking moaned as you would straighten and pluck what you could.

It was why he scrutinized the brushing of your teeth so heavily, scoffing at your lack of ‘precision’ and ‘attention to detail’. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d brushed them yourself. Keigo would always just seat you on the cold marble counter, slot himself between your legs while vice-gripping your jaw and gagging you with a toothbrush.

Though, he had been more gentle lately. Nicer.

He’d been more like the ‘mate’ he’d always described himself being.

Your role to Keigo was why he had full autonomy over bathing you.

He could take showers and baths alone, all as he pleased. But, you were washed by his hands only. Even the quick showers after he’d fuck you silly, he was always with you, scrubbing you down with special soaps and a soft cloth.

“Dove?” Keigo’s voice came kindly, yet his grip tightened. “I asked you a question, didn’t I?”

“You did, I’m sorry,” The response came from your lips hurriedly. “It’s been a while.”

Keigo hummed, clicking his tongue and sitting up fully, “I’ll set up the bath then. I’ll take a shower later so I can make sure you’re squeaky clean now, how about that?”

You nodded, knowing better than to disagree with him.

When Keigo had first brought you ‘home’, he’d take your baths with you. He’d pull you tight to his chest, try to, as you struggled and screamed.

He snapped once, letting his anger get the better of him when you bit him so hard on his forearm that he bled.

Though, it wasn’t his blood that stained the bathwater that night.

It was the first time he showed you how much soft damage he could inflict with his sharpened feathers.

He rarely took baths with you after that; you hoped the memory of haunted him the same way it did with you.

Over time, bathing you had become a sort of neutral ground.

Keigo enjoyed it too much for it to be used as a punishment, and you learned better.

That didn’t mean slipups didn’t happen, but in general, you were good for him then.

The bad memories still made you tremble, vivid reminders.

Keigo tugged you to the bathroom, the eon-suite in the master bedroom, ‘our’ bedroom, as he called it with the wistful look in his eye.

Part of you reviled the affection in his tone, the other part was relieved that it wasn’t malice anymore.

Stepping into the bathroom was always a bit jarring, your mind and body knowing what occurred so often in the months past. The conditioning was implicit, even if the two of you didn’t like it.

The master bathroom was massive, built for his wings. The soaker tub, jets and all, was meant to accommodate their size. He’d had a new one put in, he told you, just before he ‘brought’ you ‘home’.

Keigo stopped you in front of the sink, a usual routine. You kept your gaze trained on the ground.

“Dove, it’s alright, no need to be frightened,” He chuckled, but you knew it was more of a command than anything else. He slung his arms over your shoulders, a firm grip on your jaw forcing you to look into the reflection. “You’ve been a good girl lately, I’ll be gentle.”

You sniffled, nodding.

His grip tightened, “Words. You know better.”

“Y-yes,” You nodded, eyes darting around the mirror to avoid looking at your dual visage. “I have been good. I’ll be good.”

“Sweet girl,” Keigo sang, peppering kisses over the side of your face as you made eye contact with yourself. Your stare was vacant and cold, clinging onto what you could grasp without pain.

You hated it—

Yourself.

Your stomach rolled, but you swallowed down your disgust.

“Don’t look away, understand?” Keigo’s voice was too soft for the authority in his words.

“I won’t, I understand.”

You watched as his nimble fingers slipped under the shirt of his that you wore. He’d let you wear panties that day, soft cotton ones that hardly seemed ‘sexy’, but they drove him wild anyways. Something about normalcy always got him more feral than normal.

Considering the cold outside, he’d even been kind enough to dress you in a pair of loose, thigh high stockings. He slid them down your legs, descending as he did to leave little kisses. He pulled at your underwear, palming at the plump of your ass as they fell to the ground.

You stepped out of the stockings and panties when he tapped your ankles, leaving you completely naked in the mirror.

Forcing yourself to stare in the mirror was hard.

You didn’t look like yourself.

You hadn’t for so long.

Your own visage made your head spark with numbness, something acrid spilling over your tongue.

It must’ve shown in your face, but you didn’t register it.

“None of that, angel, you’re beautiful,” Keigo draped himself over you, wings outstretched.

You swallowed, nodding, but not replying.

“Bath time, then,” Keigo hummed, guiding you to the toilet seat as he prepared the soak.

You watched him roll up the sleeves of his soft button-down, revealing his many scars. Some were from his work, others from your nails and teeth. You felt guilty, odd as it was, seeing how they still marred his pretty, tanned skin.

You folded your hands in your lap as Keigo got to work.

He turned on the faucet, always a bit too hot, just so you could soak for longer. Shampoo, conditioner, a variety of hair and face masks, special bubble baths and bath bombs all carried in a cute basket were brought to the side of the tub as he prepared it.

If you were proper lovers, it would’ve been endearing.

He rose, lighting jar and pillar candles across the massive bathroom. It was something he did to put you both at ease, the fire acting like some sort of safety net that you both knew kept him from getting too aggressive with you, risking burning his wings.

It all felt like too much, the care he put into everything.

Your guilt swelled as you focused on your naked thighs.

Keigo talked to you as he went about preparing your pampering, knowing better than to expect any proper responses as he prepared the bath with lovely smells and pretty colors.

The last thing he did was hang a red silk robe on a hook near the door.

You really must’ve been good, getting the chance to cover yourself after a bath.

You had been trying harder lately. Remembering your rules, how and where to be and when. It made things easier. Fighting made your tired, clawing had made you weaker.

Being complicit burned something in you, low and rolling, but it was better than facing Keigo’s constant wrath.

On your more mentally together days, the ones where he was gone more and longer, you put together some of Keigo’s fucked up psychology.

He just didn’t want to be alone.

He just wanted a companion.

It was cruel— sick, that one of the most desired men in the nation had to pluck you, and all your mundanity, from your life to force you into the mold of a lover, consort and best friend like you weren’t a person.

You shook your head, trying not to stew.

Stewing made you bad.

And you had been good.

You had to be, after the ‘feather incident’.

It made things easier.

...

You’d found the feather under the couch.

Keigo left them around normally, the sensitive things picking up on your heart rate and breathing. The safety phone, an old landline, would ring if you got too anxious, the shrill tone only making it worse, but that was part of the point, wasn’t it?

All the same, this feather looked older.

The color was duller, the filaments frayed.

Keigo liked to present the feathers openly, stuck into fixtures and over counters and tabletops. Something about ‘keeping his mate safe from prospective challengers’.

(You never saw anyone other than him. There was no one to oppose Keigo in your life.)

This particular plume being hidden seemed like a mistake.

He didn’t slip up often.

Your mind spun as you debated what to do.

You poked it, cautiously.

It didn’t move, waver, or harden.

It was limp, like a real, normal feather.

The spine was hard—

Solid enough to shove into a lock, maybe.

You snatched it up, hiding it between the cushions as you raced to think through a plan.

Your previous escape attempts hardly even happened. Keigo was fast enough to catch you as you neared the fortified door, always.

He’d drag you to the bedroom to hold you down and eat your cunt until your mind was too mushy to even conceptualize ideas beyond Keigo’s tongue fucking into your dripping hole. He was mean about it, pushing you too far and keeping you there to writhe and beg for reprieve.

You hated him for it at the time.

But, you had an opportunity to fucking get out.

During the incident—

He was gone.

He was at work for the rest of the day.

You hurried.

His other present feathers would sense you, you had to work quickly.

You didn’t have shoes other than house slippers, but they’d have to make due. You shoved some granola bars in your pocket, freezing the moment you heard the ringtone of the landline echo over the penthouse.

Don’t slow, don’t stop.

How fucking foolish you were, thinking you could outrun a being that flew.

Idiotic, you’d come to chastise yourself later.

You stuffed what you could into your pockets, running to the front door and shoving the spine of the feather into the lock.

It was firm enough to be used as a pick, wasn’t it? You weren’t sure how to pick locks, but you had to try right?

You could pick the eight locks on the door before Keigo got home, right?

Foolish.

Your hands trembled as the phone rang over and over.

Your heart nearly stopped when you heard the telltale ‘thunk’ of Keigo landing on the balcony.

Frantically, you tried to undo just one lock, just for the sake of your own sanity, knowing what was to come—

The balcony door slammed open.

You went rigid, hands still working, sweaty and desperate.

Keigo was on you in a second, pulling you from your knees by your hair in one swift motion.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

His voice could’ve cut steel, the tone so angry and dead that it brought tears to your eyes as you began to struggle.

“No, no, no— you’re not doing this shit.” Keigo spat, tugging your shaking hand from the lock as the lifeless feather fell to the ground.

He pressed you against the door, bearing all of his body weight against your back as you flattened against the wood. His wings rose, eclipsing any light.

His grip on your wrist got tighter, harder. It was sure to bruise.

(Ha.)

Keigo snarled, roughly slamming his hips into your backside, “What is this shit you’re trying to pull? I know you’re an ungrateful cunt, but I didn’t know you were a complete dumbass.”

He bent your arm back, farther and higher up by the wrist.

“Did you really think you could do that? Do this to me?!” Keigo’s voice tore through you, the waver in it sounding so foreign it almost hurt. “LEAVE ME?!”

Fear shot through you as his worn hands wrapped around your palm.

In one swift motion—

Snap.

Your vision tilted as you fell back into Keigo.

Your hand wavered limply and wrongly in his grip, thoroughly broken.

Keigo clapped a hand over your mouth as you began to scream, wail at the searing pain that was shooting from your wrist.

“I’m so sorry, angel.” His unapologetic, hot breath swirled over your ear like nausea and bile, “I promise, this will be for your own good.”

...

Keigo didn’t stop that day, no matter how much you begged and shrieked.

...

The rest of the incident got blurry.

It hurt to think about it too much.

Keigo’s rage-filled voice promising that he was going to ‘snap a new bone each time you cum’ remained a haunting memory.

He followed through, of course. He was nothing if not uncomfortably honest at the worst of times.

You could recall the feeling of cold blood trickling down your thighs, nose, and even from your mouth as you sobbed and screamed for mercy on the cold hardwood. A small feather, wet with you in so many forms, licked and lapped at your clit as Keigo made good on his promise.

The feeling of his sweat dripping onto your spine as he easily crushed and snapped a new bone each time you reached ecstasy haunted you into a submission that was no longer reluctant.

You hated yourself for it.

...

Your gaze drifted from the steaming water to your hand, the brace removed. Your fingers were still mangled, they would be forever. Keigo purposefully patched them poorly— he’d told you so. Something about making it a ‘lasting lesson’.

You sniffled at the thought, flexing the fingers, feeling the old pains shoot up your arm.

“Angel love? No need to do that,” Keigo reminded you, covering your hand with his own.

Gently, he tilted your jaw so you could meet his eyes.

You imagined the two of you looked equally sad.

The following weeks after the ‘incident’, you tried so hard to be good. The pain was a new intensity, something you couldn’t forget. Keigo reminded you of it if you slipped up, squeezing your hand or wrist with a grimace curled his pretty lips.

To his merit, Keigo also felt bad about hurting you so bad. Prior to that, punishments were either harsh edging or overstimulation which in some ways were pleasurable. Spanking too, but even then, Keigo looked a bit meek after leaving such unpleasant bruises on your backside.

But permanently crippling your body in time with tearing your cunt bloody?

He sobbed into your shoulder every night for a month.

Tried as you did to be good, you also became quite numb.

It felt better than the agony.

Keigo’s voice pulled you from your thoughts, his nose nudging your cheek, “What kind of bubble bath would you like?”

Wow.

You had been good.

You’d never been able to pick out your smells before.

Swallowing, you chewed at your lip, eyes drifting from the cute basket to Keigo’s expectant eyes.

He sighed, squeezing your knee, “Dear, it’s not a trick. Just your preference.”

“Can’t you pick?”

You immediately tensed, flinching away from Keigo’s soft touch with your own words.

An old echo of an older lesson:

‘Good girls don’t question things, do they?’

“I-I’m sorry,” You sputtered, eyes trained on the tile of the bathroom. You held out your bent wrist without thinking.

You tensed, waiting for the pain that would inevitably come.

Right?

Keigo stared at it, then to you, eyes going sad and glassy.

It made your heartbreak.

He carefully held your wrist, putting in back and rested in your naked lap.

“None of that, love. I’ll pick today, but you deserve to feel good. Don’t you think so?”

No.

“Yes.”

“Good girl, angel.”

Keigo gave you a gooey smile, one you returned as earnestly as you could. He quickly went back to the basket, pulling out an elegant glass bottle or two, dumping them into the tub as light, herbal scents began to waft into the air.

You relaxed a bit.

Keigo’s wings twitched, a little smile crooking on his face.

“It’s all ready, dear. Let me help you.”

Carefully, he helped you into the filled, bubbly foam settling around your shoulders as you leaned against the porcelain edge.

Though Keigo kept his wings flat to his back as he could, you could still see the feathers twitch and ruffle.

‘An instinctual response to seeing his mate so vulnerable— for his own benefit or otherwise.’

You swallowed, sinking into the sparkling water.

Keigo gave you another smile, dropping a kiss to your forehead before presenting you with two fancy-looking bath bombs.

“Now, dear, how about picking one of these? Nice and easy.”

He was right, but your head still spun.

You picked the one on the right, a dusty purple sphere with flower petals pressed into the outside.

Keigo lit up as you took it from his hand, gently placing it into the water.

You both watched it fizz and bob for a moment, mesmerized as the color spread and spit.

“See? Not too hard, huh?” Keigo chuckled to himself, laying his arms crossed on the lip of the massive tub. “You’re such a good girl for me.”

He looked at you with half-lidded eyes, full of love and adoration that made you feel sick.

You knew better than to reject it.

Rather, you returned his affections the best you could.

You even leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek.

Keigo lit up, eyes shining and bright as he cupped your cheeks, returning the gesture tenfold.

You performed so well, giggling and smiling as he did.

You’d become so good at putting on a show for him, even if it exhausted you. It was so much easier to pretend that he was a dutiful lover and not a horrifying captor. With your bent fingers submerged in the balmy water, it was even easier to shove down his transgressions.

On your good days, you would even forget.

You liked those days.

You wanted today to be one of those days where everything was okay.

You weren’t quite there, but you could try your best.

As you relaxed in the bath, Keigo gently pulled one of your legs from the water. Suds and sparkles slid down your leg as his pretty gold eyes inspected your skin.

Keigo smoothed a hand over the prickling hair of your leg, frowning, “Gotta shave you nice and smooth, huh, love?”

You nodded, whether it was your preference or not didn’t matter.

Sinking a little deeper into the water, you watched him so carefully treat your skin. Exfoliating with gentle circles, and then slicking your leg with a small vial of golden oil.

The razor was what scared you the most.

You bore its marks in many ways, little cuts and scars left on your legs from your ancient twitching and struggling were the most plentiful.

There were a few brands from the thin metal, marring the bottoms of your feet.

Those were the worst to heal. Keigo had to carry you around for days, toying with you the entire time. He teased you in your helplessness, but none of his quips were wrong.

He’d made you need him.

You audibly whimpered at the memories, Keigo’s gaze flickering to you as he ran the sleek razor over your shining skin.

“Dear, nothing to be afraid of. You’re doing so well.”

You nodded, knowing better than to remind him of his own horrors.

He shaved you carefully, thoughtfully even, humming to himself as he did. Keigo was nothing if not a perfectionist, leaving you silky smooth and well-tended to. You wondered if he would treat you to a massage later with how kind he was being.

He left your cunt alone, liking the hair more wild and ‘natural’.

“This is nice, isn’t it?” Keigo asked wistfully as he moved closer. His hand slipped under the water, cupping the back of your neck.

You took a little too long to respond, you supposed in retrospect.

Keigo’s face went dark, for a mere moment, as his grip tightened, dragging you under the suds.

You jolted, struggling and flailing in shock as water flooded your mouth and nose.

He pulled you up as quickly as he had pulled you down, the dark look not dulled in the slightest.

“Be good, and I won’t have to do that shit.” His words dripped cold venom, wings beginning to unfurl. “I’d hate to revisit how long it takes you to stop squirming under there, wouldn’t you?”

You nodded, hurriedly, quickly, sitting up the best you could in his grip, “N-no, I don’t want that. Please. This is very nice. I’m sorry. I’ll be good. I’ll be better.”

They were promises, honest ones.

You very much wanted to keep them.

Keigo’s look thankfully dissolved, going melancholic before erupting warmly once more. It was a facial journey you’d seen too much and too often.

“That’s my girl,” He grinned, giving you a wet kiss on the lips. You kissed back the best you could, shaking visibly and not trying to hide it.

Keigo pulled back, golden eyes too sharp and too vibrant.

As he poured shampoo into his hand, you clenched your maimed hand into a fist. The lesson worked so well, you thought, as pain rushed through you, hot like the old brands and clawing scratches.

Keigo was too sweet as he lathered your hair in the candlelight.

And you were too crushed to resist.

Far too tired.

Endlessly too weak, he’d shown you over and over.

So, you accepted his touches to cast off his ire.

Even as he pulled you from the bath, flush to his body while he wrapped you in a fluffy towel, you smiled despite the bulge pressing into your abdomen.

Even as he massaged you with earthy smelling oils, cooing about how beautiful and sacred your body was, you thanked him despite the disgust that brewed so deep in you like some hellish brine pool.

Even as he fucked you like a lover, clasping your hands to the sheets and mixing you with him as he brought you to the edge again and again, you moaned with him despite how the stretch of his cock still aggravated old wounds.

Even as he filled you up with his cum, crying out about how well you took him, what a ‘good girl’ you were, your cries crashed with his in pretty harmony despite how rotten you should’ve felt.

Because, at the end of the day, sated, cleaned and loved in his arms, the old scars didn’t ache so bad if he kissed you sweetly. If you smiled at him as he smiled at you, Keigo was kind like a companion, mate and lover should be.

As you drifted off, you were okay with the weight of his wings bearing over your fucked-out body.

It was easier this way,

Maybe even better.

[irelanddesires]

Ny Början- Chapter 1

Pairing:  André Burakovsky x reader

Warnings: Fluff, eventual smut, hockey violence, domestic violence (in the beginning), idk probs more.

Summary:  With the help of a group of unsuspecting heroes you are saved from a toxic relationship. One of your saviors goes above and beyond anything you could ask for. A friendship is forged and after awhile feelings happen. Could ths be your happy ending? 

A/N: Hi I’m trash and this idea has rolled around in my head for w e e k s. I’ve played hockey for a really long time and the Avs are my team... Burky happens to be my hockey crush so I figured I would share this. IDK what it is but this challenged me a lot and I can’t write a guys perspective to save my life ffs. Dialogue is hard my doods. Anyway, enjoy and let me know what you think! 

Going to the club was the last thing you wanted to do. Between working two jobs and trying to stay on top of your classes it didn’t leave much free time and you didn’t want to spend that sparse time dealing with drunk people and loud music. Your boyfriend, Matthew, had insisted that this was exactly what you needed after the week you had. At this point you both had been there long enough to see friends call it a night and you were pretty sure that Matthew was one drink away from making a fool out of himself. 

“Matt, can we please go?” you asked, hoping that he would finally agree. 

“Loosen up! We never get to spend time together. Let’s enjoy this!” he practically yelled. 

“We’ve been here long enough. It’s late and I have an early shift tomorrow.” you urged. At this point you wanted to go home, get out of this dress and crawl into bed. Nothing at this bar held your attention. Matt’s had grabbed your arm, his face inches from yours.

“I said no. We’re not going anywhere. I’m not finished here.” he ground out. 

The look on his face left little room for argument and was quite scary. Matt was usually a nice guy, the perfect boyfriend, but after drinking he could become a totally different person. Matt had never hit you but the emotional toll it took on you could be just as painful as a physical blow. After the week you’ve had of working 12-14 hour days just to come home and clean before passing out just to do it all over again made you throw all caution to the wind. You wanted to go home for fucks sake, not be here. 

You snached your arm from his grip, looking him in the eyes, “I’m tired, I’m going home. You can stay if you want but I’m not.” 

Before he could say anything you spun on your heels and marched out the side door that led to a less busy street. You hoped this would give you some peace and quiet as you ordered your Uber. Just as you tapped the app to get an Uber the door behind you swung open. Matt stumbled through the doorway and onto the sidewalk with you. 

“You can’t leave me,” he said. 

“Matt, I’m going home to sleep. I don’t care what you do.” 

“I said no!” he roared. Before you could comprehend what was happening your head snapped back and you were pushed against the outside wall of the bar. The brick dug into your skin as you tried to struggle against the hands holding you there. 

“Why don’t you ever listen to me you bitch.” he said as his fingers dug into your throat, “If I tell you to do something you fucking do it!” 

Panic seized your chest as his hands circled around your throat. The throbbing in your head forgotten about as your fight or flight instincts kicked in. You tried to kick him as hard as you could but it seemed like he wasn’t phased at all by it. Your hands grabbed onto his, your fingernails digging into his skin trying to get any distance between his hands and your throat. Just as spots began to dance around your vision the same door you both had exited from swung open and a group of people spilled out. 

Before you could try and scream for help one of them turned around and spotted you. His face went from relaxed and playful to murderous in seconds. You didn’t have time to gather your thoughts before he was charging both of you, shoving Matt off of you. You fell to the ground in a pile, your muscles felt like jello but your brain screamed at you to run. Looking up at the situation happening in front of you all you could see was the back of the stranger that had come to your rescue. His friends had caught on quick and made it over to stand around you too, like shields between you and Matt,  as you gathered yourself. 

“Is there a problem?” One of them said, the voice sounded like it came from the one that had charged Matt but your brain couldn’t comprehend everything that was happening. 

Matt stumbled to his feet before looking at the mystery men. “Mind your business” he slurred. 

“I don’t think so. You want to get to her, you have to go through us.” a voice called out. 

For a moment it looked like Matt was considering it. His eyes scanned each guy before landing on you. 

“This isn’t over you fucking bitch!” he yelled before turning around and making his way back into the bar. 

The door didn’t have time to shut all the way before one of your saviors crouched down in front of you. His hazel eyes searched your face, “ Are you okay?” he asked 

As much as you wanted to tell him your entire body felt weighed down, you bit back your weakness,

 “I’m fine.” you said as you began to try and stand. It took a couple tries to get your feet under you. You tried to use what energy you had to stand, you were nearly there when your legs went to give out. Hands caught you around your waist and pulled you the rest of the way up. 

“You don’t look fine” the mystery man said and he held onto you, carrying the majority of your weight. “Look, let me get you somewhere safe and I can take you home”

You looked at him, searching his face for dishonesty. At this point you figured that someone, or a group of people, that came to your rescue surely couldn’t be bad people. You silently agreed for his help with a nod of your head. 

The rest of the time you spent with the group of them went by in a blur. They all talked amongst themselves in whispers, every now and then you caught words. At one point you caught the name “André” and you assumed this was the name of the guy holding you up. Before long a car pulled to the curb and your stranger opened the door for you before helping you inside. None of the other guys followed so you assumed they were getting their own Uber. 

The ride was silent for a few moments before his voice broke through, “I’m André by the way” 

“Y/N” 

“I didn’t know where you would want to go so I figured you could come to my place and then decide what you want to do,” he said. 

You looked at him and nodded, whispering a “thank you” as you settled into the seat. You shouldn’t feel comfortable about going home with a guy you just met outside a bar but for some reason you felt safe with him. He gave off a genuine arua of concern and wanting to help. Before you could think about it too much your world faded to black and you let your exhausted and battered body rest. 

_______________________________

Having a night off from hockey was rare. What was even more rare was being able to have a guys night with some of the team. Most of the time when games weren’t being played or practice were being held, everyone would go their own ways. Some would spend time with their significant other, some would spend time alone or some would visit family if the break was long enough. 

Tonight a few of us had decided to let loose and bar hop across Denver. Usually this time of year the weather was starting to get cooler which made bar hopping more of a chore. Tonight however, the weather was perfect which gave us plenty of reason to have some fun. 

The first bar we went to was picked by Miko. He said this was the best bar in Denver with the hottest chicks so more than a few in our group were eager to get there. 

The outside of the building was modern with sleek black walls and the walls that weren’t stone were see-through glass. Through the windows we could see people dancing with lights strobing through the air.

 We quickly made our way inside and were ushered to a VIP section, one of the many perks of playing professional sports was getting recognized when out since it usually led to getting a more private area. The captain of the team was with us so of course we were bound to be recognized. 

We all bounced around from group to group chatting and drinking. Some of the guys had found partners to dance with while the rest of us just hung out. Time passed and we all were eventually some level of intoxicated, some more than others. Nate brought up the idea of heading to the Pur, a rooftop bar with a chill atmosphere. A group of us thought that was a great plan. The constant bass and flashing lights got old as the night wore on. 

The five of us; Gabe, Nate, Miko, Gru and myself headed toward the back door. We hoped we could escape quietly and back doors were usually best for doing that. 

The heavy door swung shut behind us as we spilled into the cool Denver night. A noise caught my attention, turning my head to see who else was out here, I was met with a scene I wasn’t expecting. A man had a woman pinned to the side of the building. Her feet dangled off of the ground and her hands gripped his that were circling around her throat. Time seemed to stop and instinct took over as I rushed to them. Before I could comprehend what I was doing my fist was sailing through the air, connecting with the man's face before he fell to the ground. The girl slumped to the side of the building in a heap. Concern for her swam through my body but I knew this guy had to leave before I could help her. 

The man stumbled to his feet. By now the guys had joined me, putting ourselves between the pair. 

“Is there a problem?” Gave asked

“Mind your business” the man mumbled. 

Rage burned through my body and it took everything in me to not pummel this guy. 

“I don’t think so.” I called out. 

The man took a moment. His eyes scanned each one of us. He must have eventually decided he was outnumbered and didn’t want to take his chances. 

“This isn’t over you fucking bitch!” He yelled before stumbling through the door we had just come out of. Relief flooded me now that we didn’t have a fight on our hands. A whimper from behind me had me turning and dropping to my knees. 

“Are you okay?” I asked. My eyes scanned over her checking for major injuries. Her breathing hitched as she tried to push herself up to stand. Halfway up her legs seemed to give way. Before she could tumble to the ground I grabbed her, hauling her to her feet and holding as much of her weight as I could. 

Her hands tangled in my shirt holding on for dear life. There’s no way she would be able to make it home and I didn’t trust leaving her like this with a stranger. Looking around the group of guys, Gabe was the first to speak up. 

“What’s your plan? Get an Uber?” He asked. 

“Yeah, I think I will take her to my place. I have a spare room she can sleep in and she can figure out something in the morning” 

The guys nodded in agreement. No one wanted to leave her alone right now. Especially not with her angry boyfriend, or ex boyfriend I hope, on the loose. 

“I’ll get you guys an Uber,” Gru piped up. 

“Thanks” I muttered, turning my attention back to the girl clinging on to me. 

The rest of the wait was quiet. No one talked about going anywhere else for the night. I’m sure at this point everyone wanted to go home and decompress from what had happened. Before long the Uber pulled up and I shuffled us around to open the door. With some adjustments I was able to sit her down and close the door before nodding to the guys and making my way around the car to climb in beside her. 

The driver took off immediately, glancing in the rear view mirror between the two of us. We didn’t make it far before i turned to her, 

“I’m André by the way” 

Her sad eyes met mine and for a moment I didn’t think she would say anything until I heard a whisper. 

“Y/N” 

Her voice sounded awful and the emotion behind her eyes told me how exhausted she really was. 

“I didn’t know where you would want to go so I figured you could come to my place and then decide what you want to do,” I told her. 

She looked at me again before croaking out a “thank you”. The rest of the ride was quiet. Once we arrived at my place I figured out why it was quite. At some point during the drive Y/N must had fallen asleep, her head was leaning against the window and her body was curled right around herself. 

I climbed out of the car and went to her side. Carefully I opened the door, catching her head when it went to fall. Surprisingly she didn’t wake so I slid my arms under her lifting her out of the car and pulling her against my chest. 

Unlocking the door and navigating through my apartment while carrying another person was harder than I would have imagined. I made it to my guest room and laid her on the bed. Not wanting her to wake up uncomfortable I took her shoes off before covering her with blankets and shutting the door on my way out. 

I settled on the couch with a beer from the fridge before releasing the breath that seemed stuck in my chest. The last thing I thought about before drifting off was the broken girl sleeping in the other room.

[trvncyz]

white haired kaneki x fem!reader whos going through a depressed episode if thats okay?

an: this is my first time writing these so i hope it's good enough. 938 words || hurt/comfort || she/her pronouns tw: depression, suicide and mentions of a little bit of violence

How many days had passed since the attack at Anteiku? How many days since she had to leave it all behind, her friends, her family, her safe place? She didn’t know where it all went wrong. Was it when Kaneki was captured by Jason’s men? Or was it after that? Who told the CCG about them? There were an endless amount of questions. Questions which were like the vast sea, and answers which required her to swim. Could she swim safely right now? That was another one of her unanswered questions. She couldn’t quite name her emotions. Was she even feeling anything? Was her mind totally screaming at her or was it silent? Was she sad that she had to leave her friends behind or was her brain numb? Either way, it was enough to drive her crazy. It felt like she’s been broken down to smithereens. All this for being a ghoul? It felt dystopian. She wanted to tear her skin off her bones and feel something for once. Maybe if she jumped off that windowsill, she could feel something. What would it feel like? Will the cold air lightly nip at her skin or will it bite her? Will she be able to live the moment or will it pass by in a flash? Will it be peaceful, like the movies or will her remaining survival instincts curse her. Once again, it was a vast, deep sea of unanswered questions. Did she want to swim? Most definitely. She got up and walked to the windowsill. It looked inviting. Just a few more steps and she’ll be right at her destination. “Y/N,” a calm voice called out to her. She turned her head to look at the owner of the voice. “Kaneki,” she whispered. Her vocal cords felt exhausted. It was almost as if she was screaming? In her dazed state, she had somehow managed to ignore the hammering of what felt like her brain within her skull. It felt dangerously close to a migraine. But how could it have been caused. She hadn’t been crying, now had she? “Wanna talk about it?” Kaneki softly asked Y/N. She only looked away from him. “What’s there to talk about? It’s not like any of this matter anyway. The white haired boy took the girl’s hand and made her sit on the couch. He gently put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close to himself. “I don’t know who put that notion in your head but your feelings matter.” He softly said. Despite being through a lot himself, he wasn’t very good at this type of thing himself. Could a broken person pick up on someone else’s broken pieces? But even if he couldn’t, he would. He was holding the girl he loved in his arms and he would go to any lengths for her. “I want to go back home.” She softly said, clutching her boyfriend’s shirt softly. A small smile played on his lips as he pulled the girl towards himself. He placed a light kiss on her forehead and said “You’re my home Y/N.” Hearing that, the girl broke into heavy tears. Everything came crashing down onto her. The pressure of being in the Aoigiri Tree, the homesickness, the despair of losing your loved ones; It felt like constant stabbing one after another. She wanted to scream in agony but her throat was too weak for that. Her sobs only got worse and she held on to her boyfriend tightly for comfort. She was hanging from a thread and Kaneki was making sure that she doesn’t break or get hurt in any way. “I know it hurts. I know you how you feel. It feels like you’d be better off dead but things get better after a while, I guess. It’s gonna take time. It’s not like there’ll be a sudden flash and suddenly you’re going to feel alright. No, you’re gonna hurt, you’re gonna cry and slowly, just slowly you’ll start feeling better. I know it’s hard but whatever happens happens for the best. If Jason didn’t capture and torture me, I wouldn’t have become who I am today. I’m not glorifying my trauma or saying that I’m thankful for what happened. No, it was pure hell but now that I’ve passed it, maybe I can look at what good came out of it. I know you’re not feeling your best but we need to live on. And don’t you worry, Y/N, we have each other. I will protect you until the end of times. I will not let anything bad happen to you. And I want you to know, that

tomorrow will be better than today. I promise that you’ll be alright. I’ll make sure you are.” The girl was still crying, she was still hurt but her boyfriend’s little speech made her feel a lot better. It gave her hope that maybe, just maybe tomorrow will be better than today. She wanted to believe his words. She really wanted to be okay. Kaneki’s soft recitation was softly lulling her to sleep and she allowed herself to fall asleep in the arms of the one whom she loves.

I didn't awaken with a sense of purpose anymore. I awoke and a sad, everyday scene I'd bitterly dreamed of ... (I could neither settle in nor escape that place) Then evening came, and I thought this world is like an ocean. I imagined a watery expanse at dusk, where a haggard boatman rows with unsteady hands. Looking to see if there are any fish or not, he passes by staring at the surface.

[jessie-writes-things]

From the Darkness | Part 1

This is a commission from the lovely @grogusmum! I'm so so so sorry for how late this is love! Life got in the way a bit. Originally I was gonna do this as one giant piece, but you've been waiting too long and so I just needed to get something out. This ended up being a bit more soft-angst rather than fluff but I tried my best to balance it out. The next part will be full-on found family fluff though! 🥰

This whole thing stemmed from that throwaway line 'I've spent much time on Tatooine' from The Marshall. Basically, I just liked the idea of Din having a somewhat secret life hidden away there. It gets explained a bit more in the second part, but that's really all the context you need right now. 😅🥰

Pairing: Din Djarin x Neutral Reader

Words: 2.5k

Genre: Found family, fluff, soft angst

Warnings: Star Wars level violence, vague mentions of PTSD/Trauma, nightmares

Summary: Din comes home to Tattooine and you spend the night on the Razor Crest.

You always heard the Razor Crest before you saw it. The loud hum of the clunky engine made you jump every single time and you had always wondered how long it would be until the ship just dropped out the sky.

Your answer came quicker than you thought. It was around midnight when the first signs came, snippets of voices fluttered by like quiet, sleep-laced whispers on the wind.

See you we do! Coming home we are!

Then came the ship barrelling onto the landing pad, and you weren’t dramatic in saying you thought the planet was about to explode; walls rumbling, ground vibrating. Peli had been prompted to spew out a few choice words, stepping outside just as you did to watch the slivers of silver moonlight spring off the ship as it finally settled down.

The landing had been…less than graceful to say the least. The engine sounded worse than you’ve ever heard. One of her feet had been ripped clear off, making her tilt to the side at an unnerving angle and you didn’t even want to think about the number of outer plates there were to replace.

What worried you more was the look of annoyance on your boss’s face, pinched and red, and you just had enough time to convince her to head back to bed, promising to deal with The Mandalorian until morning. And thank every planet in the galaxy she listened because if the Crest hadn’t woken up the neighbourhood, you knew she sure as hell would of.

There was an etiquette, you learned through years of working on the hanger; you should never enter a person’s ship first. To regulars, it was like walking into someone’s home without being invited. But so early in the morning you weren’t for niceties.

You walked up that ramp like pray on a hunt, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes and you may have stumbled a bit, but it was a hunt.

The Mandalorian was clearly waiting for you, sitting in the cockpit, the baby asleep in his pod although you had no doubt he was listening to every word.

Very out of character, he was the first to speak, ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.’

‘It’s okay.’ It wasn’t…well, it was. You were just grumpy and tired and wanted to go back to bed, ‘She looks a mess.’

‘Can you fix her?’

You had assumed her mess from the work of another bounty gone wrong, maybe Mar again but you weren’t in the right mind to ask. ‘Depends.’

‘On?’

‘What you’re about to ask me to do next.’

There was a silence, a comfortable one but silence, nevertheless. Eyes heavy, you were fading fast, head resting against the passenger seat you had claimed as your own. You weren’t too sure if you had fallen asleep or not. You closed your eyes for what felt like a moment too long and when they opened again, Din had shifted his seat to look at you.

‘We need to stay for a few days.’ His head tilted like a little puppy dog. Helmet still on, you were left trying to imagine how he looked in that moment; eyes squinted, crinkled around the sides in admiration.

Not the exact words you wanted to hear, but not surprising in the slightest.

You decided to push again, ‘Anything else?’

He was smiling, at least you were sure he was, his voice sounding a little lighter despite the artificial muffle of the modulator, ‘Come to bed?’

---

I caught a frog today. Very big frog. I wanted to show you. But ManDad was not very happy with the frog in the big ship. So I ate it, I did. Miss you lots, I did. And so did ManDad. Smiles when he thinks about you, he does. I feel the happiness. Thank you for making him happy.

---

Turns out it hadn’t been Mar that took a hit at his ship.

There had been an incident, Din told you in the quiet of darkness, arms wrapped around you, his head buried safely. Long tufts of hair tickled your jaw and chin whenever he moved or talked, about due for a haircut but that was a battle for another day.

‘Moff Gideon is dead.’ But so was Kuill, the kind Ugnaught who had helped at the start of all this mess. Whatever was left of the Empire was still after the kid and Din still needed to find the Jedi. ‘Karga’s still alive.’

‘I thought he double-crossed you?’ At some point his head had moved onto your chest, letting your fingers card through his hair. You could just about see his face in the small cracks of light, not that he needed to hide anymore, sometimes you think the dark was comforting for him.

The smallest of smiles tugging at the corners of his lips and you really hoped it was because of your touch and not the thought of the Guild agent. Small wins and all that, you guessed. Better to have Greef around than no one at all.

‘I can’t stay long.’ His voice wavered, ever so slightly. You had become accustomed to the bittersweetness of it all, stroking the back of his neck as your heavy eyes began to droop again.

‘That’s okay.’ While it felt like a brick being thrown at your chest, you understood. Truly. The entire Empire was after the kid and, subsequently, him. Not to mention the constant battle against other hunters who had it out for his head.

Because while you knew time was finite with him, at least you had something.

---

Happy to be home we are. ManDad gets lonely sometimes. Feel it I do. I try my best to make him smile but sometimes it does not work. Make him happy, you do. A man should not be lonely for too long, he must not, for loneliness can be deadly. When I am gone, look after him you must. Promise?

---

Quiet moments in the dark were always the loudest for Grogu. Like father like son, you guessed. Neither of them liked the stillness much, both of their minds racing faster than the speed of light. It was always easier to read them in these moments. Flashes of images blended into a mosaic behind your eyes as you tried to hold down a specific part of a memory or a dream.

Some nights it was easier than others. There were times Grogu would sense you in his mind and would purposefully push an image forward, always something he thought was silly like a particularly funny looking frog or a memory of Din singing to some cheesy eighties song you had left behind on a CD during their last visit.

The colourful rhythm and syncopated beats making the walls of the Razor Crest dance along with them and you did everything not to burst out laughing in the still night, biting your lip only for a small snort to escape. Din caught on, barely opening his eyes a crack to mumble out some half-arsed are you okay before rolling over and heading back to sleep again.

It was easier to read Din when he was asleep. Not that you did it much or even intended to in the first place. But sleep tore down the walls he had spent years building up, subconsciously pushing the dreams into your mind. If Grogu’s thoughts were a lulled whisper, Din’s were white noise. Fuzzy static took up most of the space, at times slipping to let through blips of voices or a grainy picture of long past memories. They were too quick to get a full idea of what he was dreaming about.

A boy.

The pop of blasters.

A woman screaming.

One deep breath and the image faded. Din would wake for a moment, eyes closed and he’d turn back to face you. His chest shook, barely and nothing noticeable normally, but you caught it, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, and mumbling a soft it’s okay as he settled back into you.

---

Today was not so bad, it was not. But sometimes I still think about the dark place. Scary and lonely was I. For a long, long time. Then there’s light and I see ManDad for the first time. And then everything is better, it is! No longer do I need to fear the dark.

---

Like always, Grogu climbed out of his pod early morning and forced the doors of the sleeping pad open, giving him room to wiggle his way between Din and you. These were the times you’d feel the tug of his mind at the doors of yours, asking permission to be allowed in.

If your consciousness was awake enough, you’d let him, letting the Green Bean explore the distorted images of Earth and your past life. You would find him standing next to you, present you, in the middle of the dirtied street, dark and damp as rain pounded on the concrete around you, drowning out the screams of the people as they rushed by.

He’d hold his arms up, a quiet hold me please passing by and you’d take him in your arms, holding him close. Sparks of fear rolled through you, weighed down by dread and it was hard to tell if it was coming from Grogu or your past self.

Clouds filled the sky like grey shadows. It had taken you a long time to realise they weren’t normal, that the clouds were too big, were floating by too quick to be anything natural.

That had been the first time you saw them. Aliens. Or what people on Earth would think of as aliens. Tall, grey, slimy, the stuff you had only ever seen on TV and they were now shooting from the skies in streaks of red light. Streets pathed in dust that smelt like ash and day-old water.

The two of you walked through the mess like ghosts, people running left and right and through you, some in slow motion while some were ungodly in their speed. They all died in the end. Zapped out of existence by a singular lazar.

Someone yelled about children. Save the children. Spare the children. Collect the children. Round them up near the hanger, discard the ones we don’t need, you know the ones I mean, don’t talk back to me. Their voice washed over you in cold chills, sounding so far underwater that they might as well not be there at all.

A man stopped in front of you. Tall dressed in all black. A human man staring right at you. He didn’t look panicked like the rest, was calm and collected as he pulled out his gun and aimed so perfectly right at your head. You didn’t move, didn’t duck for cover as he pulled the trigger.

You should know better than to look.

There’s a woman behind you. Was a woman behind you. She’s dead when you turn around, a pile of smoking ash on the cobbled path, already being washed away by the rain.

Then there was the child, arms still stretched out to hold their mother’s hand, eyes wide in fear but they don’t cry. No matter how much their heart is racing. No matter how much they want to scream as the man grabs their arm and drags them away, throwing them in line with the rest of them, waiting for their turn to be scanned and thrown in the hanger.

They don’t scream, even when the doors slam shut and darkness is all that’s left.

---

Awake, are you? Sleep I cannot. Wonder if ManDad knows how much I love him, I do. ManDad is amazing he is. He saved me from the dark and keeps me safe, he does. Let’s me eat cookies, he does. Such lovely cookies. Try some, you must. But ManDad hurts, I feel. Feel his heavy heart, I do. So much pain and loss cause a man to be sad. Want him to be sad I do not. When I am gone, please tell him all the time that he is special, he is. Always be my buir, he will.

---

‘Buir.’ Grogu sat on your stomach, watching with wide, curious eyes as he followed your finger to where Din moved back and forth getting ready to head out. It was just some low-level bounty, armature work really, but that didn’t stop the anxiety from budding in the pit of your stomach. Distractions curved the nausea, curled up with the pod door open, blanket tucked under your chin with the residual warmth of his body still hugging you, ‘He’s your buir.’

Din hadn’t put his helmet back on yet, the roll of his eyes contrasted with the small half-smile on his lips. In the light, it was easier to see the damage he had taken during his last fight. There was only so much an ex-bounty-turned-nursing droid and some bacta spray could do. The large gash across his forehead looked painful and you made a mental note to check it over when he returned.

‘Don’t teach him that.’

‘Why not?’

There was a pause. You caught the way the small smile faltered, wavering with doubt and uncertainty and maybe a hint of sadness although that last part was hard to tell. And while the wall Din had built around himself was thick, sadness was strong enough to creep through the cracks. Even Grogu noticed, large ears pricking, head tilting in ManDad’s direction with a small coo.

‘Aliit ori'shya tal'din.’

‘You’ve been practicing.’ The words were light, a brow quirked in your direction and you knew what it meant; you’re adorable. Thank you for trying. At least he was smiling, finishing up the last buckle on his holster ‘Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.’

Maybe you should have been more surprised by the slip of his tongue. The way he carried on getting dressed, not even pausing once at his mistake.

You had heard him say those words before a hundrad times or more. But you wondered how long he had meant those words. Months? Years? Was it a new development? Was it something he had always known?

But there was no surprise. Instead, a warmth planted itself in your chest, and it grew, branches stretching to fill every ounce of your being until it was all you could feel.

‘Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.’ His eyes widened at your mimicked words. The pronunciation was still a bit off and sometimes the emphasis was stressed on the wrong bits, but it was nice to know you were close enough that he understood you, ‘I know what it means now. You can’t trick me anymore.’

Din picked up the helmet and put it on before you had the chance to see the full smile that bloomed, but you heard it, the hints of pure happiness shining through the modulated, ‘I was never trying to trick you.’

You fought back your own smile. The heat spreading across your cheeks told a different story though, serving as a reminder of years old built-up emotions neither of you had time to unpack at that moment.

So, you did what you both did best. You quickly changed the topic, shifting your attention back to the Green Bean plopped on your stomach, happily teething on the small silver ball he sneakily snatched from the controls. A few seconds later and his attention found yours, giving you a gleeful smile as he held out the ball as a peace offering.

‘Ba'buir.’ You pointed back at Din and Grogu laughed, ‘He’s your Ba'buir.’

But Din was already out of sight, halfway to the door when he called back, ‘He’s older than me!’

Older, I surely am. And wiser. Yet know, you do not. Be careful ManDad For space can be dark and dangerous.

The lock hissed as it opened, seemingly louder in the suddenly quiet Razor Crest, ‘Be careful.’

‘Always.’

---

buir = parent

Aliit ori'shya tal'din = "Family is more than blood."

Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum ="I love you."; literally: "I will know you forever."

Ba'buir = grandparent

[yes-another-obey-me-blog]

I feel like any of the demon boys would be very dangerous if they got possessive jealousy but like yandere them getting possessive jealous would be on a whole level worse. What do you think? Hc? Scenarios?

Hehehehhehehehehehe I've been waiting for a Yandere ask!  Thank you so much anon!!

Also, these are getting long so imma post them in parts.  

here is Lucifer's and Mammon's 

Yandere Bros get possessive/Jealous

GN Mc

TW: Yandere content, violence

  Lucifer.

He rarely gets jealous, demons tend to stay away from what he claims as his.  But when he gets jealous, he makes it known.  His demon form is out, wings on full display as he approaches with calm, collected steps.  His face screams murder with eyes narrow and sharp, the aura around him is pitch black as he places his arm around your shoulder.

"I suggest you start explaining why you bothering my dearest."

His voice is a deep rumbling growl.  The demon in front of you starts to back away in fear.  Who wouldn't?  Everyone knows what he does to Mammon, and that's Lucifer being gentle. 

"I-I-I didn't know they were-"  Lucifer's eyes get sharper as his wings puff up more.  He reaches for the demon's neck, yanking them off the ground, their feet kick as they panic.

"Didn't know what?  That they're mine?"  The other demon gulps, panic, and regret in their eyes.  They look at you begging you to help them.  Please, call him off their eyes scream.  Lucifers growls deepen.  "Did I say you could LOOK at them!"  His grip crushes the demons windpipe, if they were human they would have been killed. 

"I'm going to pluck your eyes out then, rip out your tongue and teeth one by one, and if you think I'm stopping there then you-"

"Lucifer, my dear friend what seems to be the problem here."  The boisterous voice of Diavolo cuts through the hall.  Lucifer carelessly drops the demon.  You flinch as they gasp for air, taking in deep gulps.  Diavolo surveys the scene with his big flashy grin and nods.

"I see, someone tired to take your darling." Diavolo tuts looking down at the perpetrator with a sadistic grin.  He then looks back at you his grin gets impossibly bigger, with a whimper you bury your face in Lucifer's chest.  His arms wrap around you instantly, pulling you even closer he hums in approval as you shakily hold on to him.

Diavolo smiles at the lover's embrace reminded of his own darling.  With a dreamy sigh, he picks the demon up by the back of their shirt and drags them behind him.  He stops and pats Lucifer on the shoulder and whispers. 

"Bring your beloved with you tomorrow for tea, my love has been asking about their dear friend and refuses to settle down about it."  He sighs thinking about his love.  "and while they talk we can enjoy some special entertainment."  He gives the passed out demon a shake.  "What do you say to that?"  Lucifer's grin matches Diavolov's.

  Simply put Lucifer is the kind of yandere who is cruel and sadistic to others but not his darling.  He wants them to love him and trust him.  Make them think he's the only one they can turn to when they're in danger.

He will gaslight his darling until they only trust him, they'll seek him out for help, whether it be classes, or other demons bothering them it doesn't matter.

He'll also treat them as a child.  Your classes are too hard?  Well of course they are there for wise demons, not simple humans like yourself.  Feeling stressed and overwhelmed from everything?  Here sit on his lap and he'll hold you for a bit, don't worry about your tasks or his brothers.  You obviously can't handle them, they're too much for a little human-like yourself.

If you think Diavolo is going to save you your wrong, he's quite happy Lucifer's found a darling of his own and is more than happy to withdraw you from RAD and let Lucifer, have you.  Sure, you can still go to RAD but Diavolo just has you sit in his office with his own darling.  Barbados babysitting you both as Diavolo is a busy demon lord and all.

Lucifer doesn't really want you to befriend anyone else but, Diavolo is persistent that his darling and Lucifer's become friends.

His overall goal is to have you dependent on him that way you walk into his cage willingly. 

Mammon.  

He doesn't get jealous, he loves the attention you bring him, one could say he's greedy for it.  However, its a look but don't touch kind of thing he made that clear at one of his modeling gigs 

"Hey, smile treasure, we got others watchin ."  He mumbled in your ear giving it a kiss.  "I want everyone to see how nice and shiny my treasure is."  You grumbled as he dragged you around the party, laughing and talking with other demons.  They all stared at you with smokey eyes, gestured at you with manicured claws, and smiled with perfectly shaded lips. 

Mammon sat down on a sofa and pulled you down on top of him while he grinned down at you, you sighed and nestled into him.  he'd throw a tantrum if you didn't play the part of loving darling.

All the other demons cooed and fawned over you asking you to look their way causing Mammon to laugh. "My treasure is just shy, aren't ya?"  You nodded, face still buried in his neck, he laughed once more and talked with the other demons until he suddenly sighed.

"Hey treasure, I need to get up, some magazine editor wants ta talk to me."  He easily maneuvered you off his lap and got up, giving you a quick kiss.  "Don't miss me too much treasure~" Mammon then disappeared into the crowd.

"Well aren't you a beautiful diamond."  One of the she-devils said sitting down next to you crossing her long legs shamelessly looking you up and down.

You grumbled in discomfort and moved away from her looking around for Mammon.  If you had to deal with a demon you would rather deal with the one you knew.  "Awww come now darling don't be like that," She placed her hand on your face forcing you to look at her.  "I just want to get a nice long look at you."

"Let go."  You slapped her had away, where was Mammon?  You wanted to go home you're tired and had you still had homework to do.  "Mamm-"  The she-devil grabbed your face and yanked you her way, her perfect black claws digging into your face.  The other demons around you falling silent.

"I'll have you know pet I don't take kindly to being denied."  She hissed digging her claws into your cheeks.  "When I want something I get it!" Her claws cut into your face, blood running down your face and covering her hand.  "Awww now see what you made me do?  I ruined that adorable little face."

"Ruth, let the human go."  Another demon said a look of terror on his face.  You recognized him, Mammon works with him often what's his name again? Ifrit or something?  Ruth rolled her beautiful smokey eyes.

"If you want a pet, go find your own Ifrit this one is-"

"Mine."  Mammon's voice boomed, ripping Ruth's hand off you.  She looked up in horror and Mammon met her with a snarl.  "Did ya really think ya could touch the Great Mammon's treasure?"  Mammon griped her wrist until it snapped, Ruth screamed grabbing at him trying to force him to let go.  

"I didn't know they were your's Mammon!  I sware I didn't know!"  Mammon rolled his eyes at the pathetic display, of course, only when he was angry would demons remember he was the second born of his brothers.  None the less, he let the she-devil go, watching her tumble to the ground in pain.

"Ya lucky I'm in front of my treasure, I don't want them to fear me as you all should."  He said fixing his sleave.

"Mammon,"  you whimpered grabbing your cheek, Ruth's claws dug in dipper than you thought.  The blood just kept coming.

"Yes, tres-"  His eyes went wide as he saw the blood seep through your hands.  "Treasure!  What happened to ya?!" He ran to you gently taking your hand off your face.  "Here, here let me see, its ok treasure I need to see how deep the cuts are.  There, there that's a good treasure."  He sighed in relief, the cuts weren't that bad but they must have stung like hell.  He placed kisses all over your bloody cheeks. "There all better right?"  Mammon pulled back smiling, your blood dusted his lips.  

"Ifrit, do me a favor, take my treasure outside."  Mammon glared at Ruth.  "I've got something to take care of.  If ya do well, I'll put in a good word with Diavolo and see to it ya get a darlin of your own."  Ifrit nodded and carefully dragged you out, the screams of Ruth ringing out behind you.  

When Mammon returned he was in demon form, the only thing off about him was the blood caked in his hair.  He smiled and hugged you dismissing Ifrit with a wave of his hand.  "Its all right treasure, she won't hurt ya ever again."  He smirked.  "and trust me, after what I did to her no demon will ever touch ya again."  He pressed a kiss to your lips, you could taste the blood on them, the funny thing was that you couldn't tell if the blood you tasted was yours or Ruth's.

Hcs.

Mammon is truly one of the sweetest yanderes you can get in Devildom.  Between Constant kisses and gifts, you'll be well cared for.  not to mention he's also slow to anger.  Normally.

He likes the attention you bring him, he'll buy you anything you ask for if it means you'll be with him.  

He won't isolate you but he will keep you on a tight leash, his arms are around you every time you head out. Kisses are given whenever some demon gazes at you too long.

You're dragged to all the parties held by other demons in the modeling business.  These parties are mainly to show off darlings, Asmo even accompanies Mammon to some of these events.

Mammon needs to feel needed by his darling that's why he spends so much money on them.  If they need him they can't leave him.

I wouldn't push him though, one escape attempt and you'll be sitting pretty on his hoard for years to come.

[imasimpforshanks]

Hello <3 Can I ask for Angst alphabet with Coby ?~ thanks a lot <3

Angst Alphabet - Coby

a/n: BRUHHHH HIS WAS SO HARD TO DO BC HES SUCH A SWEETIE 😭😭😭😭😭💗 regardless, I hope you like it! x

ALSO - please note reader is a civilian and not a marine (but coby is still a marine). It was just easier for me to write it this way !!

A- Accident (would they blame themselves if you died in an accident?)

Coby wouldn’t exactly blame himself, but he would feel really weak. It would be lots of comments about his own worth and capabilities such as: “I’m still too weak” or I’m never going to be strong enough”. (kind of similar to Zoro in that sense).

B-Break up (How would they break up with you?)

He would try to be as honest and as upfront as possible, but he gets really anxious and just starts stumbling over his words ending every sentence with “ya know?”. In the end, he just uses every cliché in the book because he can’t remember or seem to find the ability to say what he really wanted to.

C-Crying (how would they make you cry?)

This dude is far too much of a sweetheart to ever make you cry. If you were to cry because of him, it’d be because of how much time the two of you have to be away from each other. He hates having to leave you because it’s always a lot of tears on both sides.

D-Death (how would they react to your death?)

He would be devasted. Crying in front of anyone and everyone he doesn’t care. Coby would also become really unmotivated and go through a little bit of an existential crisis like “What’s the point of this anymore?” “what am I even doing?”. Eventually he’d remember how much you believed in him, and how much good he could really do in the world – so, he’d keep going. For you.

E-Emotion (what is one emotion they would try to hide the most and how would they do it?)

Honestly, Coby is someone who is extremely open and expressive. He doesn’t (or maybe it’s more accurate to say he can’t) hide his emotions. That’s just not who he is. He expresses openly whatever emotion it is he is feeling.

F-Fight (do you two ever fight? How big are the fights? What do you fight about? Etc.)

He genuinely tries to avoid fighting with you at all costs. Nothing between the two of you ever escalates that far because Coby manages to talk the two of you out of whatever tension has been built.

G-Guilt (what is the biggest thing they feel guilty about?)

It’s not necessarily guilt, but Coby still feels as though he owes Luffy his life. Because of Luffy, Coby was able to become a marine. It’s because of Luffy that Coby continues to work as hard as he does. Most of what has happened in Coby’s life is all thanks to Luffy and because of that, he feels as though he has a debt he can never repay (even though all of this happened because luffy was just being luffy).

H-Heartbreak (what would cause them pain in the relationship? How would they deal during a break-up?)

Having to be away from you for long periods of time (obviously because he’s a marine) is really painful for the both of you. It can but quite a bit of strain on your relationship as long distance isn’t easy.

During a break-up, his mind would be all over the show. At work, he wouldn’t be able to focus properly which would cause many problems for not only himself, but others around him too.

I-Injured (how would they react if you are badly injured?)

Panic mode: activated. All his focus is shifted to you. He forgets about everything around him and is set on trying to get you help. He doesn’t even try to take down whoever, or whatever, caused your injury. You are his one and only priority in that moment.

J-Jealousy (what do they do if they are jealous?)

The sweetheart would feel so nervous. He’d keep to himself and try to avoid you for a while because he can’t stop thinking about how much better off you would be with literally anyone else.

K-Kill (would they kill for revenge?)

Coby is definitely not the type to kill for revenge. He hates all the killing and death that happens in the world. He’s a person who is all about trying to stop the cycle of hatred. so despite the anger, pain and hurt he would be feeling he would put all of that emotion aside, and settle it a different way.

L-Loss (what is their greatest loss?)

During Marineford when marines (and pirates) were dying left and right, Coby was shocked. It was far too much unnecessary death. Witnessing all that death was an emotional overload, but it did lead to one of the most pivotal moments of his life.

M-Mistake (what is the worst mistake they ever made with you?)

Unfortunately, it was something entirely out of his control. But one time he had to leave for a mission with the Marines in the middle of the night. He couldn’t tell you anything about it or why he was leaving. He just had to up and leave.

N-Nightmares (how often do they have them? What are they about? How do they deal with it?)

Sometimes Coby has nightmares about Marineford. The constant voices and cries of agony form an endless loop in his sleep, gradually getting louder and louder until he screams himself awake. After waking up in a panic he manages to calm his breathing. Then, Coby gives himself a pep talk “that is why you’re working so hard. To become strong enough to be fleet admiral so nothing like that will ever happen again.”

O-Outrage (how and why would they get mad at you?)

As with the fights, I don’t think Coby really gets mad at you. Probably over something minor like you ate the last cookie or something. It’s not anger, he just gets pouty until you say you’ll make it up to him.

P-Past (what has happened in your relationship that changed the way you saw each other?)

Having to do your relationship long distance was a pivotal point for the both of you. For most, it can be a deal breaker and it comes with more negatives than positives. But, for the two of you, it was a wake-up call, and, it was the moment you both realized “I can’t live without you, we will make this work”.

Q-Quality (what is their most dangerous/toxic quality?)

I wouldn’t say this is dangerous or toxic idk (???) but ANWAYSSSSS. Coby lacks certainty in his own decisions. He’s not so bad now, but it used to be a lot worse. He second guesses himself too much, which can be the difference between life and death in a high pressure situation.

R-Rejection (how would they react to you rejecting their confession (or the other way around))

Being rejected by you would definitely impact his self-esteem. It’d bring up a lot of insecurities and feelings of inadequacy. (PLS DON’T REJECT THIS PRECIOUS BOY).

S-Scars (battle or self-inflicted)

Coby does have a scar on his head. It’s not entirely certain when or where he received this scar, but it’s likely to be from his rough training with Garp.

T-Trust (have they ever broken your trust?)

No, Coby has never broken your trust. In fact, your relationship is held up by the unwavering trust the two of you have in one another. It may seem funny to say that, because trust is a vital element of any relationship, but it’s particularly the case for you two. Being a marine means there’s going to be quite a few things he can’t tell you, but you know he can’t tell you and he really appreciates how much you understand that.

U-Urge (how badly do they want to see you after you guys separated?)

He’s had to learn to cope with not seeing you for long periods of time. But, despite all that practice it’s still unbelievably difficult. When he can, he’ll write you letters to keep you informed about his safety. He won’t ask, but he’d really appreciate if you wrote him back.

V-Vicious (what do they do when they lash out on you?)

I genuinely don’t believe he would lash out at you. He just wouldn’t. Maybe, he’s slammed a few doors, but other than that… (sorry I feel like this one is boring af ugh).

W-Weak (what makes them feel weak how do they try to avoid it?)

Coby always felt weak and incapable in his abilities. Sometimes those feelings resurface. But honestly, he trues to avoid this by remembering how and why he is where he is. He thinks of all the people who have helped him along the way (Luffy, Garp etc.) and it motivates him to push forward.

X-X-ray (what do they hate and show it most obviously?)

He hates needless violence. He understands in some situations violence is necessary, but, then there are some situations (like the end of marineford) where lives are being lost for no reason whatsoever.

Y-Yearn (what is one thing that they want but can’t have?)

He wants nothing more than to openly be BFF’s with Luffy. Given the two different worlds they live in, it’s just never going to happen, despite Luffy being a genuinely good person. (I KNOW THIS IS MEAN TO BE ANGSTY BUT I COULDN’T HELP IT LMFAO)

Z-Zero (what do they do/say in your dying moments?)

Oh boy. There would be endless amounts of tears. Through sniffles and snot, he’d be trying to thank you for everything you’ve done for him, all the love and support you’ve shown him.