#(not really. sorry for those in the gore tag. I just want to be safe.)

[motoroil-recs]

[X / X / X] [X / 🏎️ / X] [X / X / X]

A moodboard for Antisepticeye with imagery of blood, knives, bandages, teeth, and glitches with a messy vibe in green and black.

[inhuman-obey-me]

I really....really meant to do this way sooner, I’m so sorry, but I'm finally back with the next segment of characters!! Part 3 will come later, featuring the undateables, but for now, hope you enjoy this one!

Click here for Part 1 - Older Brothers

Part 2 - Younger Brothers

cw: mentions of past abuse + sexual assault, body horror, violence, torture, gore

Or, as these tags so accurately put it last time:

SATAN

When you tell Satan that you have something heavy to share, he is the perfect gentleman about it, making sure you feel safe and comforted and giving you space if/when you need it

He memorizes every word that falls from your lips, holding each one preciously in his mind as he holds you in his arms

His heart breaks as you describe what happened to you, and even though he always keeps his own wrath hidden away as much as he can, he thinks guiltily to the times where it has emerged around you

In that moment, he swears to himself he'll never allow it to happen again -- even if you know what he's like, even if you understand him and his rage, he could never forgive himself if he caused you the kind of pain you're describing now

For any anger you may have about it, however, you can express it as much as you want around him, with his own powers helping you let it out safely and absorbing some of it from you when it seems like it's too much for you

On intimacy, he's always been quite shy with you, but he takes care to be a bit more delicate now as well, a little less abrupt and a little bit more communicative about what he wants to do, stopping immediately to check in if you seem uncomfortable in any way

After a few days, though, the wrath in him is about ready to burst, and for all the rage he feels for what this disgusting human did to you...

No, no, he's not going to immediately tear the fucker to shreds, he can't let them die that quickly, no

No, this person is going to suffer for what they did to you

He starts with just a light curse, as a warmup -- invisible barriers just pop up in their path from time to time, causing them to randomly trip and fall whenever they're walking around

While casting the spell, however, he can't help but grow angrier and angrier thinking about what they did to you

He hits them with no less than twenty-two other curses before he collects himself enough to put the spellbook down, each of which would be fairly minor on their own, but which collectively add up to a very miserable existence of constant embarrassments, humiliations, frustrations, and injuries

When he looks in on the damage a week later, he's rather pleased to find them utterly broken down, covered head-to-toe in little bruises and cuts

He's far from done however, and in the dead of night, he whisks them away to an old, abandoned house said to be haunted by vengeful ghosts, much like the stories of the House of Lamentation

There, he immobilizes them with another curse and sets to work with a sharp-tipped pen, carving every last word of what you told him into your ex's flesh

His hand is steady as the pen slices into their body, but each time he reaches a part that especially infuriates him, he can't help but dig the pen a bit deeper in, taking vicious delight in the way their eyes water in those moments, and the wheeze of pain that emerges from their frozen lips

Once he's written out everything you told him across their body, he does what would be unthinkable to an actual book but what he finds perfectly fitting for this human stain upon the world, and sets up a pulley to gradually lower them into a firepit in the backyard

As they are slowly engulfed by the flames, he reads the whole tale upon their body out loud to them, making sure they hear every last word and know exactly what they did wrong before they finally perish

ASMODEUS

The Avatar of Lust, while he perfectly understands and embodies desire, is not forgiving of those who disregard consent

To him, so much of the fun comes from seeing that desire and pleasure emerge from his partner, so what the fuck is even the point if they don't want it?

But, as the beautiful and beloved Asmodeus, it's his job to keep everyone smiling and bright, and that's exactly what he's going to do for you

As you tell him about your past, he alternates between fussing over you to try to make you feel better, and quietly fuming over what your ex did

Over time, he helps you feel more in control of your own body again as well, empowering you to feel like it's really yours and yours alone, mixing fashion with feelings of safety and comfort, and always ready with the compliments to boost your self-esteem

Gradually, only if you want to, he'll help you get comfortable with intimacy again -- with his sensitivity to lust, he can always tell if something starts to feel wrong to you, and he'll stop immediately if that happens

Whether you want to take it slow, or try out some wild kink that might be therapeutic, or anything else, he's just excited for anything you want to do, and he'll make sure it's the best possible experience for you

As for your ex, he's sure they'll land themselves down in the Devildom eventually anyway, but if you want them taken care of sooner than that, he'll have a blast doing it -- it's been a while since he's had to a good chance to really use his scorpion venom!

And if not, hey, he'll have a chance to wreak his revenge when they eventually do arrive, in any case

He'll even invite you along too, if you'd like a turn at revenge by your own hands <3

Though his eyes can charm anyone, sometimes he finds it almost more fun to shrink them with magic and physically string them up like a puppet, and he's happy to hand you the reins if you want them

For his own fun, he manipulates the marionette strings to have your ex dance their way through any number of dangerous settings -- spikes, lava, fire, swamps, ghostly manors, you name it

He makes sure they hit every trap or flame on the way through, and malevolently flings them into those points in the most painful ways possible

With the strings, he also bends their body in impossibly painful ways, contorting them into bizarre and freakish poses and laughing over how ridiculous they look

If you want to participate, he teaches you how to move them around too

When you decide you've had enough, he drags the limp doll that your ex has become through coals and discards the charred remains into a lake of corrosive acid

There, your ex, still just barely conscious, feels their body slowly breaking down until they dissolve to nothing

BEELZEBUB

Beelzebub, in his ever-protective way, grows angry as you tell him about your abusive ex, but first and foremost his concern is making sure you're okay

He's quiet -- quieter than usual, even -- but fully present for you, reassuring you in the warm comfort of his large embrace

He holds you gently the whole time you're talking, and even for a while after, making sure you're feeling okay before he lets go

As thanks for being brave enough to talk about it, and for trusting him enough to tell him, he takes you out for anything at all that you'd like to eat, showering you with affection

He's perfectly happy to take it slow if/when you do eventually decide to ease into anything sexual, and he's so, so careful about his strength and size

His excellent sense of smell helps to guide him too, able to pick up the scents of happiness, desire, fear, lack thereof if you're dissociating, etc., and he adjusts himself accordingly to keep you feeling safe

And in general, though he may not have known you back then, he's filled with resolve to at least protect you from here on out

He won't fail to keep safe someone he cares about, not again -- and that means taking care of any lingering threats from your old life, too

It takes a bit of searching for Beelzebub to find your ex, but he goes up to the human realm and manages to seek them out soon enough because flies are good at seeking out rotting piles of trash

It takes a lot of restraint not to gobble them up on the spot and be done with it, but for how much they put you through, he thinks they deserve to suffer at least a bit

He snatches them away to a hidden alley behind a little hole-in-the-wall restaurant, long after they've closed for the night but with the fragrant scent of meaty burgers still lingering through the air

If the shot of venom didn't already leave their muscles feeling tender, the incessant hits of the brutal physical beating from Beel certainly does

No part of their body is spared from the onslaught of punches and kicks, as joints pop apart and bones start peeking out from flesh through the wounds

Thin, spear-like tubes emerge from Beelzebub's mouth, piercing various veins across their neck and arms so he can drink up all the blood from their veins before it spills out all over the alley floor -- it'd be a waste of a perfectly good drink, after all

Once they're fully drained, he cracks open their carcass, carving each bone loose with knife-like claws for him to crunch on

Then into the restaurant's industrial meat grinder goes the rest of their body

Beel feasts with a certain satisfaction that night upon piles and piles of cheese-world humanburgers human-world cheeseburgers

BELPHEGOR

As you tell Belphegor about your past and your history with your abusive ex, he gives you his full, undivided attention

His stomach drops, as his prior deception and manipulation of you comes into full focus in light of all you had already been through

Holding you close, he whispers words of comfort and strokes your head gently until you fall asleep for the night, holding his own rest at bay until he's sure you've drifted off first

As a quiet, unspoken apology, he places soft and peaceful dreams upon you that night, filling your dream world with all the things he knows you love

If you're open to it, he also later creates dreams for you where things happened differently, quick to pull you out if anything starts going wrong but letting you get a redo on those traumatic moments where you have more power or where you can watch a cartoonish anvil drop on your ex's head to stop them, whatever works really

Intimacy comes gradually, if/when you're ready, happy to follow or take the lead as you prefer, but communicative every step of the way so that you always feel safe

And as for your ex...

Belphegor already held the opinion for a long time that humans were shit -- but until this moment, he had dropped his desires to destroy them, after everything with Lilith had come to light

But you're still a human, after all, and he loves you, so he'll settle for taking care of just this particular shitstain of a human being

Needless to say, your ex never knows a peaceful night's sleep again

Each time they close their eyes to rest, devilish apparitions appear at the edges of their vision, and menacing claws and teeth rip at their ankles, chasing them across worlds

At times, when the teeth manage to catch them in their grasp, their dreams turn to endless loops of being chewed up and spit out over and over on end

The resulting constant exhaustion is a nightmare of its own, as they begin to fear falling asleep and desperately try to wake themselves any time they feel sleep coming on

However, in their waking hours, too, Belphie twists and warps shadows around them, until the lines between life and dreams blur together

They are practically sobbing for death by the time he comes for them personally, though he's not so merciful as to be quick about it even then

He chokes them to unconsciousness but lets go each time they fall unconscious, dragging the sharp prickly parts of his tail across their face to wake them back up before doing it over again

Once their face has been torn up beyond recognition by these repeated cycles, he finishes them off by trampling across their body in cow form and leaving them to suffocate slowly from their punctured lungs

[evilvvithin]

Track you down pt.6

Pairing: yautja (feral) x f!reader 

Warnings: gore | blood | violence | killing

Summary: You proved yourself worthy sooner than you expected. 

Words: 3, 730

Notes: Decided to stop splitting chapters depending on word count, so they’re longer and also take longer. Any similarity with other yautjas is only visual maybe, it’s not the actual characters. Also please note english is not my first language, but it should be proof read.

AO3 | OTHER CHAPTERS

TAGS: @looseratinthegarage @life-or-something-like-lt @celebrain @themology @magicalus-godslayer @ajarofpickledtears

Words used:

sain’ja (warrior)

ooman (human)

ki'dte (enough)

tarei’hasan (insect)

~~~~~

When you woke up, you felt every single muscle in your body. You were still squished inside your mate's arm in the same position as when you fell asleep. Feeling more and more uncomfortable in the position, you slowly tried to wiggle out of his hug. His mandible twitched, you knew he was not asleep. As soon as he realized you were trying to get away, he pulled you back close to his chest and scratched his hand on your back all the way down to your ass. Feeling his hug getting tighter and his member starting to grow against your thigh, you pulled him away, pressing your hands on his chest. You couldn't move him an inch on your own, but he understood your body language and let you get some space, pulling his arm away to break the tight hug. You immediately sat up at the edge of the bed, looking at him.

"I'm sorry," you said. You almost felt bad for not being able to fulfill his needs, you could clearly see he wanted to mount you again so much. "I need some time in between, my whole body is aching."

His mandible twitched again, he seemed irritated. 

"Don't ever say sorry for something like that again." 

His voice sounded rough. He reached for your hand and stroked it gently a few times.

"You might be an ooman, but you're my mate. Mate, not a piece of equipment I own."

With those words, he turned away from you and purred a little. It was a clear sign that he's going to take more rest. You had many words on your tongue but decided to remain silent. 

I can tell him later.

Putting on some clothes, you noticed the doors to the back hall leading outside were unlocked. He always locked them during the night. As you sneaked to the doors, they opened with a silent hiss and you headed towards the last doors. You didn't expect them to open at all, but they made a squeak and opened in front of you. 

Cloud of steam filled your vision when you stepped outside. You might've been in a warm climate, near the desert, but the nights were still quite cold. You didn't remember the last time you just walked outside the ship without your mate or dog by your side. You exhaled slowly, watching the steam travel through the air, enjoying the silence and peace.

Your ship was parked at the edge of forest where you hunted and large plains, turning into deadly desert at the horizon. You wandered into the forest, grabbing some sticks. It was really silent, maybe even too silent for your liking. You'd never go further away without your mate so as soon as your arms were full of thin dry sticks, you rushed back to the ship and set up a little campfire in front of it. The feeling of wanting to do something relaxing and human was stronger than your doubts if it was safe. 

We're here for some time and nothing has happened yet, you shove away the doubts.

Remembering the fire starting technique from campa you've been to, using two rocks, you heard the flames eating up the dry little stick soon enough.

Within seconds you felt the warmth coming from the flames. You loved the smell of the smoke as long as it wasn't going right into your face. Staring into the flames and listening to the cracking noise, calmed your mind and body as you sat by it. 

You heard a hiss from behind you, followed by another one and your dog ran at you. He was just with you inside, yet he wagged his tail as if he didn't see you for months. Focused on dodging his licks, you missed the doors opening again. 

"What is this?" Your mate let out a growl.

"Fire…?" You answered anxiously and turned to him. 

He was wearing his mask but left most of his gear and equipment inside.

"Fire? There's no food to put on it." His head tilted, he wasn't mad as you thought but rather confused. "Or did you get some? Alone?" 

You loved the way he was protective of you, yet he always denied it. You loved it but you wanted him to trust you more too, to trust you that you can wander around on your own and still be fine.

"I just needed some fuel for the fire," you said. "We don't need fire only for food."

He tilted his head again so you continued, "it's relaxing, you know? Gives warmth too."

He was silent with his mandibles moving around slowly. He didn't seem to be able to wrap his head around the fact you'd make something without any real purpose. It was a waste of time in his eyes, he didn't understand why you'd make a fire when he had all the high tech inside his ship that could've given you the same, quicker. 

"Come," you patted the ground next to you. "Try it."

He was hesitant at first, but decided to join you at the fire. You stared back into the flames, reaching out your palms to feel the warmth. After a while, he copied your behavior and the three of you sat silently around the fire, watching the sun go up slowly. 

"I have to admit, this is nice." Your mate said. "Too calm."

You chuckled at his words. Of course he'd say that, you thought, he mainly hunts, stalks and fights. He wants action.

"You didn't give it a chance fully, yet." You smiled at him. 

"We will move to another resting location," he informed you after a long silence.

You nodded in response. Constantly moving was his way of "not being able to be tracked so easily", which you still didn't understand. Who was he hiding from? Was someone after you, except the government on Earth? 

"I never noticed you have more than one sun," you pointed towards a round, glowly object in the sky.

Without breaking eye contact with it, you could feel your yautja tense up right away. 

"We don't," he hissed and stood up rapidly. "It's a ship."

The more you looked at the object, the more you were noticing its shape and features. The glowing you thought you saw before was in fact the ship's shield, going off and on invisibility creating a false image of glowing light. It was still far away, but you could see it was way bigger than your ship. The closer the object got, the more uneasy you felt.

"Inside," your mate commanded you calmly and you ran inside the ship without hesitation, making sure your dog was following you. 

It's his race, his language. I won't be useful there at all. Your head was flooded with thoughts. Are they friendly? Why is he gearing up and running around the ship like that, making sure I stay hidden inside? 

Your dog started to whine loudly, sensing something coming. 

Can't be anything good if he's reacting like that.

You grabbed some smaller knife your mate gave you before, for hunting purposes mainly. You doubted any yautja would feel it if you stabbed them with it, but the fact you had something calmed you down. Won't be needing that anyway.

Your mate told you before that there were different species than just his ones, some more advanced and bloodthirsty than others. Overall, they all had the same honor code. So technically we should be fine, you were calming yourself down. 

It took longer than you expected, but you finally heard a dull bang from a distance as the ship landed. Soon after, you heard the typical clicking noise from outside combined with silent growls. You were able to catch a couple of yautja words but that didn't help you understand what was going on outside at all. You felt frustrated when you couldn't even tell if they were cursing each other or just chatting.

Your dog barked suddenly and all the noises outside stopped. 

"Fuck-" you bit your lip scratched your dogs back in an attempt to get his attention away from barking more. "Shh, it's okay!"

"Thei-de!" Someone yelled outside with a deep growl, making you jump.

You've never heard something so sinister. Right after, door hissing and loud banging was heard, as if something, or someone, was being thrown at the ship's walls. Not long after, your ears were deafened by an inhuman yell. Eyes widening in fear, you pushed your dog into a smaller room behind the bedroom hall and locked him up. Clenching your fingers around the knife, making your knuckles turn white, you bent over and sneaked towards the entry doors, trying to see what was happening. As soon as you turned the corner, you saw your mate being held above the campfire, flames licking his back. One foreign yautja holding him, another one standing right next to him. The noises they were making resembled a laugh, making you feel sick. Those aren't normal yautjas, ran through your mind immediately. You couldn't wait any longer and you couldn't run there mindlessly. 

They were way bulkier than your mate, wearing more armor and weapons as well. You noticed their helmets were also bigger, covering their whole face including the mandibles. You could clearly see their helmets being covered in a bunch of symbols and scars, framed by little horns around the helmet's top. Other yautja seemed to have something like sabertooths teeth incorporated into his helmet. 

Your yautja let out another painful screech and you snapped back to reality.

Couldn't wait any longer and you couldn't run there mindlessly-

You sprinted mindlessly towards the enemies, screaming and jumping on one's shoulders. They were too surprised to see you dive bomb them like that, they didn't even know how to react. Letting go of your mate in the confusion, he rolled away and rested on his knees for a second before pulling out his extended pike and roaring at the two yautjas. You wrapped your legs tightly around the yautjas neck and used the small knife to cut into the only unarmored skin you saw, right under its helmet. Your hand got covered with green blood immediately and you heard him gargling. He wasn't hurt, really, but he was really mad at you. Grabbing your legs, the yautja pulled you over his head, tearing your clothes and some skin on its helmet's horns and threw you into the air with full force. Vision blacked out when you hit the ground roughly and the air got knocked out of your lungs. You had it happen many times before, but this time you didn't seem to be able to get the air back quickly. With the corner of your eye, you saw your mate fighting the other yautja. He was doing well, the heavy full armor was actually making the yautjas slower so he was dodging his every attack as he was slimmer and more agile. The yautjas didn't group up on you at least, it was unwritten one on one. They couldn't leave you alone but they also didn't want to degrade themselves by grouping up against a ooman female. 

The yautja kept walking towards you, pulling out a round object and playfully throwing it from one hand to the other. You knew that weapon, while looking like a ball it was a disc with a similar mechanic to boomerang. 

I need to calm down and breathe, you stood up slowly. 

Your vision was steady now and you focused on the yautja, standing in front of you. He was waiting for you to get up and attack. 

"Ki'dte," he growled deeply and got ready to throw the object. 

Right after he aimed at you, your dog sprinted at him and jumped on his back, making the yautja target something way above your head. You made sure he was locked up before, but you were glad he managed to get out. Saved my life, precious baby. As soon as he let go of it, it changed into a disc, flying right at you. You stood still, feeling the air from it brush on the top of your head. 

"Tarei’hasan!" The yautja spat out turned to your dog. 

The blood in your veins froze.

"Hey! Pick a fight with someone at your level!" You yelled at him.

It did work and the yautja ignored your dog. You could feel his smirk under the mask. Your dog kept barking and backed away towards the ship's doors. 

He just wants me to entertain him before killing me. Thinking I'm not worth his time. 

While you were trying to catch your breath before, he got bored with you and decided to end you. You could tell this yautja wasn't respecting any code of honor. He thought you were weak, almost pathetic. He couldn't bear some small human challenging him. You glanced towards your mate once more, he was injured a lot but still winning his fight, trying to get closer to you to help you.

He's bigger, he's stronger, he's taller. He's full of himself.

"Why are you just standing there?" You shouted.

He's overconfident. Reckless. Clearly has a slower reactions if I was able to jump on him before.

"You look like a joke!" You kept shouting at him.

You had no idea if he understood you, but seeing him get visibly tilted you assumed he knew some english. He was fuming that such a small ooman can be so rude, that you were disrespecting him. He was done with you. Your saliva got stuck in your throat as you saw him pull out his wrist blades and sped up at you.

This is a suicide, were your last words before sprinted towards him and his shiny blades. 

"Stop!" You heard your mate shouting at you. 

He saw what you were doing was stupid, but he also couldn't do anything as he had his hands full with the other yautja. He was growling with helplessness, lunging at his enemy furiously. 

Ducking down out of nowhere, the yautja stabbed his wrist blades into the air and clicked his mandibles in surprise.

Too slow as I thought. I might not be able to overpower him, but I can outsmart him. 

He raised his wrist blades up and flew them down at your back. You dodged, but not fully. Your side was scarred and you felt your clothes being sticky from the blood. You didn't feel any pain thanks to the adrenaline which took over your body. Fingers tightly wrapped around your knife's handle, you stabbed above you right into the hole in his armor, penetrating the skin on his inner leg. He was going to suffer a huge blood loss from this, weakening him massively. At least you hoped. He twitched at your stab, grabbing the wound hissing in pain. Without waiting a moment you jumped on his shoulders again, holding yourself in place with your legs. Raising your knife high up to make the stab stronger, you aimed for his already scared neck, still bleeding from your first attack. He was throwing his arms around, not able to touch you. His bulky armor was making his movement difficult, he couldn't put his arms so far on his back. You stabbed him in the neck again and again. He started to choke on his blood soon, gargling some word you didn't understand but assumed it was the other Yautjas name, because he reacted to it and turned his head to you two. As soon as he did that, your mate took the chance and with a spin, he severed his arms through the armor. The yautja was paralyzed and just watched your mate spin again, beheading him with a single powerful hit of his pike. 

You kept stabbing your enemy, in the same place, each time going deeper and deeper into the wound. You were cutting the important veins, everything covered with his green blood spraying from the wound. Your mate stood in the distance, holding the dead Yautjas head, breathing heavily. He was looking at your fight, tilting his head. You felt your arms weakening from the fight, but you kept stabbing with force and soon enough, the yautja fell down to his knees. He was too weak to stand, fight and defend himself thanks to all the blood he lost. Just like you planned. You felt him leaning backwards, he was about to fall on his back. Letting go of him, you stabbed him in the neck one last time. When the blade buried deep in his throat, his gargling and groaning immediately stopped and his lifeless body fell to the ground. 

Your breathing was rapid, realizing fully just now what had happened here. The adrenaline leaving your body slowly, your legs trembled and you fell down to your knees next to the motionless yautja. You weren't even sure if he was dead or just unconscious. He couldn't survive the blood loss and the damage you've caused to his neck, but you still didn't trust it. Your mate walked up to you slowly. Grabbing the yautjas head with his free hand, he pulled his head from his torso with a single powerful move. The Yautjas spine followed the severed head, coming out of the bloody neck like a snake. Your stomach turned a little at the sight, but the sick feeling went away as quickly as it appeared. Your mate raised both of the severed to his face and looked at them for a while before grabbing them both in one hand by their dreadlocks. Looking down at both of the torsos, he seemed like he wanted to spit on them if he could. 

“Bad blood,” he grinned through his mandibles instead and turned to you. 

"My sain'ja," he purred and offered you his now free hand.

He was all bloody, covered in wounds but none of them was serious. You accepted his bloody hand and pulled yourself up, supporting yourself. Your legs were trembling but this time it wasn’t because of exhaustion. Your whole body was shivering from excitement. 

I really did it, went through your mind. I defeated yautja and survived. 

I’m a killer, the silent doubtful voice appeared in your thoughts, trying to break your pride. No no, it was self defense. It wasn’t killing, it was fighting and I won. 

Arguing in your head, you followed your mate inside the ship. Your dog stuck to your leg constantly,  looking up to you. He was ready to jump into your lap and calm you down. He already managed to calm you down, the arguing in your own head stopped and you smiled down at him. Your mate seated you down in his chair at the main control panel and kneeled in front of you. It looked like he was going to ask you to marry him and you couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“Your very own trophy.” He gave you the severed head of the yautja you killed. “Trophy worth more than what I’ve expected.”

You didn’t want to, but grabbed the head anyway. Blood was dripping into your lap, you felt the warmth of it soaking into your clothes. 

“You didn’t help me,” you asked curiously. 

“No need,” he purred in his reply. “You didn’t need any help.”

You expected his answer, but actually hearing it from him made you feel good. He stood up and walked over to his “equip wall” where he kept all his gear. Grabbing one of many shoulder spear guns he had there, he returned to you. 

“This is now yours.” He clicked his mandibles. “And this.”

Pointing at the head you were holding, you realized that the speargun is tied to his helmet sensor for targeting. 

“Your greatest trophy,” he grabbed it back and walked away to a table. “I will turn it into your helmet so you can wear it proudly.”

And show to everyone that I slayed a yautja, you finished in your mind.

You heard something being sprayed and steam was coming from behind your mate. You sat silently, the excitement still overwhelming you. 

“Are you still scared of your tribemates seeing me now, then?” Your voice was teasing. 

You always wanted him to believe in you more, to stop thinking you’re more fragile than you were. He didn’t think that at all.

“Now, we have a long flight infront of us.” His head tilted slightly so he could see you with the corner of his eye and keep working on the helmet for you. “You are now blooded as we say, you are an ooman who slayed one of Yautja. You are respected and won’t be harmed under any circumstances, unless…” 

He paused for a long time. 

“Unless we come across more of those bad bloods. Criminals.” He hissed the word out. “But those won’t harm you either. You are more than capable of fighting them.” 

His mandibles pleasantly clicked. You felt he was more proud of you than you were. Uneasy feeling was growing in your stomach, feeling nervous about actually meeting other yautjas. What are they gonna think about me? I’m just a woman… Can they accept me? 

It took around half an hour but your mate finally turned to you, holding a small bio helmet in his hand. It looked ridiculous when he was holding as the helmet was resized to fit your head. Upper part of the yautjas skull was cleaned and whitened, its shape reformed slightly so it goes down face instead of forward. He kept the mandibles on it too, for decoration. You had to admit it looked magnificent, intimidating. He handed you your helmet and spear gun, which you could use now. He attached the aiming sensor on the side. 

"You'll need time to get used to it," he stopped you from trying the gear out.

You were too excited to try the new stuff out, to see the world and hunt like your mate. 

"Wanna go hunt?" You smiled at him and saw his mandibles widen in disagreement. 

“After you heal,” he pointed at your bloody side. “It’s gonna take just a minute,” he added after seeing your disappointed face.

Of course it would, with his technology. 

Your face brightened up again and in a moment, all three of you headed into the forest.

[bridgetswonderfulland]

NEW LOGO SJJSBDNSNEBEB (+ FUTURE UPDATE!!!)

I just made a new logo to replace a old one from last year, used to be a fan of RCH and Superbendys' GF but now I've lost them because of myself. It's a horrible Spring to me and I feel like I could do some updates for the blog

(Before you ask: What "update" you're doing?)

Good question!! I'm doing some focus on stories I haven't share any of them yet and instead of posting some cringyass self-inserts that nobody wants to see this, no worries that I'm still doing it!! I don't wanna annoy everyone with those hideous self-ships(I'm always worried about the Cringe Culture thing) and maybe focusing on OC stories are okay. Y'know what's the secret update? I'm gonna do some coping mechanism blog!!

("Hold up! Are you gonna make a coping vore blog?? That's so coo-")

Wait what?? Nah, but I'm not against those "extreme cuddling" blogs I have discovered. If you don't know what that is then it's a word for a SFW vore community, id-even-k why it's called "Extreme Cuddling" but I prefer not to ask those people because they'll find I'm against those fetishes. I'm not gonna make a coping mechanism blog which it involves vore but I might able to make one for many stuff instead of those like

Self-inserts, I do think people are getting seriously uncomfortable with my self-shipping with freaky creepyahh unhinged deranged men(Like Night Master, Edward Hyde, and The Moaner) so I might gonna move them in the future blog, so it might be better if you stay away if you're against it

Vent/gore/body horror art, the new future blog won't be fetishize vent/gore/body horror art I've made but they just need triggering warnings for everyone's safety. Don't enter if you're scared as hell, I might be venting/yapping about something scary or sad-

New coping sona, I believe I have seen people having "coping sona" in their coping mechanism blogs and I might be thinking to myself: "Maybe I should be doing it" and maybe if she will appeared then y'all should love her. She may not be related to my persona Bridgette, but they're really good friends. No you cannot ship them.

Yapping and silliness!!! I should might be yapping nonsense that seems annoying but that's what silliness does to the person like me! If you think I'm being so goddamn annoying in the future coping blog then get the fuck outta my blog. Sorry for saying this but I don't feel safe people who are against me doing this but I ain't no doing anything wrong.

Coping blog won't be a vore blog. I know!!! Terrible!!! But at least it would be a SFW blog, with silliness joyfulness freakiness and more! I know I'm against those fetishes but I don't wanna get myself involved because it's extremely uncomfortable with me to do this. You might have end up seeing me yapping my ass off or some weird self-inserts but at least they're not hurting anybody. Proshipers isn't allow on my blog too.

("Is this gonna be a yandere blog?") Idk but not, I have heard what Yancore is but I don't really think of this through. All you can see soon will be tons of weird self-inserts and me yapping some bs but you might not gonna see yandere stuff(I know!!! Rude!!!) But for Bridget's Coping Blog, it will be tagged as #BridgetsComfySpace

That's all for the future updates!! You might see some strange shit but they're for the better! It's not a vore blog but you will see some interesting things like what's happening in my Wonderful Land! Thank you for reading this!!

[ashiemochi]

anubussy - xiii (iii) ♰ 

✠ Anubussy ↳ sorry, i don't want your touch ↳↳ it's not that i don't want you

➶ pairing: OC x Leon S(exy) Kennedy. ➶ genre: fluff, more angst, gore, longer smut/suggestive themes ➶ word count: no

NOTE: ✠ = time skip ✠✠ = switching povs/characters

AN: the 1000 block limit is ass. So, the contents are blood and the aftermath of that smut.

prev -> next

He was delicate with her body. 

First, he started by removing her hand which was practically glued to his shoulder. Then, he went with her leg, gently lifting it up to set it on the mattress when he shuffled back a little to give her space. He muttered an apology when her breath hitched at his cum sticking to her inner thighs – but he wasn't truly sorry.

Leon let out a groan at the ache in his muscles, muffling his sound as he leaned up to reach for the duvet. He tugged it up and hovered it over their bare bodies. 

So Ah was quick to scoot closer so she was snuggled up into his chest. He draped the blanket over them as he lay down, carefully wrapping his arms around her to pull her close.

The much-awaited cuddle eased a sigh of satisfaction from both of them. His fingers trailed up and down her spine, tracing invisible but beautiful designs on her skin. Her head was tucked under his chin, both arms tucked in between them. She was really and utterly in need of him – yearning for a gentle touch.

After all, she was only human. She could only handle so much shit from the rich and pompous eyes of the government. 

His fingers trailed up to the rawest spot on her nape, questioning lowly, "Is it here?"

So Ah's breath hitched at having his gentle touch right where it hurt, and she could only nod.

His jaw clenched, and the tips of his fingers could vaguely shape out the chip embedded into her spinal cord. Something started to burn his veins but it was different from the one he felt before this. It made his blood boil and boil, pouring over like a chemistry class gone wrong.

All this time, he had faith in the wrong government-driven alliance.

“I’m gonna punch Chris the next time I see him.” Leon’s voice came out heavy and throaty; a threat.

So Ah shook her head a bit, tilting her head up to look at him, “It’s not his fault. He–”

“Like Hell, it’s not.” Leon countered, pulling away from the embrace enough to dart his eyes down to hers, “It was his responsibility to keep you safe – not tagged like a bitch.”

She could see the anguish in those ocean-blue eyes of his and sighed, “He didn’t know about it either, okay? He was in the dark just like everyone else.”

“And your family? Do they know?”

Her head hung down in shame, whispering, “Yeah, they didn’t give us a choice – said it’s for the best.”

“My ass.” Leon muttered, poison dripping from his tongue.

Tears stung her eyes, inhaling shakily. She was terrified to let this moment end – she didn’t want it to become the past. If she could, she’d stay stuck in this hotel forever if Leon would be next to her with his safe arms hiding her from them.

Her hand cupped the side of his neck and she could feel his pulse pounding under her touch. Further proof this was reality and not some delusional dream.

“What am I going to do, Leon?” She whispered, her tone growing strained by the stubborn lump in her throat, “I can’t go anywhere without thinking they would take me back… I don’t wanna go back.”

Leon’s gaze softened at the desperation she oozed. Her walls were long gone, revealing the most vulnerable and rawest side of her. Nostalgia hit its course, throwing him back to when she was sobbing over her sister’s body, begging him for help.

Leon rolled over so he was hovering above her on his elbow, cradling her tear-stricken cheek. His other hand slid under the pillow next to her as he leaned down, kissing her brow sweetly to ease her nerves. A trembling exhale left her lips, shutting her eyes to relish the gesture.

“You won’t be going back there anytime soon,” Leon muttered, his lips brushing her skin with every promise, “I just got you back, and I’ll be damn sure to keep it that way.”

So Ah hiccuped, a sneaky tear rolling down the corner of her eyes, “Please don’t let them take me back.”

Leon faced her with determined eyes and his usual subtle smirk, “I’d like to see them try.”

A cry emitted from her, now overwhelmed with gratitude. A boulder of burden toppled off her shoulders and back, turning into smithereens. After years of hiding this horrible secret, she felt like she could finally catch a breath. Leon was more than willing to keep his side of his vows, despite her breaking her own. 

But he knew it wasn’t on purpose. The BSAA didn’t give her the option to choose.

“I’m so sorry, Leon.” She tried not to sob, the lights making her cinnamons sparkle due to her tears, “I didn’t mean to leave – I – I killed those people… I broke families apart – how am I any better than them? Better than–than this sickening virus in me?”

“And I hurt you…” So Ah’s bottom lip trembled, her hands going up to his broad shoulders as if asking for reassurance, apologizing profusely, “I’m so sor–”

Leon silenced her with a kiss, knowing if he hadn’t then she would’ve continued on for hours on end. Her quivering lips felt softsoft on his, deepening the kiss by sliding his hand down to the back of her head so her hair pooled over his hold. He lifted her up from the pillow a little, furrowing his brows at the neediness she showed through the kiss.

Not for more sensual times, but more so gentleness and security.

Leon pulled away from the kiss slightly, murmuring lowly, “You don’t gotta apologize for anything, buttercup… Trust me?”

Her heart soared at the pet name and suddenly she was back in Los Angeles, living right next to him. 

“Yeah, more than anything.” She nodded enthusiastically, earning a faint laugh from him and she took in a deep breath, growing bashful, “I love you… I reallyreally do.”

A genuine and compassionate smile reached his lips, “I love you too… And I’m sorry.”

It was extremely vague the way the hand behind her head had tensed up.

She blinked, confused, “For what?”

“This.”

A sharp piece of ice slid across the skin of her nape, deeply and precisely – just as quick as it came, it disappeared. 

There was no pain, but the coldness of it all sent shocks down her spine. Her gasp scratched her throat as her body jolted instinctively to the close sense of safety. She held onto Leon’s bicep, clinging to him as her other hand flew to the back of her neck. 

“Hey, hey, I gotcha. I gotcha.” 

Leon’s words fell on deaf ears as he hurriedly sat back and pulled her up to his body, firm hands holding onto her to keep her steady. The dagger, the same one he got for her as a gift, clattered to the ground at the shuffling.

Hot darkened blood seeped through her trembling hold on the deep and heated gash, rolling and dripping down her back and onto the sheets. Her body heaved with every laboured breath, nearly thrashing as she whimpered and wheezed. Her nails dug into his shoulder blade and it actually earned a stifled grunt from him, but it didn’t stop him from muttering reassurances. 

Every inch of her was on a different kind of fire, burning her with its angry flames; more specifically, her spinal cord. Her gasps and wheezes were painful, etched in anguish as something was crawling up her back, curling over the ridges of her bones. 

Then something small, micro, dropped down to the mattress. Her forehead fell to the crook of his neck, short-winded. Her sounds went laboured, eyes squeezing shut at the familiar feeling of the wound patching up instantly. As if whatever was coiling her body had released her, it sent her collapsing against Leon’s chest. 

Her chest stuttered greedily for air, swallowing thickly once the pain had subsided, leaving behind a persistent buzz. Leon trailed his hands up to her shoulders to gently push her back and look at her. Her eyes were utterly puzzled when she gazed back at him. 

A sense of shock was still in the air, hinting at a betrayal, but more so; she was speechless.

“Are you okay?” Leon asked, wary that he might’ve damaged a crucial nerve as she wouldn’t speak. 

“What…” She whispered, her bloodied hand trying to find that open gash but nada, “What did you do?”

Leon went quiet as he barely shrugged, biting the inside of his cheek, “Took the risk.”

Her eyes snapped to an audible sparking noise, interrupting their moment, and Leon furrowed his brows at the bloodstained chip on the bed. So Ah hurriedly kicked it off the bed, nearly curling into Leon’s arms at the deep-rooted fear of the device. 

It hit the ground before crackling loudly. The couple sat there for a moment, staring at the black smoke of its destruct flying into the air faintly. 

Leon didn’t blink, blues almost glaring as his hands tightened around her, “What the hell was that?”

“The safety measure…” So Ah trailed away, that sense of shock easing to disbelief. 

Complete and utter disbelief.

“Wha – So Ah!” 

The girl had wrapped the blanket around her and jumped off the bed, rushing straight to the bathroom. The room was freezing for his bare body that his dick might as well just shrivel up into itself. 

Leon shivered at this, getting out of bed to grab an article of clothing to at least cover his lower body. He noticed the crimson staining the bed sheets and quite possibly the mattress beneath it. 

God, how in the world was he going to explain this to the hotel manager?

His wife got a sudden heavy flow?

“So Ah?” He settled for a discarded towel and wrapped it around his hips as he called out, “So Ah,”

He didn’t get anything in return, his brows knitting in the middle at the dreadful feeling and he found himself going to the bathroom. It was wide open.

“Hey, is everything ok–” Leon stopped himself when he saw she was more than okay.

So Ah had one fist clutching the blanket to her chest, covering her naked body but her back. Her eyes were glued to the mirror, having pushed her hair over her shoulder – which also needed a wash. The bandage that was on her cheek was discarded into the sink. Her skin was tainted with her blood, and nothing else. 

The bruise had dissipated into nothing, returning the state of her back to how it was before the chip was in her body. It was relieving and Jesus Christ was it freeing. Her whole body felt like it belonged to her and her only.

“Sweetheart?”

Her wide eyes darted to Leon; this was definitely a dream. It had to be. First, Leon forgives her and then, suddenly, the tracker was out of her body. Sure, the way he had done it was ridiculously risky and dangerous, but her husband wouldn’t be himself without doing something just as such. 

He stood by the doorway with only a towel around his hips. Under the warm lights of the bathroom, she could see new permanent scars decorating his skin and mimicking the same patch on his shoulder and his side. Some were new.

Leon picked up on the movement of her cinnamons, glancing down at his form. He wasn’t ashamed of having sustained more wounds and bruises. The freshest ones were due to Arias flinging him around like a doll. The oldest ones were him being admittedly a little reckless on his assignments, acting out more on emotions rather than his head. 

His wife had called him frantically with gunshots in the back before the call dropped abruptly and he never heard from her for ten months – until now.

“I think…” Her voice came out small, returning her eyes to his, “It’s… Is it over?”

Leon picked up on the evident hope in her tone, her eyes beginning to glisten for the nth time tonight. His heart churned as she whimpered, taking a step close to him. 

“Leon, tell me, is it over?” She repeated, needing confirmation. 

He threw a glance over his shoulder to the floor next to the bed. Turning around, he went forward and knelt down to pick up the bloodied tracker. He returned to her, lifting up the chip in between his thumb and index. 

“See for yourself,” He only said with a twitch at the corner of his lips.

He dropped it into her reached-out hand and she stared at it. Silent. 

The same tracker that controlled her life for seven years and forced her to trail down a road she would’ve never dreamt of taking was right in her hand. It was so small, a microchip, with such huge power over her. All the lives hung over it; the life of her own sister.

“It’s over, Leon.” She whispered, trying to comprehend it as she looked up at him, “It’s over.”

Leon smiled tenderly down at her, his hand reaching out for her arm, “Yeah, it’s over.”

Her world collided when she hugged him, having tossed the chip onto the counter, one arm around his neck as her eyes blinked rapidly to fight off her tears. His strong arms went around her waist, pulling her close when she stood on her tippy toes. Her other hand was still clutching the blanket to save some of her dignity. 

“It’s over, oh God, it’s over…” She whimpered, her voice breaking at the sheer sense of being overwhelmed, incredulity making her repeat, “It’s over, it’s over, it’s over.”

She pulled away from the embrace, trailing her hand to his cheek and he leaned against it, holding her hand to keep it there. He pecked her wrist as he kept eye contact. A giggle of disbelief emitted from her, now unable to stop beaming. 

She practically bounced, similarly to when they said their I do’s, and kissed him straight on. Leon’s laugh went muffled, vibrating his chest as he cradled the side of her neck, kissing back just as happily. His fingertips brushed the back of her neck when she pulled him closer, filling his heart with giddiness. 

When they parted, So Ah let out a heavy, dreamy sigh, eyes still shut to relish this long-awaited moment. Leon grinned, bumping his nose with hers as a gentle Eskimo kiss and she fluttered her eyes open.

“How does a shower sound to you?” He suggested, ticking his eyes to the mirror, “Both of us could use one right now.”

Looking at the mirror, she cringed at the sight of the dried blood on her skin and sheets, and then she looked back at him, a little anxious.

“What about the sheets or the bed?” So Ah asked, glancing behind him, “It looks like a bloodbath.”

“Well,” Leon sighed as if disappointed, tracing designs on her lower back, “You did say you don’t want to dirty the bed, yet look what happened.”

Her cheeks heated up and she smacked his bicep, “Hey! You did this! Besides, you don’t care about the sheets – you said it yourself.”

Leon laughed, head tipping back at his happy sounds and he shook his head, gazing at her with crinkles forming in the outer corner of his eyes. 

“I stand by what I said, sweetheart.” He murmured, pushing a strand behind her ear with such love in those blueblue eyes that it brought out the bright colour of his irises. 

So Ah’s heart fluttered, filling her tummy with frantic love-struck butterflies. 

Leon pecked her lips before nodding to the bathtub, “Go hop in. I’ll get new sheets then I’ll join you.”

“Okay,” She nodded, earning another grin and he left the bathroom to probably call for extra sheets. 

She trailed her eyes to the tracker on the marble counter, instinctively rubbing the back of her neck. Her chest bloomed at the freeing emotions, biting the inside of her bottom lip to conceal her squeals or any sounds. 

Leon’s smooth voice came from outside, ordering new blankets, sheets, and pillows. He was always the considerate one. Releasing one final sigh with a soft smile on her lips, she unwrapped the blanket and rolled it into itself, setting it next to the chip, followed by her socks.

It was safe to say that So Ah had the perfect evidence to show what those corrupted medics had done to her.

Hopping into the bathtub, she twisted the knob and let the hot water shower all over her. Her warm eyes gazed down, watching the pale red water wash all the blood off of her and go down the drain. Her hands brushed her hair to the back to get rid of the crimson coating the roots, shutting her eyes in the process as she tilted her face up to the shower head.

Her lips parted in a faint gasp when strong arms went around her waist, snapping her eyes open to look at Leon from over her shoulder. His infatuated eyes were twitching instinctively at the subtle mist of the water hitting his face.

“Save some hot water for me,” He teased, chuckling when she giggled.

So Ah twisted around and reached up to brush his wet side bangs away from his face. His eyes fluttered to a close at her gentle touches, humming under his breath. She truly brings out the best in him.

“I love you, buttercup.” He murmured, caressing her sides gingerly, “So goddamn much.”

So Ah muttered back, her forehead tipping forward to touch his, “I love you too.”

“Let me take care of you now, alright?” 

A tick.

Two.

Three–

“Okay,” She smiled, releasing a trembling breath to ease out her last remaining tremors, “Okay.”

Leon closed the space between them with a searing kiss.

[voraciousvore]

Bucky's (6/44)

***This chapter contains some gore, and some soft vore***

Chapter 6: The Next Day

Patty had nightmares about being violently eaten, having her limbs ripped off, one by one, by huge white teeth, her blood spurting like a fountain from the severed stumps. Giant fingers squeezed her body with unbearable pressure, crushing her ribcage and causing her organs to pop out. She saw a Giant laughing, red rivers running down his lips and chin, before he went in for the kill, shattering her vertebrae with a hard crunch between his incisors. She awoke with a start to thunderous banging on the ceiling. 

“Rise and shine, my little bipedal sausages! It’s time for the breakfast shift!” Bucky’s voice rumbled overhead. Patty groaned with despair as her memories from yesterday came flooding back to her. She didn’t want to be here. She wanted to be safe at home. She hauled herself out of bed, with the knowledge that Bucky probably wouldn’t be too keen on having stragglers. She prepared for the day as best she could, shoveling in more leftovers for breakfast. As she ate, Little Debbie nudged her to get her attention and handed her a new nametag. 

“Put this on,” she whispered. “You don’t want Bucky to see you without one.” She motioned to a stack of nametags, so Patty would know where to get a new one in the future. 

“Thanks,” Patty mumbled back, sticking the tag to her chest. She thought to herself what a sweet and thoughtful person Little Debbie was, to care about others as she did. Patty didn’t know if she could be capable of the same generosity herself, especially considering that her survival might be better served throwing someone else under the bus rather than cooperating as a team. She realized, with how frantic she had been yesterday, she had stuck out like a sore thumb. The others, excluding Little Debbie and Slim Jim, had purposely refused to help her because she was an easy target, and if she was selected to be eaten their chances of not being picked themselves increased. These thoughts filled her with disquiet, but she couldn’t really blame them for looking out for themselves. She doubted any of them had much control over their fate as it were.  

She recalled Little Debbie’s missing fingers and cringed internally. She didn’t deserve such cruel treatment. Patty discreetly glanced around and noticed some of the other humans were missing fingers and toes as well, forms of mutilation subtle enough that restaurant patrons wouldn’t notice the blemishes, with how small the humans were. She comprehended, with a creeping tightness in her chest, that those were merely the punishments for disobedience that she could physically see. Bucky probably did other things, just as bad, that didn’t leave physical scars. Patty knew she needed to stay on Bucky’s good side. 

The ceiling lifted, and Patty experienced a surge of frightened electricity in her gut at the sight of Bucky looming over all the humans. “Line up for inspection!” he commanded, and the humans scrambled into rows. Patty caught on quickly and fell into line. Bucky leaned forward and studied each human carefully, occasionally lifting someone up in his hand and turning them over to get a closer look. Patty drew in a sharp breath when his huge sapphire eyes scanned her, but after a moment of scrutiny he passed over her without incident. Even so, she didn’t feel like she could breathe easily even after. 

“Graham!” Bucky bellowed, snatching up the tiny man in his fist. “I told you before, you can’t wear your glasses in the dining room! They’re not digestible!”  

Graham Cracker squirmed uselessly against Bucky’s tight grip. “S-sorry! I’ll go put them away! I just can’t see without them!” he gasped, clearly straining just to breathe with the pressure on his chest. Bucky narrowed his eyes at him. 

“I’ll give you one more chance,” he growled. “No more excuses. Next time this happens, I’m smashing those glasses.” He set Graham down and he sprinted away in terror. Bucky ignored him and looked over the rest of the group, gruffly telling two of the ladies to restyle their hair and reminding another to put on a nametag. Once he was satisfied, he released the group and nudged the tiny humans into the tunnel that led to the tank in the dining area. There was a shuttle that resembled a big capsule that shot along a cable, that had to be operated by a Giant on the outside. Patty observed these details warily as she thought about ways to escape.  

The humans were brought to their transparent prison, where they reluctantly filtered in. So far, Patty had not seen any way out. She considered her options if she was chosen to be eaten in a meal. She seriously doubted she would have a good chance of escaping from the Giant cooks, especially if she were high up on the countertop with no way to get down. Last time she was brought to the table, her arms and legs were constricted, so she couldn’t run, but she might have an opportunity to jump out of the dish under different circumstances. She remembered seeing Little Debbie sitting on a pile of chicken wings covered in sauce, but unrestricted. Even so, the woman hadn’t bothered to run, and Patty could see why. Even if she scampered off the plate she’d be trapped high up on the table, with no way to get down that didn’t involve breaking bones or dying. She couldn’t exactly jump into the lap of a Giant eager to devour her and climb down. 

Patty looked down at her wrist, with the tracker firmly clasped on. She tugged and clawed at the thick band of metal, but couldn’t get it to release. If she miraculously managed to get away from the restaurant, Bucky would still be able to find her, no matter where she ran. She couldn’t outrun a Giant. And where would she go? She was a criminal on the human side. Living like a rat in the streets of a Giant city sounded like a frightening and awful existence, particularly if she were caught and eaten without a pill to prevent digestion. Patty couldn’t see any way out of her predicament. Despair and dismay crawled into her chest, constricting and suffocating her. 

Slim Jim, watching her tug on her bracelet, shook his head despondently. “Trust me, there’s no point,” he mumbled. “We have no chance of escaping.” He leaned against the glass, lost in thought, and folded his arms. Patty recalled what he had mentioned earlier, about stealing to feed his family, and wondered if he was thinking about his kids. She sighed. She wasn’t ready to give up so easily. Even if there was no hope, she couldn’t stop her brain from scheming. She knew she at least had to try. 

Bucky’s wasn’t as busy for breakfast, but some of Patty’s human compatriots were still selected for food. Patty observed with trepidation as one man was served wrapped up in bacon, and promptly swallowed whole without a second thought. Another woman was toyed with as a Giant hooked her by the bra with his fork and dragged her across his plate, covering her in maple syrup and butter left over from his pancakes. The Giant lifted her up and licked her body off with pleasure, then dumped her back on the plate and dragged her around again until she had soaked up all the syrup on the plate. The poor woman looked sticky and miserable as her messy hair clung to her face. He sucked her into his mouth and slurped her around in his cheeks for an agonizingly long time before finally gulping her down. Patty hated to watch, yet she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the morbid, revolting spectacle. 

One saving grace that Bucky granted was frequent breaks to his human prisoners. Every two hours or so, he would allow them a brief rest where they could grab a drink of water, use the bathroom, or freshen up. Patty figured Bucky didn’t want his human entrees appearing unsanitary or disheveled. He wanted customers to see them as fresh and appetizing. Patty considered making herself look dirty or unappealing, but she was scared to anger Bucky. She would prefer to keep all her fingers and toes. 

Bucky was conscientious to keep his humans well fed, pressuring them to eat the never-ending supply of leftovers at every opportunity, in order to fatten them up for eating. Patty noticed customers seemed to prefer humans who were plumper or more muscular, with additional flesh on their bones. She was grateful in this instance to be thinner, but she didn’t know how long that would last. She considered refusing food, but she was certain Bucky would notice if she lost too much weight and punish her, or even force feed her, a prospect she didn’t find appealing to say the least. 

Over time, the number of humans in the tank dwindled as they were eaten. A couple hours after ingestion, the Giants would extract their humans, still alive, from their bellies, and the waitresses would carry each human in a bowl out of sight. The humans were allowed to shower and given time to recover before being thrown back into the tank. Patty recognized, with some consternation, that a human could end up being eaten several times in one day if they happened to be a popular choice. 

The day continued in this same manner for a while. There was a bit of a lunch rush, but then the restaurant quieted down before more patrons started coming in for dinner. Patty grew bored and restless in the tank, with nothing to occupy her mind except gloomy dread and anxiety. She understood now why most of the humans seemed just as weary and indifferent as afraid. The waiting, the constant tension, the Giant eyes roving over the group to find their next meal, was almost as bad as actually being chosen. She had to remind herself not to pace, yet she frequently found her legs moving of their own accord. She found it difficult to sit still. 

As Patty was observing one of her fellow humans getting chomped up in a sandwich, the mood in the tank abruptly changed. Several cries of fear arose and people began bouncing around and trying to hide behind each other, despite having no cover or place to go. 

“What’s going on?” Patty asked, following their gazes to the front entrance of the restaurant. Nobody bothered to answer Patty, as they were all stricken with terror. A couple had just strolled in, a Giant and Giantess, but they didn’t appear to be the typical Bucky patrons. They were very nicely dressed, for starters. The man wore an expensive dark gray suit with a matching tie. He had a chunky gold watch on his wrist that was probably worth thousands of Big Bucks. He was perfectly groomed, with immaculate teeth, unblemished skin, and short brown hair, not a strand out of place. The woman on his arm was gorgeous enough to be a supermodel, with a shimmering, elegant satin gown and silky blonde hair cascading down her shoulders. She wore fine gold jewelry encrusted with gems that appeared very pricey. The wealthy couple looked conspicuously out of place with the more plebeian style of the restaurant and the other customers, mere commoners by comparison. They didn’t seem to care, however, and even seemed pleased to be there. They went straight to the tank of humans and bent down slightly to peer inside. Sensing these customers would tip well, a waitress materialized next to them to take their order. 

Patty’s instincts were screaming at her to run, but her legs felt as heavy as lead and rooted themselves to the floor like anchors. She stared up at those vast, spotless faces, and her mind stopped functioning properly. The Giant man rubbed his blocky whiskered chin with an enormous hand, surveying the crowd of tiny people voraciously. He licked his lips and pointed towards Patty with a tree-sized finger. “That one. She’s got some meat on her.” 

Patty’s heart stopped, until she realized he was pointing at a woman behind her. She cranked her head around just enough to see the unlucky individual was one of the women she met yesterday, Apple, staring with wide eyes like a deer in headlights. 

“Which one would you like to eat, darling?” he asked the Giantess, pecking her cheek tenderly and brushing his hand through her luscious hair. She pursed her coral lips and looked over the scared humans with shiny eyes, blinking her long lashes. 

“Hmmmm… that human right there looks delicious,” she purred, tapping the glass with a manicured nail. A wave of humans parted away from the condemned man, Chuck Roast, who looked stunned, like he had just been slapped in the face. 

“Perfect,” the waitress acknowledged. She wrote down their orders on her notepad, opened the lid to the tank, and snagged the two humans, despite their desperate attempts to scurry away, clutching them together in her fist. 

“Oh, and don’t bother giving those two any pills,” the Giant mentioned with his rich, deep voice. “We’re choosing the option for fatal ingestion.” 

Chapter 7

Chapter 1

[monstrouslyobsessed]

some super quick ask answering!! you know the drill.

tw: sex-ual implications, links to n'sfw works, and references to gore

Oh, may I give a few recs? Not exactly the yandere ones, but monster ones – Nemu is a treasure, really! I loved monster design in Lustful Kitty Cat and Tanuki's Lover is rlly sweet xD If talking about more yandere side, A Gently Sea Monster and a Lonely Girl r kinda nice, but I'm not a fan of artstyle.

Hope u didn't mind it, have a nice day!

(here's links on that recs, pls ignore if this is too much x"D)

Few of Nemu works: Lustful kitty cat--- bato.to/series/101308/lustful-little-kitty-cat Kissing is a no-no--- bato.to/series/101223/kissing-is-a-no-no Love Marking(sequel to kissing is a no no)--- bato.to/series/105109/love-marking Pure wet love--- bato.to/series/98787/pure-wet-love Tanuki's Lover--- bato.to/series/105054/tanuki-s-lover-official --- A Gently Sea Monster and a Lonely Girl --- https://comiko.net/chapter/2044214

Again, have a nice day! —anonymous

ive read all of those!! good taste, nonnie <3 especially since ive lost couple links and i couldn’t find them again. tysm!!

note to the curious: all of these are not safe for work!! and a couple may contain noncon. proceed on your own discrete.

Lol don’t apologize, I knew it was gonna be fucked when I read the tags I just didn’t realize ppl were making hentai into psychological warfare nowadays haha —anonymous

yeah (good written) horror pron (as in with legit pron) would do that to ya, theyre not that common though, which is unfortunate as it’s a niche thing i wouldve loved to see more of. pretty rare to find a good / decent story with both horror and pron, more so with the character leads surviving in the end. you’ll find more of these in animation, but in the live action ones (which…i don’t usually browse for, tbh), it’s a huge hit or miss with mostly on the miss since what ive seen is literally just pron on the horror setting and that is it. :\

i do try and contribute to that niche however i can tho lol

Any thoughts on the upcoming FF7 Rebirth game? —anonymous

im broke and i don’t have ps5 :c but also, gimme my vinny boi. where is he.

I think your re-interpretation of the Krasue was cool. I don't see why it would be offensive. But I wonder, when reader saw him without his scarf, he ripped his torso out of the rest of his body? I didn't really understand. —anonymous

sorry nonnie! i tried to keep the story short so ive left out some details (my bad) and ive sorta kept that vague for the readers personal interpretation. i actually kinda imagined several ways the darling couldve caught him changing

i also mentioned that the neighbor also wears long sleeves and gloves, ya? so he was probably all ‘gross’ under his neck thus why he had to wear a scarf. the reader walked in on him ‘naked’.

i also paralleled the scarf to another less commonly known story, The Woman With the Ribbon Around Her Neck, in which if the ribbon is removed, the woman basically falls apart. you can assume that the scarf could potentially do the same, getting it removed would have the neighbor ‘falling’ apart, so to say. the reader walked on him ‘falling’ apart the seconds after he’d discarded his scarf to let his ‘skin’ breathe or whatever.

another way is that, he was hiding the scars you'd have commonly seen with the dead who’d undergone the autopsy, but the stitches couldn’t keep him ‘together’ well enough so he’d have to wear a scarf and everything else to hide the fact that he was basically a walking corpse slash a monster possessing a human skin. the reader walked on him and caught the sight of his abnormal stitches and the neighbor probably started overreacting upon seeing his darling and tore himself out of his body or something. idk.

those are just several possibilities though (i…actually liked them all and i couldn’t decide on which to implement), but all revolving around the fact that the neighbor obviously never wanted to show any bit of naked skin but his face for good reasons + the reader being oblivious / a bit pushy about it.

i actually tried to have the story to sound a little like a common myth to teach a lesson about being too curious / too trusting but idk if that came cross that clearly.

hope that explained some??

and ig im being a bit of worrywart. i never wanted to offend anyone over their cultural values, as their culture is an important part of who they are.

slowly chipping away at my inktober thing. no promises though, since its giving me a bit of trouble and having debates if its too long or not lol

also, yep, im shadowbanned. i'll be posting a bit more about that tonight. gonna try and appeal. sighs.

as always, my inbox is always open for whatever~!

[aceofwhump]

Hi, long time viewer very bew poster here. so im starting a whump blog. But im kinda new to the whole consept. What do one post? How does this work? Who what when which whaaaaa? How do one reach the comunity and whats the rules?

Hi there!!! Oh that's very exciting!! Congrats! It's a lot of fun having ones own whump blog. Very freeing to be able to go batshit crazy about whump in the safety of your blog.

Okay so you're questions:

First of all, you can post about whatever you want!! it really is as simple as that! Whatever kind of whump you enjoy, post about it! You can blog writing scenarios, stories and fanfics, gifsets, and tropes that you've seen and enjoyed. You can create your own writing, gifsets, edits, video clips, etc or you can reblog things others have made. You can just ramble incoherently about your favorite characters you like to whump or your favorite tv or movies scenes that give you whumperflies or what tropes you love or tropes you'd like to see more of. You can share things you like but maybe don't see in the community. Maybe you love this one scene but nobody talks about it. Tell us about it! The world of whump is wide open.

We don't have steadfast rules here imo but we do have a few things to keep in mind:

When you post make sure you tag properly. Tagging is an incredibly important aspect of being a part of this community because we blog about a lot of potentially triggering things. So it's important to tag properly so that those who are triggered are are uncomfortable about certain topics can block those tags and stay safe. Tag for things like noncon, blood, flashing gifs, box boy, gore, rape, etc. When in doubt, tag it. Better to be safe than sorry.

Tagging also helps people find your content as well. For example if you make gifs, use the #whumpedit tag so people who like whump gifs and easily find you. Use the #whump tag for anything pertaining to whump.

Be kind!! There is going to be something you see that you disagree with or are uncomfortable with. That is inevitable in this community. Whump is a vary wide genre and we all like and dislike very different things. So if you see something you don't like, just keep scrolling. Block blogs if you have to, no one will be upset. Keep yourself safe by blocking tags you don't like. Just be kind and remember the age ole internet addage of Your Kink Is Not My Kink and That's Okay.

Be respectful. Not just to your fellow members of the community, but of the things you blog about. There are tropes that need to be handled with care and respect. It never hurts to do some research if you plan on writing to learn about how people who actually deal with said trope feel.

Some helpful tidbits:

We also all tend to make an introduction post when we first start our whump blogs. Just a little something to say hi and what you enjoy whumpwise and stuff like that. We like to them reblog your intro post to say hi back and that'll help with getting you introduced to the community. It's a great way to meet people.

Don't be afraid to send messages, reply to people's posts, or go through a blogs entire archive reblogging things either! We all love that kind of interaction! And everyone is super friendly in this community.

Make sure to change your icon from the default and make your icon, your blog description, header, etc a little personalized. Make it your own. If people see default everything they tend to block the blog thinking it's a bot. Plus it's very fun to personalize the blog.

I think that's all I've got for the moment. If anyone has other advice they'd like to impart please feel free. And nonny, welcome to the community!!

[museenkuss]

Thank you for your nonjudgmental and thorough response.

I guess you can say I started reading that stuff last summer, unplanned. I was looking thru some tags and I stumbled upon a Rey/Ben solo one. Just clicked and read it without even realizing what I was getting into.

And after I saw the tags, I was scared tbh. I felt gross but it only made me curious to know why a big chunk of authors were writing this trope. And even more people reading it. So I got into it.

After awhile it became cathartic. I read it not because I found sexual pleasure in it, but I could see my naive self as a teenager in these characters. I was sexually assaulted a lot by strangers and related men. Till the point that I didn’t even physically react after awhile. This was me growing up in a 3rd world country. Consent was an alien concept and still is.

So now my head normalizes all the dark, gore and taboo topics. For me I feel freer everytime I read some fucked up shit. But I’d KILL someone if they went after someone young IRL. I’d protect them with my life. I don’t okay that shit IRL.

I just get lost in the fictional world. And I know it’s bad, trying to get outside that mental state but whenever I read fluffy stuff I don’t find enjoyment in it.

Sorry this got a lot. And I hope it doesn’t weird you out. I just felt like sharing it with you.

Thank you for sharing! I'm incredibly sorry you've had these experiences, that's beyond horrible. My heart goes out to you and I hope you're at a safe place where you can heal and grow.

In general - but especially with this context - I just need to say again that reading dark stories (or engaging with dark topics in fiction in general) doesn't make you a bad person. Fluffy stories aren't for everyone. There's a little webcomic that came to mind that you might've come across on tumblr already with the caption "different stories resonate with different people". Maybe it's a little more focused on the writer, but it's still very relevant here I think. To me, it really summarised the whole question of "why do you read/write stuff like that????" - Because sometimes, it helps.

That's why it made me sad when you said you "know it's bad", because really, reading those stories isn't a bad thing. You're reading something, that's all. That's not hurting anyone. I know I keep repeating myself but I know we can feel shame or guilt about things we engage with or have an interest in and I don't want you to feel that way. It seems that you found yourself reading something that resonated with you based on your experiences. That doesn't make you a bad person.

Also, you're not alone in this. Finding certain tags and being shocked, intrigued, curious or scared, and then doing research, reading some more, reading a lot more - it's not uncommon at all. It happened to me, too. Sometimes, I look back at stories I was super invested in and liked a lot and am surprised at how dark they are. But then I think that at the time, they helped me in some way. I read them for a reason, maybe I needed to read them. I don't feel guilty for that. Maybe in the future I'll look back at stuff I'm reading right now and will be equally shocked, but right now that's what I want to read for one reason or another.

If you start to notice that it's actively making you miserable, I'd advise you to switch gears for a while because sometimes, we can be stuck in a downward spiral and (intentionally, maybe) make ourselves miserable. I've been there before and found myself binge watching south park (of all things) because it made me feel horrible and I was sad and stressed. In that case, I had to tell myself at some point "this isn't helping me, I just end up feeling worse about myself, also I'm procrastinating doing things I have to do or enjoy doing by doing something I don't enjoy." - if that sounds familiar, maybe try stepping away. In either case, be kind with yourself.

This got SO long again, but I hope it was still a little helpful. Again, I'm sending a lot of love!

[ril-sillyart1st]

🌊 DNI! (DO NOT INTERACT!)

Homophobic/transphobic, racist, sexist, fatphobic, ableist, pedo/MAP, zoophile, anti-furry, anti-neopronouns/xenogenders, proshippers

🌊 Before you follow:

★ my account isn't safe for younger users (12 to lower) as I MIGHT/WILL blog or reblog something mature: suggestive (though I don't usually like NSFW so it's going to be rare but I put a TW to it of course), I swear, I sometimes/rarely do gore art (it would be most likely be candy gore), etc. . . Though they're going to have content warning to it and censoring curse words.

★ My account is a safe place for LGBTQIA+ (since I'm in the community as well!)

★ My headcanons and redesigns are full of LGBTQIA+ and other diversity stuff so homophobes/transphobes and racist b🫧tches f🌊ck off! /srs

★ Use tone tags when talking to me (NOT forcing though) especially on jokes as I may not understand a thing to it.

★ I'm quite sensitive sometimes so be careful on how you talk to me or I might misunderstood you.

★ I sometimes like to use "!" At the end of my sentence! But it doesn't always mean I'm yelling or screaming at you.

★ I like to use emoticons! ദ്ദി(ᵔᗜᵔ)

★ I'm a multi-fandom user so expect other fandoms not just BATMM (Blaze And The Monster Machines) blogs and reblogs. And also I post my OCs.

★ I like childhood kids shows so if it isn't your cup of tea then probably don't follow me lol!

★ I mainly draw anthropomorphized monster truck from my favorite childhood show (BATMM).

★ I'm a furry! :3 /Gen (obviously not a weird one of course!)

★ I will block anyone I don't like even if they didn't do anything bad! (My reasons is because I find you or them uncomfortable! /Gen)

★ Please don't tag me in serious topics (ex: war, abuse, drugs, etc...) as I get easily overwhelmed and get anxious by that! Please only tag me in tag games! /Srs /gen

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★ I mute my reblogs that aren't my own blogs. (Though sometimes some aren't muted)

★ I sometimes reblog my own blog because it flops! :'((

★ If I didn't reply to your comment, ask box, dm it's because I'm either busy, shy, too scared or just don't want to respond to it.

★ Also please don't dm me as it makes me off guard and get uncomfortable. /srs

★ If I unfollow you it's either: I accidentally unfollow you, you did something bad, you're not very active anymore, quitted, I don't like the blogs you make anymore. Which I know the last one sound icky to some but y'all can't just control me on who I follow and unfollow sometimes.

★ if I ever unblock you it's either because I'm giving you another chance or I forgot what you did. (Though I'll blocked you again if I got uncomfortable)

★ I hated when the words daddy, mommy, babygirl/boy and other normal words is used in a s🫧xual/weird way. /nc So if you saw me used those words then I'm only using it in a normal way! /srs /gen

★ I really, really despised (hate) the word "f🫧mboy" as I find it really offensive and absolutely triggering to me! /Gen /nc

★ I sometimes make unfunny jokes (harmless ofc), so be prepared for that lol. 👀

★ If I did something wrong please kindly and calmly tell me.

★ If you saw my old comments, posts, anything please don't mention about it cuz I don't want to look back on it (I swear I changed and trying not to make a mistake, okay? 😭 I'm sorry if those old comments, post, etc made you triggered and offended).

★ I don't have a proper schedule on what time I post so I randomly post stuff at any day and time. (Though I still do have a schedule; week: post at night, weekend: morning, afternoon, night.)

★ I'm quite picky at some things.

★ I may also post random sh🫧ts sometimes.

★ my English grammar can be sh🫧t sometimes so feel free to correct my spelling unless my spelling of a word is on purpose.

★ I may sometimes write in Filipino/Tagalog but it's rare because it's hard to write it down.

🌊 Rules:

★ please put TW on your NSFW, gore art post or I'll block you! (Much better if you have a SFW account to safely interact with. /nf)

★ If I interact with someone or something problematic, please tell me in my ask box instead! (With full real genuine proof of it!)

★ I don't like Helluva Boss and Hazbin Hotel but normal fans and nice anti of the show/Viv can interact!

★ please don't ask me to be moots with you! /nbr (because I'm uncomfortable with it. /Gen)

★ Please always credit my works! (art, animation, story, edits, etc)

★ Though you may trace my art in PRIVATE only as I don't want to see! I will get uncomfortable if you did post your traced art of my art in public. /Gen /srs

★ Please don't force me to reblog something I don't want to see! (ex: serious topics, reblog bait, etc...) I get overwhelmed by it. /srs /gen

★ please don't ask me on what to recommend you an song or alt (goth, rock, punk, metal, etc) song as I don't know what a good song or band to recommend you! /nbr

★ y'all can get inspired by my ideas and stuff but don't do it heavily (aka entirely copying it!), unless it's a trend.

★ No NSFW fan made stuff of my OCs, persona (aka ME!) and my AU characters!

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[mozywrites]

Sunshine and Vengeance

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Original Characters

Rating: Mature

Content/Warning Tags: Transphobia, Abuse, some Blood and Gore, Mild Sexual Content Chapter specific warnings: Panic Attacks, Self Harm

Updates on Thursday

Chapter 4

Aiden was alone in a dark room. He was in a bed, his hair long and covering his face.

His neck ached.

He turned his head and saw a doorway, lightly illuminated by the room beyond.

“Are you awake, pet?” A voice said from the bed beside him.

When had Nick gotten there?

Panic rose in his chest. He stood quickly, wanting to put as much space between him and Nick as possible.

“Pet?” Nick repeated, grabbing Aiden’s hand.

“Why are you here? I got away. I killed you.” Aiden said, his voice shaking. He tried to pull his arm out of Nick’s grip and glanced at the doorway.

The doorway was gone.

Nick pulled him closer and smiled wide. “I know.” He said, blood seeping from a wound in his chest. “You should have know that wasn’t allowed.” Aiden couldn’t find his voice. He struggled against Nick’s grasp, but he was held by inhuman strength. He felt weak and lightheaded. “Why did you kill me, pet? I was always so good to you.” Nick laughed, blood pouring out of the hole in his chest faster now, soaking into Aiden’s clothes and skin.

His face started to cave in as his skin turned to ash. Aiden could only feel terror, his breathing coming in gasps as he tried to free himself from the corpse pulling him towards the bed.

Aiden awoke to dark brown eyes above him and a hand on his shoulder. When had he fallen asleep? He struggled to pull his mind back to reality, the nightmare refusing to leave quietly.

Why did those eyes look so familiar?

"I hate to interrupt your nap, love, but I have someone here who wants to talk to you." Vengeance said, his eyebrows drawn together slightly. He almost looked worried but Aiden found it difficult to read Vengeance’s emotions.

Aiden barely heard him. He'd been so distracted before, he hadn't really looked closely at the other man. The hand on his shoulder felt like it belonged there and, for a moment, Aiden could almost feel a memory of those fingers pressed against his back. Vengeance leaned in a little closer with a smirk, the worry behind his eyes masked by casual flirtation. His hand moved from Aiden's shoulder, long fingers running along Aiden's collarbone.

It felt like he was hiding something.

"See something you like, love?"

"Sorry, just a little groggy." He said, his face growing warm. He forced himself to laugh, pushing away the feelings of recognition and hoping that Vengeance wouldn’t press the issue. Even if he did recognize Vengeance, it could never be for a good reason, right?

Vengeance maintained eye contact as he looked down at Aiden who had to suppress a shiver. The worry was back, creeping in behind Vengeance’s intensity, along with something almost predatory.

"I have a...friend who wants to talk to you. He's in the kitchen right now, whenever you're ready."

Aiden made a face and pulled himself off the couch. There was a faint pulse coming from the kitchen, a heartbeat? The smell of cleaning solution barely masked the scent of blood in the apartment.

"I thought you said I'd be safe here."

"You are safe. Talking to Alex will help you stay safe."

"Talking to a human is going to keep me safe?" Aiden said, raising an eyebrow, deeply unsure about this whole situation.

"He's not just any human. I don't like him, but he's an ally." Vengeance said as he walked back into the kitchen.

Aiden followed reluctantly.

The smell of blood got stronger as he entered the kitchen and Aiden's attention strayed to focus on it. Vengeance moved around the kitchen without issue, seemingly not noticing the smell and the heartbeat and the blood draining through a tube into a blood bag. Someone was talking but Aiden didn't hear what was said until Vengeance slipped an arm around his waist and led him to one of the wooden chairs by the table.

"Do you need a minute?" Vengeance said softly, leaning over Aiden and boxing him in so that he filled Aiden's field of vision. Aiden tore his focus away from the hunger building within him and shook his head slightly, taking a deep breath.

"No, I'll be okay. Sorry." He said as his face turned red. Vengeance held his gaze for a moment longer, as if considering, and then nodded. He straightened and turned towards the other man in the room.

"Aiden, this is Alexander Riviera. Alex, this is Aiden."

Aiden looked up at the other man and into clear blue eyes. His attention strayed to where the blood donation tube IV had been placed on the inside of his elbow and he caught sight of a tattoo on Alex's inner forearm. It was a complex combination of holy symbols, marking him as a vampire hunter. Aiden's hackles rose immediately and Vengeance shot him a look as if he could tell.

"Alex is welcome in my home, unfortunately."

"This little arrangement is the only thing keeping you alive, Higgins." The man in the chair said with a snort and a roll of his eyes.

"Should I remind you that last time we fought, I won?” Vengeance's demeanor shifted immediately to anger and his eyes grew cold. “Or do you need a repeat of that event? Or should I remind you that you came here unarmed? I don't think you're in a position to talk to me like that, Riviera."

"Please. I don't need weapons to kill you." Alex scowled, his free hand balling into a fist. "But unfortunately for you and your little power trip, I'm more interested in your friend."

Aiden's eyebrows furrowed and he shrunk a little before Alex's gaze.

"Vengeance," Alex put a taunting amount of emphasis on the name, "says you were in a privileged position at the court and that you need protection."

"Oh, um, yeah, I guess." Aiden said uncomfortably.

"You guess? About which part, fledging?"

Vengeance stayed in the room while they talked, unhooking Alex from the IV rather unceremoniously and handing him a soda while he got everything cleaned up.

"Fledgling? Sorry, I think you have um, I think you have the wrong idea about me. I'm not newly turned or anything."

"Your reaction when you stepped into this room says otherwise." Alex said, raising an eyebrow.

"It's a long story. I don't really want to talk about it." Aiden crossed his arms, defensive.

"Hm. The deal is information for protection. If you don't want to answer my questions, I guess you'd rather deal with your assailants on your own. I wouldn't recommend it, though. The bounty on your head is high."

"So I've heard." Aiden said with a frown. He glanced at Vengeance. He couldn't stay at this man's apartment forever. Vengeance was still pointedly ignoring Alex as he busied himself with something in the fridge. "What kind of questions...?"

"How long since you were turned?"

"Four years."

"Huh. That's longer ago than I suspected. How did it happen?"

"I'd rather not say." Aiden frowned deeper, feeling panic rise in his chest.

"I don't need details." Alex sighed, rubbing his face and pushing his light brown hair out of his face. "You were at vampire court is what I heard. How did a member of the nobility end up with such a high price on his head?"

"I wasn't nobility." Aiden said shortly, "My husband was."

"Your...? Oh, yes, of course. They believe you to be a woman."

Aiden gave him a flat look and didn't answer. Panic threatened to overwhelm him and he didn't want to show any weakness towards the hunter.

"My husband was Nicholas Meyerson." He continued, pushing past the discomfort. "He's the one who turned me. It was not...consensual. It was a show of power to keep me in line. I had done things he did not approve of."

Vengeance had stopped his work for a moment, listening. Aiden saw his hand twitch as he ran it over his hair. Again, Aiden remembered dark brown eyes and long fingers. He watched Vengeance run his fingers through his hair and tie it up, his back to the table. The way he moved was deeply familiar to Aiden, connected to a memory he had tried hard to forget. One of long fingers against his back and fangs in his neck.

Him.

Silence stretched awkwardly in the kitchen as Aiden lost his breath at the sudden realization.

"Anything else?" Alex said, Aiden barely listening.

Did Vengeance recognize him? Is that why he helped?

"Um, not really. I was property, that's why I can't always, uh, control my reactions. He liked...taunting me." Aiden wanted to disappear. He needed to get out of here. He needed to be alone. He couldn’t deal with this right now. He hadn’t thought about that night for years and now it was all flooding back. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. There was too much wrapped up in the memories and it threatened to overwhelm him.

"Who did he spend time around?" Alex continued the interrogation as if he didn't notice Aiden's rising panic.

"Mostly his brother. Rich worshiped the ground Nick walked on. He's probably who set the price for my capture. Other than that, he did the usual noble politicking at parties but I wouldn't call anyone his friend." Aiden fidgeted with his sleeves, trying to keep his voice even.

"How did he die?"

An accident. If you could even call it that after months of planning, keeping the weapon hidden as he thought about freeing himself.

An accident, as he pushed a stake through Nick’s heart and watched as blood poured out of the wound and he turned to ash.

An accident.

Or self defense?

So many words could be used to justify it. None of those words stopped the nightmares.

Aiden tried to speak but no sound came out. This was all too much. He couldn't sort through everything he was feeling. He tried to take a deep breath, digging his nails into his forearm, hoping the pain would ground him, but it did nothing to lessen the panic and the noise of his thoughts.

And so he fled. He stood quickly, chair clattering to the ground, and ran from the room. He found a corner between the armchair and the living room wall and curled up, trying his hardest to become invisible as he pulled his knees into his chest. He could hear the other two men talking in the kitchen so he covered his ears and squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't want to hear anything. He didn't want to know anything. He had run for hundreds of miles. How had he ended up in this apartment? If Vengeance had recognized him, would he have said something? Was it worth asking about? Did he still blame Vengeance for everything that had happened after? How would he even be able to bring it up?

The more he thought, the more questions he had and the faster his thoughts raced.

The voices in the kitchen were louder now and it was harder to shut them out.

"...what the nobility's like! You know how he would have been treated!"

"Can you actually convince me that he's not a threat?"

Aiden covered his ears more forcefully, cursing his vampiric hearing. He didn't want to hear this. He didn't want to know. His fingernails scraped along his scalp and he felt the skin slice open, blood trickling on to his face as the cuts healed. The pain provided clarity. It always had. He scraped his nails along his scalp again and down his face, feeling his skin separate and then knit itself back together, feeling a brief moment of clarity before the pain died again.

The door of the apartment slammed shut.

Aiden heard Vengeance moving towards him and curled himself up tighter. He didn't want to talk about it. The other man was close enough that he could smell him.

He didn't want to talk about it. Any of it.

A hand touched his arm lightly and he pushed it away forcefully, a pained growl escaping his throat.

"I don't need your pity. Leave me alone."

Vengeance didn't try to touch him again but he remained where he was. Aiden looked up, scowling. Vengeance was crouched in front of him, frowning in worry, rubbing at his arm where Aiden had hit him. He reached out, hand hovering for a second before wiping away a drip of blood from his cheek. Aiden flinched at the touch.

"...don't touch me...please." His voice sounded foreign to him, pained and hoarse.

Vengeance dropped his hand and sat back on his heels.

Was that guilt or worry in his eyes?

"Alex's gonna spread word to other hunters that you're not a threat and that you're under my protection."

"...thanks." Aiden said as he dropped his forehead to his knees.  

"It won't stop other vampires from coming after you. I don't know if my wards will be able to hold against a group of attackers so you'll have to stay inside for now. That's the easiest way for me to help you." Vengeance spoke softly, his voice gentle. Aiden couldn't think of a time that someone had spoken to him this way. It was as if Vengeance actually cared.

Aiden wanted to cry.

Would Vengeance care this much if he hadn't recognized Aiden? Was he just helping because he felt guilty? Aiden didn't think he deserved any of Vengeance's help but he had no idea how to bring up their past. It had been one night and it had been years ago and Aiden had changed so much.

Vengeance stood and moved through the apartment quietly. Aiden couldn’t keep himself from shaking. He dug his fingernails into his scalp, unable to look at the other man.

"I have a towel for the blood.” Vengeance said softly, crouching down in front of him once more. “Is it okay if I touch you?"

Aiden could feel tears welling up in his eyes. Why did Vengeance have to be so kind?

"...yeah.”

“Can you look up at me?”

Aiden hesitated, his fingernails breaking skin once more, before he lifted his head. The crease of worry between Vengeance’s eyebrows and the hint of guilt behind his eyes was overwhelming.

The towel was damp and a little cold as it touched his face but it felt good. Aiden only flinched a little when it touched his face. It was easier with the towel between them. He didn't think he could handle skin to skin contact right now. Vengeance kept his touch soft as he wiped the blood off Aiden's face, guiding his head to either side to get the droplets off his neck.

"It's not perfect but it's better.” He said as he carefully pushed Aiden’s hair off his forehead where it was sticking. “Let me show you the bathroom. The shower is fucked but it's better than nothing. I can get you something clean to wear after."

Aiden nodded silently and Vengeance stood, holding out a hand. Aiden hesitated before taking it. The touch sent sparks up Aiden's arm and the feeling nearly overwhelmed him but he didn't want to let go.

Vengeance led him across the room to a small bathroom, showing him the various soaps and hair products he could use if he wanted to and where the towels were. Aiden felt a trail of blood from his hair drip down his face. Vengeance caught the drop as it left Aiden's chin, careful to not actually touch him without a warning, and brought it to his mouth absent-mindedly as he explained something about the shower and the water pressure. Aiden flushed and felt like he was going to start crying again.

Before leaving him alone in the bathroom Vengeance brought him a clean pair of clothes, including a second clean shirt. Aiden was beginning to wonder how many faded black t-shirts Vengeance owned.

Once alone, he hesitated before locking the door and undressing. He wasn’t used to privacy. He could see where his blood had soaked into the neckline of the borrowed shirt and the bottom edge of his makeshift binder was also soaked in blood and he sighed. That would be harder to clean. He'd have to go without it around Vengeance...

At least I can't see my reflection... he thought as he turned on the tap to soak the elastic bandage in the sink. He watched the water turn pink, struggling to make himself turn on the shower. What if Vengeance got mad that he had locked the door? What if they were attacked while he was in the shower? He hadn't been able to truly settle since he started running. Never a moment to relax. Now he was stuck in this apartment until when? What was he waiting for?

He forced himself to turn on the shower. If anything the patter of water against the tub could drown out some of his anxieties. He stuck a hand under the water hesitantly. It had been so long since he'd taken a shower like this. He had dreamed of being able to have this amount of privacy and now that he had it he couldn't stop hesitating, wondering when something was going to go wrong. He took a deep breath and stepped over the lip of the tub and into the shower. Despite his worries, it felt good to be able to wash off the dirt and blood from the last few weeks. The shower itself wasn't fancy but it was better than washing up in a truck stop bathroom. He let the water run over his hair and down his back, turning a dirty pink as it washed down the drain.

Vengeance's soap smelled surprisingly good...

A weight lifted as he rinsed the soap from his body and washed his hair. This was the first time he had really showered since escaping Nick. He scrubbed his skin pink, suddenly needing to wash any trace of Nick from his body. There would always be traces. Scars he wasn't able to get rid of from before he turned. Emotional scars that might never heal. But if he just scrubbed hard enough maybe he could have skin that Nick had never touched.

For the first time since his escape, Aiden let himself feel the full weight of what had happened. What he had done. He finally let himself break down, knowing that at least for the moment he was safe.

Vengeance didn’t come check on him, which he appreciated. He didn’t know how to face Vengeance right now. Every time he closed his eyes he could practically feel the other man pressed against him. He could remember what it felt like that night, the freedom, and then later.

“You’ve been gone for some time, pet.”

Had Vengeance known what would happen to Aiden that night? If Aiden said anything, asked the wrong questions, would Vengeance be able to figure it out? Would Aiden have to relive that night? It was never far. That night lurked in his nightmares and his hunger. His vision fading, his death and rebirth as Nick marked him forever. The mark that lived in Aiden’s blood and his life, in his teeth, in his strength, in his immortality, in his desires. The monster that he would never be rid of.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t be able to smell him on you?”

He ran his hands into his hair, the scalding shower water running onto his face as he tried to banish the memories.

“You’re mine, pet. You always will be.”

The panic and hopelessness that had been subsiding returned in full force and Aiden screamed. He’d never be free. Why did he think he could run? He couldn’t run from himself and Nick would always live in him.

“Aiden?!”

The response was immediate.

Aiden was shaking. He didn’t know what to do.

“Aiden, are you okay?!”

He had to respond.

“AIDEN?!”

He heard the door knob move but the lock held. He had to respond. He had to say something.

“I’m okay!” His voice was hoarse. He turned the shower water off and took a deep breath. “I’m okay.”

He grabbed a faded black towel and wrapped himself in it before unlocking the door. He turned away from the doorway, expecting Vengeance to burst in to make sure he was okay, but the door stayed closed.

“Do you need help?” Vengeance replied and the door remained closed.

“No. I’m-I’m okay.”

“Can I come in?”

Aiden didn’t know how to answer. He couldn’t remember the last time someone respected his privacy. An awkward silence stretched as he tried to get his breathing under control.

“Aiden?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. Sure.”

The door opened and Aiden tried not to flinch. He could feel eyes on him. He could always feel eyes on him.

He glanced over his shoulder and saw Vengeance looking intensely at the wall, his cheeks a little flushed. “It’s sunrise.”

Aiden nodded, holding tight to the front of the towel and trying to hide his chest behind the pile of clothes Vengeance had brought him earlier. He didn’t trust his voice as he turned away from Vengeance again.

“I have wards on the apartment but the bedroom is the safest. It’s easier to add extra wards to the smaller space.” Vengeance said, more awkward than Aiden had seen him so far, something odd in his voice.

“Okay.”

Vengeance made a noise like he was going to say something else and then retreated, closing the door softly behind him. Aiden waited a moment before drying himself off and getting dressed. The clothes were surprisingly comfortable, loose pajama pants and a large t shirt. This shirt had a band logo on it, “The Misfits,” and a few holes along the bottom edge. Aiden tugged at the front of the shirt and grimaced at how it fell over his torso. He crossed his arms over his chest uncomfortably and made his way out of the bathroom. The other door in the apartment was open and he could see into Vengeance’s bedroom. The other man had changed as well and Aiden almost laughed at the image of the vampire in a tank top and basketball shorts. His hair was down and it fell across his shoulders and in front of his face like a curtain. He looked up from a book when Aiden entered and grinned before going back to his reading.

“It’s been a while since I set up a ward on my own.” He explained, closing the door behind Aiden. “Just stay over there for a second?” He gestured to the bed.

Aiden sat on the bed, watching with interest. Nick had never engaged in any real magic. This was new for him.

Vengeance bit the pad of his thumb and started drawing symbols on the back of the door. The smell almost overpowered Aiden’s interest in the magic and he had to look away for a second to remember his self control. He focused on one of the posters that lined the walls for another band he’d never heard of. When he looked back Vengeance had finished drawing and was muttering something, glancing at the book every few seconds. The symbols glowed with a faint power that increased and then stabilized. When Vengeance stopped speaking the glow faded but the feeling of power remained.

Vengeance absent-mindedly cleaned his thumb as the cut healed and turned to face Aiden who flushed a little.

“Sorry I can’t offer anything better than this.” He said, gesturing around the room.

Aiden shook his head. “It’s okay. I can sleep on the floor. This is still better than uh, the alternative.”

“You don’t have to sleep on the floor.” Vengeance said with a frown. Aiden raised an eyebrow at him and he glanced away for a second. “I don’t sleep, really, so I’ll just keep watch.”

“I’m not going to kick you out of your bed.”  Aiden said with a snort and a small roll of his eyes.

“I promise, I won’t sleep.” 

Aiden stretched out on the far side of the bed reluctantly and wrapped himself in one of the blankets. Vengeance settled on the floor next to the bed, his eyes on the door.

“You can-you could sit up here if you wanted to. It’s probably more comfortable.” Aiden said, frowning anxiously and picking at the edge of the blanket a little bit.

Vengeance looked up at him with another unreadable expression and then nodded. Aiden tried to not look as he felt the bed dip under Vengeance’s weight. He hadn’t slept since he’d escaped, let alone let someone else be this close to him while he was vulnerable. He’d barely let another person touch him. Vengeance had managed to slip his way through both of those walls without much issue. It was just like before. For some reason, Aiden wanted to be able to trust Vengeance. He found himself wishing that Vengeance would touch him. It was almost more distracting to have him so close but to not be touching. The space between them felt physical in a way he had never experienced with another person.

He closed his eyes and tried to pretend he was falling asleep. Despite his nap earlier he was still exhausted. He thought maybe if he pretended hard enough he would stop worrying about Vengeance. Stop wanting the physical touch and comfort of a body next to his.

Eventually he succeeded and fell asleep.

[foreverapocalypse]

INTRO

Hello! Welcome to this account... Uh, I don't really have a big need to make an intro for this? Unless it gets super popular, which I will then be making a whole new account just for the AU instead of just a new blog, and then an intro will go there or whatever.

Only necessary information is that I am a part of a system so therefore I may disappear for long amounts of times, I go by any pronouns but Eye/Eyeself would be preferred for this specific account. For the sake of no confusion I'm going by an entirely different name on this account, which will be Calypso! I say for the sake of no confusion as I am a WTNV Fictive, and that will help me separate myself from this AU as well.

Onto what this account is!

This is a small blog I'm making to keep hold of random information dumps, fanfic updates, and whatever about a WTNV AU I've made! I will post links to new Fics I make relevant to the AU, quick posts saying when those Fics have update, and small infodumps about things in the AU I dont really want to just throw into a google doc.

I have a bit of hope for this to get popular, but since I'm not an artist of any kind and very slow with updating things, I worry it may not. But regardless! I just want to have a place to show it off, so this is the place now!

I will have NO DNI LIST HERE!!! I believe they are stupid and useless, and that you should not expect others to be curating your online experiences. If you come to my account and I find problems with you or the way you act towards me or others, then I will block you myself with no further warnings or questions. This won't be me condemning you against reading about my AU or creating things for it, but rather just a declaration that I don't wish to further interact with you directly.

Sorry for being chatty, but yeah! Hopefully you guys enjoy what I end up showing off here! OH! And feel free to send me asks, especially if you have any questions about the AU, or even just about this post in specific for now.

Though, to leave you off.. here are some warnings below for stuff this AU may contain, outside of the basic gore and NSFW you may expect from an apocalypse AU, because I want people to be safe while viewing this AU and to not accidentally trigger themselves. This is also a boundary I am setting, in a way.

Some Fics I create about this AU may have a possibility of containing more genuinely dark themes, such as rape, abuse, or things people can find more triggering than their counterparts such as animal gore and child death. I will ALWAYS properly tag and warn for these things, and I want this to be a warning for you to ALWAYS check the warnings I put out on some posts or fanfics.

Not every dark theme I incorporate into my Fics will be explicitly shamed or otherwise displayed as bad, depending on the POV you will be reading from. This is not an excuse to come on to my accounts and view these as glorifying anyones actions. I expect my readers to have their own moral ideals already fixed up, and therefore not need me to explicitly state when or why something is wrong.

Do not come onto my account to accuse me of harming others, do not come on here to accuse me of supporting harm to others. I will block you without question, and I will not engage in arguments over these things.

[vampyrenn]

Stitches and Swimming (Steve Harrington x F!Plus! Reader)

♡ 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 ♡

♡ 𝕽𝖊𝖖𝖚𝖊𝖘𝖙 𝕽𝖚𝖑𝖊𝖘 ♡

♡ 𝕽𝖊𝖆𝖉 𝕻𝖆𝖗𝖙 𝕺𝖓𝖊 𝕳𝖊𝖗𝖊! ♡

↠ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕣: Steve Harrington x Reader ⌈Stranger Things⌋

↠𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: When You and Steve reconnect, you realize you have a lot to learn about each other.

↠𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕 ℂ𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 7.1K

↠𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: No Spoilers, No Y/N. Plus Size Reader. Canon typical injury/gore, black market doctoring, suggestive dialogue, heavy mentions of weight issues.

↠𝔸/ℕ: 3rd times the charm (hopefully…) I’m pretty sure fics won’t show up in my tags when I Queue them (sucks bc I queue them for before I get off work hah) but oh well! Sorry sincerely for spamming, I appreciate the love it got while it was up!!! but plz enjoy haha ^^;; FEEDBACK IS APPRECIATED, THANK YOU!!

»»————-　♡　————-««

Needle & Thread

In the weeks since your first date with Steve Harrington, you realized there were a lot of things you didn’t know about him. The innocent crush you’d had on him in freshman year hadn’t ever gotten past the ‘staring longingly’ phase, and now that you were seeing him regularly, you were learning all of the little things you had wanted to know back then. You’d made a list in your head of the ones you expected the least, and found yourself adding to it pretty often.

One, Steve was a certified lifeguard.

You’d been on your third date, headed home for the evening when he pointed to the public swimming pool, empty in the dark, and like he couldn’t possibly contain himself, exclaimed “Did you know I’m a lifeguard?”

“Yeah?” you had been dozing, lazily staring out the window and listening to the tape he was playing, but his excitement stirred you, and you played along, sitting up and glancing at the pool as you drove past like somehow you’d be able to see him on the guard tower.

“Since 1983, baby. Certified and everything.” He was immensely proud of that fact, if the huge grin on his face was anything to go by, and you couldn’t help but laugh. The idea of Steve taking so much pride in something so small was absolutely adorable.

“Was it for the bikinis or the mouth to mouth resuscitation?” He looked away from the road just for a second to glance at you, his silhouette lit blue by the dashboard, his proud smile turning smug.

“Both. Hey, you wanna come swim in my pool later?” He was only half-joking, and you both knew it, but you rolled your eyes at him anyway, sinking into your seat with a low groan.

“That’s your master plan? Hope I drown in your pool?”

“Almost drown, Sweetheart. I’m gonna save you, obviously.”

“My hero.” he laughed at your monotone, grabbing your hand and messily interlocking your fingers.

“You can count on it.”

Two, He was an amazing babysitter.

You’d been half right when you’d assumed that Dustin, the teenager he was constantly driving around and hanging out with was probably his best friend. The other half that you hadn’t expected was the entire group of smart-ass 13 year olds that Steve led around like a mother hen, Dustin included. You hadn’t even directly met them yet, but their effect on Steve was immediately noticeable.

It was sweet, seeing how much he cared while trying so hard to pretend he didn’t; driving them around, keeping them safe and watching out for them. You told him as much one afternoon over the phone, after he dejectedly told you he and their party-really, it was more like they just needed adult supervision- already had plans after his shift, and he wouldn’t be able to see you.

“You should apply for Dad of the Year, Harrington. I think you’ve got a real shot.”

He snorted derisively. “If not now, I’ve got a hell of a lot of practice for later, right?” his voice dropped an octave, softer now. “I’m sorry. You know I’d cancel, but…”

“No way.” You dismissed him immediately, “Someone has to look out for those kids, right? I’m glad it’s you. Just do me a favor and get them home safe, and you too. Okay?”

“Yeah…Course. You know I will.” You didn’t comment on how his throat sounded closed with emotion, his tone sounding a million miles away, and neither did he. You didn’t know what to say.

And finally, Three. There was something going on in Hawkins, and Steve was involved.

You were finding that one out now, after a late night phone call from Steve had you speeding to his house, lugging your entire sewing kit into your passenger seat. He hadn’t given you too many details and you hadn’t asked, more focused on how broken and tired his voice sounded, and his terrifying questions.

“Sewing is exactly like stitches, right? For wounds?”

“Yeah, I guess…Steve, what’s going on?”

“Can you do me a really big favor, sweetheart?”

That was what led you here, slipping into the Harringtons backyard where Steve told you he would be. Steam was rising off of the heated pool, but he wasn’t in it, the water still and glass-like. You approached slowly, your kit hitting against your leg with every step, anxiety rising, and then you finally saw him.

Steve was sprawled on a pool lounge, eyes closed in picturesque relaxation, though he was covered in dirt and dried blood. There were makeshift bandages around his torso and arms, and the large, dried red stains knocked the air out of you. The lights illuminating the patio made him look pale and corpse-like as you kneeled next to him on the concrete, bearing the sting of hard pebbles in your knees to look up at him. You took one of his hands and he squeezed, telling you he knew you were there, letting you brush your lips feather-light over his split knuckles. He hissed, and the sound snapped a thread supporting your composure.

“Oh, Stevie…” it was more a whimper than anything, your eyes already blurring with unshed tears, and he responded instantly, your heartbroken voice spurring him to action again. He sat up and swung his legs over the lounge with great effort, and you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding when you could see his eyes again, tired but alert, alive. A tear slipped from the corner of your eye, and he leaned in close, reaching for you.

You let him help haul you onto the lounge next to him, wiping your face clumsily with his dirty hands before tracing his fingers down your neck, your shoulders, slow and gentle. You sniffled.

“Hey. Hey, it’s okay.” Steve soothed his palms up and down your arms. “You should see the other guy.” He smiled, blood staining his teeth, and your stomach churned.

“How can you even joke right now?” You breathed, sadness and worry permeating through every word, and he closed his eyes again, smile dropping.

“Baby…” it was the first time he’d ever called you that in a serious way, but you were too upset to even notice, suddenly angry and desperate and hurt even as you fought to stay calm for him. Your tone betrayed at least some of it when you spoke, and his hands dropped from your shoulders.

“What happened, Steve?” His entire face twisted the moment you asked, eyes squeezing shut tighter and brows furrowing. He looked beautiful even now, if you ignored the harsh lights of the pool; caked in dirt and blood you weren’t sure was all his, his sweaty face tipped up to the stars. It tore your heart, leaving a raw edge.

“Not tonight. Please.” The desperation in his voice melted all of your righteous anger out of you.. “I…I can’t do this tonight. I promise you, soon, I’ll tell you everything. But not now.” His voice broke, and he dragged his hands through his hair, grabbing fistfuls.

Any other time, you would have pushed the issue; Instead, you breathed in deeply through your nose and leaned down, grabbing your sewing kit and setting it on your knees. Steve needed your support, and whatever the hell was going on, you’d give it to him, and anything else he wanted.

“We don’t have any way to knock you out.” you said softly, and you could feel him relax next to you as you dropped the subject. You bit back the acid in your throat.

Not tonight.

“S’okay. I can take it.” he shrugged, glancing to the patio doors behind you. “Let’s go to the kitchen. Cleaner in there.” you nodded, getting off the lounge and offering your hand to Steve. He took it, stumbling slightly as he stood, and your heart seized in worry. You took his arm in your own and helped him inside.

You’d never been to the Harringtons. King Steve’s wild parties weren’t really your scene, and you hadn’t been dating long enough that you’d felt comfortable just hanging out in his house. It was huge and nice, and you eyed the perfectly white countertops with trepidation as you laid out your supplies, Steve laying back on the kitchen island like a makeshift stretcher.

“Are your parents gonna, like, kill you if we get blood everywhere? Maybe we should go to the bathroom.” He wrinkled his nose in distaste and shook his head.

“We’ll clean up, they’re gone so damn much they’ll never notice. And there’s nowhere to lay down in the bathroom. Now patch me up, Doc.” he crossed his arms behind his head, closing his eyes and relaxing again while you got to work cutting the blood soaked wraps off and using a wet cloth to wipe away all the grime you could see. The kitchen was dead silent except for yours and Steve’s breathing, the sound of you scrubbing the cloth into his skin. The more dirt and caked blood you washed away, the more he looked like your Steve, although bone-tired and a little cut up, and you calmed.

He would be okay. You’ll make sure.

When he was as clean as he was going to get, you had him sit up for a second to take off the mud splattered vest he was wearing, tossing it somewhere behind you. You soaked a cotton ball with antiseptic, grabbing it with tweezers before turning back to him, settling between his thighs for a moment. He watched you carefully, studying your expression as you put your free hand on his knee, patting it.

“Lay down.” He didn’t argue, though you could tell he had something on his mind, just stretched out on the island again, groaning softly, and you assessed the real damage.

The gashes you assumed he wanted you to sew up were on his arms and torso, just where the largest amounts of blood had soaked into the bandages. The one on his arm was a relief; you knew you could superglue the cut back together, no sutures needed, and it would heal perfectly. The gashes on his torso were deep and ugly, like some animal had bitten chunks out of his hip, and you knew instantly they’d have to be stitched. They looked better clean, but they were still steadily oozing blood with no sign of stopping. The sight made you a little sick, but you just shook your head lightly and started cleaning the skin around the wounds. Occasionally, Steve would suck in a breath through his teeth, or grunt in discomfort, and you’d stop to coo and run your thumbs gently over his sides, desperate to ease his pain.

“Okay. I think we’re ready.” you took a deep breath, and Steve opened his eyes to watch you wash your hands and pull a box of latex gloves out of your sewing kit, putting on two pairs. His eyes went wide when you pulled the needle and nylon thread out of the bowl you’d been using to soak them in peroxide for the last 20 minutes, figuring that was about as sterile as it was going to get.

Jesus, I hope he doesn’t get an infection and die. I should have just dragged him to the hospital.

“That looks like a fishing line.” He said nervously, and you laughed despite yourself.

“It’s stronger, nylon. I think it’s close to what doctors use…” you trailed off, frowning, “this is really gonna hurt, Steve.” it would have hurt if you’d had all the right tools but no anesthesia, if you had actually been a doctor, even, but this was a total back alley operation here; you’d be lying if you said you weren’t worried about making everything worse.

“I know. I trust you.” His words were weak with emotion, but they hit you hard. “I swear I trust you.” He wasn’t just talking about the stitches anymore, opening his mouth with a rush of air, but you shushed him, putting a finger over his lips to stop him before he started. You’d promised him tonight, away from questions and answers, and you’d meant it.

He’s gonna have a hard enough time as is.

“I know you do.” you said firmly. He fully slumped against the table at your reassurance, shutting his eyes against the lights and the present.

You threaded the needle.

–

It was early morning by the time you finished.

Steve wasn’t dead, which felt like a rousing success considering you’d just played surgeon on his kitchen counter, but after he was already hurt, you’d pushed him to his absolute limit. Taking the slippery gloves off and washing his blood off of your wrists made you retch into the sink, his moans and screams ringing in your ears. He’d passed out a few times, and you’d cried at least once out of guilt, but it was over.

You turned to face him, pale, soaked in sweat and shaking. You’d brought heavy duty pain meds from your own house, something you’d gotten prescribed for a bad injury months ago; now you were both just waiting for them to kick in. your stomach knotted with regret as he groaned softly, and you reached out, gently threading your fingers through his hair, brushing it away from his damp forehead.

“M’sorry.” you said softly, voice cracking, “You did so good. I’m so sorry.”

He gritted his teeth, shaking his head imperceptibly. “No, you…” he huffed, like he didn’t have enough air to speak, “you…did good. Thank you…Sorry.” you leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead, pulling back and continuing to smooth his hair away from his face. It didn’t take much longer for the meds to kick in, and you waited until he was pretty out of it to get him up. You knew it would be painful, and you hoped he’d be tired and loose enough that it wouldn’t hurt so much to get to the couch.

There’s no way in hell he’s getting upstairs.

It took longer than you expected, he was heavy and breaks for him to catch his breath or moan in pain were frequent, but eventually he was settled under a thick blanket and sleeping like the dead. As tempted as you were to join him, you got to business wiping his blood off of the counters and floors, disinfecting everything you could and tossing what you couldn’t. You threw the denim vest into the washer, and the kitchen gleamed, no imprint left behind of the screaming man on the counters.

Your eyes burned from crying and exhaustion, but you forced yourself to go outside and wipe down the pool lounge you’d found him on, like scrubbing the blood off of anything he touched would make it all a horrible, confusing dream.

You didn’t sleep until the entire downstairs smelled like bleach. Steve didn’t stir at all the entire time, so you curled up on the loveseat opposite him, watching him and the sunrise with bleary eyes until you couldn’t keep them open anymore.

–

You woke up only a few hours later, suddenly too nervous to sleep. Steve still hadn’t moved, so you felt safe leaving long enough to go get groceries; you’d checked his fridge while you were cleaning, took one look at the number of frozen meals and leftover takeout, and decided you’d have to cook some real food for him when he woke up.

You sort of felt like a stalker, sneaking into his house from the backyard with a bunch of bags but the huge, empty house creeped you out, and you hoped cooking would fill some of the empty space. Imagining Steve here all the time, alone, made your chest ache.

He slept into the late evening, and you decided to just start on dinner; if he didn’t wake up, you could eat and save him the rest. As soon as you finished cooking, pulling out tupperware to put his portion into, you heard his soft voice drifting from the living room, calling your name. You flipped the burners and ran out of the kitchen.

His eyes were still closed, but his face was pinched, and he was clearly awake. He looked almost normal again, no longer paper-white and trembling in pain. You breathed out softly. “Hi, Stevie.”

“Hi, Angel.” He smiled briefly, but you could hear the strain in his voice, and he still didn’t open his eyes. Anxiously, you wondered if he was worse than before.

“How are you feeling? Need more meds?” He nodded, and you moved to the coffee table, grabbing the pills and bottle of water you’d set there. You pressed a tablet into his hand, and helped him drink down some water, tucking stray hairs behind his ears once he finished. He shifted slightly, letting out a groan, but looking far more relaxed.

“You're pretty good at this. Ever thought about being a nurse?”

“Steve, I’m pretty sure I almost killed you last night. Are you high?”

“No. Well, the pain meds…” he finally opened his eyes, meeting yours above him and giving you a goofy grin. The swelling on his face was already going down, but he was still puffy and bruised. He raised his eyebrows at you, and you rewarded him with a small smile.

“You’re so pretty.” You told him honestly, still running your fingers through his hair. He breathed a laugh through his nose, wincing in pain a second later.

“Wow, you sure know how to treat a guy who just got his ass kicked. Bet I look dead.” He sounded sarcastic, but you could see the warmth in his face. You shook your head, cupping his jaw tenderly in your palms.

“Nope. Just as gorgeous as ever.” He took in a sharp breath, closing his eyes as you kissed him fleetingly on his nose, his jaw, any bruise you could find that didn’t seem too sore, until he tilted his chin at just the right angle and caught your lips with his own. It was chaste, just a quick, sweet peck before he was pulling away with a satisfied grin that made an unexpected heat flare in your stomach. It was the first time he’d kissed you, and it wasn’t great; his lips were chapped, and he tasted like morning breath and the faint memory of blood, but it was Steve, so you chased him, kissing him again before finally pulling away and straightening up. The comfortable silence broke when his stomach growled. You grinned.

“Made you dinner, with real food. I’ll get you a plate.”

“God, you’re my dream girl.” you bit the inside of your cheek and turned your face away, waving off his compliments.

“I’m trying to feel less guilty about stabbing you with a needle.”

“I asked you to.”

“I know. And you owe me. So,” you trailed the tip of your index finger along his jaw, booping his nose and watching the dreamy smile spread slowly over his face while he stared up at you, “I bring you food, and you explain everything. Deal?”

“Deal.”

Measuring Tape

When you took the stitches out two weeks later, Steve told you he had a surprise for you.

You were a little worried, considering everything he had just ‘surprised’ you with recently; kids with superpowers and weird creatures from hell, Russian spies, shit man. It was insane, but you believed him; and you didn’t want anything to do with any super cool new lizard Dustin found.

He promised it had nothing to do with the Upside Down, so you agreed, and that Saturday he drove you up to Lovers Lake. Before you could make fun of him for trying to show you the make out spot he’d ‘invented’ himself as a surprise, he pulled a picnic blanket, a basket, and a small bouquet out of the trunk. You gasped, and you could already see him anticipating your reaction, eyebrows raised and expectant.

“For me?”

“No, for The Queen.” Smiling wide, you surged forward, taking the basket in one arm and the flowers in the other, stretching to kiss his cheek while he wrapped an arm around your waist, leaning down slightly to make it easier.

“You’re such a dork, Harrington.”

“In that case, I’ll just take this back.” He moved to take the basket from you, and you clutched it to your chest protectively, glaring at him and ripping yourself from his arm.

“No! Can’t back out now; I wanna have a picnic, and you said I can always have what I want.” You batted your eyelashes at him innocently, and he choked, face turning red.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Sweetheart.” Looking down at the flowers in your hand and the man in front of you, you couldn’t help but disagree.

I think it’s the other way round.

—

Steve was a romantic, but he wasn’t a planner. Once you were both settled underneath a large tree, close enough to enjoy the sounds of the lake but hidden deep enough in the trees, you took it upon yourself to unpack the lunch Steve had brought, pulling out a six pack of beer and two sandwiches. You turned to him, one of your hands still in the basket, digging around for anything else.

“Quite the spread you got here.” You laughed, and he scooted closer, joining in. He put his hand into the basket, brushing yours for a second before grabbing two small plastic containers.

“You missed something.” He set them both on the blanket, eyeing you proudly and grabbing a beer. “There we go. Meal fit for a king.”

“Applesauce.” you didn’t have to say anything more.

“Okay, so I’m not the best at this stuff. Sue me.” He didn’t even seem the least bit embarrassed, nudging his knee with yours and taking a swig out of his bottle. Rolling your eyes, you kept searching the bottom of the basket before turning to Steve in confusion.

“Did you pack spoons?” The blank stare he gave you was enough of an answer, and you burst into giggles again, watching as he frustratedly put them away. “S’okay Steve, at least we have sandwiches and beer.”

“The most important food groups.” nodding sagely, he handed you a bottle and clinked it against his own lightly.

“Cheers. To not dying?”

Steve hooked an arm around your waist, pulling you closer until you were side by side on the blanket, squishing together. Your mind went haywire, suddenly all too aware of how big you were and just how much of you touched him. How much his fingers sank into your sides. “To my amazing, beautiful personal nurse.”

But you were a million miles away and frozen ridgid next to him, suddenly shattered. Sometimes it was so easy to forget, especially with Steve, but then one tiny thing would take you back, spiraling into a web of shame and self-loathing. The static cleared for a second when he cupped your face, his concerned eyes swimming to the surface of your mind.

“Sweetheart?”

He wasn’t smiling anymore, his lips pursed in worry, scanning your face for a clue. You forced yourself to speak, lead in your chest.

“Do you really think I’m pretty?” You meant it to come out teasingly, but it wasn’t anything more than a choked whisper, and you watched Steve’s expression as his heart broke. It made you feel worse. It melted into determination a second later, and before you could stop him he was gripping one of your thighs and dragging you into his lap while you squealed.

“Steve!” You gasped, and he grinned cheekily, adjusting himself before diving in for a kiss. It was messy and quick, the sudden rush of cold air leaving you light-headed when he pulled back a few inches, pressing his forehead to yours.

“I think…” He hummed, squeezing your thighs before running his palms roughly up your sides, tracing the curves of your torso clumsily in his hurry, “that you’re the most beautiful girl I've ever laid eyes on.” your breath caught, and tears welled up in your eyes even as you shoved him away slightly.

“That’s such a line.”

“Just the truth, honey. Call it like I see it.” Honey. Oh, that was new. The domesticity of it felt good, and already your doubts were receding, just a little. Steve kissed you again, just a soft peck at the corner of your lips before he whispered, “Come swim with me?”

“In the lake?” you fully pulled away, staring at him incredulously. He was dead serious, if his face was anything to go by.

“I mean, we’re here…”

“I didn’t bring a suit.” his honeyed eyes sparkled with mirth and heat, hands still roaming your soft sides while he spoke.

“That’s funny, me neither. I’m sure we could find a really good way around that.” He was eyeing the gauzy white dress you were wearing like he was already imagining it slung over a tree branch.

“I’m pretty sure skinny dipping has an implied meaning…” he stopped his hands cold on your thighs, frowning, and you bit your lip, embarrassed that you had let such a petty comment through; Steve had never made you feel unwanted, far from it, but you couldn’t stop yourself.

“It means skin, and I’d love to see a lot more of yours.” his fingers played with the hem of your dress, dragging against the flesh just underneath, teasing and light. Breath catching and stomach flipping, you chewed on your bottom lip, Steve watching with rapt attention, brown eyes half-lidded and adoring. “C’mon, gorgeous. 10 minutes.”

Steve made it hard to feel self-conscious around him, especially when he was all over you like this, begging for a glimpse under your clothes. But still you shook your head, a smile starting to crack your somber face. He saw it, his own 100 watts bright as he realized it was working.

“I don’t wanna swim naked, Steve. Like, in general. What if someone came up here?” You defended, and he pulled you even closer in his lap, starting to press kisses all over your face.

“They’d get to see the hottest babe in the world having fun?” You laughed again, resistance flooding out of you as he held you even tighter. You were stomach to stomach now, something that probably would have given you heart palpitations in high school, but you took a deep breath and brought your arms around his neck. “Anyone would be lucky to even catch a glimpse, ‘n I get your pretty body all to myself? Feels like I won the jackpot. I’m not joking.”

“I know you’re not.”

When you nuzzled closer, Steve knew he’d won in his own way, even if you didn’t end up going swimming. That didn’t mean he had to stop trying to bribe you, though. He mouthed at your jaw, moving up quickly to nibble on your earlobe, with one finger hooked into the puff sleeve of your dress, dragging it tantalizingly slowly down your shoulder. His lips traced a path from your throat to the skin he’d exposed, and you sighed softly, threading your fingers through his hair and closing your eyes.

“Stevie…”

“Mm, little busy here baby.” His indulgent words were muffled against your skin and you giggled, squirming underneath him. You felt him laugh more than you heard it, pressed so close the deep vibrations of his chest echoed in yours. “You know, I’d have to stop if-”

“Shut up. I’m not going swimming with you.” groaning, he dug his teeth into your shoulder playfully, ripping a sudden gasp from you, eyes fluttering open in shock; Steve whipped his head up to lock gazes with you, an almost predatory grin splitting his face open.

“You like that?” murmuring heatedly, his hands trailed up and down your plush sides, occasionally moving low enough to grab handfuls of your thighs and leaving fire in their wake. How he expected you to respond with his hands all over you, mouth on your throat, you had no idea. Your brain was mush, senses both overwhelmed and desperate for more. Before you could even string two words together his mouth was on yours, more commanding this time, teeth and tongue and desperate breathing; While he had you distracted with his attention, he’d rucked your dress up to the tops of your thighs, lovingly tracing the stretch marks on the back of them.

Steve broke the kiss far earlier than you would have wanted, a little out of breath but still clearly on a mission, and you whined, wrapping your arms a little tighter around his neck to keep him close. With his eyes still closed and forehead now resting on your shoulder, he said, “So is that still a no on the skinny dipping, or…”

“You know, Lovers Lake is probably so gross. Imagine how many condoms and used needles are in there.” you wrinkled your nose, mood totally ruined; Steve seemed to agree.

“Wow, that’s sexy. You’re really getting me going here.” he pulled your dress back down your thighs neatly, though that didn’t stop him from immediately shoving his hands under the hem again, like he just couldn’t resist touching the skin underneath.

“You’re welcome.” He huffed against your skin, but you could feel his smile as he pressed a final open-mouthed kiss to your collar, tilting his head back a little to stare at you.

“What?”

He shook his head slowly, dark brown eyes never leaving your face, doe-eyed and soft. You stared back, studying the way his soft lashes framed his eyes, the beauty marks scattered all over his tanned skin, a thatch of dark chest hair peeking out from his unbuttoned polo; The green light dappling through the leaves scattered over his face casting him in a gold and emerald glow. Steve, totally oblivious to his effect on you, leaned towards you, tilting his head and looking at you through his thick lashes, wisps of hair falling forward and into his eyes.

“What are you thinking?” he asked, voice heavy. He was clearly waiting for a cue, a go ahead to kiss you again; you initiated instead, moving against him like you were trying to taste every bit of him before clumsily moving off his lap. He nearly growled in complaint, a rumble of displeasure coming from deep in his chest as he grasped at your hips, and you laughed into his mouth before breaking the searing kiss and standing up, legs shaky. He joined you a second after, steadying hand on your back as you wobbled; you shot him a grateful smile.

That every shitty guy I dealt with has been worth it.

“I’m thinking that you have a pool, and I have a bikini.” You said suggestively, and the hand on the small of your back moved to wrap around your side.

Astonished, Steve asked, “You do? Why didn’t I know this?”

“Why would you know? No one does.” Except for Claire, who had forced you to buy the damn thing at the mall, insisting that you might need it someday. Add that to the list of things you should thank her for, and would if she wasn’t always so smug about it.

“But I would have wanted to see. C’mon, we’re burning daylight, I wanna get a good view!” You laughed, Steve hustling to the car with the basket in one hand and the picnic blanket in the other. His hand didn’t leave your thigh once the entire drive home.

Made With Love

“I have a present for you.”

Steve was just showing up at your house for movie night, barely starting to take his shoes off in the entrance when you blurted it, unable to contain the excitement any longer. You’d been working on it in secret for months; since your third date, if you were honest, and finally you’d finished it the day before he was coming over.

“That’s a pretty good hello.” without missing a beat, he stepped forward and wrapped you up in a bear hug, and you instantly relaxed into him like you were always meant to be there. You crushed your face into his chest and inhaled the scent of his cologne, a hint of his sweat underneath melding with it into a smell that was uniquely him.

‘Hi.”

“Hey, Honey.” You felt him kiss the crown of your head before he pulled back a little, taking your face in his hands and pulling you away from his chest to brush his lips over yours. He gave you his typical winning smirk. “You got me a gift?”

“Correction, I made you a gift.” his hold on your jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, and his mischievous face broke open with affection and uncertainty.

“You didn’t have to.” he whispered, like he was surprised that you’d even considered doing more than the bare minimum for him; you wondered how often he got gifts from anyone at all.

Dating him, you realized that Steve hadn’t ever had someone to do things just because they cared about him, or wanted to see him smile; there were tiny strings attached to every kind of love Steve had known, except for Dustin and the other kids, and even then it wasn’t the same. They adored him, even if they didn’t want to admit it, but he was the mentor, the giver, and it both touched and saddened you that Steve gave them something he’d never had himself, from his parents or anyone else.

You were determined to give that to him, in whatever ways you could, so you just smiled and said, sweet as you could, “I wanted to.”

“Fuck. You know I-” he cut himself off quickly, turning red, “-thank you. Really, it means a lot.” His voice was hoarse like he was already fighting off tears and you nodded so you didn’t push him, kissing his cheek and returning to the bags he’d stepped in with while he stood frozen in the archway.

“So, what movies did you bring?”

It took 10 minutes and a lot of whining from him, but you made sure everything was set up for movie night before you brought the gift to Steve, no matter how eager he was. You’d wanted it to be casual; there was no anniversary or anything important going on, you’d just wanted to do something nice for him and you didn’t want him to feel like it was a big deal.

The point seemed moot when you passed him the white gift box and he was practically vibrating off the couch with barely contained excitement. Within seconds he tore off the lid and threw it aside, shushing you when you snickered at him.

Being able to watch his face shift as he realized what was in the box, like clouds breaking in the sky to reveal the sun, was more than enough payment for all of the work you’d put in for this moment.

“You’re serious?” he looked from the box back to you, then back to the box before pulling out the contents and holding it up to see it fully. You’d thought about making him a scarf, so he didn’t have to lie about needing one anymore, but you’d wanted to give him something he’d actually wear; plus, you had a promise to keep.

“I told you you’d be wearing one of my jackets one day, babe.” you reminded him, grin splitting your face open while he twisted it all around, looking at it from every angle, mouth gaping open in shock. It was a relatively simple looking windbreaker, navy and white and fitted to his measurements; you’d had to steal quite a few jackets until you’d gotten the fit you needed, but it was clearly worth it when Steve was staring at it like you’d handed him a fallen star. You’d even taken the time to sew in your own label to really make it yours, as well as his.

“You made this? For me?” You couldn’t identify the emotion in his voice, tight and strained, but you nodded, placing a kiss on his cheek; he didn’t look away for a second, putting the coat down in his lap and running his hands over the sleeves, like he couldn’t quite believe it was real.

“Just for you.” You confirmed, and he took one hand off of the jacket to pull you in by the waist, still without looking. You snuggled into his side, adding, “Made with love.” without thinking. Steve finally turned to look at you, eyes shiny with tears, clutching the jacket in his fist; your breath caught, and you instinctively reached up to cradle his jaw, tracing lines between his beauty marks with your fingers. He took a deep, shuddery breath and closed his eyes.

“Made with love, huh? You love me?” Despite his cocky phrasing, Steve’s voice shook slightly with fear, like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop, and you instantly knew why; Nancy and Steve were on good terms now, but you’d heard enough to piece together a few of the ways they’d hurt each other. He’d never told you much about the breakup, but you knew she was drunk, and angry, and said some things that had stayed with him ever since, no matter how badly you tried to wash it away.

“Of course I do.” You responded like there was never any doubt at all, and there wasn’t; You knew the moment you’d spoken it was true, it had been since your first date, draping you in a jacket he brought just for you, pulling you close at your door without any motives and promising he’d always give you what you wanted. He hadn’t broken that promise yet, and you doubted he ever would. You swiped your thumb under his eye, catching a single stray tear, and he gave you a sheepish grin.

“Thank you.” he murmured, pulling you closer to his side and inclining his chin to meet your mouth with his own; He tasted like chapstick-probably one he stole from you-and you could feel a flicker of fire in your stomach when he parted your lips with his tongue, gentle but insistent, running his hands through your hair and delicately over your arms and back like he was reveling in it. He pulled you onto him suddenly, swinging one of your legs over his so you could straddle his lap without breaking the kiss, the jacket crushed between you both as you pressed together, desperate to be as close as possible.

When you finally pulled yourself away, turning your head quickly so he couldn’t chase your lips, Steve whined. He looked amazing, lips red and slightly shiny with spit, parted just a bit so he could gasp for air, hair mussed from your hands, eyes wide and bright and so obviously in love it made you ache, toes curling in your socks. His eyelids fluttered for a second, like he was getting his bearings, and then he was smiling dopily at you, hugging you against his chest and pressing heated kisses along your jaw and down the curve of your throat, humming against you.

“Fuck. Love you so much, pretty girl. Just been waiting to hear you say it, you wouldn’t believe how long I waited. Worth every second.” he babbled against your skin adoringly, his teeth gently scraping your neck and tickling you; you giggled, pressing your face into his shoulder out of embarrassment, letting him trail his hands up your back soothingly. “Don’t get all embarrassed, I’m trying to be cute here.”

“You are being cute, that’s why I’m embarrassed!”

He laughed, shaking his head slightly. The mood shifted from playful to serious in the silence, and he started again. “Seriously, thank you. It’s-I… no one has ever done something like this for me.” He admitted, and you pulled away to look at him again- his eyes were downcast, staring into his lap where the jacket was crumpled between your stomachs. You scooted back a little and pulled it out from between you two, laying it neatly on the couch cushion next to you. He watched you silently before continuing, “I know I say that a lot, but it’s true, yknow?”

“I know.” You didn’t elaborate, and neither did he.

“I really do love you.” He clarified, and your chest swelled with pride; you had no idea what you’d done to deserve Steve, but you thanked whatever cosmic fate pushed him into your store for this moment, looking down at his honey-sweet smile while he professed his love on your parents couch. “We should elope.”

“Give me time to make the dress, okay?” you teased, and he leaned up to meet you again, laughing against your lips, starting to smile so big you couldn’t keep kissing him. You both settled again, resting your head on his shoulder while he traced patterns down your curves. “I love you too, Stevie.” you sighed, voice thick with emotion, and he pressed his cheek against your head, curling inwards so you could press yourself even close against him- you did, greedily.

“I know.” He repeated, voice was firm and solid, no trace left of the doubt from before, and you pressed a kiss to his collarbone in response.

“Good.” you followed his eyes back to the jacket next to you both, and you smiled a little. “You really like it?”

“I love it, baby.” He grabbed it, quickly throwing it over his shoulders and settling his hands on your hips, relaxing back into the couch. “How’s it look? As good as you dreamed?”

“Even better. I’m gonna have to start filling your wardrobe.” He visibly perked up at the idea and you giggled, brushing the tip of your nose against his and giving him another quick, sloppy kiss before clumsily climbing off of his lap to start the movie despite his protests.

You returned, settling yourself back into his lap without even thinking, and he sighed happily, resting his chin on your shoulder and wrapping his arms around you. You’d never thought you’d be comfortable enough with someone to be this close, but Steve made it so easy; it was shocking how wanted he made you feel with just a few touches.

Without looking away from the screen you reached back and rested your hand on his cheek, running your thumb over the apple of it and murmuring “Thank you, Stevie.” You knew you didn’t have to say what for; Steve always knew when it came to you.

“Nothing to be thankful for,” He breathed into your ear, kissing the skin just behind it. You felt his smirk, and then he mumbled “So are you gonna make me that scarf, or…?”

[beels-burger-babe]

A Pain You'll Soon Regret - Pt. 2

Poly! MC Summary: MC and the demon lords get in a fight resulting in MC leaving. They planned on going to Purgatory Hall until things cool off, but they never quite make it there. Ft. Poly!MC

TW: Heavy Angst, Violence, I don't know what to tag this, but there is a pretty nasty verbal fight, Gore/Injury Vomit Part 1: HERE, Part 3: HERE, Part 4: HERE

Meanwhile at the House of Lamentation

Your leaving hadn't made the situation at the House any better. Asmodeus threw his hands up in the air and glared at the rest. "Great! Just wonderful! Now they've run off. Happy now?" venom filled his words, but he could feel his heart race in fear that he had just lost the one person who loved him for more than his looks. Satan scoffed, though he glanced at the door through the corner of his eyes. "Don't act like you're better than us. I didn't see you standing up for them." Levi growled and went straight to his room as Satan and Asmodeus began to argue. Beel took a step towards to door you had just marched out of and glance between it and his brothers. "Should we go after them? It's dark and they're drunk."

Lucifer lifted his chin as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Why should we? It's like they said, they don't want to depend on us anymore, fine. Let them see for themself how far they get without our protection," with those words, Lucifer turned on his heel and stormed to his office.

Beel sighed and looked at Belphie, "What do you think? We can go get them together?" Belphie stared at the door for a minute, a guilty look in his eyes, before he shook his head. "Give them space, Beel. They're probably heading for Purgatory Hall. Simeon and the others can take care of them for tonight. Right now we all just need to calm down before facing each other again," he patted his twin's shoulder before heading to their room; regret swirling in his stomach as he thought of how he betrayed you once more.

Mammon stood frozen staring at the door like he still hadn't made up his mind on what he wanted to do. His instincts screamed at him to get you back in his arms and keep you there. You were his human, reckless or not, and he had a duty to protect you both as your assigned protector and as your boyfriend. But for some reason, he couldn't seem to move his feet. His mind replayed the discussion in his head over and over again. He had once told MC that if they couldn't be saved by him, to make sure that they died. That he was the only one allowed to protect them. Tonight, as everyone was fighting, MC needed him to protect them, but instead, he pushed them towards the wolves. He let his greed get the best of him. "Fuck," Mammon cursed to himself as he shook himself out of his thoughts. He glanced over to see Beel restraining Satan from pouncing onto a sneering Asmodeus. He sighed and shook his head. They hadn't fought like this in a long time. You had always been there to put them into their place. Now look at them. Mammon groaned and ran a hand over his face. "Will you guys cut it out? MC is gone, okay? Ain't nothin' we can do about it now," to his surprise, his younger brothers actually stopped and seemed to be listening to him. Mammon huffed and began walking towards the stairs. "It's like Belphie said. We ain't in no place to make things better right now. Fightin' like this is what got us in this position, so quit it. Get some sleep. We'll figure it all in the mornin'." Beel, Satan and Asmodeus blinked at their older brother as he disappeared upstairs. Seeing Mammon mature and take control of the situation like that, was strange, but not unfamiliar. Asmodeus massaged his temples with one hand and fixed his hair with the other. "Ugh, all this fighting is going to be horrid for my skin," he glanced at the door one more time with a defeated look before heading towards his room. Satan clenched and unclenched his hands a couple of times, taking a few deep breaths, before silently nodding at Beel and walking away. All alone, Beel stepped towards the door. He opened it and looked out at the dark vast of the Devildom before him. With a heavy, guilty heart, he closed the door and pressed his forehead against it. He used one hand to lock the door for the evening, while the other pulled out his D.D.D. The others didn't want him going after you, but a message couldn't hurt, right? He opened your contact and wrote out his text, "Hey MC. I'm sorry for how things happened tonight. Things got out of hand, and I'm sorry for not doing anything to stop that. I know you and the others are upset right now, but I was hoping that tomorrow, once we're all calm, you could come back home and we could talk about it?" Beel sat by the door for half an hour waiting for a response, but none ever came. He frowned and glanced up at the locked door handle before shaking his head. "Maybe they left it on silent for a bit," he mumbled to himself before picking up his phone once more. "Text me when you get to Purgatory Hall. You don't need to say anything else. I just want to know you're safe." With that, Beel headed towards the gym. He wasn't tired. He wasn't hungry. He just wanted you home, but he couldn't have that. So in the meantime, he'd stay awake until he at least knew you were safe.

Only the morning came and went, and there was no word from you. The brothers were starting to get concerned. No matter what was said last night, they still loved you. You all needed to talk, yes, and things needed to be worked out, but that didn't change how they felt for you. They would never want to see you hurt. Lucifer had reached out to Simeon, while Asmodeus contacted Solomon and Beel texted Luke. Only Beel received a response. "Never contact me again. If you come anywhere near Purgatory Hall, I will not hesitate to smite you in an instant, you foul fiend?" Satan read out loud as he passed the phone back to a very confused and worried Beel. "What in the world did you do to him?" "Nothing. At least, I don't think," he thought about for a second. "I've stolen his baked goods on occasion, but besides complaining about as I did it, he never seemed to hold a grudge." Lucifer frowned deeply. "This is clearly about MC. Luke has taken to them as though they're his older sibling."

Levi scowled and pressed a few buttons on his game. "Sure they aren't dating him too?" he yelped as Asmodeus smacked him on the back of the head. "Stop it," Asmodeus growled. "I know you're the Avatar of Envy, Levi, but MC was open and honest with us. They told us that they loved us all and that they wanted a relationship with all of us. We all listened to what they offered and agreed. You agreed to this!"

Levi huffed and put down his game. "Because it was better than not having them at all!" he sighed and put an arm over his face. "I know that they love me, and them being with a-all of us doesn't change that, but it's so hard sometimes. I-I-I just-" "Want 'em to yourself?" Mammon provided. Levi blushed and nodded in response. Mammon shrugged and sat down beside him. "We all understand that Levi. This is somethin' new for all of us. When I see MC bein' sweet with you guys I get this urge to just rip 'em off ya and hold 'em tight in my arms where ya guys can never touch 'em again," he sighed and put a hand on Levi's shoulder, "but then I see MC smile at me the same way they smile at Beel or you or Lucifer. I know that when I'm holdin' them, they're thinkin' of me and they're there with me because they treasure our time together. It's hard sometimes, and it hurts to admit, but you guys make MC happy, and I can't take that away from them." He nudged his younger brother gently, "Neither can you." Everyone sat quietly as they thought of Mammon's words. "They always bring me snacks after my workouts," Beel said with a small smile. "They always seem to know when I'm hungry and would just whip out snacks out of nowhere." Satan leaned onto his knees from where he sat on his chair. "They ordered me their favourite books from the human world on Akuzon. They wanted to do a trade. I'd read their favourites and they'd read mine. That way we could learn a bit about each other just by reading something that the other loved and would understand one another a little better." Belphie tiredly rubbed his eyes and leaned against Beel. "They wake me up after all class and before any meals," he chuckled softly at the memory. "No matter how much I snarled or insulted them, they'd just put their hands on their hips and patiently wait for me to wake up so that I wouldn't miss any of my classes or any meals."

Asmodeus giggled and smiled brightly. "That alone proves how much of an angel they are. Your demon side really shows when you're woken up." The others laughed as Belphegor stuck his tongue out at Asmo. "They would always give me their opinion on my outfits. I know it seems impossible, but even I get torn between which outfit I should bless the public with sometimes. MC would always be the voice of reason to help me choose," his eyes softened, "Though they always said at the end that the most beautiful thing about me was my heart, something no one could see but radiated from the outside-in." Lucifer sighed, closing his eyes as he put aside his pride, and spoke. "They check on me in the middle of the night. I swear they have an alarm. They'll come into my office to see if I'm still awake. If I am, so long as the work isn't truly urgent, they'll poke my cheek and play with my hair until I give in and go to bed."

Everyone turned to Levi. The otaku's face was bright red as he avoided everyone's gaze. "Your turn, Levi," Mammon ordered. "Come on. I know that MC's super gentle with ya. Ya have to have somethin' to add." Leviathan pouted before mumbling. "They'll hold my hand when we're in crowds and in public because they know how anxious it makes me. If I start to freak out, they'll just gently squeeze my hand and pull me along until they can find a quiet space where I can calm down a bit," he groans and glares at Mammon. "What's your point?"

"His point," Satan began calmly, "is that MC loves us all equally. They take special care to do the little things to ensure that we all know that we are loved by them." Mammon nodded and pointed and Satan. "Exactly!" Lucifer hummed in thought. "Though this doesn't fix the problem of MC having no regard for their own safety." Everyone winced. There was no denying that. You admitted it yourself. You were reckless, and in a place like the Devildom, that kind of behaviour would get you killed one day. What would happen if you weren't with them one day? Just like you currently weren't. Memories of your storm out swirled in all of their heads, and concern pooled heavily in their stomachs. "Has anyone heard from them yet?" Belphie asked, looking uncharacteristically nervous. But then again, he was always protective of you as he never wanted you to get hurt again, especially since he had been responsible for so much of your pain in the past. Beel opened his mouth to respond when Asmodeus's D.D.D. went off. Everyone eagerly stood, as Asmo pulled out the device and answered it without checking. "MC? Are you alright?" "Put it on speaker!" Levi snapped, crowding as close to his brother as he could. Asmodeus nodded and quickly did as told. The voice that answered wasn't you, as they had all hoped, but rather Solomon. "I'm afraid they're not," the brother's felt their blood freeze at Solomon's words, as time seemed to stand still around them. Solomon's voice was cold and stern, showing his obvious anger at the demons. "I apologize for not contacting you all sooner, but I was spending every last second of my time and energy on trying to keep MC from dying of blood loss. That, and Luke is quite determined to keep the lot of you as far from MC as possible. If it was up to him I wouldn't even be calling you all right now. I, however, figured that you should at least be made aware of their condition." None of them heard a thing after the words "dying from blood loss" reached their ears. Lucifer took the D.D.D. from Asmo's shaking hands. "What happened? The last we saw them they-" "Presumably walked away from a fight with all of you and was trying to come to us. Yes. I'm aware. I read Beelzebub's texts on MC's phone," everyone glanced at Beel. His brows narrowed as he kept his eyes fixed on the D.D.D. "To answer your question, MC didn't make it to Purgatory Hall last night. They were jumped by a group of three demons who seemed to think that human would make a delectable midnight snack. What do you think, Beelzebub? Is that true? Is the taste of human flesh, really so delicious? I think I've heard you comment as much once or twice before you all began your relationship," Solomon spat the words accusingly. Fury danced on his tongue as though he was Wrath himself. Beel winced back and put a hand on his stomach as flipped inside of him. Belphie growled at the mention in his defence. "Stop dancing around the subject and get to the point. What happened? Are they okay?" The demons were surprised to hear a snarl come from the other end. "I already told you, they aren't. Luke had opened a window to air out some of the kitchens after he failed a new recipe he was trying out when he heard their screams. By the time we got there one of them had eaten half of their right leg, while was one biting along their shoulder, and the other was trying to choke them to death. Simeon and I were able to get the heathens off of them and incinerated them on the spot, but MC was already unconscious. While we were fighting the demons, Luke was just barely able to cast enough healing spells to stop the bleeding and stabilize them. Simeon and I have been working ever since on using every spell, charm, and potion that we know to keep them alive and somehow attempt to heal their injuries." At the mention of MC's leg have been mostly eaten, Beel turned and threw up on the ground. No one moved to comfort him, as they were too distracted by their own states of shock. "A-Are-" Mammon began to choke out before clearing his throat. "Are they

alive? Please tell me they're alive." The answer hung just out of their grasp. Waving dangerously above them like a deadly knife held up by a string. No matter what the response would be, all the brothers felt as though they may faint. "They're alive. Simeon had to use all his power to bring their blood count levels up to a healthy level, and their shoulder was dislocated, they most likely have a concussion going off of their head injury, not to mention their right leg was unsalvagable and had to be amputated, but yes. They are, at the very least, alive." Mammon joined Beel. Satan stood still, though he had changed into his demon form and the aura of pure wrath filled every cranny of the room. Asmodeus held a hand over his mouth as tears streamed steadily down his face. Leviathan had stumbled away from the group and was in the beginning stages of a panic attack. Belphie stared at the phone with a bewildered expression, his eyes pricked with tears, as though he couldn't believe the words coming from Solomon's mouth.

Lucifer was doing everything he could not to hurl the phone across the room.

Solomon continued. "Luke is currently watching them and making sure that they remain stable, while Simeon and I rest. As such, you will have no luck if you try to see them right now. I'll text you when I wake up and then you can come to see them," with that, Solomon hung up. Anxiety, grief, and remorse clung to each of the brothers like a new skin. Earlier they were arguing that all of them had your love, and because of that, all of them had nearly lost you. ***Duh duh duh!!! Part three to come. Part three will probably be the final part, but I don't know. Haven't quite figured out how this is going to end yet. Though a heads up, a may fill out another request before pt. 3 is up just to give me a break from the heavy angst. Thank you all so much for supporting me! And thank you to @millenniumofpain for the request!***

[hollyhomburg]

Reasons Wretched and Divine (Pt. 9)

(Yoon Min Joon x Reader) (Hybrid au) (Mafia au)

Summary: Why would yoongi run away? With your due date fast approaching- you don’t have much time to search for him.

Tags: birth (non-graphic), baby fluff, mommy issues, revenge, Dead bodies, violence, serious gore warning, knives, guns, discussions of death, non-consensual body modification, psychotic characters, hybrid abuse, physical abuse, implied sexual abuse,

W/c: 12.6k

Song rec: Txt - I know I love you

A/n: ah it’s been a while hasn’t it? honestly, I still have to re-read and work my way through reading the whole series to make sure I haven’t missed anything- but kudos to anyone who starts reading this after this chapter is released BECAUSE HOLY FUCK those first few chapters are so bad. wow, I didn’t know how to use commas back then huh. anyways! here is the long-awaited return!

Series Masterlist - Previous chapter

- It takes a little while to confirm that Yoongi really is gone, maybe forever, maybe for good.

- Though there isn’t much arguing with the note or the presence of his hat- you’d still kind of hoped that you were wrong. That Yoongi would pop out from around a tree or the line of a fence, grin and shake his head as if to say, “sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking.”

- You spend the morning tapping your foot on the front porch, one of the cat hybrids knitting a yellow baby blanket next to you while Jimin, Namjoon, and Taehyung comb the property, the barns, everywhere. The three of them had convinced you to stay back; their noses are infinitely more sensitive than yours. Jimin has walked both banks of the river to try and pick up his scent. Taehyung even walked the mile down the trail to the train tracks just to see if there was any sign of him.

-  And Namjoon, Namjoon had hunted Yoongi’s scent around in circles. Namjoon is a freaking police dog and yet, he can only smell Yoongi as far as the driveway. Nowhere else besides the toolshed either and his other habitual haunts. The other hints of Yoongi’s marshmallow scent are laid out thick and in confusing patterns; too many days of routine have made the differences near unrecognizable.

-  You sit there, Waiting anxiously. The cat hybrids plying you with lemonade and squares of lemon tart, feeling like the world is falling down around you without Yoongi there to hold it up. Your baby doesn’t seem to be able to quiet down either- kicking uncomfortably and hitting your ribs more often than not. Maybe they sense the fact that you’re unhappy or that something's wrong.

- Around three they return to the house, ears and tails hanging low, and you stand, one hand on your stomach and one on the railing. You and Namjoon lock eyes and from where he stands, a few feet below you on the grass, you see one tear carve its way down his sweaty cheek, he shakes his head, jaw pinching to keep in sobs, dimples turned down

- You descend the stairs, hold him close, your big burly puppy who nuzzles into your hand finally broken down because no- Yoongi couldn’t be gone- Yoongi couldn’t just have disappeared like that, like smoke through your fingers.

- Maybe last night was just too much- maybe you pushed him and he didn’t feel safe or maybe he felt like he had to leave or else be sucked into something he didn’t want. Whatever the case- you’re not giving up so easily.

- You search the nearby towns too, Tae sits in the back of the car, clutching Jimin’s hand as they slowly comb through the streets of a nearby town. The mood somber, nothing but faint static playing from the radio and shivers that dust Jimin’s arms like phantom touches. You can’t stop looking at Jimin in your rearview mirror.

- He looks frozen, his eyes glassy like he hasn’t accepted that Yoongi’s gone yet. His hand trembles on the door handle, ready to jump out the second he sees anyone that might resemble him wandering the streets. He actually does, nearly twisting his ankle as he loses his balance when he drops from your slow-moving car. 

- Jimin’s got a photo of Yoongi, one of the few pictures that you ever took of your snake, and you show it to any willing stranger searching their faces for signs of recognition or pity- anything to give you hope. 

- A zoomed-in one of Yoongi’s face that you’d taken while he’d slept, the green blanket that still sits on your couch tucked under his chin.

- It makes you cry when you finally give up for the day, the street lights flickering on and your ankles swelling to a point where Namjoon frets but does not force you to stop, just sit in the truck. You finally agree to go home, feeling red-eyed and stiff limbed, like sadness and fear have settled in your muscles like rigor mortis. You leave your name and number at every establishment in town, but you don't know what good (if any) it will do.

- No one there has seen hide or hair of Yoongi; some of them even scoff and turn up their nose at you and your hybrids. Because who gives a fuck about a hybrid that’s run away, those are a dime a dozen. Their disdain is nothing you’re not used to but right now it feels even more like a slap in the face than usual.

- You end up feeling Frustrated. Because you need help and no one is giving it. 

- By the end of the second day, Namjoon is even desperate enough to call up his old police chief. But the man doesn’t have any encouraging words to say; if anything- it only makes Namjoon angry (and significantly guilty). “It kind of sounds like he wanted to leave pup. Who are you to stop him?” Hand going white around the phone with how hard he’s holding it. Namjoon hangs up, he doesn’t care how rude it is- his old partner deserves it.

- He’s in your nursery, and he slams down his hands on the windowsill. Knocking the little window charm that yoongi got you onto the floor where it cracks. You stoop to pick up the pieces, the round end of a cherry and two pieces of green- one of the stained glass leaves.

- Jimin (folding some new baby clothes to put them away in the two dressers) makes a displeased noise when you bend over (a whole ordeal when you're as pregnant as you are) Namjoon holds your hand, and you ignore his protests and keep leaning even though he says a little "I've got it."

- The baby clothes are just a gift from one of your relatives who had insisted on sending you them even though you’d been clear on your intentions not to throw a baby shower. Most of your family hasn’t been keen on your hybrid heavy lifestyle. But since most of them live so far away- it hasn’t been too much of an issue. Your relationship with them had never been great, but you'd made it clear to them that if they wanted to see your baby after it was born they'd need to come to you, you can't leave the farm unattended.

- Though soon, you will- your due date is fast approaching.

- Namjoon instantly feels guilty when confronted with the shattered ornament- that was a gift from Yoongi. One of very few and now it’s broken. You can’t handle looking at it and shove its pieces into a drawer in his room so that you don’t have to think about what else you might have broken.

- That night when you get home, you’re too upset to calm down, tears and little sniffles echoing from your chest where there is a Yoongi shaped space. Filling the house with the smell of ‘mate- mate upset- soothe mate” makes Namjoon and Jimin’s instincts go haywire. Without Yoongi’s soothing marshmallow scent- it feels like they have less control over their instincts (or maybe its easier to rely on the parts of them that are more animal than human when things feel so scary and unsafe)

- Namjoon lays his hand directly on your baby bump and guides you through some calming breaths, while Jimin wraps his arms loosely around your shoulders, leaning his cheek against the back of your head, unable to do anything more. Shoving down his whines because he knows they won't help. He rubs his knuckles into the spot on your lower back- the one that he knows has been hurting recently.

- But it’s barely any use. The breaths won’t stop coming. You can’t imagine why Yoongi would leave, trying to figure out what you did wrong. And you can’t place it. - Suspicious lurks under your veins like a snake poised to strike. There must have been some other reason, why else would Yoongi’s scent stop in the driveway if someone else hadn’t taken him away? But the only thing that gives your theory any pause is the fact that Namjoon hasn’t said it- none of the pups have.

- You’re the only one who can’t smell what might have happened to him and yet- you can't get the idea that someone must have happened to Yoongi. It’s probably foolish, the idea of someone come to steal him away but then again-

- Stranger things have happened in the last few months, and you're not an idiot. You’ve had a dead body and a snake dropped at your front door. You get the feeling that both of them weren’t meant as a message for you- but Yoongi. But you don’t think you’ll figure out what happened unless Yoongi comes home.

- The day after a tragedy is always foggy, slow in its stillness, and slowly fading hope. You sit in the kitchen at the prep table with Yoongi’s hat on the chair beside you, jumping up any time there is a ringing at the phone. But the call that you’re waiting for never comes. For most of the day, Namjoon and Jimin bookend you. Waiting, waiting and waiting- for nothing, just to see the sunset on the second day.

- That night jimin hears you crying in your bedroom and hovers outside your door before he decided that he better not interrupt, of course, Namjoon would be there to comfort you, and Jimin- Jimin would just be an addition. He wouldn't want to give you another person to comfort when he might not be capable of being a rock right now.

- Sleeping arrangements have been off and on. Yesterday, he fell asleep in his sunroom early- intending on only taking a nap until he woke up the following morning feeling the opposite of well-rested. As exhausted emotionally as he was physically.

- He thinks- maybe- maybe he needs distance, maybe this is what it feels like when you fall too fast and too hard. But when he wakes the next morning to find Namjoon siring more sugar than he usually does into his coffee, his eyes puffy from crying too- he knows he's chosen wrong, that what you needed was a lack of space.

- After that, Jimin makes sure he sleeps in your bed, sometimes on Namjoon’s side, sometimes on yours. He falls asleep with your head on one shoulder and Namjoon tucked in close to the other. His tail thumping on the bedspread, nose squishing and ears twitching with every little noise in the house.

- It’s pity little that he can do but the soothing circles he rubs onto your aching shoulders to help you sleep easier, physical affection might be a little easier for jimin to give than emotional support. At least he can hold you when you shake through nightmares, of Yoongi somewhere, cold and alone and afraid. You can’t shake the feeling that he’s just- not safe. Maybe it's just your newly budding maternal instincts.

- Jimin takes to caring for you and Namjoon when it’s clear you’ve let your usual routines slip without Yoongi there. He encourages you to go out in the garden for an hour to pick some vegetables, just to get you out of the house. He makes sure Namjoon showers probably more than he wants to but still.

-Jimin showers with him the first time, whips his golden skin clean of dirt and grime, hoping that his little kisses can soothe away the ache of his hurting muscles if he can’t soothe the ache of Namjoon’s heart. But though they kiss and touch each other like lovers would, easy deft movements, something is missing there that wasn’t gone before. A lingering sweetness that says this connection is shared- under-ripe like a green tomato.

- They both miss Yoongi a little too much at first to remember what it’s like to properly love each other (not that they’d ever really gotten used to it in the first place, but jimin had been excited for it to feel familiar).

- Jimin doesn’t feel neglected by you and Namjoon- it’s just a hard time for the three of you. Jimin feels numb for the first few days, too preoccupied with what everyone else might be feeling to address his own emotions and what he might be feeling.

- The loss of Yoongi doesn’t really hit jimin until a few days after; out in the garden while you sit in the swing, your legs pulled up as far as your stomach will allow them. and jimin sees the tomatoes untouched in the basket, the kind that Yoongi would have popped into his mouth by the handful, his cute fangs puncturing the red suns early to make them spill down his cheeks. They sit untouched and increasing in number by the minute as Jimin adds to them. Too many for just himself to eat.

- Namjoon had been lingering, as he’s been doing for the last few days, rushing forward at the first shaky exhale from jimin’s chest, to crush the pup- with his face against his shoulder without a word. His hands curling in the back of Namjoon’s hair as Namjoon huffs a heavy breath, and then starts crying in earnest. Crying with Jimin- heart broke open too.

- “I’m so fucking worried- what if he's hurt or alone and he thinks we're not looking for him, why did he leave? What if he…what if he doesn’t come back?” Jimin’s voice breaks, confesses his deepest worries into the safe cleft of Namjoon’s collarbones. Namjoon will always be a safe harbor for jimin to come and moor. It’s not safe- it’s not safe for any hybrid out there alone- and without a pack. Especially not for Yoongi- his softness- so easily confused with coldness- the world doesn’t know him like the three of you do. And that’s maybe the scariest thing.

- Jimin had expected him to come back by now, had hoped his absence would only be temporary. None of you have a good answer to jimin’s questions and Jimin can’t think about Yoongi- can’t daydream about him, can’t turn to look for him to make some comment. He feels Yoongi’s absence so keenly it might as well be his own heart gone.

- He’d become so used to the snake hybrids' quiet presence, even more, used to the quiet way he’d love. Yoongi had always been fantastic at showing the others how much he loved them. Even if he'd never said the words. Jimin had known, you'd known, and so had Namjoon. His love a special thing, like a butterfly or a bumblebee come to sit next to you in the garden. Something that only gentleness gets you, the quiet love that growing things have for the sun.

- Min Yoongi was your sun, and now your flowers point aimlessly in every direction.

- None of you are sure if he will, and after the first few weeks when no one calls and your missing fliers go unanswered, it's clear that you have more pressing issues on your mind. The day after you go to the nearest city and hang up missing fliers: you go into labor.

- It's too soon- two weeks before your due date and still, you’re underneath the hot midday sun, all alone in the fields investigating a patch of what looks like sprouted beans, probably self-seeded from your garden a spare 100 feet away, when a sudden gush of liquid between your legs alerts you to the fact that- your life is about to change for good.

- You honestly should have known this was going to happen today. Both Jimin and Namjoon had been tripping over themselves to be close to you all morning. Scent marking you copiously, nipping at your neck and your ears and not let you get more than a few feet away before their protective instincts had them pulling you back with growls turned whines.

- It’d been cute the first 5 times but after that, you’d needed some space from them. In fact, All of the hybrids had seemed agitated this morning more than one of them snapping at one point over breakfast, all hackles raised, something in the air that had them all twitching.

- It all makes sense now though. Starting down at the wet grass. Must have been your pheromones.

- When the first rush of wind carries your scent in the direction of the barns, Seokjin comes running. He can smell your fear from a mile away- cloying and sensitive. He shouts and a nimble tiger hybrid runs to get Namjoon and Jimin. Darting up the hill faster than human legs could carry a man.

- But Seokjin is there, a comforting presence at your side. "It’s gonna be okay, come on, you're gonna be fine," his hands steady as he helps you over potholes and unseen rocks in the tall grass, navigating you back to the path trampling over the flowers with little thought to them.

- Namjoon is so shocked when the shout comes over the hills, dashing as fast as she can and yelling for Namjoon at the top of her lungs, a small army of pups following her too. Appearing from the underbrush little kits with floppy ears and pups running in a gaggle. Chatting about a new pup.

- A new pup- Namjoon's pup, come at last.

- Several other groups get drawn to the house by the shouting, rushing to see the commotion. Several of the cat hybrids Flank you and Seokjin, who guides you with an arm wrapped under your shoulders, half carrying you half guiding you through your breaths. Hoseok's not too far behind looking so pale he might be about to pass out. Rounded ears pressed tight to his skull. Everyone is a mixture of agitated and excited and-

- And Namjoon looks at you and knows he's about to be a dad. You're both about to become parents.

- Jimin knows what’s happening the second he sees your panicked face, running to snatch up your maternity bag that you’d put together and left by the door in case this very thing happened.

- He makes it back to the car before you’re both even upon each other, bouncing on his heels equal parts excited and afraid. Namjoon's panicked voice filling the driveway with the muttering of the gathered hybrids “Are you sure!? The ob-gyn said it wouldn’t be that abnormal for you to go past your due date and-”

- “Yes I’m sure!!” you yell as you squeeze Seokjin’s hand incredibly tight, enough that he winces. Your knees giving out as another contraction strikes you- the worst pain you think you’ll ever feel racks your abdomen again, Several hybrids reach out to make sure you don’t actually fall but Namjoon’s the one that scoops you up into his arms, heaving you up like you weigh nothing. A growl ringing out at the others who reach for you.

- “Namjoon” Seokjin voice cuts through his panic. Mate- mate hurt- mate needs help- Pup’s here, instincts taking over when his human brain is so preoccupied with fear. “You need to take her to the hospital.” You look at the alpaca hybrid- thankful.

- The other hybrids hover, unsure of how they should help as Jimin opens the car door and Namjoon sets you in the passenger seat. (No way he was going to have you drive yourself to the hospital while you were in active labor). You'd agreed on this beforehand and yet-

- “Are you sure you’re okay to drive?” Jimin asks as Namjoon buckles you in, you’re breathing out through your nose, jaw clenched. “Yes I’m Sure,” Namjoon says, but Jimin can see his nervousness in his eyes, the horrible quivering worry that fixes on his face when it comes to you- to this. Ears pressed tight to his skull

- Taehyung runs up the hill, his red hat tossed onto the gravel as he almost bowls over a wolf hybrid, skidding to a stop as he takes in the scene. “I’ve got this- just go- what the fuck are you still doing here? Namjoon- go-" so panicked- the opposite of the easy countenance you’ve seen in Tae.

- Your drawn scared face, sweat beating at your temples, and Jimin makes a split-second decision, especially when you grab his hand through the open window and squeeze it as tight as you did during your first contractions.

- “I’m coming,” he says, (not that he was ever really planning on not coming) opening the door up and climbing over you to sit in the middle. Internally judging that he was not going to make you scoot in, the passenger seat is safer than the middle one anyway (Jimin might not have the most confidence in Namjoon’s driving skills. But at least now he can grab at the steering wheel if he needs to.)

- Both you and Namjoon heave a sigh of relief when jimin gets in; he quickly pulls up the directions to the hospital on your phone. Dictating to Namjoon as you pull out of the farm.

- “I have no idea how long one mile is jimin”

- “I know but 3/4ths of a mile now before you’ve got to turn”

-“If I don’t know how long one mile is how the fuck would I know how long 75% of one is”

-“If you both don’t shut the fuck up I’m I’ll let you know what 100% of a distressed pregnant woman sounds like!” you shout through gritted teeth as another slightly less intense contraction wracks your frame.

-The hospital is luckily a very safe drive away, a good 10 miles down a route with no need to get on the highway. As it is, Namjoon puts the flashers on even if you have another contraction during the drive, and Namjoon breaks at a green light because of it, getting middle fingers and a chorus of honks from the cars behinds him. Namjoon is trembling like a leaf, equal parts excitement and fear- fear because

- Because Namjoon is about to become a dad.  You’re both about to become parents.

- Your obstetrician is a very kind woman who seems entirely unprepared to handle two very agitated hybrids that want to get into the birthing room. But she won't let them in to see you no matter what they say- and she has your orders not to do so, something that Jimin had heard you and Namjoon argue over countless times before this day but had never bothered to really consider until he was here and smelling you- the distress filled waiting room of other distressed men and family members

- He didn’t understand how hard it would be to hear your muffled cries and do nothing. Namjoon is about ready to start pushing people away to get to you.

- But you just didn’t want Namjoon to see you that way, didn’t want to have him hold you through the pain of this. It is not something that you like to think about- any hate or distaste that might come out because…

- Because your child will be your ex-husband's baby. And while you know you won’t hate them on principle for that- that you will try your hardest not to see him in their little face- this is a pain that might be easier to handle alone. The last pain he will ever give you- you don’t know if you want anyone there to help you with that- or if you want to just feel it and be done with it.

- You also really don't want Namjoon to have to see your crap all over the table; you'd been told that happens with almost every labor. That’s something you want to be spared the embarrassment of, especially when you're already having too many people prod at places they have no business prodding at.

- You’re not sure you want Namjoon to hear you curse your ex-husband out. The vibrant curse words have the nurses exchanging amused looks.

-  “Alright mother fucker, shit to my stain, ass to my hole- the last little bit of you needs to come out of me Right this fucking instant, or else I’ll drag you up from hell and fight you, and give you your piece back. Because they’re going to be mine and his- not yours- our baby isn’t yours.” Maybe it’s just the hormones or the localized anesthetic they’ve given you. They don’t give you the epidural until close to the end but you're loopy without it.

-  The midwife tolerates Namjoon and Jimin for about five hours before Namjoon growls at her. Which makes her stony, and reminds them that since neither of them are the father, she is under no obligation to let them stay in this waiting room or the hospital. The sting of the thinly veiled threat is lessened by her promising to give half-hourly updates, she gets their protective instincts, even if she’s not used to them. Jimin doesn't like her- thinks she's a little bit entitled when if anything Namjoon and jimin should be.

- In the last hour of the 8-hour labor, you finally call for Namjoon, and he pulls himself into your bed and lets you lean your chest against his back. The midwife's hands are stained with blood and it soothes you so much to have him there. His voice, his body, warm against your back. His face pressed to your shoulder, muffed words.

- “I’ve got you- we’re going to be parents- I’ve got both of you.” the muscles and bones in his hand's creek as you squeeze both of them, Jimin waits outside, aware that this moment- this is for the two of you.

- He hasn’t really thought about what place he will have in your child's life, it's been painfully apparent that you and Namjoon will be the parents. So Jimin doesn't feel excluded, he knows he’ll be allowed in the second it’s over and to be honest, he thinks he’d pass out if he saw the miracle of birth. He’s okay with seeing the aftermath.

- Just as the sun starts to threaten to come up, your daughter is born. A sigh and a final push, crying punctuating the waiting room. Jimin shoots up from his chair, feeling the shift in the air, smelling Namjoon's happy pine scent like it was sweetened with maple syrup. And pushes himself towards your room.

- The small cadre of doctors has already placed the wet and bloody lump against your chest. The endorphins are something else. Coursing through your body, as you look down at her little face. It’s a girl, small and squirmy, a little grey and red but so fucking cute, ten toes and ten fingers, a cute little nose, and a scrunched up face as she cries and cries making you feel more panicked with each second.

- Namjoon looks at her and it feels like his whole world shifts. Your baby is washed and weighed and put back snugly into your arm in a little green blanket and hat to keep her warm. She’s cute and so small and light in your arms. You’re a little doped up on pain medication, but you think she’s a cute baby already. (All new mothers think their baby is the cutest thing).

- Her eyes are closed and her face is a little red and puffy and even purple in some places, but the second that Namjoon see’s her he knows without a shred of doubt in his heart that he would do anything, climb any mountain, step in front of a thousand bullets if it meant keeping her safe.

- She's so small- so impossibly small it can’t be safe to be that tiny.

- Jimin hovers a little bit, feeling more than a little awkward as he takes his seat next to your bed, but the sense of satisfaction he feels seeing you safe, happy, and exhausted and your daughter healthy is glowing. He can feel that soft expression on his face as he watches you and Namjoon. Namjoon wipes your sweaty hair back from your face, kissing your forehead. “You did it- god- you’re so strong- I love you so much, you did so well baby.” He continues softer. “I've got you,”

- One of the nurses is kinder than the others, sees the way that jimin and Namjoon look at her. Your baby wrapped up tight and warm. She looks a little grumpy, tiny eyebrow pulled together. “You know, if you cuddle skin to skin, it will help you bond with her.” jimin and Namjoon have never undressed quicker, tossing their shirts to the floor and jostling for a chance to hold her.

- Namjoon wins of course, Jimin was only being playful. At your laugh, your tiny daughter stirs against your neck, turning a little. Unsurprisingly she’d gone to sleep shortly after she was born already tired from her first few minutes alive. (You can’t say you feel much different) - Her cheek goes against Namjoon’s bare chest and she makes a little suckling noise, small and wet, lips smacking. “Hey, there little one,” Namjoon says, something deep and reaching welling up in him, keenly aware of how dependent she is, all the love in the world in Namjoon’s chest and still- not enough for his daughter. - Namjoon holds her gently in his large work-roughened hands, the same ones that will guide her through her first steps, hold onto her shoulder when she rides her bicycle down the steep hill and carry her up the hill when she asks him to let go of the handlebars and immediately falls off,

- The same hand that will hold picture book after picture book and never say no to another story when she falls asleep at night, no matter how heavy her eyes look. Namjoon holds his daughter for the first time and feels like he’s going to fucking start bawling. Does start crying, but holds her so gently, doesn’t wake her any more than he already has. - He tucks her close under his chin, swaying gently. As if she were a pup and not a human baby her face nuzzles, just a little into Namjoon’s neck, he hopes she likes his scent. That he knows she’s safe in his arms. “I know the world is big and scary, but you should know that your mother and I love you, we will always love you” his voice is so thick with emotion that his voice cracks, Namjoon murmurs with his mouth against her small head. - Jimin stoops to his side to rub off the tears around his eyes because he doesn’t have a free hand to do so. No one in the room has a dry eye. Namjoon turns to jimin, smiling showing his dimples, holding her out for the younger man easily. He hesitates for a moment, and you nod encouragingly along, your eyelids heavy, and though jimin knows you’re rapt with attention, even though Jimin blushes and stutters and shakes his head and tries to find a reason why he shouldn’t. He was just so eager to hold her- why does it suddenly feel so scary.

- Your daughter is so so small, her weight in Jimin’s hands so impossibly fragile and slight, she wakes up, squirming a little in the warm confines of the blanket. Eager to move around and flail her little arms now that she’s been released from the confines of pre-existence and into the bright butterfly wing cacophony of life.

- “Oh!” he says surprised, the second her eyes open, though they look wide and unfocused, they’re beautiful and glittering, so much possibility in such a small body. She gurgles a happy sound, her arm moving free of the blanket, Jimin grabs onto her small fist. Her tiny fingers trying to grasp onto his finger gripping as hard as she’s able. Your daughter grips his hand as easily as she has gripped his heart and pulled it clean out of his chest. Jimin gives a shaky exhale.

-The nurse who’s tidying up looks happily at the two of them, your heart gives a pang, does Jimin feel it? how natural he looks holding your daughter. you know things haven’t been ideal since yoongi left and yet- jimin holds her like she’s holding onto him; every atom begging him not to let go.“That’s good- a sign that everything’s alright. Looks like she’s got quite a grip on her.”

- She smiles up at Jimin, her face a mirror of his, though significantly gummier. You and Namjoon talk on, excited by her first expression But jimin only has eyes for her. 

- “How are you so tiny pup?” he asks, reverent with her everything, tracing along her cheek with one of his fingers, with the same hands that will braid her hair when it starts to grow more than the tufts she has. And tug it into pigtails and ponytails and princess braids, anything she wants. 

- The hands that will play patty cake and paint with her at your kitchen table for hours and hours, the hands that will show her bugs and butterflies in the garden and tuck countless dandelions behind her ear and in her hair. Will pull them from her mouth too when she inevitably decides that the tiny yellow flowers are the best snack. And Jimin will let out a tired sigh and say ‘those are bitter- you’re going to spit them out in two seconds.” 

- Jimin doesn’t know it yet- but she will call him after those flowers, ‘dandy’ that becomes ‘daddy’ not unlike she’ll call Namjoon ‘papa’. Jimin will be as much her parent as you and Namjoon are, even if the three of you don’t know it yet. Even if Jimin feels a little separate from the two of you now- one day you’ll be a little unit, determined to give your daughter everything, the happiest childhood possible.

- His tail wags when he nuzzles into that hair “she smells so so good” that out of everything- he didn’t expect. It feels like there is a chain that runs from his heart to her, dragging him in. She smells like softness like velvet and something milky, something just inexplicably you and her, But individually different. Now Jimin realizes that part of your scent that had seemed so sweet and needing protecting- it must have been her.

- Namjoon has to smell her too once Jimin says that, and both hybrids are smiling down dopey at her, both of their tails whacking against the chairs in happy syncopation.

- You only tolerate being separated from her for a few minutes at a time. You know that Namjoon and Jimin would never dream of being careless, both of them even bristle when a doctor comes by to check her heart rate again and she starts crying. Namjoon barely leashing his growl, but you guess something’s must run too deep, the parental urge too strong in him.

-Your abdomen aches when you try to sit up in bed. The second Jimin and Namjoon scent you’re in pain they get the doctor. But it’s just your body- new and defined in terms of pregnancy and birth. Jimin and Namjoon busy themselves with her when the doctor checks you over. “Postpartum pain is common, you’re alright, it's just the epidural wearing off.” Jimin and Namjoon's noses flares at that- because how could any pain be normal?

- It might be all the hormones and the pups in the room that make them feel so protective (Namjoon’s head is a whole mess of ‘protect mate- protect pup’). But still- the second she starts squirming and reaching out for you they’re powerless to keep her in their arms. The same nurse comments, “she’s probably hungry, let us know if you have any trouble.”

- But it’s easy, you’ve long since been producing milk and it only takes a second to nuzzle before your daughter starts to feed from you. Namjoon and Jimin keep their eyes on the sealing before you roll your eyes. “It’s not weird, you don’t have to act like it's weird.” They both grimace- properly chastised.

- The feeling of panic dissipates once her tiny body is pressed against yours, is that what being a mother is like? feeling like your soul is not inside of your own body, and instead, encased in a few layers of chub. The feeling of dread that only dissipates when her skin touches hers and you get her bundled close under your chin. 

-  She has her first meal, and then promptly falls back asleep in your arms, curling into your warmth. As safe and as tiny as she’ll ever be, every moment an upward battle of time. “Any idea for a name yet?” Jimin asks.  

- “Joon and I were thinking of Rin for a while but now that I’m seeing her I kind of want to name her something different. I was thinking about June, maybe April?”

- “That’s my name,” Namjoon says aiming for deadpan but smiling too hard to really pull off the joke. 

- “I know that idiot, I was talking about the month!” the bickering prompts giggles out of all of you, the chorus makes your daughter's little gum-filled smile tug up again and initiates a fresh wave of coos and dewy eyes. Jimin leans over, running a gentle finger across her cheek, they feel so soft, like the side of a fresh peach. She is already so healthy-looking, pudgy, and squirmy.

- “Well if June is off the table, I think I have one in mind,” your eyes flicker up to meet Namjoon’s, you look tired but so awake, Namjoon pushes back your sweaty hair, fingers lingering on your neck, fiddling with your baby hairs in a tactile affectionate way. “How about “Iris?” Namjoon’s gaze is heavy on Jimin’s as his ears perk up at the mention.

- Namjoon’s mind instantly goes to a spot by the riverbed, back at the farm where the grass slopes down to the water's edge. And his memory tugs up a moment from a month ago; Jimin leaning over away from a picnic blanket to bend one of the yellow irises to his level, breathing in a deep breath and saying, “This one is my favorite.”

- And you laughing, leaning over to rest your head on his shoulder while Namjoon looked on behind you after the work was done for the day. Looking so unbelievably fond of you with Yoongi a mirrored look beside them. Sitting back on his wrists, looking like sunbathing snake, face tilted up towards the sun.

-“You’re my favorite.” 

- Iris, like the blue ones in your garden and the wild yellow ones that grow down by the river. Wild beauty untamed but maybe contained, like your hybrids, equal parts animal and human, Iris’s- purple and yellow, and every color in between.

- Jimin looks at you with a heavy gaze, swallowing the lump in his throat down, he leans forward and nuzzles into your daughter's feet. “I love that.”

- “I love it too” you clutch your daughter closer to your chest, your delicate fingers tracing across her face, memorizing her little features. “My little Iris.”

- “Hello Iris,” “hello little flower” Namjoon puts his hand on the back of Jimin’s neck for comfort. Leaning to get his face close to your daughter too. To press his nose against her head again and “I love it.” he says through tears in his eyes, voice hushed, what little falls, wiped away by Jimin's hands or soaking into the fabric of her baby blanket.

- The three of you share a moment of silence, iris falls back to sleep, and Jimin and Namjoon cuddle close on the bed with you. Namjoon makes an upset noise in his throat- still crying a little too, building into a whine. 

- “Joonie?” 

- “What's wrong?”

- it takes him a second to answer, holding Iris's little hand, fiddling with her little fingers, rolling her knuckles to feel the delicate pads of her little fingers. “I wish Yoongi was here.” 

- Iris is born at 5:24 in the morning, right as the sun rises. You’d never know it- but Yoongi is watching the sunrise too.

- he cranes his neck to watch the sky change color in the window of a trailer, a little more 50 miles south of the farm, deep in the pine forest and hidden from prying eyes. And that moment; the moment when he watches the new day begin with a feeling of impending doom- will be the only moment of peace he’ll get that day.

- It’s hard to turn too far with his wrists bound behind his back, the rope digging into his skin so tight that blood has long since soaked through and crusted in the twine. A twinge in his neck that hasn’t left in weeks flares- a twisted nerve hot under his skin. But yoongi looks- let the light burn into his irises and watches the one little square of the sky turn from blue to yellow and back to blue. 

- The dread never leaves him; though he’s lived countless days Unsure of how many more sunrises he’ll get to see and even less what those days will look like. he’s lost track of how many days it’s been since he left the farm. 

- He’s been sitting in this spot since he was taken; wrists bound behind his back, bloody and sensitive from the days spent pulling at them. Maybe he’d pulled a little too hard at them sometimes. Pain to ground him against what was happening to his body. Yoongi’s shoulder hurts, he hasn’t been allowed out of these restraints even once, and his body has started to hurt so much it feels like he’s going to go numb from it soon.

- The ropes are a little looser than they were yesterday, but that’s probably because he hasn’t been fed much in the last few days. The few pounds he managed to put on since being at the farm have all but melted away in the few weeks of neglect.

- He was lucky if they remembered to feed him, unlucky if they remembered- because being noticed was almost as dangerous as being forgotten. In his worse moments, Yoongi wonders if you've forgotten him too. Probably- but a sinking suspicion in his heart that feels a lot like what it was to love you- tells him not a chance, not a chance that you've forgotten, no way you wouldn't be looking for him these last few weeks.

- But Yoongi hopes that you won't find him. Because that would spell death for the both of you, and more than anything he wants you to live.

- Most of the time he tries to keep his head down and his mouth shut (not that that’s really hard at this point if anything it’s just habitual). But the less he makes himself a nuance, the better he can avoid getting kicked and prodded. Every breath makes pain lance up his side, no doubt a few cracked ribs, they ache painfully every time he breathes in too deep.

- Gang wars are messy- the gang needs a punching bag to take out their frustrations on. Most of the time Yoongi’s too hungry to properly pay attention to the plans being made, ground zero a few feet away, pages and pages of meticulously made plans and records. Most of the time he’s conscious enough to track when his owner is angry, louder voices mean more pain and that much makes fear shiver down Yoongi’s spine, learned- not instinctual.

-  Until yesterday he’d been able to crumple himself up in a ball too, but one of the gangsters decided Yoongi was to be their entertainment last night, and sure; it’s not like his leg is completely immobile, but the knife they’d sunk into the side certainly keeps him from folding it closer and making himself smaller. 

- It sits stretched out, in the middle of the hallway. In the way- the perfect diversion to encourage a pissed-off kick or a twist to the knife. It’s not a long knife, one of those small ones that are only a few inches long, perfect for hiding away in a pocket or shoe. 

- Yoongi would remove it, use it to cut his bonds, but he can tell by the way it twinges when he moves his ancle that its near something important, nerve endings, or one of the major arteries in his legs. Removing it would spell death. 

- Somehow it's worse going back to this, everything infinitely more painful than it used to be. Before he didn’t know what living without pain felt like. Oh- you’d ruined him hadn’t you?

- When he’d first been tied up here three weeks ago his owner had questions. Each time he’d failed to answer she’d put her cigarette out against his skin, just to see him squirm. Yoongi’s pain tolerance was already through the roof- but even that was a lot to handle. Every time a red cherry was pressed into his skin, he had to fight the urge to flinch away.

- Yoongi had not sobbed, his fingers trembling at worse, but he doesn't let himself show any other pain. “I already told you- I don’t know where the drugs are, I searched everywhere, under the barns, the basement of the big house. If they’re still there- they’re so well hidden that no one will ever find them.”  

- sick with worry that she’d try to find them herself and then eventually, the frustration when she was punishing him just for fun. “You think I wouldn’t tell you if I knew? I would have told you the second you picked me up if I’d ever found them!”

- Yoongi knows enough not to beg, that kind of thing has only ever made his owner hungrier for more pain.

-  His owner had given him a dark look; her breath and teeth caked in tartar as she blew the smoke into his face. Already burned down to the yellow filter, which only meant one thing. She’d pinched his cheeks, “stick out your tongue Yoongi.” He hadn’t- clenching his jaw. “Stick out your tongue before I decide to cut it off snake” her shout shrill and painful.

- And that had been the end of questioning. Yoongi didn’t know if you’d been aware who your husband had been or if you knew where the drugs were. Yoongi hadn’t ever asked. He doesn’t think you did- and If you did and you’d sold them off to pay for the farm then he’d gladly let it happen. Let his soul be the collateral for your dream; saving as many hybrids as you could.

- The drugs had been worth the ballpark of 20 million dollars, after all, that could pay for the farm nearly indefinitely. 

- If his own life were enough to pay for the safety of so many hybrids- for Jimin and Namjoon, then Yoongi would gladly die here. He’s well aware he’ll die even if they find the drugs. Nothing- not money or power- would be enough to keep Yoongi from an early grave.

- Yoongi’s honestly more worried about what will happen to him when they let him out of the restraints than the condition of his body if he stays in them any longer. He’s only alive because the war isn’t over yet.

- Yoongi’s owner promised the first thing she’d do when the war was over was take him out back and put a bullet between his eyes. The only reason he’s still alive is because he might have some important information locked in his brain somewhere. You can’t ask the dead questions about where millions of dollars of illicit drugs might be stashed- no matter what every palm reader and psychic on the street corners tell you.  

- Yoongi tips his head back against the wall as the day starts, the sounds in the trailer that foretell people awake and impending pain. Fear is a learned drug in his veins, but there is nowhere to run, this is the end of the road. The pangs of hunger in his stomach nothing compared to the aching in his heart.

- One of these days, Yoongi will see his last sunrise, and he won't even be able to look at the sun with burning eyes. To watch every moment of the colors changing, to measure teaspoons of yellow and pink and know this is the last time he will see those colors. One of these days- Yoongi is going to die. So he lays his head back against the cracking and caked cigarette smoke plaster, and thinks of other happier things.

- He thinks of you, Namjoon, and Jimin. The sweet way those few kisses had felt. Yoongi had never even been able to kiss Namjoon. Or tell him that he loved him. Though Yoongi thinks that maybe- maybe he knows. Maybe envy and love are one in the same because in another world- Yoongi would have wanted to be exactly like Namjoon. Dependable, protective, a good provider- a good alpha.

-  In this reality, Yoongi is nothing more than a liar- barely deserving of softness let alone love. And somehow for those few months, he’d had it- he’d snatched it from you. Most of the time- Yoongi tries not to feel too guilty. Because, in the end, he'd been a hungry little thing, hadn't he? Crawled to your door and never begged for the love you'd given; you'd loved him and he'd loved you as a snake loves a garden.

-  Have you had your baby yet? Are the dandelions coming up in the path without Yoongi there to weed them? Does the garden smell so sweet and fresh like it always does at this time of day? Is the dew sticky against your ankles?

- Or maybe you don’t even know. Maybe you’re wrapped up tight and warm with Namjoon and Jimin. Yoongi wonders how it feels- he’s never really cuddled with another person. Never gotten their bones all aligned or felt skin against his that he wanted to feel.

- The little closeness he’d had with humans early on in his development- had trained what little love for closeness that he’d had and yet- yet Yoongi feels like he would have been able to get used to it with you. The future he’d almost had hurts now that the possibility of it all has vanished. He tries not to think about what could have been.

- Do the hills look golden and rolling? Has Jimin moved into your bedroom now that you’ve all become a couple? Or has he moved into Yoongi’s room? Somehow the idea of jimin wearing his clothes, his sun hat, makes Yoongi feel warm like he won’t be completely forgotten the second he breathes his last breath.

- On his deathbed, Yoongi imagines all kinds of long-lost love stories, countless futures you could have had together. And each one as out of reach as freedom is.  Even if Yoongi could escape his bounds- he wouldn’t be able to escape this trailer with his life. So there’s really no use trying.

- The sounds of people get louder and louder the closer they get to Yoongi, his shoulders closer and closer to his ears as the tension builds. He shifts a little. Eyes still closed deep in his daydream. 

- If he was at the farm right now he’d have already made you coffee, and maybe in a different future, you would have back hugged him, snuck down the stairs to cuddle him to contentment before you’d had your coffee. neither of you talking while the machine gurgles. Your face pressed between his shoulders, hands smoothing over his side. And you could walk the garden together in the early morning, hand in hand, trading sips from the same coffee cup, Yoongi’s favorite- the one with the little tangerines on the side. Orange and bright like your lips in the morning sun, and he’d-

- “Wake up fucker” his owner, says, kicking him on her way past. Yoongi bites back a whine as pain flares up his side. Yoongi opens his eyes and she leans down, pinching his cheeks so that his mouth opens. He clenches his jaw- but she’s only toying with him.

- Yoongi’s no stranger to getting drugged against his will, but luckily this isn’t that, no- she just spits at him, and it hits the side of his face and part of his tongue. Yoongi gags, but there isn't anything in his stomach to come up. She laughs, stepping on his injured knee with a barefoot, and moves on. Yoongi tries not to feel disgusted, whipping it off on his shoulder as best he can. spitting onto the carpeted floor. 

- He feels cold in a way that might be dangerous. But he knows soon the trailer will be a hotbed of smoke and ashes like usual. He’d kill for a fresh breath of air at this point. Maybe dying will be a little bit of a relief. Hopefully is last breath of air will be a fresh one.

- But there isn’t anything they can do with him that hasn’t been done before- nothing that can’t be taken that hasn’t already been taken. Yoongi has the memories of you- and until they kill him they can’t take those either.

- The world passes in fast-forward, everything moving and alive except for Yoongi. He hopes they kill him before his scales start to shed. Or else it's going to be hell to handle the itchiness in conjunction with all of this.

- Sometimes he’s alone, and sometimes he’s not but it hardly matters. Yoongi might as well exist on a different plane than them, he feels so disconnected- like he’s watching the end of a movie and not living through this. the shouts and anger and fear that builds in all of them as the days go on and things get worse.

- He doesn’t know when he falls asleep only that it’s night time when the sound of the door slamming against the outside of the trailer wakes him. The screen clanging against the doorframe as the sound of a dying man fills the trailer.

- His owners second in command is dying, choking on his own blood, face ripped apart by someone. His throat slashed just deep enough so that he'll suffocate. Whoever's hurt them certainly favors the knife. he’s a big burly man that Yoongi had never known to take punches without hurting his opponent ten times as bad. He whimpers like one of the tiny pups at the farm does after a nightmare as 3 other gangsters dump him unceremoniously on one of the couches.

- Most of the time- Yoongi’s too confused to put together the actual events of the war but now that he sees him- Yoongi realizes it’s been several days since he’s seen this gangster in particular. Missing maybe- or stolen. His body is certainly in a sorry state. Vertical curved lines criss cross across his chest, barely an inch of skin unoccupied by pain. Both his nipples removed and bleeding profusely.

- Ouch, that looks like it hurt.

- “Fuck- we have to go.” His owner slams her gun against the counter; it goes off, the 3 or so gangsters duck. Even The dying man gurgles and falls, Yoongi’s pretty sure he’s the only one who doesn’t flinch, “No! This is over when I say it is!”

- She’s got someone’s blood all over her, but before anyone else can make a move. Headlights shine into the room, crisscrossing in a strobe light cacophony. Yellow squares sliding across the scene.  

- Bullets spray like water on a sprinkler in the middle of summer. Cool air rushing through the broken window as it shatters in the volley. Yoongi inhales a thankfully cool breath, Yoongi’s sure there must be glass in his hair by the time it quiets and he lifts his head.

- His owner's been hit, dove behind one of her men by the look of it, his body a husk that she shoves off, his breath rattling around in his broken open chest. Someone’s bong sits beside her- leaking rancid water onto the carpet.

- His owner is not completely unscathed. A bullet wound leaks from her femoral artery, slowly bleeding out. It’s as good as a death sentence if she doesn’t get to a hospital soon.

- Yoongi grins.

- Glass crunches under a platform boot, whether they’re to make the wearer taller or just for aesthetic remains to be seen. The bunny manages to be scary even without the height. 

-Yoongi knows who he is by hearing his owner rave about him time and time again and the tattoo on his cheek. He looks so ordinary in person, with soft features and keen wide eyes that could be boyish if it weren’t for the darkness in them. He’s not covered with blood- if anything- he looks like he just rolled out of bed.

- The bunny sighs, sitting down at her level, crouched on his knees; he kicks her gun away from her when she tries to reach for it. “That was more trouble than it was worth.” He tilts his head at her, his curls fluffing around his ears. “Don’t you know better than to run from fate at this point?”

- Her teeth are coated with blood when she spits them out, the front one broken. “Who the fuck do you think you are bunny boy? Trying to take something that doesn’t belong to you?”

- “If you don’t want someone to take something from you- take better care of It.” he cocks his gun with a percussive cling, bullet slides into the chamber. He shoots the dying man on the ground and then tosses the gun away. He has a veritable army behind him, lingering in the driveway outside, a pair of them looming by the doors like dogs, grinning, ready to attack if their master only says so. 

-“Also- I'm pretty sure I'm the person that’s going to kill you. But that’s only a good guess unless you’ve got a wildcard under your sleeve” his owner's eyes are inexplicably drawn to Yoongi. 

- The bunny looks up- seeing him for the first time. “Ah,” he says, eyes widening. Unreadable eyes as a tenseness in his shoulders settles. Yoongi isn’t sure why his presence makes the bunny's hands shake, but they do. “Didn’t see you there.”

- He shakes his head free of the sudden surprise. Yoongi’s perplexed, having just seen him walk into the trailer without fear. Curious- but Yoongi has other questions. Those questions as always being if this is the end of the road.

- For the first time in weeks- Yoongi wonders ‘if’ and not ‘when' he will die.

- The bunny walks over to him, tilting his head to the side gently, his hands are cold, and Yoongi shivers. “Haven’t seen one like you in a long time.” He says, spotting the scales, and the round burns on the side of his neck, barely healed.

- “These from her?” Yoongi nods. And something in the bunny’s jaws ticks. His steps are quick when he stalks over to her, grabbing her by her hair, lifting her off of the ground to a more comfortable height. The bunny must be strong because he does it with one hand. 

- She tries to push at him weekly, “ah ah ah- none of that now,”  her hands go still, staring up at him, blood dripping down her chin. She looks as afraid as Yoongi feels.

- With as unstudied an air as possible, He eyes the knives in the butcher block, selecting an unused large one. No one has ever cooked in that kitchen besides Yoongi, and it’s a good thing- because the knives are sharp. “Maybe your life isn’t mine to take but how about it hybrid, do you think your owner deserves to live or die?”

- his owner can’t keep quiet, “Fuck- do something- fucking- just help me-“ bunny shuts her up by slamming his elbow down onto her face, breaking her jaw. Teeth shattering and cluttering to the floor in a tiny tinkle.

- Now in the cold of the trailer- god- Yoongi feels like he wants to set fire to hell itself. To taste ashes on his tongue, so soft and sensitive from years spent not speaking.

- He wants to speak now- to shout- everything he’d never said, I love you I love you I love you from the rooftops, hopefully loud enough for you to hear him. He thrashes against his binds at the hint of freedom.

- The words have never been easier to say, coating his tongue like her cigarette ash; they taste like sweet damnation and bitter freedom. He speaks to his owner- to the woman who has hurt him, time and time again. Yoongi does not owe her a second of mercy.

- “If I had to choose between saving you and not, I wouldn’t- I would want you to burn.”

- Maybe Yoongi had never really belonged anywhere but if there was one place he felt like he could have belonged- that would have been with you, Namjoon, and Jimin. And he cared enough if not to claw his way home to you- to also make a space for himself in this life. Yoongi feels almost breathless for it the rabid desire to live that had never taken him before at least not when he hadn’t had anything to live for other than his own slow heartbeat. 

- Yoongi doesn't expect the bunny to speak, but his eyes flutter, staring down at her. holding the knife in his hands more firmly.

- "Goodbye Mom." 

- He drags the knife across her throat, delicately, in an easy swooping motion. Like he's done it countless times.

- Yoongi jerks against his bindings, mom- the bunny was- Is her son. her carotid artery spurts violently, a little bit of it even hits Yoongi’s cheek. The bunny lets her fall, cheek hitting the wet carpeted floor louder than it should. 

-  It should feel too brutal- more visceral to think about how many women have met their death under a man's hands, but too Yoongi she’ll never be less than a villain. Even as she chokes and sputters on her own blood. Face pressed against the floor and unable to look up as she dies. The bunny steps on her back, keeping her down. Letting her die on the floor. 

- She wasn't just his villain no- now it looks like she was the bunnies too.

- Yoongi had always wondered why he'd been purchased and whom he'd replaced. Why his owner had used him as a punching bag. But now that he thinks about it- there had to have been someone before him; Someone who she'd gotten used to hitting, gotten used to controlling.

- Most hybrids fill a void and now Yoongi knows whose spot he’d taken. 

- Her hands scrape futility at her own neck trying to stem the blood flow, losing energy every second, it’s too late. the flock of gangsters outside descend on the trailer like a flock of crows would to carrion. the many people filing into the trailer distract him And by the time Yoongi looks back at her body, her eyes are glassy, looking at Yoongi, not blinking or begging just- gone.

- Yoongi doesn't feel sick, he doesn't even feel happy. He breathes in deep, the cold air from outside filling his lungs, easing their ache just a little, he breathes in deep again, hyperventilating as he realizes that fuck- he can breathe in deep finally. Whatever spot in his chest occupied by her- now gone. No more fear- at least not of her. 

- The bunny pulls himself onto the counter, lights a cigarette while the gangsters tear apart the trailer, one of them produces a brick of cocaine, another a wad of cash, each presented to the bunny while he puffs on his cigarette, and Yoongi watches the blood soak into the carpet until it stops pooling, still and sticky.   

- No one moves to untie him. Yoongi wants to laugh at himself for being hopeful. They finish up and file out one by one, but still- the snake and the bunny remain in the trailer at a stalemate. Yoongi looking brazenly as his owner's son pretends like this was just another day. 

- “I’ll be a few seconds, just want to talk to this one.” He flicks cigarette ash in Yoongi’s direction. They nod, though most of them haven’t even acknowledged his presence, a few of them cast Yoongi a sorry look- because there are no loose ends in this life. No loose ends in the war and Yoongi is the last one alive.

- “Take me outside, please- I don’t want to die in here” the bunny ignores him. As the rest of the gang leaves gets into their cars and drives off until it’s just the two of them, Yoongi and this man. Bunny makes no move to wipe off the murder weapon, fiddling it between his fingers until his fingers are slick with their monster's blood.

- One monster to another- Yoongi thinks it suits the man in front of him. Unlike the tattoos- the bunny poking out under his eye and the other numerous others dotting his body. The gangster catches him looking, his brother not in reality, but maybe abuse. If what Yoongi suspects are true- then they were both hurt by the same woman. “What do you think? Should I get a snake tattoo for you?”

- Yoongi’s mouth is dry, he doesn’t have a joke to say in his defense, every few seconds he catches himself looking back at his owner, how she’s slumped.

- It feels different and strange to see someone whom he’d hoped would die for so long- dead. A place where pain can't reach her, the pain that still claws its way in Yoongi’s chest and down to the wound in his leg. Not enough. None of it is enough. His pain cannot pay for the sorrow of what was stolen, or the revenge for what was taken.

- He swallows back something that tastes like vomit, letting hope take its place. Growing like a weed in Yoongi’s chest, dandelions, peonies, and pine sprouts (and maybe a few iris's too).

- “Well now that that’s finished,” the bunny says, wiping the knife on his jacket shirt pocket. “What do we do with you?”

- But Yoongi makes a noise in the back of his throat; it almost feels like he’s lost the ability to speak, he's never been more unsure that he could get the words out than he is now.  “You could let me go.”

- living side by side with the knowledge that Yoongi probably won't be left alive by the next time the sun rises is the desire to see the farm again. and maybe it’s foolish to hope but-  He wants more than anything to see you again. 

- To walk into your house with his nest upstairs, ready to nurture his soul and his body back to warmth. Maybe sit with his head in your lap so that you can run your fingers through his hair like you do when he’s not having a day where it feels like his skin is crawling. He wants to get old enough, to get far enough away from all of this to where he can touch and be touched without feeling like he's going to vomit.

- To see Namjoon’s dimpled smile and play cards with the others on your porch before dinner, to curl up in the other hybrids' frankly massive arms and feel the rush of protection that can only come from an alpha. To hold those hands that like fixing things so much and be fixed in kind. To run his own hands through Namjoon hair and have him lean into Yoongi’s hands the way he leans into yours. 

- He wants to hear Jimin chatter like a bird in the garden, and pretend he’s not watching when he sees Jimin sneak cherry tomatoes, to share handfuls with him, even if Jimin’s tail thwacking up against the nearby plants wasn’t a dead giveaway. To even see the other hybrids and their hushed whispers about them, that wouldn’t matter even- he'd still smile.  

- Yoongi wants to go back more than anything, more than he wants to live. If Yoongi is worth a place in heaven- that’s what it will look like to him. So maybe either way- he’s going back to you. Even if he dies- there will be a garden somewhere in the afterlife where he is waiting for the three you. he’d get the beds growing all pretty all perfect for the three of you, even if he has to wait a while.

- The man in front of him laughs and cleans the blood out from under his fingers with the knife. His eyes flicker to Yoongi’s for a moment, and he sees something almost like pity in his eyes before he glances at his guards waiting outside for Jungkook to be done. “As if I could do that.”

- Yoongi tries not to let his heart drop, but what else could he have expected? In the record of his admittedly shit life, why would he think that something would go right for once? How had he fooled himself into thinking he was deserving of that sunny place, he should be lucky for the short time he’d been given and take no more, accept his death with a grace he’d never been able to manage in life.

-There is the piece of paper still in the bottom of his boot, from the man in front of him. A "you're welcome," that could have only been meant for you. a mark of his hidden agenda. Yoongi is one of your sweet things, an item that needs to be returned, No matter if the rules of war demand the opposite.

- The truth is Jungkook is the most dangerous man in the underworld both by birthright and blood right, the rules can bend for a king. 

-  Yoongi almost wants to lift his teeth at the man, an aggressive action more animal than human. yoongi will fight like an animal if it means he can survive. but then one of the last lingering guard's calls to the bunny, says that a cleaning crew is 20 minutes out, joking about gas fires, and how dangerous they are.

- A fire lights in Jungkook’s eyes, equal parts hope and relief. The bunny doesn't want to kill him, and maybe he won't have to.

-The bunny finishes his cigarette, eyeing the knife in his hand, “Better leave this,” he says, sinking the knife into the coffee table across from Yoongi, “Can’t have a murder weapon walking out of here after all.” His eyes hover on Yoongi for a minute, waiting until he understands before dropping in a wink before he shuts the door.

-“See you in heaven, Yoongi.”

- Had Yoongi ever told the bunny his name? He can’t remember if anyone had said it. 

- Yoongi waits until he hears their cars exit the gravel driveway, waits until the popping of tires has faded into the distance before he lunges in the direction of the kitchen, dragging his body along with his good knee, using his shoulders to prop himself up, his body aches with every memory of pain and still- he pulls himself closer and closer to freedom, eyes on the knife.

- It takes him nearly 3 minutes to haul his body over to that side of the table and another  to get the knife into his sweaty hands. He uses up five precious minutes maneuvering it into place and slowly sawing through his bonds, finally ripping his wrists free with a broken sob, the skin around his wrists is red and bleeding in some places, the rope rips off a few of his scales.

- This pain doesn't feel like it did before, sweeter and cleaner than any other pain- because this is Yoongi surviving- visceral and painful. Breathing in his first few breaths of air as he heaves open the door and smells the clean night air that smells like the Pine trees- like Namjoon. The forest smells like safety too, hints of the salty ocean on the wind and Yoongi’s face, he’s in so much pain- crying like a baby as he takes his first few steps of real freedom- something Yoongi’s never had only dreamed of.

- Even when he lived with you he was always scared of something- But not anymore. 

- He barely hesitates to walking away from that place, limping as best he can. he's thankful that his muscles haven't atrophied too badly though his whole body aches. The leg by his side useless but for a crunch. He throws himself into the tree line, tripping on a root and falling into the bushes the second before a car pulls back up the driveway. The cleaning crew comes to dispose of the bodies.

- pain erupts down his leg, the knife twisting under his bodyweight, He looks down at his leg, the handle of the knife broken off, but at least the metal bit didn’t fall out- then he’d have a real issue trying not to bleed to death. 

- The two gangsters are completely unaware of his presence, crouched in the bushes, hidden from view. But Yoongi can see them, carting two-gallon jugs of gasoline per person. He stays in the bush until they finish as still as he can be until he hears the car pull away, tense moments where he thinks that maybe he’ll be spotted.

- Yoongi waits for a little while until he can see flames lick along the inside, feeling something cathartic in the burning carve its way through him, though the double-wide hadn’t been large, it was Yoongi’s hell for so many years. Not home- never home because Yoongi has a different place to be.

- Standing up again takes more effort than Yoongi, but there is a future he can claw his way towards if he stands- if he can only get his leg under him again. The wound in his leg twinges painfully with every movement, but he knows better than to try and take out the knife. That’d be a death sentence. He’d bleed out before he even made it a mile.

- And he’s got about 60 miles to walk if he wants to make it home. He lets the light from the burning trailer hit him, warming his bones. 

- For years Yoongi had looked at the stars out of that little window he can pick out the North Star without issue now. He also knows that somewhere along the horizon- is where you are. Home is just over the next hill, just a few miles away. 

- Yoongi can make it- He knows he can. Even as the blood slowly starts flowing again, soaking down his pant leg and into his sock. Yoongi can make it if he just keeps walking. he turns away from the trailer and takes a few shaky steps, as fast as he can go and still not fast enough. Yoongi wants to scream and yell and shout- I’m coming, I’m coming home.

- With only the stars as his guide, barely visible through the tops of the pine trees, Min Yoongi heads in the direction of the farm.

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[in-ky]

Hi! I’d love a story about Negan being a serial killer who only kills “bad people” (like in Dexter) and maybe he saves the reader from her ex who’s about to kill her and Negan can save her and takes her in because she’s a mess but she’s actually a killer herself (who kills rapists etc/ only the bad ones) and Negan and the reader start fighting and then get caught up in steamy hot sex 🥵 thank you!

Savior - Negan Killer AU

Warnings: Warnings: GORE + violence, smut, domestic abuse, swearing, dirty talk ig? idk how to tag this lol

A/N: hey! i struggled over this one for a while lol. ive only seen like. 3? episodes of dexter so. i really hope this meets your expectations! also forgive any mistakes its late, im tired, and i wanna get this up lol. also, is negan batman? maybe. 3.7k words

"Will, stop you're hurting me!" I hissed, grabbing at his wrist. He tugged me out of the bustling restaurant and into the dark street.

"I don't really give a shit," He snarled, throwing me into a secluded alleyway a few buildings down from the restaurant. Will had taken me out to a business dinner with his boss in hopes of showing me off and making a good impression. But things didn't quite go according to plan. "You embarrassed me in front of everyone!" He pushed me against the brick wall of the closed department store.

"What was I supposed to do?" I sneered, trying to wiggle away from him "He kept commenting on my body, saying how he wished he could take me home at the end of the night and do all kinds of 'unspeakable things to me'."

"You were just supposed to shut up and take it!" Will said, voice filled with rage "But no, you and your untamable fucking complex just couldn't handle a compliment. You threw your drink in his face! You're lucky he didn't fire me right then and there. You made me look like some pussy who can't control his whore."

"You're an asshole." I shouted, tears welling at the edges of my eyes. Will's face contorted further into a look of pure, unadulterated hatred.

"What the fuck did you just call me?" He seethed, clasping his hand tightly around my throat and constricting his fingers around my airway.

"I said you're an asshole who cares more about his dead-end career than his fucking girlfriend." I croaked. I hated him. I hated him so much. My vision clouded with the combination of disgust, loathing, and lack of oxygen, so I hit him where I knew it hurt. "There's a reason you needed me for arm candy tonight. It's 'cause you're a boring, piece-of-shit, lowlife who has no skill whatsoever. How does it feel knowing you need me to make something of yourself?" With that, he threw me to the ground by my throat. He wasted no time and pinned me to the cold concrete. His knees dug into my shoulders and his hand flew to his back pocket, whipping out the switchblade he carried as a precaution against mugging. My eyes widened as they caught a glint of the moonlight off the sharp knife. He brought the blade up to my throat and slapped me over the cheek harshly with his free hand.

"You better take back those words, bitch," He hissed, pressing the blade into the soft skin of my jugular "or they might just be your last." A dribble of blood ran down my neck with the pressure. Realization flashed through my mind. I could die right then. That could have been my last moment. Was I scared? No. Why wasn't I scared? Maybe it had to do with the shadowy figure that was slowly approaching us from the ally entrance.

There was plenty of time for me to warn Will that someone was coming. But I didn't. Instead, I stayed quiet and watched as the shadow figure pulled Will from my body with ease and tossed him to the side. Everything was kind of a blur. I was still oxygen starved and filled with a whirl-wind of emotion. I heard Will cry out in surprise and indignance. The shadow figure said nothing. It saw the switchblade with a steady line of my blood. It kicked Will in the chest, knocking him to the ground. Then it lifted up a baseball bat over its head and cracked it down over Will's skull. He continued to beat Will until he stopped squirming. The shadow figure paused and swung the bat over his shoulder. I had regained my breath and pushed myself to my elbows. The shadow noticed me moving and took a few heavy steps in my direction. I squirmed away slightly, instincts telling me to get away from the thing that had just pulverized my boyfriend. The shadow entered a stream of moonlight. It was a man. He had peppered hair and a blood-speckled face. He had dark brown eyes and a small smile perched on his lips.

"You okay, sweetheart?" He said. His voice was deep. I was partially surprised. He wasn't a bulky man. He was tall and had a broad frame, but his limbs were long and his body was lithe. He wore a leather jacket and his boots were slick with what I could only assume were Will's brains. I didn't want to look at his bat.

"W-Why did you do that?" I whispered. It was all I could muster.

"He was going to kill you." The man sounded confused, like I was supposed to know who he was and why he saved me.

"You don't know that." My voice was quiet. My eyes were glued to a spot behind the man, unblinking. He let out a throaty chuckle and dropped to a squat, leveling with me.

"Doll, he had a knife pressed to your throat," His words were gentle "Looked like he was gonna fuckin' kill you." He hesitantly reached out two fingers in the direction of my face. I didn't move. He was wearing leather gloves. The ridged fabric ran along my injuries. "Seems like he did some damage before I could step in. Damn. Sorry about that. Listen, I live a few streets down. If you want, I can get you cleaned up."

"Okay," I said softly. I let him help me up to my feet. He guided me along with one arm while holding his bat with the other. As we walked out of the alley I couldn't help but look down at Will, or what remained of him at least. His forehead was split in half, a pool of chunky blood bubbling on the ground. I clenched my jaw and forced myself to swallow the bile that had risen in my throat. And yet, I didn't feel sad. I didn't mourn him. Maybe it was shock, maybe it wasn't. "Thank you?" I murmured, though it was more of a question. The man and I stepped out onto the street and I was grateful there was no one around to see us leaving the scene of a very heinous-looking crime.

"No problem, doll," The man hummed, setting a brisk pace down the sidewalk. "The name's Negan, by the way." Cool. Negan: my Savior.

~~~

"So you're like Batman?" I asked Negan as he dabbed the blood away from my neck. He gave a short chuckle and tore away the sticky part of the band-aid.

"I guess you can say that," he mused, splaying the bandage over the cut the knife had left "but I specifically go for people that I know have hurt others. The baddies, if you will."

"Is that legal?" I tilted my head, crossing my ankles as they dangled over the bathroom counter. My palms were flat on the surface of Negan's marble sink top, fiddling with the wrappers of the medical supplies he had used to clean and bandage my small cuts and bruises.

"I haven't been caught," Negan shrugged "besides, it's less work for the police. They don't have to do any interrogation bullshit or anything. I usually catch people in the act, like tonight. Then I do my thing."

"Do you kill everyone?"

"Only the bad people," He reminded, tossing away a bloody tissue "only people who have hurt others. But, yes, usually the offender ends up on the business end of Lucille over there." He pointed out the door into the living room, where the still-bloody bat rested against a chair. I furrowed my brow.

"Well, doesn't that make you a bad guy?" I pressed. He tapped my knee and I dropped down to the tile floor, tucking my hair behind my ear and gathering some of the scraps.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you still kill people, right? Even if they're bad? So doesn't that still make you a killer?" Negan was quiet for a minute. "Let's put it this way," I continued "What would you do if you came across someone who was like you; someone who hurt the bad people. Would you still kill them. They're hurting people." Negan took a deep breath and let it out with a contemplative sigh, itching his bearded chin.

"I'm not sure," He mused "I've never really thought about it before. See, I don't consider myself a bad person per say. Yea, what I'm doing might be considered fucked up. But I'm doing it for the right reason. I'm protecting people by attacking their attackers. In the end, someone's saved." He brushed off his hands and led me out of the bathroom, flicking the light off. "Would you rather me not have saved you tonight?"

"No," I said immediately "thank you. Really, thank you. You saved my life. Will is...was...always a dick, but I never thought he'd actually hurt me. I guess that proves people can have a whole bunch of layers." Negan nodded and moved to the kitchen. He raised a bottle of whiskey as an offering. I shook my head but he poured himself a glass.

"I was just doing my job," Negan grinned sympathetically "I'm sorry your boyfriend was an asshole who tried to murder you." I shrugged, amusement in my eyes.

"Eh, it happens to everyone." I smiled as he let out another laugh. I felt as if I shouldn't be laughing, but at the same time, everyone has their own responses to almost getting stabbed to death in an alley. So I let myself have this moment. Besides, Negan was a good guy to be around. He made me feel safe, comfortable, secure. Everything I needed right now. "So, Negan, what do you do? Surely vigilante-ing can't pay well, and this apartment is really nice."

"I'm a retired baseball player," Negan said, sipping his whiskey and settling into one of the armchairs in the living room "Hence the bat."

"Were you any good?" I asked. He let out a loud scoff.

"Was I any good?" He mocked "Sweetheart, I have a whole damn trophy room. I was fucking amazing. I just got old."

"So you're rich with no real job, you kill bad guys, and you have a massive ego," I listed "You really are like Batman, aren't you?"

~~~

Negan let me stay on his couch that night. It was leather, like everything else that man seemed to own, but it was comfortable. I woke up to the smell of bacon filling the air. I groaned and rubbed my fists against my eyes, clearing them of sleep. I stretched my arms above my head in a yawn and rolled off the couch, stumbling into the kitchen. Negan was hunched over the bubbling pan, dodging pellets of grease as they shot up at him.

"Smells good!" I purred, closing my eyes and taking a deep inhale.

"Good," He grumbled "You better fucking enjoy it because I've gotten burned at least three times." I laughed and walked up to him examining the small red patches that dotted his arms.

"You didn't have to make me breakfast you know."

"Yea, but I wanted to make sure you were comfortable," He sighed, turning off the stove and scooping the cooked bacon onto a paper towel. "Besides, I was craving some bacon when I woke up. I haven't had someone to share a meal with in a while."

"Well, if you want, you can come by my house for dinner." I offered, crunching down on a piece of bacon "I've been meaning to whip out the family alfredo recipe for a while, maybe a hot date would give me that incentive." I gave him a playful wink and he chuckled.

"Sure thing, doll," He hummed, putting the pan in the sink "I love me some fucking spaghetti. I'll see you around seven?"

"Sounds good."

~~~

I ran down the sidewalk, chest heaving. There was enough darkness to cover me, but I still kept my head down to prevent recognition. I held my hands close to my stomach, praying that the blood on my fingers wouldn't drip on the pavement and leave a trail. I had been on my way home from the store when I heard some commotion coming from an alley. My first instinct was to run, but then I heard the girl crying for help. Negan came to mind, what he did, how he helped people. I couldn't turn away. I marched down the alley and saw a greasy man pinning a woman to the wall of a building. Flashbacks of the night before hit me like a train. I looked on top of the alley dumpster  and saw a crowbar perched on one of the lids. I grabbed it and stormed up to the man, whacking him upside the head with the weapon. I kicked him to the side and brought the crowbar over my head before swinging it down. It connected with his face in a sickening 'thwack.' I thought of Will. I thought of what might of happened if Negan had never stopped him. I thought of all the times that bastard had gotten drunk and told me I was nothing. I let the rage bubble up and fuel my beating. By the time I was pulled back into the moment, my muscles were screaming, the woman was gone, and the man's face was unrecognizable. I tossed the crowbar into the dumpster and ran back home.

Dried blood is extremely hard to wash off. It sticks to your skin in flakes, creating a pattern of red veins crawling over your hands. Fuck. I scrubbed as hard as I could under the rushing water of the sink, pumping more and more soap into my hand. It was under my fingernails. It was stuck in my palm prints. Shit, did I leave fingerprints at the scene? Would they be coming for me? With a hiss, I rubbed even harder at my skin, small flecks of blood turning the sink water red.

Suddenly, my door opened.

"I'm ready for my s'getties!" Negan boomed with a wide smile. My head whipped around, looking at him with wide eyes. His grin faded and he crossed the room in record time, grabbing my wrists and turning the sink off. "Is this fucking blood?" He snarled, bringing my hands up to my face. I clenched my jaw and dropped my eyes to my feet. "Jesus, who's is it? Answer me!"

"I-I heard someone screaming on the way home," I said quietly, eyes still downcast "I thought I would help..." His jaw went slack and he let go of my hands, running his fingers through his hair.

"Jesus fuck, you can't just go around killing people!"

"Why not?" I snapped, eyes meeting his "You do it all the time? What's the difference? Why can't I help people?"

"Because it...Because you just can't!" Negan growled, shaking his head.

"Why are you so special?" I hissed back, drying my hands off on a towel before tossing it at him "It's not like you can get a permit for fucking murder. Why do you do it, anyways? Is it some perverted thing? Do you get off on saving people from attackers?"

"Watch yourself." Negan warned, eyes darkening.

"Pfft, or what?" I laughed, tossing my head back "What are you gonna do, kill me? I'm not afraid of you, Negan." As soon as the words left my mouth, he charged me. His hand flew to my throat, squeezing my airway lightly. His hips pressed me against the counter. I let out a small gasp when he shoved his face next to mine.

"Oh, but doll, you really fucking should be." He spat, curling his lip "I could snap your neck right here, right now." He gave a small squeeze to emphasize his words. I let out a strangled moan. We both froze. "Are you turned on right now?" He muttered, furrowing his brow. I licked my lips and squirmed in his grip, pressing my thighs together slightly in an effort to alleviate the warm pressure growing in my belly.

"No," I lied, voice weak. A sinister grin curled over the bottom half of his face and he licked his tongue over his teeth.

"And I'm the perv, huh?" He sucked on my earlobe and peppered kisses down my jawline "Sweetheart, tell me, do you want me to fuck that pretty little pussy of yours? Do you want me to make you cum harder than you ever have?" I whimpered at his dirty mouth. "Use your words, doll, or I'll leave right fucking now."

"Y-Yes!" I breathed as Negan's lips sucked on the sweet spot right beneath my ear.

"Yes, what, princess?"

"Yes, I want you to fuck me, please!" I groaned, clawing at his shirt. He let out a short chuckle, muttering something about how needy I was, but I didn't care. Right now, the only thought running through my head was that I needed Negan. I needed all of him. And damn me if I wasn't going to get it.

We clawed at each other's clothes like rabid animals. Once we were completely bare, Negan moved his kisses down my body. His large, calloused hands kneaded my breasts, twisting my nipples between his thumbs. My arms flew around his neck and I dragged my fingernails up his back. He shivered against my touch and slid his hands further down my body. They settled firmly on my hips as he captured my lips in a fervent kiss.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he grunted, pulling back for air. I looked at him. His tawny eyes were now black, pupils far beyond dilated with lust. Both of our lips were swollen and red from the intensity of our kisses. Negan's chest inflated and deflated quickly as his eyes roamed over my body. "You're so damn perfect." I smiled sheepishly and pulled my bottom lip between my teeth, looking up at him through lidded eyes.

"You're not so bad yourself," I reached out my hand and used my pointer finger to draw a line from his collar bone down the center of his chest and through his navel, finally ending right over his pulsing cock. He sucked in a breath as my fingers closed around him. My thumb swept over the hot tip, gathering precum on the pad of my finger and rubbing it around.

"Shit," He hissed as I slowly pumped him "I'm not gonna fucking last if you keep doing that." He gently pried my hand away and took a step closer to me. I could feel his hardened length resting against the inside of my thigh. The thought of him being so close made a burst of heat rush down between my thighs. Negan took a long finger and ran it through my folds, collecting my wetness. I moaned as he teasingly dipped the first knuckle into me. He pulled back and let out a low whistle. "Damn, girl," he chuckled, raising his finger to my face "You're fucking dripping. Who's that for?" His slick-coated fingers glistened in the light of my apartment. I let out a deep groan as he slid them between his lips and sucked.

"You, Negan!" I whimpered, wrapping my legs around his waist "It's all for you." A wolfish grin spread over his features as he tugged me off him and pulled me down off the counter. He spun me around and pressed gently between my shoulder blades until my chest was flat against the cold surface.

"Then if you don't mind," Negan cooed, lining himself up with my entrance "I'm going to take what belongs to me." With that, he slowly pushed into me. I gasped at the stretch, balling my hands into fists as he continued to split me open.

"Fucking shit," he groaned once he bottomed out "you're tight as hell. I bet you've never had a dick as big as mine." He pulled out slightly and I let out a moan at the growing emptiness inside. The moan soon turned to a yelp when he brought down his hand against my ass. The smack was loud and he rubbed the red spot tenderly. "Have you?"

"N-No!" I gasped when he thrusted into me for the first time "Never. Fuck, you feel so good." Negan's thrusts sped up, his hips snapping against my ass in an obscene rhythm. Grunts and moans of pleasure slipped from both of our lips as he plowed unapologetically into me. I could feel every inch of him. He was hitting every spot, dragging against my walls in a sinfully perfect way.

"You're doing so good," He purred, kissing and biting my shoulder "So good for me. You're so perfect." I tossed my head back and he grabbed my chin, tilting my face towards him so he could give me another bruising kiss. I could only keep up for so long, though, and the white bliss of pleasure he was giving me soon became overwhelming. My jaw went slack and my head dropped against the cool tile of the counter in an attempt to ground myself in the moment. "I want you to cum, doll, cum around me. Wanna feel those walls squeeze me." His thrusts were starting to become sloppy and I could tell he was getting to his end. One of his fingers danced down my spine and found its way to my clit. He circled it with just enough pressure to get me to the edge that I was so willing to jump off. "Now." Negan growled. I obeyed, feeling the band in my lower abdomen snapping violently. We reached our releases simultaneously. My walls clenched around him, milking him of every drop. I screwed my eyes shut and screamed his name, holding in a large breath as the world around me spun. Negan eventually pulled himself out and collapsed on top of me. We both were breathing heavily, sweaty bodies entangled as well as we could over a counter. I swallowed, my throat dry from panting through my orgasm. When my eyes fluttered open, I could see Negan's thumb tracing circles over the love bites that were starting to darken on my shoulders.

"Are you going to kill me?" I rasped, running a hand through my wild hair "I guess I'm a bad person now." Negan chuckled, still out of breath.

"I think I'll make an exception," He mused, pressing a sweet kiss to the shell of my ear "I don't think I'm ready to let you go just yet."