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sugarlywhispers · 1 month ago

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b.katsuki x reader (fem) | villain!reader, prohero!dynamight.

a.n; a bit of context for this little idea i had yesterday (LINK HERE). 😉🌟should i make it a serie?? 👀

The war lasted years. Years that brought not only destruction but losses that hurt deep in the soul. Years in which the whole world changed, including people. Deaths, injuries, betrayals. Wins and loses.

It took years to bring Shigaraki and his whole team down, but once it was done, Bakugou remembers clearly turning toward his best friend, Izuku, and hugging him so tight.

None of them will admit it, or at least Katsuki won't, but they both cried in that embrace.

Bakugou also remembers you.

You, who once used to fight alongside him and the rest of his hero friends. You, who knew them all from your first year at UA, because you had also been a classmate. You, who had shared laughs, cries, and many moments with them. You, who chose to betray them all and turn to Shigaraki's side.

He still remembers when it happened.

You had been right by his side; actually, back-to-back covering for him in the middle of a fight. Suddenly, the sun was clouded, leaving a gloomy and terrifying tension in the air.

"Enough!" A deep male voice roared, making everyone silent, heroes and villains alike. Bakugou felt your body tensing, and he immediately knew something was wrong.

"Y/N, stop this nonsense right now."

Bakugou turned and saw you looking straight ahead towards the voice. Your chest raised and lowered rapidly thanks to your breathing, he didn't know if it was because of the fight you both had recently been in or because you were afraid.

"Come. Now."

Bakugou didn't understand, or maybe he did but he didn't want to. But he definitely felt a sort of heaviness in his chest when he heard you murmur to him "I'm sorry" and walked towards the man.

He tried to stop you by grabbing your wrist, but you never turned to look at him. You simply shook his hand away and walked towards the villain.

"Don't make it any more dramatic, you stupid hero. She has always been one of us." The man smiled devilishly, an arm surrounding your shoulders once you stood by his side.

Bakugou felt like vomiting at that image.

Your betrayal felt heavy on everyone. But especially on Katsuki.

Why? Why did you do it? There had to be a reason behind your actions. You didn't even go willingly, he knew that. He saw it. He knew it had to be under some threat or something.

He just couldn't accept the fact that the only person he had felt any sort of feeling besides annoyance towards, could not be a villain. You were not a villain.

However, that's the title the government sentenced you under after the war. And how everyone saw you. A villain, someone who betrayed them.

You are a villain, who has been sentenced to a whole life in prison after the war was over, alongside many other villains. Many other people who betrayed the hero side too.

Katsuki had been at your trial when the sentence was declared. He and others too. Izuku, Mina, Sero, Ochako, Shoto and Denki. Many were missing, many were dead.

You were standing, the first one in a line of other betrayers, clearly on purpose, just to put more shame on your person for your decisions. And behind you were people like Hawks, Inasa, Koda and Jiro, among others. A system of anti-Quirk chains connecting all of you by the ankles and wrists.

"This is... unfair," Round cheeks sighed, eyes glossy, watching the people they knew. Or used to know.

Several mmhs agreed with her. Including Katsuki.

Call him biased, he'll fucking blast you to pieces, but he was sure you didn't have a choice. Something happened that made you turn, and he was going to fucking find out what happened.

Even if after the judge read your crimes and asked you how pleaded yourself and you simply said, "guilty", with a raspy, clearly hurting voice, yet your stance was neutral, cold even.

Bakugou Katsuki didn't believe it for one second.

He kicked away an empty cardboard box that was on the ground, clearly showing his anger, as everyone walked out of the courtroom.

"This is bullshit," Sero groaned, pissed off too.

"There's something we could do," Mina declared firmly, making everyone turn around to her as she was the last one leaving the room. "Follow me."

They were all standing outside now, in an adjacent alley from the Court of Law where the sentence had been made.

"Spill it." They were all alone now, no media, no civilians.

"Yeah, what did you mean, Mina?" Ochako took a step closer to her friend, clearly anxious.

"I heard this from lawyers yesterday at the girls' restroom in the CoL. They didn't know I was there too, so they were talking freely. One of them said that she was surprised no one mentioned one of the protections of one specific law regarding certain cases. Cases where heroes are undercover, where they have to join villains."

Katsuki took a step closer, full attention to what Mina was saying. All of them were paying attention.

"They said that probably that law wasn't brought into the defense because they have no defense. They are just taking the blame for the war because that's what the government wants. Someone to point at, someone to blame."

"Fucking pieces of shit."

"Oh my God, that's horrible!" Ochako cried, hugging herself.

"I understand it now. It's perfect for them. They once fought alongside us, but then they turned, probably under government directions to play undercover. And now they are taking the blame because there isn't enough evidence that can help them, that says the contrary. Or they don’t want to show it." Izuku analyzed, crossing his arms over his chest, eyebrows frowning in thought, clearly activating his "nerd mode".

"Well, that would apply to some of them," Denki said, the anger clear in every feature of his.

"What does that mean?" Sero asked, but he didn’t seem confused. More like, indignation making its way into him.

"Please. We all clearly know who I'm talking about."

All eyes traveled to Katsuki.

"Don't you dare fucking say it."

"Come on, Bakugou! She was right beside you when it happened! Her freaking father called out to her and she went! She fucking chose to turn to their side!"

Before Katsuki even decided to move towards Denki, Izuku and Sero were already holding him back, each one grabbing him by his arms and pushing him away.

“Who do you fucking think you are, huh?! She took a fucking bullet for you, you asshole! You wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for her, that same person you’re fucking accusing-...”

“She still betrayed us! She betrayed YOU.”

A growl left Katsuki’s mouth that could have frightened even All Might in his prime era, followed by a strong push that made Izuku and Sero activate their Quirks to hold their friend back. Uselessly.

But before he could reach where Denki was waiting for him, already electricity dancing around him, Mina stood right in between them, making Bakugou abruptly stop in his run in front of her.

“Cut it out! Both of you!” She yelled, “This is not the moment for this!” She told them off, scowling at each of them. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, Denki, but if this is about Jiro,” Mina’s voice trembled, clearly upset about recognizing another of her dear friends who betrayed them. Denki’s hands closed in fists tightly, just like his eyes, as if the name physically injured him, “it’s the same as Y/N…”

“No, it’s not! She didn’t have another choice!”

“And what the fuck makes you think Y/N did?!” Katsuki yelled back.

“She walked away willingly!”

“Jiro did too!”

“I said, enough! Stop yelling!” Mina interfered again, “We are not going to do what everyone else is doing. We are not blaming our friends if we don’t know exactly what happened.”

“The only way to know is if we try to contact them, and all sorts of communications are restricted,” Ochako offered sadly.

Mina nodded, “If you all are done yelling, I was about to tell you guys how we can get them out of there.”

Bakugou buffed one last time, feeling Izuku’s hand on his bicep, pulling him away softly. The message was clear, “stand down, Kacchan, and calm down”. He took a deep breath and let Izuku drag him a few steps back.

Everyone’s attention was back on Mina, as she explained in good detail what they were going to do.

a.n; just so everyone is aware, i do NOT make taglists. sorry. don't hate me, please🥺

#mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #mha bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #mha bakugou x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #mha bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha angst #mha angst #prohero!bakugou katsuki x villain!reader

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denwritesandcries · 8 months ago

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gf!Nat Scatorccio HCs

Pairing: natalie scatorccio x fem!reader

Summary: Dating Nat is basically bringing a stray home. Once she chooses you, she'll never leave.

Word count: 1,5k.

Content: 96' timeline, cursing, mentions of drinking/drug use, abandonment issues, nat being a loser and a sweetheart, fluff, kisses.

Note: writing for my beautiful sad loser nat is like a therapy session.

English is not my first language.

- You two definitely end up having a love-hate relationship for a while before you actually get together, fueled by teasing from both sides and Nat insisting that you’re not friends at all.

- Meeting her for the first time one day when you’re skipping class and catching her smoking weed behind the bleachers. Nat gets all defensive and impulsively makes an empty threat that you better not be a damn snitcher, but she seems so nervous that you can’t take her seriously for a second.

- Telling her to fuck off and sitting next to her because you’re already there and there’s no way you’re going to turn around and go back to your physics class, leaving her so confused and indignant that she drops her joint on the floor. Mocking her for it too.

- Nat tells you to fuck off, claiming that she was there first and you retort that there was plenty of space for both of you there. She lights up a regular cigarette this time, blowing the smoke right to your face on purpose with a shit-eating grin and you look at this girl with messy black hair, a peeling leather jacket and wide eyes covered in black eyeshadow like a fucking raccoon and decide you want to see her again.

- You run into her a week later, coincidentally trying out for the football team, just like you. Nat huffs and rolls her eyes the moment she puts her eyes on you, but stays close to you anyway.

- When you guys make it and get in, your incessantly teasing continues and none of your classmates can tell if you're serious or not and honestly, neither do you. This has led Jackie, aspiring to become captain that year, to do her best to pair you two up or on the same team in every group dynamic.

- This makes you both so fed up that you and Natalie team up just to annoy her and make it as difficult as you can during training, but since you're getting along, Jackie insists that her attempts were successful and that it's a victory – and she becomes captain anyway.

- There's a lot of longing and barbs exchanged before Nat finally confesses her feelings to you. She spends a lot of time in denial, especially after you start clearly showing your crush on her.

- One day Natalie just starts to get distant and avoids you for days, leaving you completely confused and miserable until she shows up as a drunk, sad mess on your doorstep.

- Her confession is a bunch of incoherent babbling and sobbing about how she was afraid of ruining everything and getting hurt – at least that's what you could make out, but the gist was there.

- She's completely embarrassed and tries to pretend she that she can’t remember anything she said and that nothing happened at school the next day, but you're not having it and won't let her get away this time.

- She won't admit it but she's so glad you didn't give up on her.

- Having Natalie as your girlfriend is basically bringing a stray home. She'll stay with you most of the time, even if your place isn't great either. Anywhere is better than where she lives for her, especially if you're there too.

- So gf!Nat who you start dating before senior year and who picks you up at home every day so you can walk to school together.

- gf!Nat who complains non-stop if you take too long to get ready, even if she's the one who got there too early, and who sprawls on your bed while waiting for you every time, looking around your room and always reaching for new details to learn about you.

- gf!Nat who starts going to classes regularly again when she finds out that you actually share some periods, which she didn't remember doing before because she skipped them so often.

- gf!Nat who you have little study sessions with at your house, but they're mostly excuses to make out after school. The only times you actually open your books are when you invite her to study at the library, and she always gets discouraged when that happens.

- gf!Nat who can't keep pictures of you at her house, but who sticks them all over both her lockers in the hallways and the locker room and who gets absolutely mortified when her friends end up seeing them, especially when Van and Lottie start teasing you both about it after games.

- gf!Nat who dedicates every goal she scores to you, winking with a cocky smile and lifting her chin up, even if you roll your eyes or give her the finger when you're on opposing teams.

- gf!Nat who asks you for help dyeing her hair for the first time. Who you shower with kisses and compliments when you see the result because she was a little insecure that it wouldn't suit her style.

- gf!Nat with who you sometimes end up swapping jerseys with by mistake after rushly making out in the locker room or blindly gathering the clothes she ends up forgetting when she sleeps over at your place.

- gf!Nat who pretends to be all tough and indifferent when you're in public, but who absolutely melts at your slightest touch behind closed doors.

- gf!Nat who will never, ever admit it but is a sucker for forehead and neck kisses. Who likes to hold hands and give long hugs after bad days and tiring football training.

- gf!Nat who you go to garage shows of the most unknown bands with and actually enjoying it, even if your musical tastes aren't that similar, just because of how excited she gets about them.

- gf!Nat who won't leave your side during parties and glares at anyone who blinks the wrong way in your direction. She protects your drink and keeps an arm around you like a bodyguard, no matter if you're taller than her or not.

- gf!Nat who’s the silent, easily jealous type who gets insecure when you give someone a little more attention – especially if it’s someone else on the team who she considers “better” than her – and keeps quiet about it until she ends up making some rude and passive-aggressive comment that makes you upset and apologize the next moment.

- gf!Nat who’s very insecure because of her home life and who fears that one day you’ll abandon her like everyone else. She tries to avoid the subject or gets really defensive when you try to bring it up to make her work on it, but either way you do your best to shower her with affection and reassurance in those moments.

- gf!Nat who ends up distancing herself after arguments and moments when she has to deal with a lot of feelings because she’s afraid to face it, especially her feelings about you. She tends to try to hurt the things that matter to her so she can be alone with her own isolation, but luckily for her, you don’t leave her alone when that happens anymore.

- gf!Nat whose love language is quality time and physical touch. She can and will spend as much time around you as possible and gets comically upset and offended if you move away from her touch – even if you didn't see her coming.

- gf!Nat who will never ask you to drink or use anything with her, but who will be happy if you ask to share a joint in your attic every now and then, just hanging out laughing and slow.

- gf!Nat who does everything she can to stop taking drugs and drinking so much once you start talking seriously about building a life together after graduating highschool, because now she has someone who cares about her as much as she does too.

- gf!Nat who refuses to ride on the back of your bike when you pick her up from places because she thinks it's lame, but who you convince to do it anyway since neither of you have a car yet.

- gf!Nat who blushes and gets all flustered when she wrap her arms around your waist and lean against your back, enjoying the ride while you're on the way to one of your dates at a cheap diner.

- gf!Nat who asks Van for movie recommendations for your movie nights because they're her favorite dates and she wants to surprise you when it's her turn to plan.

- gf!Nat who’s always the little spoon and who sighs audibly as she leans in close to you when she wants to cuddle because she doesn't have the courage to ask you directly.

- gf!Nat who always sleeps better with you.

- gf!Nat who you give a new leather jacket to for her 18th birthday that practically becomes a second skin to her and thanks you with red lipstick kisses while you share a small chocolate cake in your room.

- gf!Nat who says "I love you" first, because you're afraid you'll end up pushing her away if you tell her. She whispers it right in your ear, so the rest of the world can't hear, because now she's sure she has a love all her own.

#yellowjackets x reader #natalie scatorccio x reader #yellowjackets #nat scatorccio x reader #nat scatorccio #yellowjackets nat #nat yellowjackets #yellowjackets x you #yellowjackets show #denwrites

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dark-konohagakure2 · 5 months ago

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Alucard nonconing Integra’s little sister because he simply doesn’t respect her as he does with his master, mainly cause shes shy and timid unlike her big sister?? 🥺🙏

tw: noncon, bullying, age difference, size difference, threats, abuse, gunplay, sadism, fear play, fuck or die, object insertion (gun)

All characters depicted are 18+

Alucard has nothing but respect for his master, obeying her every command and carrying out her orders to the letter, but this courtesy does not extend toward's Integra's family, or more specifically; her younger sister. Alucard doesn't hate the girl, as evidenced by the fact that her brains aren't painting the walls yet, but he sure as hell doesn't respect her in the slightest either, and that's putting it lightly.

He's practically just a bully around her, popping out from around corners or out from walls when she least expects it, intentionally scaring her, he finds it hilarious how easily frightened she is, laughing his ass off whenever she flinches or jumps at his sudden appearance, but his teasing doesn't stay harmless for very long.

Alucard's antics will quickly escalate from schoolyard bullying to outright harassment and abuse. He'll fire his gun mere inches away from her head, just barely missing her, and he'll also get much more handsy with her, groping her tits and hips and slapping her ass whenever she walks by.

That's not even the worst of it, Alucard knows how scared and uncomfortable his guns make her, and he uses that to his full advantage, rubbing his Jackal across her body, brushing the cold metal against her most sensitive areas before forcing the barrel past her quivering lips and demanding that she gets it nice and wet for her own sake.

"Oh stop crying, little bitch. My master isn't scared of guns, so why should you be? Now if you don't start sucking already I'll blow your empty little head off."

If he is feeling especially sadistic, which will be more often than not, Alucard will when even force his gun into her pussy, with nothing but her saliva to lube up the cold steel. He'll keep his finger right on the trigger, but never actually pulling it. The chamber is completely empty and the safety is on of course, can't have his chew toy dying too quickly now, but she doesn't know that.

Everyone in the Hellsing Organization will turn a blind eye to what Alucard is doing to her. Walter is content to let his old friend do whatever he wants, and Seras is too loyal to her master to say anything against him. Even Integra, her own elder sister, won't do anything about it, the very most she'll do is tell Alucard not to kill her or break any bones.

The absolute worse thing Alucard will do is forcing himself onto her, making her take his entire huge cock into her small virgin pussy. Alucard is much bigger and more well endowed than the average man, even by vampire standards, so it's going to hurt like hell when he forces every single torturous inch into her untouched pussy, it's enough to make her bleed, which just spurs the vampire on all the more.

He's big and rough, treating her like a sex toy and having no regard for any pain he might be causing her during the brutal fucking. Alucard is so much bigger than her that he'll have to lift her up to even get her shorter form onto his cock, her feet off the ground as he fucks into her, hissing venomous insults into her ear as he rearranges her cunt.

"Hah! Pathetic! Even Police Girl can take more than this without passing out! You really sicken me brat, you're not worthy of sharing the same blood as my master..."

Being a creative sadist, Alucard will almost never run out or ways to play with his toy, having literal centuries of experience to pull from. In fact, if she proves to be entertaining enough for the ever bored Alucard, he might even consider making her his eternal plaything.

#hellsing #hellsing ultimate #hellsing x reader #hellsing smut #headcanon #x reader #alucard #alucard hellsing #alucard x reader #alucard smut #reader insert

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woso-dreamzzz · 9 months ago

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Kidnapped II

Fridolina Rolfö x Baby!Reader

Summary: You're sick

The league win is tonight.

Or, rather, the presentation of the trophy is tonight and Frido's excited. It should be a fairly easy win for the team so that combined with the trophy lift is going to make this day amazing.

It falls just short of perfect because you've fallen ill.

Frido's parents arrived nearly two days ago and, while you were perfectly fine on the plane, you're now a bit wheezy with a sore throat and a cough that just won't seem to go away.

"Älskling," She coos, bouncing you around as she gets ready to leave," You sound so bad."

You've been up most of the night coughing and Frido stayed up in solidarity, allowing her parents some sleep while she cared for you.

You cough again, as if to prove that you are feeling incredibly bad.

She measures out some medicine. Most of the team thought it was a little silly for her to be stocked up on kid's medicine when the only kid she hung out with was Cub but Frido had wanted to be prepared for if you got sick during any of your visits.

She'd be smug about it if it didn't mean that you were feeling terribly icky today.

She sways you softly as she squirts the medicine from the syringe down your throat.

"I know," She coos," Yucky, huh? I'll give this away to Mapi and Ingrid and find you some nice-tasting stuff for next time."

You whine a little and drop your head against Frido's collarbone. She keeps rocking you, rubbing your back softly as she lays kisses on top of your head.

"I'm going to call in," Frido says when her parents finally join the two of you in the kitchen," It's a fairly easy match. I won't be needed."

"Trophy is presented today," Her father replies gruffly," You can't miss that."

"Älskling is sick," Frido insists," I don't want to leave her. She needs me."

"You're not her mother," He says," You can't just pause your world because the little one is sick. Go to your match. Your mother and I will decide what to do with her. One of us will be there."

Frido puffs out her cheeks just like you do when you're annoyed. "I can stay!" She insists," She needs cuddles!"

"Cuddles that we are more than capable of giving her," Her father reminds her.

"Not sister cuddles!"

Her father laughs a little bit with an eye roll, taking you from Frido and soothing you easily when you whine against his chest.

"You know, I thought we left this petulance behind when you became an adult."

"I'm not petulant."

"Sure you're not.

Frido stamps her foot. "I'm not!"

Her father keeps laughing. "You're thirty years old and you're still stamping your foot? You're showing your baby sister a bad example."

The rumble of laughter from your father's chest has you let out your own raspy giggle that has Frido beaming at you.

"I'm staying here," Frido insists," Just to watch her a bit. It could get worse, you know."

"We raised you," Her father replies, adjusting you on his hip and bouncing slightly to help you settle," I think we know all about sickly children. She's much more well-behaved than you ever were."

"But-"

"Fridolina," He says, pulling out the full name and essentially silencing Frido with one word," If I have to drag you into that stadium by your ear then so help me I will. Your sister is capable of watching you on the tv no matter how sick she is."

Frido knows her father very well so the threat isn't empty.

She is going to the pitch even if he has to drag her there himself. It doesn't mean she has to be happy about it though.

Actually, Frido decides that she's not going to be happy at all even if the trophy is being lifted tonight. She forces herself to keep a frown on her face even when she listens to Ingrid complain about the two ginger cats that have now taken over her house.

Frido refuses to let herself be happy after being forced out of her own house while you're still wheezy and coughing.

"You can smile, you know," Mapi says," It won't break your face or anything."

"I'm proving a point," Frido replies," I am letting my parents know I'm not happy with this situation."

"Are you twelve? Because this is super childish."

Frido ignores her.

"Is this what I have to look forward to? God, I hope Cub never grows up."

"It's the principal of the matter," Frido says," My parents will understand."

It's difficult to keep the frown on her face when the team go seven nil up by the end of the match but if there's one thing Frido is, it's stubborn and she refuses to act like she's enjoying herself when you're sick in her home.

The trophy is brought out while the team celebrates and Frido gets up to join them before there's a familiar call of her name.

It's her mother's voice and Frido now knows it's her father who stayed home to look at you.

Good.

Because Frido isn't quite sure how she would react to seeing him here after her forced her to come without you.

Only...

You're being dangled over the railing to her, looking much happier and perkier than before.

"Look who decided to get over her little cold to see her sister win the league."

Frido grabs you and you clumsily fall onto her chest, giving her a big wet kiss on her neck.

She laughs. "Thank you, Älskling!"

You screech something unintelligible and Frido nods.

"I love you too!"

#woso x reader #fridolina rolfö x reader #fridolina rolfö #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso

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fraugwinska · 11 months ago

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Hello Springflower~

*slams envelope on the table and stare you into your soul whispering*

Alastor x reader where reader is asking him to show off as a fake "couple" because of one sinner who just won't stop annoying reader. Al agreed to help his dear friend and it started of innocent and cute with hand holding, kiss on the cheek- when SUDDENLY he kiss reader (in front of the sinner ofc) INTENSE and when he just stops for a second to kiss her neck she's like: "Al...? He's gone."

And he is like: "how disapointing"~

And just GOES ON

*leaves a heart cupcake next to the envelope and runs away*

For you - anything, sweet summer child. This just flowed out of me, and I was kicking my own feet as I wrote it. So... Here you go ;> I sincerely hope you enjoy it as much as I do.

❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️

Fake it 'till you Make it

The door slammed into it's frame with a bang so loud the glasses in it rattled. You panted, heart pounding hard in your chest as you tried to calm your erratic breathing. With shaking fingers you gripped the dark, wooden frame, so tight your nails scratched the furnishing off. You peered out of the yellow and red stained glasses, trying to identify the distorted shapes from the outside. Did he follow you? Was he still out there?

„What's...“

You felt a hand on your shoulder and reacted without thinking. You turned around with a shocked scream and whipped your arm out for a forceful slap. The sound reverberated around in the empty room as a slight stinging sensation ran through your palm. It snapped you back to reality and made you pause.

You blinked as your gaze went from your own, trembling hand, which now burned in an angry, red hue to a taupe face, the shadow of your handprint next to a wide, yellow smile. Your breath seemed to freeze as your eyes went up and finally met a pair of wide, burgundy ones.

"...the matter, dear?" Alastor finished, blinking before his face shifted slightly.

You stood speechless and frozen for a hot second, trying to recollect your thoughts before a tidal wave of emotion washed over your head. Embarrassment, followed by shock and, suddenly, by the sensation that started to build in your chest, the threat to bubble over in tears.

„Oh satan, Alastor, I-I'm so sorry. I, shit, I got you bad, I'm so sorry, th-there was.. and I was.."

You choked down another sob, words and feelings clogging up in your mouth. You rubbed at your stinging eyes, blinking away what you were trying desperately not to show. You thought it would have worked at least until Alastor's slender hands came up to wrap around your wrist and pull them away gently.

"Are you a singer, dear?" he chimed, his face unmoved, but his eyes softening a little. "Because that really was quite the hit! Ha ha!"

When you didn't join in his laugh, he immediately snapped out of it.

"But it seems my little joke was out of place, once again. What has you so rattled, little one?"

And this time, he actually made space and dropped the joke-y act, looking a bit worried. Which only added more pressure to the well in your chest. You squeezed your eyes shut to hold back any tears that tried to fight their way through, making yourself feel ridiculous.

"It's... there's this guy."

You swallowed sour spit down, licking your lips quickly before opening your mouth again, voice less shaky than you were feeling. "I saw him two weeks ago when I went grocery shopping with Niffty. He... he asked us for directions, I didn't know where the place he wanted to go was, and that was that. But ever since..."

Alastor's frown deepened. "Ever since then..?" he prompted carefully.

"...he kind of... pops up whenever I leave the hotel... he just shows up out of nowhere and asks me things. Follows me, doesn't listen when I tell him to leave me alone, doesn't know boundaries.." you balled your fists again, brows twitching down at the thought. "And today.. he tried to grab me, and I panicked, and I kicked him and he looked like..."

You looked back to the glasses.

"...it felt as if he was about to do something."

Alastor stared into you with these piercing eyes. It wasn't creepy, you didn't feel scrutinized or looked down on, and this wasn't the first time. Still, you felt that strange sense of unease in his intense gaze, like a cold hand was wrapped around your spine, running shivers down your back. It wasn't uncomfortable, per se, just... different. It had been months since you started your new job in the Hazbin Hotel as a bellhop, helping Charlie and Vaggie out in general. You weren't one to believe in redemption, but the work was easy, the residents nice and life, despite being dead, was good. It wasn't exactly peaceful, since living together with the radio demon sometimes had its challenges, but Alastor proved time after time that even if he could be quite eccentric, he was a good man deep down, funny and smart and interesting. Someone you could consider a friend.

That, however, didn't mean that he didn't spook you from time to time. He straightened his shoulders, brushed out imaginary dust from the sleeves of his suit, and when he spoke, there was an unmoving threat in his voice that he almost always hid behind his grins.

"He attempted to harm you?"

You furrowed your brows and stepped closer, leaving a little bit of space between you.

"I don't know... it felt like that. I didn't give it enough time to find out, I just ran back here."

"Smart girl.", he just commented, leaning over you to also watch the street through bulky glasses. You sighed and glanced out the windows. The sky had dimmed, red tinting the streets as it always did down here in the evenings. A few stray sinners stumbled along, either searching for a victim for the night or going home from their own sins. Still no trace of the demon. You could still feel the hot air of his breath on your neck when he bent forward. You grimaced at the thought of the stench of his sweat on the sleeves of your jacket.

"God... how am I going to go anywhere with him around?", you muttered to yourself, stepping back further and leaning against the table, burying your face into your hands. Alastor perked up at that. He tapped his cane against the floor.

"Oh, well I can't in good conscience allow my dear employee to fear the streets of the pentagram because of a silly pest."

You didn't catch his meaning. At least, not immediately. You shot a glance his way, giving him a skeptical look, furrowing a brow in confusion. "What do you-?"

He waved his cane, cutting you off, and put an arm around your shoulders. "I shall accompany you, then. When you need to go out, let me know and we'll show ourselves together. That sinner will get the gist then, I'm sure."

Your eyes widen. "Alastor, you're a genius!" you say with excitement as the thought slowly took root in your head, "If this creep thinks we're a couple, he might stay away."

"A what now?", Alastor asks, his smile faltering ever so slightly. However, his question was lost in your sudden enthusiasm, your excited rush of thoughts now loud and clear in your voice. "Then we should play the role in every aspect. We have to give off couple vibes, maybe show some PDA, nothing overboard, I know you don't like that kind of stuff, but holding hands might be believable enough. Oh, you're the best, Alastor."

"Yes, yes... so I've been told...", he replied with the usual giddy tone, although his voice sounded a little thick with white static.

You didn't pay much attention to it though, feeling a weight drop from your shoulders at the prospect of keeping the nuisance at bay. The whole idea might seem a bit strange to the others, but if it helped, why not?

***

"Well then, darling, ready to give the performance of your lifetime?", Alastor called the moment you exited the elevator. He was practically hopping over, grinning at you with a mixture of smugness, amusement and... something else. His smile grew, showcasing his pointed, sharp teeth with a flash. He was looking as dapper as always, dress coat neat and perfectly in place, cane ready at his hands - the radio demon as he breathed and lived.

"I hope so..." you muttered distractedly while straightening the hem of your uniform and peeking around the lobby. It was early morning and you had a not-so-short list of errands to run for the hotel. Alastor had been nonchalant about the trip when you asked him to accompany you last night, and you had half-assumed he had some matters of his own to tend to, or just flat-out backing out. But he just waved his hands and told you he'd be there at 8 a.m. sharp, which he was. In ALL the ways.

As it turned out the rumors of your plan must have traveled down the hotel grapevines fast and after a small bang and a hissed “Sssshhh!” from the left you saw the curious faces of Charlie, Niffty and Angel poking out the kitchen door, spying from afar and watching you and Alastor with bated breaths and loud-yet-shushed giggles.

"Don't tell me you're having a second thoughts on me accompanying you, dear.", Alastor stepped closer, wrapping his fingers around your hand in a tight grip, either oblivious to the audience or utterly non-fazed by them. You shook your head no, grimacing a little as your body tensed up in a bit of... concern. Not because of what you were about to do, no, it had everything and nothing to do with him and the... um. Hand. Touching.

"We can hear you, you know.", you hissed in the direction of the whispered squeals at his gesture, face scrunching up when a peal of giggling broke out and Angel audibly snorted through a quickly closed door. "Jus' be careful, tits, if 'ya go further than that with the oldtimer 'ya might need to buy some protection while 'ya out."

***

The plan was quite simple, but you guessed it had the possibility of either working like a charm or the idiot getting so mad, he could lose it and try something stupid.

Nevertheless, with Alastor on your side you didn't feel as paranoid and suffocated about leaving the grounds of the hotel. And his idea had worked out brilliantly so far. Not a single sign of your stalker, you had only met the usual faces on the main market road of the Pentagram City - maybe they stared a little more... okay, a LOT more, seeing you arm in arm with Al - and you ran into Angels' friend, Cherri Bomb, when you had to get some permits renewed. She had been friendly but extremely surprised and curious about since when you and Alastor, THE Radio demon were parading around 'like a pair of fuckin' newlyweds', in her words.

Alastor tried to brush her off with a monotone "What can I say? The good Lady just adores my presence.", squeezing your hand a little tighter, but his answer didn't satisfy her, so Cherri tried to pry into you, raising a brow and shooting you a smirk. "Al is a fun guy and interesting to talk to and spend time with. I like his company.", you shrugged, signing a paper, avoiding looking the cyclops into the eyes while you felt your ears redden.

It took her a good minute of blank stare, but when her grin slowly grew wider, you had no choice but to warn her with a hard stare and a small shake of your head. She rolled her one eye but she made a gesture of sealing the lips, still oogling the connection of your hands with impish delight.

At that moment you felt a squeeze on the hand, still in Alastor's grasp and his heavy stare from your right. His smile seemed fixed, a bit on the strained side, although his gaze remained cheerful.

"Everything wrapped up here, dearest?" he asked, tapping his foot impatiently.

"Almost done, just this document and the hotel can continue to serve alcohol. Husk would give me one hell of a shot if I'd forget that one."

You looked over to see if Alastor would pick up on the joke, but he was staring intently somewhere over your shoulder, so you just filed the form quickly and waved your friend goodbye. He quickened his steps, almost dragging you away as he paced down the street. You almost tripped over you own feet, trying to keep up with him.

"I think your persistent little pursuer has found us, darling. Don't look, just walk."

You sped up, also feeling a presence that had been on your heels a little longer than comfortable, a weighty silence behind your back. Still, as you rounded a corner, you just had to take a tiny peek and you saw, from the corner of your eyes, that the deranged looking coyote was gaining on you, still keeping his distance, his figure only a dark, moving smudge in the distance.

"Um... I guess now's a good time for a Plan B.", you said, halting in front of an antique shop.

Alastor's hand slid a bit lower, only his fingers curled around yours now, his warm touch tingling. "I'm thinking of it. Knowing your weak stomach, darling, bloodshed is out of the question?" he inquired, acting overly interested in a vintage gramophone showcased in the shop window and you snorted.

"You remember that?"

"Dear, it's hard to forget the amount of bile Niffty had to clean out of the dishwasher after you ran into my cooking...experiment."

"Not my proudest moment...", you laughed nervously, feeling cold sweat gather up on your back as you saw the rabid looking demon from the corner of your eye, creeping closer and closer. Alastor gave you a long, thoughtful look, before he spoke again, quietly and serious.

"Then let us both hope you'll stomach Plan B better."

Before you could think much, Alastor turned towards you, untangling his fingers from yours. His now freed hand cupped your cheek, and before you could say anything, he bowed down, tilting his head a bit to the side and gently pressed his ever-smiling lips against yours.

It was not your first kiss in your afterlife, but it might have very well been, seeing as your first response was an electric jolt up your spine. And this reaction wasn't even the weirdest part if the actual kissing part was just some peck. This wasn't a peck. A kiss with lips unmoving wasn't a kiss, it was more of a mouth-touching. This was something way more.

As surprising as the kiss was the tenderness with which he brought his lips to yours. It was gentle and yet so sensual that it sent small currents all over your skin, causing your eyes to close, goosebumps to form along your arms and a nervous flutter to erupt in the pit of your stomach. And maybe, maybe it lasted for just a fraction of the eternity it felt like, but if someone would have asked you later, you would swear he stole more than just a taste with the kiss. The slight push and pull between your mouths left the edges of your skin numb, the press of his smooth and heated mouth stirring up a peculiar feeling inside you that kept growing and rising and..

What was the reason for this again?

Oh yeah, your stalker.

Stalker.

You opened your eyes, seeing Alastor's burning red eyes fixated on something behind you, his expression intense with the hint of arrogance, a possessive smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. Something about that, the feel, the look in his eyes, made the back of your neck prickle. You blushed a little bit more but caught onto the reason the moment you realized what he was doing, trying to break the kiss to see where the coyote was.

You could only turn your head far enough to see the quickly shrinking silhouette of the demon vanishing in the distance, before Alastor brought his other hand to your waist, pulling you closer together, his tongue slipping between your lips, coaxing your lips to open again. Your own tongue responded and, together they mingled and twined with one another, sending the nerve-ending of your lips into a pleasant tingling sensation.

"A-Alas...tor...", you tried to get the words out as he nipped your lower lip, your eyes falling into those bright, heavy lidded ones of his, eyes which you couldn't stop looking into.

"He.. he's gone."

"Mh. Pity...", Alastor breathed with a soft hum, his chest rumbling at his words. His response had a mixture of sarcasm and amusement in it, but before you could properly ponder on them, your entire mind short-circuited when you realized he made no move to pull away.

Quite the opposite - with his hand sliding to your neck he pulled you onto his mouth again, deepening the kiss as his tongue slipped past your lips once more, completely shutting your mind down as a quiet, heartbreaking moan escaped your throat.

The fact that you two were in public, still standing in front of some store, all on display for anyone that might come down the road, didn't register in the haze that was slowly, so pleasantly slowly, forming. So lost were you in that fog of heat that the surroundings suddenly got distorted, leaving the alley, the store, the city completely. Your head spun at the sensations, a tremble raked across your nerves as your knees grew weak at the sound of his playful voice, echoing in the void you found yourself in.

"Let's draw it out a little more, darling, hm? Just to make sure."

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #fraugwinskawrites #angel dust #charlie morningstar #hazbin hotel niffty #for the frauchen #quick fic

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pandora-writes-one-piece · 4 months ago

Text

The Meet Cute - Law's Story - 17

Source for pic

The Great Pretender 17

Word Count: 5955

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader; Law is a soft dom; you have bratty tendencies (not all the time); voice kink; praise kink; cursing; very suggestive behaviour and innuendo from the start; sexual tension; teasing; so much flirting; romance; slow-burn; fluff; slight angst; mature audiences (though explicit NSFW moments will be properly tagged on the chapter); possessive Law; protective Law; soft Law; teasing Law; manipulative Doflamingo; inappropriate Doflamingo; fake relationship trope; only one-bed trope; reader has some anxiety issues; reader is a control freak and perfectionist; modern day AU; Mention of ex mentally abusive relationship;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Law (your father's doctor) start to build a flirty friendship because of your father’s procedure. So much so that when he’s invited to Baby 5’s wedding (his cousin), he asks you to be his date. His uncle Doflamingo - who is filthy rich - is very adamant on finding a suitable wife for him. Seeing as he wants to avoid that, he asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for the weekend.

Notes: One more chapter to go... gosh, I'm already feeling nostalgic... please enjoy this one (though it's angst most of the way through...) PS: Thank you @hopelesslover06 for suggesting this song! It fits perfectly!

You feel like crying. The tightness in your throat is suffocating, and the lump in it refuses to go down. Your eyes burn and itch, and you can barely stop the trembling of your lips.

But you'll be damned if you shed another tear near Ichiji.

How could you be so dumb? So naïve? Such an idiot! You should've known better than to try to be the bigger person. How could you have felt bad for someone who manipulated you so easily? He needed closure? He didn't deserve any!

Idiot!

You're almost baffled by your judgement of the situation! You can only think that you let it happen because you were feeling blissed out and happy after the love confession you and Law shared. To be truthful, closure wasn't just meant for him, but mostly for you. You needed to know you were finally rid of Ichiji. How stupid you were.

And now, as you ride home on the longest drive of your life - with Ichiji by your side - all you can think about is how your naïveté ruined the only good thing to happen to you in years.

The most beautiful thing, actually.

Have you lost Law for good? It pains you to simply consider that possibility, but how can you not? Doflamingo made it very clear you're not to speak with Law, or Doffy will ruin the clinic. You cannot imagine him making empty threats, and even so, you'd much rather not risk his wrath.

Though you can find a loophole…

If Law is the one to speak with you, then you're not breaking your promise, right?

Frantically searching through your purse, you try to find your phone, barely acknowledging Ichiji's quizzical looks. You're doing your best to ignore his presence, though he has tried to make small talk since you both entered the limo.

“Come on, where is it?” You mutter under your breath, taking out all the contents of the purse and placing them on the seat of the car. You and Law left your phones in the room before the wedding because it was a specific request by Baby 5. She wanted all the guests to be focused on the wedding instead of their devices. Doflamingo brought all your belongings to this car. It has to be in your purse.

“You won't find it, Doll.”

“Shut up.” You automatically reply before biting your lip. Silent treatment and consequent ignoring of one's presence imply that you don’t speak with him. So you shouldn't speak with him. Then again… “What do you mean?” You ask without looking him in the eyes.

“Donquixote confiscated your phone. No doubt to keep you from speaking with Trafalgar. Though I wouldn't put it past him to snoop on everything you have there.” His tone is amused, and that alone makes you seethe. It takes one manipulator to know another one.

“He won't be able to unlock it.” You say, shaking the remaining contents of your purse into your lap and coming out one phone short. “Shit!”

“Won't he?” Ichiji's dry chuckle has you grinding your teeth in no time, your pain momentarily forgotten and replaced by pure, unbridled anger. “Wasn't your tablet password-locked, too?”

Fuck.

“How—...” You don't even finish your sentence. You know how. And, once again, shame on you and your naïveté. You never changed passcodes since you broke up with Ichiji, and he knows them all. “I hate you so much, Ichiji.”

You can barely contain the pained sob that crawls up your throat, threatening to spill over and give voice to the grief filling your chest.

“It's alright, Doll. I deserve that hate.” Ichiji smirks.

“What do you have to gain by this? I don't get it. Was it just the satisfaction of seeing me suffer?” There goes your resolution about not crying in front of him.

Ichiji remains silent for so long that you think he's ignoring you. Your stifled sobs and the soft music from the radio are the only sounds that surround you.

Until he speaks. “You were mine first.” That has to be the most childish, selfish exclamation ever. Your scoff does nothing to stop his words, though. “And I'm not used to losing.”

“You're despicable.”

Stuffing all of your things back into your purse, you vow not to speak to Ichiji again. Maybe this time you'll learn your lesson.

-*-

“Come on, Law, are you sure that's what you saw?” Cora pats Law's back with fondness, trying to subtly put the whiskey bottle away from his reach because he's clearly had enough. “From what you told me just now, and I'm assuming you only skimmed the details, her past relationship with Ichiji was toxic, to say the least. Would she really get back with him?”

Law can't help but think that Cora does have a point. Law's witnessed you lose control and spiral because of Ichiji more times than he can count just this weekend. Why would you go back to him?

The kiss…

Was there really a kiss? Maybe not, but there was definitely an intimate hug. And then you left.

With him…

And that is something he cannot stomach. Not even with the help of whiskey or Cora's words. Something’s not adding up, and he's not sure what it is.

“I know what I saw.” Ichiji's hand on your lower back, both of you leaving. Without saying goodbye.

“Have you tried calling her? Listen to what she has to say?”

Law downs another glass of whiskey and steals the bottle back from Cora. “I don't want to listen.” But he does. And he did try to call you.

Straight to voicemail.

He won't try again. It's pretty clear now, no matter how much of what happened doesn't add up, you left without a word and don't want to be contacted. You weren't forced to leave, he saw you. You left of your own volition. And, damn it, if that doesn't hurt. Because both of you had just exchanged love confessions. It all felt so real.

And it's over. Just like that.

“I'm sure she has a good explanation, Law. Please be rational. Use your brain a bit instead of just your heart.” Cora's words are soft, but Law doesn't care for any of them.

“I can't be rational, Cora, when I feel completely out of control! How can I think straight when all I feel is pain?” Law gulps down whiskey straight from the bottle and gets up from the table. The venue is empty by now, as empty as his heart. Then he gets up on slightly wobbly feet, ignoring Cora’s help and nursing the bottle against his chest. “I'm going to bed. I'm fine!” He adds before Cora has a chance to say anything else.

But he's not fine. He's far from it, actually. And he's being completely honest. There's no way he can let his rational self take over when his emotional self is spiralling and hurting. He’s regressed back to the state he was in after Monet.

And he's not quite sure if this time he'll be able to get out at all.

-*-

It's nearly six in the morning when you arrive home. The sun is already peeking through the clouds, casting its orange glow on the fields you know so well.

Ichiji dozed off beside you, but thankfully, he stopped trying to make small talk with you around halfway through the ride. When you heard him snoring, you finally let yourself cry. Sleep eluded you all the way home and, despite feeling completely exhausted, you're not sure you'll ever be able to sleep again.

When the limo stops near your porch and the driver starts to unload your bags, Ichiji stirs awake, but you pay him no mind. Yet, while you're still grabbing your purse and the shoes you took off, he gets out of the limo and goes around to open the door for you, something he never did when you were together.

“You're home safe, Doll.” He says with a smile, and you simply grunt, getting up and swatting his extended hand away. When you look up the porch, Shanks is already there. A heavy frown on his lips as he stares at Ichiji and your - assuredly - tear-strained, swollen face. “Hello, Mr. Shanks.”

Ichiji waves and tries to place a hand on your lower back to lead you up the stairs. You flinch and squirm, your warning snarl turning into a sob without meaning to. “Stop. Touching. Me. You've done enough.”

“Alright, Vinsmoke, I'm gonna give you five seconds to get your ass back into the limo and disappear from my property before things start to get ugly.” Shanks bellows from the porch before starting to descend the steps, at the same time you're walking towards him. “One…”

“Doll…”

“Two…”

“I'm a phone call away.” Ichiji's carefree smirk still manages to send a wicked shiver down your spine.

“Three…”

“Get lost, Ichiji.” You drawl out, too tired to come up with a witty retort.

“Four… I'm not bluffing.”

“Fine.” Ichiji laughs and enters the limo without another look your way, though before closing the door, he still manages to add, “I still won. You might not be mine, but you're definitely not his.”

And before the limo reaches the gate, you're hugging yourself, ragged sobs leaving your lips in broken pants as your father rushes down the last steps to hold you against him in a one-armed embrace.

“Hey, hey, Bug, what's going on? What happened? Where's Law?” You bite down a desperate wail when your father mentions Law, but your shoulders keep shaking with sobs. He quickly realises something went wrong, but he doesn't pry, at least not yet. “Come inside, honey. There's coffee and some cake Makino made for me. It's your favourite.”

He tries, thinking it might help cheer you up. He's not wrong. A slice of your favourite cake and a mug of coffee might not even begin to heal your wounds or mend your soul, but it might patch you up just enough to pull yourself together for a few hours. So you follow Shanks inside, his arm steadying your wobbly steps.

You realise you should take a bath. You’re still wearing the bridesmaid dress, and your feet are dirty, you’re sweaty and tired and you’re pretty sure some hot water would feel like a balm to your broken heart. Yet you barely find the strength to sit down at the kitchen table while Shanks prepares a cup of coffee and some cake, let alone to take a shower.

Your father sits down in front of you. He’s silent, but his eyes carry all the unspoken questions he means to ask you, his worry evident in the way he absorbs every hiccup, every sob, every tremble of your hands. It’s clear he wants to comfort you, but he doesn’t quite know how to do it without prying.

“Want to tell me what happened?” He asks after you finish eating, his voice soft.

You don’t. You really don’t want to talk about it. But you also don’t want to worry your father more than you already have, so perhaps you should give him something.

A heavy sigh parts your lips before you begin your tale. “Law and I… we… we connected and… things were going great, until they weren’t…” Shaking your head, you give up on telling all the details, all the hurt and manipulations you’ve both suffered. It’s too much, and you just can’t go through it again.

Shanks gets enough of it to realise your heart is broken, whatever the reason may be, so he nods and reaches for your hand. “It’s okay, Bug. You don’t have to tell it all right now. Want to get some rest? You look… well… you look a bit…”

“I know. I’ll go up to my room, thanks, dad.” You know you look like crap. You’re not sure if you’ll be able to sleep, though. But it’s worth a shot.

-*-

You didn’t try to call him back. You didn’t try to reach out. You just… ghosted him.

When Law left the party, tipsy and broken-hearted, after being led to his room by a worried Cora - despite Law’s insistence that he could do it on his own - he didn’t realise that all your stuff was gone. He just realised how cold and lonely the room felt without your presence. How big the bed seemed, and how empty he was.

When he woke up this morning, though… it was like another knife was shoved into his already bleeding chest. You had not only left him without a word, you had planned it, since there was no way you could have packed that fast.

Were you playing him all night? All weekend? Why?

Law can’t grasp what your motivations are for this move. Why did you go back to a toxic relationship? To someone who hurt you so much and so permanently that they still triggered panic attacks.

It doesn’t make any sense.

But no matter how hard he tries to find reasons for your sudden disappearance, his hurt always takes over any rational thought. It’s the feeling of being betrayed, abandoned, and left behind that prevents him from coming to any rational conclusion.

Why?

He doesn’t know… he just knows he’s broken once again. He placed his trust, he laid down his love, and was, once more, deceived.

-*-

Days pass slowly. You barely sleep, barely eat, there’s not much that can motivate you. All you can think about is Law. How hurt and broken he must be feeling. You didn’t even have a chance to explain, so, obviously, he’s thinking the worst.

Your phone arrived in the mail one day after you did. Law’s contact was blocked, and there was a letter accompanying the device reminding you of the consequences of pursuing any contact with him.

Like you needed the reminder.

Doflamingo’s words still ring clearly in your head. There’s no way you’ll provoke his wrath, not when Law’s work is in jeopardy. You can’t risk it.

You try to distract yourself with work around the farm, and when your father sends you back into the house, claiming he doesn’t need any help, you start to rearrange the kitchen cabinets, organising everything, getting rid of old stuff, filling your mind with small, menial tasks to keep yourself busy instead of losing yourself in sorrow and pain.

It barely works.

It takes about a week before you crack a smile at something Shanks says. Well… it’s barely a smile, but it’s something other than the constant sad look you’ve now grown used to.

You share a bit more of what transpired with your father because you know he’s worried, but you leave out all the parts with Doflamingo and Ichiji. Leaving what really happened unsaid, minimising so much of your pain that, when you retell it like that, it almost seems like you’re overreacting.

Shanks doesn’t question anything, though. He just supports you.

-*-

Cora calls Law almost daily, checking in on him, making sure he’s eating and asking how he’s feeling. His uncle tries to lighten up the matter, but Law knows he’s terrified. He’s afraid Law will return to the broken shell of a man he was when Monet betrayed his trust. That’s why he keeps reaching out.

Law knows he won’t do that to Cora again. He’ll never shut him out because he knows how much that hurt him. But Law doubts he’ll ever be able to trust anyone again.

He’s returned to the clinic, and if at first his friends greet him with bright smiles and teasing questions, as soon as they sense the mood he’s in and how closed off he appears, all questions cease. They realise something went wrong, and they know better than to pry.

Law buries himself in work. He takes double shifts at the hospital, prolongs clinic hours. When he’s not seeing patients, he’s studying patient files or writing up essays, anything to keep his mind distracted and useful.

Anything else is too painful.

It all reminds him of you.

-*-

You’re not sure if you’ll ever feel whole again. Or happy, for that matter. Everything seems bleak, devoid of colour, empty… You try to make an effort to smile more often, if only for your father’s benefit, but it all feels fake…

Though you’ve managed to limit your crying fits to bedtime only.

That is, until you receive a package in the mail. It’s a thin envelope addressed to you, and for a brief moment, you fear that it might come from Doflamingo. Another bunch of threats or something else to remind you to stay away from Law.

It’s not.

It’s the photos from your and Law’s photoshoot.

And it’s like a knife through your heart.

A sob shakes your shoulders as it claws through your throat, and you slump down on the kitchen floor. Tears spill and fall freely across your cheeks, and the pain is overwhelming.

As you flip through the pictures, over and over, you can’t keep grief at bay: You and Law smiling at each other; you rolling Law’s sleeves as he gazes at you with nothing short of adoration; you tousling his hair while he graces you with a smirk; your soft kiss, full of passion; your look of devotion as the both of you realise that what you share is not part of a fake relationship…

There’s so much love there.

It hurts so much.

The pictures scatter on the floor as you use both hands to clamp your mouth. Shanks is just outside, you don’t want to alert him to your crying, but you can’t help the sobs from shaking your chest and shoulders.

It’s too painful.

With trembling hands, you reach for your phone, finger hovering over Law’s name. You want to see him, you want to speak to him… you need him.

An eternity passes before your heart settles, and you set your phone down. You can’t call him.

You can’t…

Picking up the photos, you return to your room to store them somewhere far away from you. At least Shanks didn’t see you break down.

One less worry.

-*-

Shanks waits for you to leave to go to the store to pick up some of his favourite cookies he completely forgot to buy when he was there this morning.

Then he goes to your room. He doesn’t want to pry, actually, he really shouldn’t pry, but he can’t stand to see you so broken, so unlike yourself.

He doesn’t know the full story since you didn’t share everything, but he knows Law means far more to you than you let on. It wasn’t just a small fling that went wrong, as you tried to paint it, it was far deeper. He knows it.

And he needs to see what was inside that envelope that made you break down on the kitchen floor. He wants to help, that’s all.

It takes him little time to find it, though. Ever since you took all of your childhood things out of your room, it’s been quite empty, save for your clothes, some books, and a few items you just didn’t want to part with.

Shanks can’t help the small smile form on his lips as he looks at the pictures of you and Law. You both look so happy, so in love. He can see it in every single one of the photos, from the way you look at each other to the way you touch one another. After a few photos he almost feels like he’s intruding on something personal and private, so he sets the photos back into the envelope and stores it where it was.

He knows what to do to help you now.

Whatever happened between the two of you, it can’t have been destroyed in a weekend. Not when it seems so strong.

He’s done sitting on the sidelines of your life, so he’s going to act.

-*-

When Baby 5 sends him the photos from the photoshoot, Law has half a mind to just throw them in the trash without opening the envelope. He can’t justify why he doesn’t do just that.

Is he a masochist?

He must be.

There’s no other explanation for why he’s opening the envelope, heart already pounding madly against his chest, even before he scans its contents.

When he does, though…

He can’t say he’s more broken-hearted than before, really, because he can’t be more broken than that. But these pictures cut him in ways he can’t even begin to grasp, let alone comprehend. How can what you two had have been forsaken in a few moments?

How can a love so deep and so strong be torn asunder like that?

Nothing adds up, nothing makes sense, and Law doesn’t know what to do anymore. Should he still dare to hope and seek you out himself? Or should he just accept defeat and let you go?

-*-

“Dad, I’m home. I had to go to two different stores just to get you your cookies, so you better–... Shanks!” The sight of your father sprawled out at the bottom of the stairs makes your stomach climb all the way up to your throat. “Dad, dad! What happened?”

Shanks groans and grunts. He’s lying down, his back bent in a weird position and his face twisted with a pained grimace. “I tripped, Bug.”

“Down the stairs? Why can't you be more careful?” You fuss over him, not really knowing if you should move him or not, panic already making you sweat.

“My phone is in the living room. I couldn’t call you or anyone for help. But I’m not that hurt. It’s just my back…”

“What do you mean just your back? The back you just had surgery on? The same one?” Your voice rises with each sarcastic question, already fumbling through your purse, searching for your phone.

“Take me to the clinic, Bug, please.”

Oh, no, no. You can’t. The trembling in your hands makes your phone fall, and you take a deep shaky breath before picking it up and searching for the fire station number. “No. We’re going to the hospital. I’m calling Luffy.”

Shanks’ hand grips your wrist tightly as he whispers your name. “Take me to the clinic. If you take me to the hospital, I’ll be in the ER forever, and they’ll just call Law because he’s the one who operated on me. Cut me some slack and just take me to the one who can help me.”

Shanks is already sitting up with a pained grunt, and you start to panic. You can’t see Law, you just can’t. Even though it’s the one thing you want to do, you can’t.

“I… I…” Though you can stay in the car. You just need to drive your dad there, that’s it. That’s all you have to do, there’s no need to go inside. “Okay, let’s go.”

-*-

“Here we are, I’ll leave you with Penguin and Shachi and wait here in the car, okay?”

“No!” Shanks exclaims, one hand already clutching your wrist while the other presses into his lower back. “It hurts, Bug, I need you, please!” If you hadn’t witnessed his sprawled-out form at the bottom of the steps, you would say he’s faking it.

You have half a mind to refuse and just call one of the men over to help, but your heart constricts in your chest, and all the sleepless nights you spent by his side when he was operated on rush into your mind like a drama movie. He needs you, and you need to know he’ll be fine.

“Fine! Let’s go.” Ushering your father through the entrance of the clinic, you still have every intention of leaving him with the nurses, like you did the first time you brought him here, and leaving to wait for him in the car, begging Kaya to update you with news. He’ll be none the wiser, and you won’t have to face Law.

But just by being in the clinic, your heart seems ready to burst out of your chest with all the force it’s beating with. How would Law react if he saw you?

Hurt, definitely. Betrayed, for sure. Angry? Most likely.

While you would shatter immediately. You miss him so, so much.

“Kaya, can you help us, please?” Your words are barely a whisper. You’re not sure if Law can hear what happens outside of his office door, but you don’t want to chance it. Kaya looks at you in awe and, then, with one look at your father, her expression changes to a half-hidden smirk.

What?

You look at Shanks, but he’s still grimacing in pain, though you can almost wager he made some sort of signal to Kaya for her to react like that.

“Bring Mr. S. this way.” She leads you towards a familiar door, and you pause.

“Oh, no, no. Where’s Penguin? Or Shachi? Dad, you can go in… I’ll…”

“Nonsense! Let’s go!” Kaya practically shoves you until you’re in front of Law’s office door. Your stomach turns and twists, and you can’t stop the ragged gasps from leaving you.

You can’t do this. You can’t see Law. Doflamingo… the clinic… no, no, no…

“There’s an urgent patient, Dr. Trafalgar!” Kaya announces as she opens the door without knocking and shoves you inside.

Your breath catches in your throat when you and Law lock gazes. He’s slumped on his desk, elbows on the table while his fingers thread through his dark locks, a defeated look in his eyes, and you can’t help but feel all the pain of the past weeks crashing down in waves again.

He’s up in an instant, a surprised look in his eyes and a flicker of hope in them. He quickly masks it by holding his cold demeanour back in place, though. Everything happens in seconds, but it’s been so long since you’ve seen him that it seems like an eternity.

God, it hurts so much.

“Would you look at that, my back is healed! I feel fine! But maybe you two should talk.” Shanks exclaims before closing the door and leaving you inside, heart thumping and tears threatening to fall.

All you want to do is run to him, swing your arms around his neck and kiss him. Tell him how sorry you are and how it was all a mistake and how much you love him.

But you can’t.

Because everything he’s worked for is on the line and Doflamingo can destroy it all in mere seconds.

“I… I… I should go…” You whisper but don’t make a single move. You don’t want to go. You thought you were strong enough to endure separation because it was for Law’s sake. You could handle a broken heart, you’ve done it before, even if it didn’t hurt nearly as much as now. But the truth is that you’re weak, and now Law is right in front of you. The damage is already done, so you better use it to at least apologise.

Right?

“Maybe you should. That’s one thing you seem to be good at… leaving me.” Law’s voice sounds broken, unused, and very raw. His words hurt more than any separation ever could, but they ring true. He’s right, you left him.

Biting down your lip to hold in a sob, you wrap your arms around yourself as a shield and downcast your gaze.

“I’m sorry…” That’s all you can say. You can’t tell him what Doflamingo threatened, you can’t share any of that. But you want to make amends. At least that. “I never meant to hurt you.”

Law starts to pace his office, his hand raking through his hair in desperate motions, all of his control seemingly slipping away with ease now that he’s seen you.

“And yet you did. Why? I just–... God! Why?” You remain silent. You can’t tell him the truth, but you refuse to lie. “Why go back to a toxic relationship? I thought–... damnit, I thought you were healing! Why?”

You can hold back the words but you fail to hold back the tears. Your nails are already shaping indents against your arms with the strength you're gripping them and your lower lip must be near breaking open with the force of which you are biting it.

“I need to know what happened, I thought we–... I thought you loved me!” The way his voice breaks has you instantly sobbing. Why does it hurt so much? “Please… tell me… please.”

‘I don’t beg, sweetheart. Ever.’

He said that to you in your most intimate moment and yet… Now he’s begging you for the truth. But you can’t!

“Do you still love him?” Your head raises in shock and you see Law slumping his shoulders, his eyes downcasting like he’s expecting you to answer ‘yes’, and you can’t stay silent anymore.

“I don’t! I don’t love him, Law, I love–...” You stop the words just as you were about to spill them, but Law seems so focused on finding out what happened that he doesn’t even acknowledge what you were about to say.

“Did you kiss him?”

“No!” Law raises his eyes to you, a hint of disbelief darkening the amber in them and you falter. He doesn’t trust your words, you’ve hurt him too deeply. “I didn’t! And I shouldn’t have hugged him either, that was a terrible mistake!”

“Then why did you?”

“I thought–...” This you can share, at least this might help mitigate some of his pain. “He wanted closure, that’s what he said, so he could leave and move on and, frankly, so did I!” You sigh, and another sob accompanies it. “I was feeling the happiest I’ve ever felt because of you… and when he proposed closure, I thought… that’s exactly what I needed too!”

You have been wracking your brain as to why you so readily accepted his hug and came to this conclusion, even though it was an unconscious one, you know that’s what your heart meant.

“I needed to leave my hurtful past behind so I could start a future with you. I just never thought… If I could go back… I would’ve never let them–...” Another sob interrupts your speech, and you use it to shut up because if you don’t, you might speak too much, you might’ve already have…

Law is silent, and you steal a glance his way. He’s still pacing back and forth, a deep crease between his eyebrows to accompany his pursed lips, like he’s in deep thought. Maybe he didn’t acknowledge your slip-up again.

“You don’t love him, you didn’t kiss him…” He pauses right in front of you and you have to hold your breath because his scent is intoxicating. It brings back memories of kisses and touches, of sweet nothings and whispered forevers. It’s much more than you can bear at the moment. “So… why? Why did you leave with him? There has to be an explanation…”

He takes another step forward but quickly falls back, clenching his fists against his legs as if to stop himself from the impulse to touch you.

“I knew that what I saw must’ve had an explanation, so as soon as I cooled off, I came back. I was going to speak with you, hear what you had to say because, surely, I had jumped to conclusions. But then…” Law retreats another step, passing his hand through his face and groaning. “You were leaving with Vinsmoke! With him! Not at the same time as him by coincidence or chance, but with him.” Another fresh wave of tears hits you, and the slight tremble in Law’s voice shows you just how hard he’s struggling to keep it together. “Why? I can’t understand why…”

And you can’t tell him.

So, this is where you’re going to leave things. He wants to understand, and you can’t explain. You both love each other so much and you can’t be together. It’s heart-wrenching, devastating, and you just feel like screaming.

“Why?” He insists and you keep sobbing. Your name leaves his lips in another whispered plea. “Why?”

“I can’t…” You say, the pain of your words cutting deep into both your hearts.

Suddenly, he’s right in front of you, his presence overwhelming, as always, and the urge to hold him is so strong that it almost makes you dizzy. You take two steps back to try and escape him before you fold, and stop when your back hits the door.

“You can’t, what?” He insists, still coming closer, his voice more eager, like he’s realising there’s something you’re not telling him and that it must be the puzzle piece he’s been missing to grasp what happened.

You just shake your head, closing your eyes and biting back another sob. With another step, he’s right in front of you. It takes another heartbeat to feel his hand cupping your cheek, feeling your tears, maybe realising you’re hurting too much for someone who, supposedly, left him.

God, you’re not strong enough.

“Tell me what really happened. I refuse to believe you just left me like that.” Law presses his forehead against yours, and you let out a strangled whimper. You need his touch, his love, his lips… you need him. Suddenly, Law’s breath hitches, like he finally grasped something. “Them…? You said ‘them’! Do you mean… is Doffy involved? Is he threatening you?”

You know Law is a genius, but you weren’t expecting him to get it so fast. Still, you shake your head. You can’t risk Doflamingo shutting down Law’s clinic. You just can’t. You don’t know if Law would choose you over his job, and you don’t want to force him to have to make that choice.

“You can’t say, right? Fine.” He pulls back his face, but not his body or his hand. “Look at me.” You obey because he’s using the voice and, frankly, you just don’t have any strength left to fight anymore. “I’m going to ask you one question, and if the answer is ‘no’, you can leave and we don’t have to speak anymore. Okay?”

You nod softly, his closeness leaving you breathless.

“Do you love me?” Law’s thumb brushes your lower lip, his face too close to yours, and you try, you really try hard to hold back your emotions, but you can't. Whatever feeble defences you had left come down crumbling and crashing alongside a fresh bout of tears as you nod vigorously.

“I do. I love you, Law, I love you so much.” Your voice falters with the weight of everything because if there was a chance of just leaving Law behind and having him and his business be safe, it was now, and you just squandered it. “So, so much.”

Your eyes meet his, and he stops breathing for a moment. The cold gaze he’s been wearing and shielding his emotions with dissolves as his gaze softens. Relief, longing, and a resemblance of understanding flood his features as he cups your face with both hands.

“God, love, I’ve missed you so much.”

You barely have time to process anything before his lips crash into yours in a kiss full of longing and despair. You immediately melt into his touch, your fingers grasping his shirt, pulling him closer to you, afraid you’ll lose him again.

You know Doffy is going to make his threat come true; you know you’ve just jeopardised Law’s lifework; you know you should’ve just left when you had the chance; you know this is all wrong.

But how can wrong feel so right?

This is where you belong, this is where you want to be.

Forever.

Tag List:@rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @ren-ni @jqperi @lycoriskalmia @rainbow2312 @alexturnersgirl

|Epilogue|

#reader insert #reader x #x reader #fem reader #trafalgar law x reader #reader x trafalgar law #trafalgar d water law #law x reader #reader x law #law x you #you x law #the meet cute

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daylighted · 18 days ago

Text

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤshield ! reader ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤpart one !!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤBITTER REUNIONS.

summary soldier boy's first stop in his grand return is to collect his suit and his shield, only to find out just how different & bittersweet things have become in his absenceㅤㅤㅤwarnings feminine rage, discussions of trauma, hurt/hurt because there's no comfortㅤㅤㅤword count 2.5k

ㅤㅤㅤTHE FLATSCREEN TELEVISION SCREEN CRACKLES IN THE LEGEND'S LIVING ROOM SPACE. on it, a basketball game, two teams that you've never given a shit about, but it's what the legend likes to watch, and so you sit on the worn-out couch and do what you've always done: endure other people's shit, and bite the hand that feeds you.

you would think by now that he knows you better than this. that you pick a fight every single time he flips through the channels with the device he won't tell you the name of, lest you figure out how to access the internet and learn how to use it. that you have smashed three of his televisions in your time with him.

frederick vought warned the legend before he'd handed you over. his words were slurred, tired, defeated — but they were clear enough to still be used against you, repeated by many who encountered you.

she is a cruel one, that shield i've reconstructed.

cruel, indeed.

"i do not want to watch," you shout across the empty space, making a furious reach across the sofa to snatch the television stick off of the other side's abandoned cushion. the bell to the door rang ten minutes earlier, and the old man had yet to return.

you glare at the screen, as if you could will it to silence with nothing but your mind. impossible, of course; at least, you hadn't been successful yet. you hated the buzz of high pitched chatter in the televised crowd, the way it crawled into the crevices of your mind through the passages of your ears and nested.

a furious growl leaves your lips, and you rise to your feet, steps away from the bright screen. you are cruel, and everyone thinks so, but you have kindness tucked away in your rage, sometimes. the score is 120-88. you take note of it, shoving the numbers into your pocket, before you slam the remote into the screen.

the shards of glass that embed into your hand don't hurt. your lips twist into an irritated scowl at the sight of them, plucking out each piece and littering it on the hardwood floor. the remote is in pieces, too, crushed in the tight squeeze of your hand.

you release your grip, letting each piece crumble to the ground with loud thumps. fury crackles through you, acid burning in your bloodstream. it is unlike the man you've been stuck with to abandon you to your own devices for so long. it is also unlike him to force you to watch something you do not like in his absences.

you liked jersey shore, and the real housewives. you liked seeing girls like you get to live lives you'd never get to. it was therapeutic and gutwrenching all at once, and that only added to the fuel of your anger, crackling inside of you.

the walk you take down the lengthy hallway into the part of his home that you were strictly forbidden from was punctuated by the echo of your stomping feet. these were the parts of the house that the legend kept locked. the front entrance, the actual living room, and the man's own bedroom. all places that he deemed his, and all places with quick access to the public, meaning exits.

it was not a laboratory. but it was not a home, either.

your fist slams on the wood of the door, right into the indent of it that you'd already created. this was not the first time that you'd broken down this door. it wouldn't be the last, with how many secrets he kept locked away from you, and how much of the world you were forbidden to see.

"open the door, legend, or i'm going to pummel your fucking skull—"

"enough of that." his voice is muffled when it cuts through your threats, close enough that he sounds like he is right on the other side of the wood. you slam your fist into it again, hard enough for the wood to splinter in the center of your indentation. "enough, indy. i'm comin' back."

"you left the fucking game on." you throw your hand backwards in gesture, even though he can't see it. that was easy enough to fix. you punch through the splintered wood, creating a fist shaped hole to the other side. "you know i hate watching men play games."

the legend is used to your antics by now, and so he doesn't flinch at the break. you see enough of his face to note the downward scowl, and the disappointment behind his dark glasses. "you don't much like the women playing them, either."

"because it is not fun." didn't he understand by now? you were a girl locked away, punished for being created and what you were shaped into. you did not get fun of your own, so you needed some kind of outlet to drown yourself into. it was no wonder that you were thought of as a monster. your only glimpses of the sunny skies were in the gaps of the legend's barred off windows. titanium, so it was not impossible for you to bend them, but it was not an easy feat.

he sighs through his nose, smoke curling around his face from the cigar in his fingers. "two minutes, indy." he holds up two fingers, as if he thought you could not fucking count or comprehend how long two minutes was. "that's all i need."

"who the fuck is in there?" another voice asks, deep and rough and familiar. so familiar. forty years was enough time to age someone — you knew this from how the legend looks now, compared to when he'd first had to take you in — and yet...

the legend's eyes dart over to the source of the voice at the same time as yours do. recognition comes in the form of a racing heartbeat. it builds, and crescendos, and suddenly you are shaking as you beat on the door again. "whoa, whoa, whoa—"

each time he got the door redone stronger. soon enough, he'd have a door made of titanium guarding his proper guests from the rest of his house, and from you.

no one could know about you, not when you were the makings of a sick imagination burrowed in an intelligent man's head.

that did not mean you didn't try. it was such a lonely life, locked away in a penthouse with a man that grew closer and closer to dying with each passing year, and no one knowing anything of what you'd become.

the anger flares, flames licking at the electric sparks in your veins. the door crumbles with one harsher hit, and you're standing in the space you're kept from. you've been here before, never permitted past this doorway, always whisked away before you can get a breath of fresh air.

"hi, sweetheart," soldier boy says, one corner of his mouth curled high in an arrogant smile. bold of him to still carry the same confidence he did back when you knew him, when now, he was in nothing but sweatpants and a zip-up jacket almost too small for his frame. his green eyes stay on you as he says over your shoulder, "she's young. can you even fuckin' keep up with her?"

your eyes flare. it's two steps to be in front of him, and the third is just for good measure, when you clock him in the chin. his head snaps backwards, surprise making him stumble backwards a step.

soldier boy rubs at the skin of his jaw, irritation as bright as your anger staring back at you. you know the calm he wears in his expression. it barely conceals a storm, brewing beneath the surface. you know it because you'd often been the weapon he chose in these moods of his. you know it because you adopted that ire yourself.

"that's enough." the legend steps over the broken pieces of his door, grimacing at the splinters littering the ground. "indy, enough."

you glance over your shoulder to eye the man's expression, trying to determine what he was feeling by look alone. he was not capable of hurting you, nothing was, but he knew how to weaponize words when you upset him, all of which only steeled your skin further.

there is not enough damage in the world you can inflict onto soldier boy to make up for the things he did with you. bashed skulls, took bullets, burnt her steel until she glowed vibrant orange. you expected him to be dead. you wanted him to have been dead, if only so you'd be spared from this moment. but you never got what you wanted. no jersey shore, no fresh air, and no freedom from soldier boy.

you raise your arm to deck him again, but his fingers close around your wrist tightly, tugging it harshly back down. his smirk says everything you need to know about how much he knows. he does not know that you've learned all of his weaknesses, and that he often left himself vulnerable in times when he thought he had the upperhand.

you yank him toward you in the same moment as you ream your knee straight into his cock.

soldier boy stutters on a groan, releasing his grip on you like you’d burnt him. you don’t relish in his pain, or the surprise that you could hurt him. it’s not enough.

the legend gives you the same disappointed look you’re used to getting from him, his head shaking in disapproval. “i locked the door for a reason.”

“you always say this.” you turn on your heel, jamming your finger into the center of his chest. you missed the days when he cowered under your anger and attitude, now it only seemed to exhaust him. “you always lock the door for a reason, and then it is just grace. you do not even let me see grace.”

“and look what happened the time you decided to break the rules.” the legend nods behind you, toward the man you do not turn to look at again. his footsteps are heavy as they approach. “this is what i keep you away from. the possibility of this.”

the urge to break every bone on the older man’s face is almost enough to overtake any rational thinking inside of you. he must see it, because he shakes his head again. “stand down.”

“where’s my suit?” soldier boy asks from behind you, and you still in place. he’s too close. every instinct of fight clicks into gear, the safety off as the bullets load up.

the legend nods down the hallway, in the direction of your space. you had so little that you could call your own. the bigger of the guest bedrooms was yours, shared only in the terms of the collectibles he kept in the expansive closet.

you knew soldier boy’s suit was in there. you could smell the tobacco and the whiskey from it, sometimes, from the safety of your bed. you sometimes could catch a whiff of cologne, on days where you let go of the mask that you were okay with being alone for the rest of your life. when you wished upon a star outside of your barred windows that just one person would find you again.

“you cannot go in there.” you are already starting down the hallway, eager to reach your room before any of them could.

all of your fury was gone. stand down was an order. a kill switch programmed into you to bury all of the tension that often broke free of your restraints. it was not safe, vought once said to you when you were a child, to have a girl who can’t break without a few weaknesses. a few. some of which you didn’t even know, but your mind did.

there wasn’t any electricity in your veins anymore, but there was bleeding desperation. no, they could not invade your space. it defeated the purpose of having it. it would force the legend to open the rooms he locked away from you, too, and you knew he wouldn’t ever. if you granted either of these men an inch, they’d take a mile, and crush you in the process.

“he needs his suit, indy.”

your nose twitches, fighting against the command still ringing in your head. you grit your teeth, jaw clenched tightly. “he needs nothing.”

“who the fuck is this?” soldier boy asks again, and he’s relentless in his pursuit now, coming for your space with the authority of a man who has never been told no in his life. “get out of the way, sweetheart, or you won’t like how this blows up in your face.”

he had hurt you before. you were not human then, but you remembered all of the aches of it. you knew that soldier boy did not goad before he hurt you, or make bold-faced threats. he was lying.

you tilt your chin up, holding the eye contact. he was an unkind man, cruel in every crevice — but so were you, weren’t you? how evil it was to see yourself reflected in a man you hated, who you wanted to break into pieces and burn so all of the tears you shed fizzled away with him. “you will not like what you see.”

soldier boy cocks an eyebrow. “y’think i’m gonna hold it over your head if you’ve got a pair of panties left out?”

you step back into your room, all clean and panty free, and wait for him to take the step to follow you before you slam the door against his nose. the door rattles in the frame. soldier boy, on the other side, grunts in surprise, before he kicks at the hinges.

“that is enough!” the legend’s voice rips through the expansive space of his penthouse, his cane clicking across the floor. “i am not losing two fucking doors to this childish shit.”

you’ve moved, now. you can’t prevent soldier boy from busting down your door, but you can prevent them from fully infiltrating your bedroom. you go into the closet, to the deeper parts lined with memorabilia that you tried to ignore every time you were in here, and snatch the army green suit off of the hanger.

your eyes catch on the shield, hung up on the back wall. useless now. all of its indestructibility existed within you now, making it nothing but a heavy disc of metal.

tucking it under one arm, you hurry back to your bedroom, the arguing male voices outside getting aggravated enough that you know the door is about to crumble.

you knew soldier boy. you knew he could not help but exert some sort of dominance, if he could, to feel more in control. but you would not be in there when he came in and saw the display left on your bed.

instead, you tucked away in your closet, closing your eyes to try and find any sort of solace in the solitude. as always, it did nothing but squeeze tight around you, trapping you in a cage of your own making.

you can hear the exact moment your door is kicked down, along with the moment that soldier boy sees his things laid out for him. his suit, unwrinkled and unmarred. his physical shield, dented and decimated and as light as a kitchen plate.

and his real shield, hiding away from the reality that your nightmares always seemed to catch up to you.

notes. believe it or not i did not start this with the idea that indy was going to be so rapunzel. but it makes sense </3 there's a lot of lore i'm going to slowly incorporate that is hinted at in here / spawned from this so <3 perfect starting point! cannot WAIT for the boys^tm to meet this lil thing. hope u guys love her like i do my lil evil princess !!!

tags. @titsout4jackles @deansbeer @honeyryewhiskey @ultravi0lence14 @figthoughts @stereotypicalbarbie @whyyouegg @eepwtf @rositaslabyrinth @rubyvhs @jensenacklesballsack @abox-of-rocks @sunsbaby @bluemerakis @jollyhunter @misatxox @angelblqde @bombarda-babe @unfortunate-brat @funkycoloured @chevroletdean @chiierful @cowboysandcigarettes @voidsuites @bitchykittenconnoisseur @beausling @soldiersgirl @dulcescorderitas @hyacinnths @blushpinkdoll @mccartneyqp @svbnra @h8aaz

#dahlia's ☆ journal #shield!reader #soldier boy x shield!reader #soldier boy #jensen ackles #jensen fucking ackles #the boys #the boys amazon #the boys tv #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #soldier boy angst #soldier boy smut #soldier boy fluff

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luveline · 2 years ago

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Hiiii, I don’t know if you’re up for any marauders requests- so no pressure!!

If you are though, I recently sprained my wrist pretty (really) bad at work and have been not great about taking care of it, resting, ect.

If it’s not too much trouble- could I get a lil thing about the marauders absolutely doting on reader over an injury? Like so soft and sweet it could give you diabetes.

Thank you!!!

hope this is okay sweetness! fem!reader, 2k

"She's trying to stand up again," James says, finger hooked in your belt loop.

You glare at him down on the sofa. "Tattle tale," you scold. It's hard to maintain; he looks very sweet today, everyday, and more than handsome.

Remus stands in the doorway to the living room, the smell of the honey tea he's making on his heels. "Why, dove?" he asks, sounding amusedly horrified. "Can't you stay still for ten minutes?"

"I just thought I'd help with the tea," you say, taking a painful step toward him. James gasps and actually stands himself.

Your eyes widen. James is more of a threat-giver than an enforcer. He loves telling on you or better yet enabling your bad behaviour, but if he's getting up it means he won't be allowing you any further self-detriment.

"Be gentle," Remus says.

James raises his eyebrows at you and crowds you, hands on your hips. He gives you a little push. "Sit back down."

You sit, and your ankle feels better for it immediately, but you cross your arms over your chest and huff so they know you don't appreciate being bossed around. James laughs, more than aware.

"It's for your own good," he says.

Remus returns with your tea and you say thanks even though you're pretending to be annoyed with them both. "I would like to be allowed to get my own tea," you say, pleased when James sits back at your side with his own cup of tea, his arm heavy against you. "It's not as bad as you think it is, I promise."

"You have a bruise bigger than Jersey on your ankle and…" James lowers his voice slightly, "I know it's hurting even when you aren't standing. You get a notch between your brows, right here," he says, tapping the space above your nose.

"The less you use it the quicker it will get better," Remus says.

"That logic only applies to injury," says a new voice. The front door closes, and after a second Sirius appears in his coat and jacket. "The more you use me, the better I get." He winks at you.

You wink back. Delighted, Sirius peels out of his coat and shoes and swiftly takes the empty seat on your left. He kisses your cheek hello, his slender fingers tucked deftly behind your ear so he can turn your face to his.

"Have you been resting?" he asks.

"No," Remus and James say at the same time.

"She's done the opposite," James adds.

"Yes, well, she's not perfect." He shakes his head at you hurriedly, mouthing, "You are perfect."

You know he's joking but you get all melted, tight shoulders lax, head dipping back against the sofa cushions. Sirius hums his approval and strokes your cheek with his thumb. He's not usually the most affectionate of the boys, but when you're injured he acts like you're on your deathbed and deserving of the world's collective sweetness.

"How was work?" you ask him.

"Agony," he says quietly, and he's putting it on, trying to make you squirm. It's working. "I was worried about you."

"I take offence to that," James says.

"I know you're taking care of her," Sirius says, "don't be daft, I just know she won't behave. Especially if I'm not here."

Half of a biscuit soars toward Sirius and hits him in the chest. Entertained, you follow its trajectory back to the source and find Remus in the big armchair, cup of tea cradled atop his knee. "What?" he asks, seemingly chewing the first half of the biscuit.

"Sirius–" James warns.

"Prick," Sirius says.

Remus swallows his biscuit and takes a sip of tea. "Oh, sorry. Slipped."

"Why have you chucked a biscuit at me?" Sirius asks.

James takes the biscuit and eats it. You laugh from behind your hand.

"No reason. Y/N, dovey, do you want a biscuit?" Remus asks you.

You nod and start to stand to retrieve one, but two arms grab your waist. James' arm, tan, steely without any effort, stops you from getting any further. Sirius', less strong but twice as eager, pulls you into his side with a groan.

"Please sit down," he says.

You sigh and let your head drop onto James' shoulder. "I'm sitting. I just want a biscuit."

Remus sits on the coffee table in front of you with a funny look on his face, a mixture of love and disbelief. "I was bringing them to you." He squeezes the tin closed in his lap, his eyes resolutely on yours so you're forced to meet his gaze. He's handsome, too, they all are, but Remus doesn't know it, unaware of the effect his eyes have on you, the colour like browned honey and the little specks of amber that surround his pupil. "I'll give you a biscuit if you promise to stop making it worse."

"Really," James seconds, "we want you to get better, that's all."

You slouch further into his shoulder, away from their doting concern. "It's not as bad as you think it is."

That's a bad lie. You and Sirius had been walking back up the garden steps after a red squirrel stakeout —the squirrels keep eating from Remus' bird feeders and therefore scaring away the birds— and you slipped in a strange way. You ended up sprawled out on your back and you'd burst into laughter, while Sirius looked down on you absolutely horrified. It was only later, an hour or so afterwards, when you'd been helped up and placed affectionately in bed, that your ankle started to ache, and you found you couldn't put any weight on it after all. Your panicked tears had terrified the three of them. They've been ridiculously lovely since then.

"Maybe I could have another look?" Remus asks.

It's a well-organised dance when you're together, and this part's no different. Remus hands the biscuit tin to James as he stands, and Sirius pushes the table back with his foot so Remus has room to kneel down in front of you. James opens the biscuit tin and knows your favourite without having to ask, offering it to you as Remus straightens out your leg.

"Is this compression thing a good idea all of the time?" Sirius asks.

Remus pulls it down, humming as you hiss in pain. "Oh, I know, dove. I'll be really quick," he promises.

"It's not so horribly bruised," James says.

"I hate that we're all looking at my foot right now."

Remus squeezes your toes. If you weren't wearing a sock under the compression support you'd have to break up with him.

"I think it looks less swollen," he says eventually, rolling up your sock and putting the compression back into the proper place. You gasp at the sudden movement and his brows crease in sympathy. "Sorry, dove."

"Let's elevate it, right?" James asks.

"Yes, I think so. I'll get you a pillow," Remus says.

He stands up, turns to leave, and then turns back to press a kiss to your temple.

"Me too," Sirius says, kissing your cheek.

Having refused to move from James' shoulder in your embarrassment, you're out of the way for James to kiss you too, and it's a good thing. Anymore sweetness and you'd probably melt into the threads of the sofa.

"I'll owe you one," James says.

Remus gets a pillow to prop up your foot. James becomes your dedicated human blanket. Sirius looks for a film to watch on the telly while discussing takeaway options, even when Remus claims that he's going to cook tonight.

"Takeaway is too expensive," Remus says.

"Cooking makes a mess that you'll insist on cleaning," Sirius argues.

"Takeaway also makes a mess," James says.

"We can't cook because I can't help," you declare. "And that's not fair. You guys will all be laughing and flirting in the kitchen and I'll be sat here by my lonesome watching Footloose."

"Footloose isn't on until ten," Sirius says, looking at the TV info bar with a smile, "you'd be watching Night Rider."

Remus holds his hand out from the armchair. It's miles from reaching you, but you know he's suggesting an alliance. "How about," he begins softly, "we have a takeaway and those two can do whatever they want."

"Remus," James says.

You stand up on your uninjured foot. The boys groan at your moving but don't argue, letting you limp to the armchair where Remus is sitting with little more than a chorus of defeated sighs. He puts his arms out for you, his hands and grip strong as he helps you down into the seat next to him. There's not really enough room for two, but he makes it, his arm crossing over your chest and under your arm to lock you in against him.

"This is ridiculous," James says.

Sirius shuffles across the sofa into the gap you've left behind. "We could always hide the menus," he says to James. "Neither of them know the numbers. Plus, she can't walk and he can't be bothered."

Remus pulls you in impossibly closer. "That's true."

The two boys opposite spring up from their seats, laughing as they begin plotting a cruel plan. You rub your fingertips up and down the length of the arm holding you, letting your head flop back into Remus' chest as you say, "They'll realise they like us too much to starve us soon enough."

"I know." His hold on you relaxes. "I really do wish you'd stop putting weight on your foot. Please. It needs time to get better."

"Okay," you say, a sucker for him when he talks so softly. "Sorry. No more walking around while it heals."

"Don't be sorry, just get better quickly. I need reinforcements against their nonsense."

"You love their nonsense."

James and Sirius return looking pleased with themselves not long after, and an hour passes quietly. When the doorbell rings, you're unsurprised to find they've ordered your favourite takeaway.

"You're predictable," Remus says.

"Well," Sirius says, lifting his chin, arms laden with cartons, "how else is she supposed to get better? She needs food."

In an example of extreme overkill, Remus and James act as crutches, helping you walk the short distance from the living room to the kitchen table. You're surprised James doesn't just attempt to pick you up in a fireman's lift, as is his usual style.

Sirius sets the table. Remus makes drinks. James doles out the portions of food, knowing what everyone wants without having to ask, and you miss being able to help. You're usually moving with them, an integral thread, ebbing and flowing in tandem. It's nice to watch them together, but you miss doing your part. James' hand warm on your hip as he eases you out of the way, or Sirius' childish attempts at tripping you up on the way to the silverware drawer.

"Sorry for being so useless lately," you say, twisting the fork in your hand over and over.

Three glares pierce you at once. "Who says you're useless?" James asks.

"You're out of commission for the moment," Remus says agreeably, "that's far from useless."

"I feel bad, having you wait on me. I know I'm making it worse all the time by refusing to just rest but I don't like you having to do everything for me, it's not fair."

Sirius sits down in the chair beside yours, tucking himself in quickly. "You realise that we'd look after you forever, right? Like, if you needed this much help and looking after every day, that wouldn't be a problem."

You shake your head. "Don't be silly."

James clears his throat. "No, listen to him. He's right."

"We don't mind helping you to the table, or carrying your washing downstairs for you, or any of the things we've offered to do for you since you hurt your ankle."

Remus sits in the seat across from you with a pointed look. James joins him, a packet of painkillers in hand. He pops two out for you, saying, "You're not useless just because we've had to give you some help. And if you were useless it wouldn't matter. So don't say sorry."

Remus nods. "Exactly. Don't feel guilty about an accident, dove."

You look at Sirius unsurely. "You really don't mind looking after me?"

He reaches over to handle your thigh. "No," he says, gaze soft, fingers squeezing into the fat of your leg lovingly, "we really don't mind."

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a-dauntless-daffodil · 9 months ago

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chaggie vs alastor being a nosy gossip when it comes to potential past break up drama and possible current relationship drama (alastor loses)

Charlie: "Not that I MIND seeing you around, Alastor-"

Vaggie: "I do."

Charlie: "-the hotel is your home too after all-"

Vaggie: "A home. Not a radio exhibit."

Charlie: "-maaaaaybe there's something we can help you with though? Since you've kinda been, errrr, hanging around?"

Vaggie: "Leering."

Charlie: "I get the feeling you wanna ask us something, basically!"

Alastor: "Oh I DO indeed! But you know, you two were just being such a CHARMING little couple, just the PICTURE of young love, I couldn't BEAR to interrupt you~!"

Vaggie: "Great, so fuck off."

Charlie: "We could use some time sitting together without you- or anyone!- staring at us the whole time."

Vaggie: "You can donate that time for free or over your dead body."

Alastor: "Well WELL then! What a CHARMING little offer from a CHARMING little lady!

Vaggie: "You have until three. Two."

Alastor: "I'll just make my inquiries about THIS picture and be on my way!"

Charlie: "What picture- ohhhh THAT picture...."

Alastor: "Familiar, no~?"

Charlie: "Yyyyyyeesssss...."

Vaggie: "Who's the guy that looks like boyband fell in a vat of comic book chemicals? You two look. Close."

Charlie: "Thhhat'ssss my ex boyfriend."

Vaggie: "You're ex?"

Alastor: "Oh REALLY! Do tell~"

Vaggie: "She doesn't have to tell you SHIT, asshole."

Charlie: "No it's okay, it wasn't that bad!"

Charlie: "I mean."

Charlie: "The relationship wasn't great and I didn't even cry after it ended which might be a sign of something maybe although I DID cry about being alone again if that counts.... and, we haven't really talked since breaking up but-"

Vaggie: "I won't kill him, sweetie, but I can stab him for you."

Charlie: "He wouldn't deserve it."

Vaggie: "Ask me if I care."

Charlie: "Heh. It's fine, Vaggie, really. He was perfectly nice to me! We just, didn't make a good pair..."

Alastor: "Pray tell the reason for this apparently INCONSOLABLE mis-match?"

Vaggie: "Alastor I swear-"

Charlie: "I guess it really boils down to him wanting a girlfriend and me wanting a, well, a partner."

Vaggie: "Isn't that what a girlfriend is?"

Charlie: "Mmeh? Not always, I guess?"

Alastor: "Oh will you LOOK at THAT! I have a fresh box of tissues here, and popcorn, and HOURS until my next broadcast~!"

Vaggie: "If you giggle even once over this I'll broadcast my spear right up your-"

Charlie: (laughs) "No you won't, Vaggie."

Vaggie: (whispering) "We don't have to let HIM know that."

Charlie: "Pretty sure he already does? Everyone else in the hotel knows you'd never really shish kabab them or anything."

Vaggie: "Everyone knows?" (drooping) "Are you sure?"

Charlie: "Yep! Niffty was crying about it last week!"

Vaggie: "Well FINE but your ex doesn't live in the hotel, I could at least threaten him."

Charlie: "Empty threat... I think that's why..."

Alastor: (leaning in) "HMMM~?"

Vaggie: (shoving him back) "Why what, babe?"

Charlie: "Why it's different, with you."

Vaggie: "Different?"

Alastor: "SOMEHOW the LESBIANISM isn't different enough already?"

Charlie: "We're partners."

Vaggie: "Yeah?"

Charlie: "Vaggie, we're actually partners."

Vaggie: "I know??"

Charlie: "You listened to the 'Redeem Sinners!' rants and didn't laugh, or doze off, or start messing with your phone half way through my first two-hour long presentation-"

Vaggie: "How could I be messing with my phone when we were recording your practice run?"

Charlie: "-EXACTLY! It was, is, a serious thing for you!"

Vaggie: "Charlie you've seriously been working on this for decades."

Charlie: "And my friends were FINE with that! My friend? Friend singular if we don't count Razzle and Dazzle- my former friend. Whatever! It was okay if I had weird pipe dreams to nowhere, that was totally fine! And when I started dating her brother, he was fine with it to! I was quirky! Silly! Eccentric! Naïve! DUMB!"

Vaggie: "You are not d-"

Charlie: "I know I know! It was FINE!"

Vaggie: "You sound less than fine about it?"

Alastor: "Here it comes~!"

Charlie: "Because 'just fine' sucked ASS."

Vaggie: "Oh..."

Alastor: "OH HO HO!"

Charlie: "It was always just Charlie's dumb little daydream or Charlie wasting her time! Charlie with her dumb head in the heavenly clouds!"

Vaggie: "Oh sweetie, hey-"

Charlie: "It was a quirk he was OKAY WITH. It wasn't that bit a deal! It was a big deal to ME but that was FINE if I didn't waste too much of my time on it, or our time, or his time-

Charlie: "And sure he wasn't laughing in a mean way, I think, probably, but I still HATED when he'd do the amused little oh Charlie's being silly again chuckle!"

Vaggie: "Did you tell him? Did he stop?"

Charlie: "Tell him what? He wasn't doing anything wrong!"

Vaggie: "But Charlie, that's not the point-"

Charlie: "No the point is- HE didn't think he was doing anything wrong treating sinners like immortal chew toys! Everyone else does it! THEY do it to THEMSELVES! And they're damned anyway, Charlie, they're all gonna get killed horribly someday for the shit they did, so what the HELL does it matter!?"

Vaggie: "It matters. You've shown people how much it matters."

Charlie: "No I haven't."

Vaggie: "Yes you have, sweetie. People know better now-"

Charlie: "No they DON'T!"

Charlie: "But you do."

Charlie: "And we're... our hotel is starting to maybe help some people kinda take us a little seriously...."

Charlie: "It's..."

Alastor: "Quite a lot of WE and OUR and US in that last sentence, my dear!"

Vaggie: "No shit, dumbass. We run the damn hotel together."

Charlie: "Yeah. We do."

Alastor: "A fact made while staring at DEAR Vaggie in the most REVOLTINGLY lovesick way, I might add!!"

Charlie: (laughs) "Sorry Alastor- I can't help it."

Charlie: "She's my partner, after all."

Vaggie: (smiles) "It's on my resume."

Alastor: "SICKENING HA HA!"

Vaggie: "Right above girlfriend and hotel manager."

Charlie: (BEAMS)

Vaggie: "I have no idea how anyone could miss out on that chance, honestly."

Charlie: "I'VE no idea how anyone else could ever even come CLOSE to being you, Vaggie."

Vaggie: "Well... the guy in the picture is way too tall for starters."

Charlie: (snorts)

Alastor: "FACINATING. You'll both have to excuse me! My stomach is too DELICATE for this PUTRID display of emotional bliss~"

Vaggie: "You eat rotting deer carcasses, Alastor."

Charlie: "EW he WHAT-?"

Charlie: "Ah um! Oh that's....! ERRRRR interesting-?"

Vaggie: "It's gross."

Alastor: "Aue contraire my dears, YOU TWO are the ones who are GROSS~"

Alastor: (fades back into shadows)

Vaggie: "If I told him that trick was getting tacky, think he'd stop?"

Vaggie: "... babe?"

Charlie: "I think...he took the picture?"

Vaggie: "He what."

Charlie: "The picture of my ex, I think he kinda, borrowed it?"

Vaggie: (groans) "WHY is our friend such a creep."

Charlie: (sing-songs) "Be-cause you ha-ven't killed him yyyyet!!!!"

Vaggie: "Maybe tomorrow I will."

Charlie: (smirks)

Vaggie: "...."

Vaggie: "Look, I can't at least still daydream about it, alright?"

Charlie: "Sure you can." (hugs) "Softie."

Vaggie: "RRgh." (hugs back) "I'm literally only soft with you."

Charlie: "And with our friends."

Vaggie: "Am not."

Charlie: "You are! In your own, special Vaggie way~"

Vaggie: "...."

Charlie: "....which admittedly is mostly about not killing them all in frustration several times a day, but that's a pretty big thing in Hell!!!"

Vaggie: (groans again) (snuggles her)

#hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #vaggie #chaggie #alastor #incorrect quotes #charlie's ex boyfriend referred to but not named bc this ain't about him #it's not about alastor having a good giggle either #the power of chaggie cuteness... is too strong...

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snailsgoingdowntown · 1 month ago

Text

Help, I Reincarnated as the Female Lead’s Sister-in-Law!

‘Slight’ Yandere! Dion Agriche x Fem! Reader

Chapter 16

Story Masterlist

Arranged marriage AU

Interact with this linked post to be added to the tag list.

Entire chapter is Dion’s/Ash’s POV, takes place during the day of chapter 14 during the beginning scene of when Dion and Reader share a moment that is not nice in her mind. He is also out of character again lmao

Edit: LMAO I FUCKED UP THE TITLE OF MY OWN FIC. can you tell I wrote this entire thing in one setting while very tired? God now I need to check the other chapters lol

NOTE: Dion is having a very small crisis towards the end. Also, I do not know how to write fight scenes. I’m also getting kind of tired of saying ‘male’. Also two chapters within two days!? I'm on a roll baby! (I will proceed to not update for at least a week since life gets in the way/motivation/ideas won't come to me)

Warnings: slight yandere themes, themes of obsessive and possessive behavior/thoughts, toxic marriage/relationship, murder, blood, threats of injury/murder, slight torture (probably?), mention of divorce (it almost does not end well, rip Ash lol), Dion accidentally gets hurt (it’s his own fault), attempted murder, mention of past murder, implied murder (I think?), implied threats of injury, thoughts of imprisoning the reader at the end but he decides against it, implied stalking, HEAVY VIOLENCE Dion’s actions are toxic no matter how you look at it. Please tell me if I missed any.

NSFW-ISH WARNINGS: (NO SEXUAL ACTIVITY ACTUALLY TAKES PLACE) suggestive, implied vaginal pain (I think), throw back to their first time, implied perverted thoughts (Dion), Lant once again being a pos, encouraging Dion to force himself on the Reader, implied/mentioned past sexual activities, implied past Dub-con. Please tell me if I missed any.

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT CONDONE ANY OF THE HARMFUL AND/OR DANGEROUS ACTIONS AND/OR BEHAVIORS THAT MAY TAKE PLACE IN THIS PIECE OF FICTION. THESE ACTIONS/BEHAVIORS SHOULD NOT BE NORMALIZED NOR ROMANIZED AS THEY ARE EXTREMELY DANGEROUS AND TOXIC.

MINORS/BLANK BLOGS, BLOGS THAT DO NOT INTERACT WITH OR REBLOG FANDOM RELATED THINGS (FICS, ART, ETC.) DNI

“How's married life?”

Boredom fills the voice of the redhead doctor as he dabs a cotton ball on the patient’s wound, crimson soaking into the fluffy white cotton. Once done treating it, he starts to wrap it up a little too tight, irritated that a certain Agriche got distracted, slipped down a slope full of sharp rocks and thus, sliced his arm open. So unlike him and yet, he still saw it coming from miles away.

God forbid if anyone in this hunting party listens.

“... why are you asking?” Dion questions back, narrowing his eyes, glaring daggers into the very doctor who’s treating his wounds. Still, it’s not like Ash would harm any of his patients, as he was well above that. Even with someone like him.

However, Dion Agriche often challenges his views and morals. He had always thought of the second eldest as a fool - however, ever since he got engaged to you, he became more so of one. While smart and talented in many areas - hunting, sword fighting, ballroom dancing, leading hunting parties for both monsters and animals alike, maybe a musical instrument or two if memory serves correct, and of course, assassinting - by the Gods, is his personality a nasty one.

“Am I not allowed to? After seeing the mess she was after your first night… I worry for her. Poor girl probably lost faith in God the moment she saw your face.” Ash bites back, tying the bandage up and securing it with pins before patting it down hard. He holds back a smile when THE Dion Agriche flinches at the pain.

It doesn’t matter if it was physical or emotional - pain is pain. Although, it would be better if it was both, finally hitting his employer where it hurts the most. But Dion always bites back.

“You’re rather mouthy for someone I could cut down easily.” Dion's threat is empty, but the urge to throttle the doctor remains. While he wouldn’t kill the man, putting him in a full body cast would settle some things.

Ash only sighs with a shake of his head. Gesturing your husband to put his shirt and black arm sleeves back on, the redhead starts to clean and put his medical supplies away. Currently, the two of them are alone in a tent that was hastily set up, the rest of the hunting party members outside eating dinner. The sun had barely set.

“Come now, I even tended to the poor girl as a free favor. Surely, answering a question or two isn’t that hard - consider it payment for that black eye I left with.”

“And I’ll leave another one on the other eye.”

“... why must you always be so violent? It’s clear that your wife isn’t fond of violence - much less you.” He hits where it hurts, patting the ‘poor’ man’s shoulder as he buttons up his uniform shirt. He watches with great interest when the black haired noble stiffens before resuming his task.

‘So, it’s not going all that great…’

“I mean, it’s only natural for me to ask, taking the fact you personally invited me to the wedding into account.” Ash continues to dig for answers, enjoying the way his scarlet hues become hollow and unfocused. Had he been a better man, the doctor would have pity the newly wed noble some more.

But Dion Agriche is nowhere close to even a decent person.

“It’s…,” his low and tired voice trails off before he stands and straightens his clothes out, “fine. Nothing for you to worry about.” A lie paired with another lie. How unlike him.

“Hm. Sure.”

Dion leaves the tent without another word, leaving the doctor behind.

As soon as he steps out, one of his men rushes over to him. Dion's mood only sours more, not wanting to interact with anyone just yet.

“Sir, we haven’t found any traces of the monsters. The entire area is empty.” The jet black haired noble can’t stop a brow from raising.

The brunette delivers the news in a hurry, out of breath. Your husband notices the way he tries to keep his voice down, eyeing everyone behind him. Weird.

Closer inspection revealed the dirt on his boots and leaves in his hair. But towards the chest, there’s a speck of red on the purple accents that’s barely hidden away by the cloak.

It’s even slightly damp. His sleeves look a bit too short as well. The gloves don’t look right, not fitting the fingers, slightly sliding off with each gesture of his hands. Scarlet eyes zone in on them before returning to the soldier’s face.

The hair looks a bit lighter. The eyes are a bit deeper.

“How far did you go?” Dion asks as he comes back down to earth.

“Oh!” The soldier straightens up before going on to tell him the details. Your husband listens with little interest, already looking at the area from where the soldier just came from. And then, he glances around the camp, eyes landing on each person once. Once he’s done with relaying the information, Dion walks past him.

The brunette follows. “Is something the matter, sir?” He follows until the chatter of the camp becomes distant. He runs into Dion’s sturdy back as the man comes to an abrupt stop. Gently rubbing his nose, the shorter man backs up.

“I must admit you have guts.” Dion’s voice is low, mockery laced in it despite ‘praising’ him.

“...huh?”

In a flash, his gloved hand slams the other man’s neck against a tree trunk. The bark bites into the exposed skin of his neck while his face turns red. Gasping for breath, the man makes a futile attempt to claw at Dion’s gloved hand.

His legs kick and kick, but it does little to help. Scarlet eyes stare at him emotionless, and the sight of the glowing orbs sends chills down his spine. “It’s amusing how you thought you could replace one of my men.” He chuckles low and deep, increasing the pressure on the poor man’s neck.

“But I have memorized each and every one of their traits - from their eye color to the way they even walk. Not to mention I didn’t order them to look for any monsters in the near vicinity.”

The black haired man considers snapping his neck right at this moment. But his actions are halted when he hears a twig snap under someone’s foot.

He scowls once the familiar voice reaches his ears. His eyes narrow at how annoying the new addition sounds.

“Is this really necessary? How about we find out what happened to the victim before killing the perpetrator,” Ash advises as he gets closer. He stops once he’s two feet away from the now angered man.

Close to being enraged but not yet, irked that one fool thought he was stupid while the other had just interrupted his actions.

“Dion.” Ash tries again. “Ask questions first. You can do whatever with him later, after we get answers.”

A hiss of annoyance and Dion drops the man. While he’s coughing for breath, with his boot Dion delivers a hard kick to the imposter’s stomach that has him wheezing for breath. Ash sighs in exasperation at the scene unfolding before him.

‘Once a brute, always a brute.’

“Talk. Maybe I’ll be merciful depending on your answers.”

“Arg! W-wait, fuck, wait!” He raises his hands as he surrounders. “I’m not the one who killed him - I was just given the uniform. Honest!”

The two standing men share a look.

“Regardless of who killed him, didn’t you at least consider that maybe everyone would notice you weren’t originally part of the party?” Ash squats to the enemy’s height, observing the hand mark that now decorates his neck. “Unless you’re an idiot.”

“I wa-wasn’t supposed to get too close to the others… just to lure you away.” He stares up at your husband the entire time while clutching at his stomach. Saliva drips from his mouth as he shakes. He looks more pathetic than a terrified dog.

“How far? I’m assuming just a bit further away from here.” The Agriche continues the integration. His head tilts when the idiotic imposter nods.

Ash looks up at him. “Should we call for reinforcements? It’s probably not a good idea for you to go alone.”

“I’m not alone. I have you.”

“...huh?”

- - -

Against his own will, Ash follows close behind the prisoner and warden. His arms are wrapped around himself as a cold breeze starts to pick up. His long red hair sways in the wind as Dion’s hood flops back due to the direction of the sudden wind.

“I’m not a fighter, you know this.”

“Right.”

“I’m a doctor - I help the wounded, I don’t give injuries. I don’t even have the training of a swordsman - unlike you.” Ash continues to complain, wanting nothing more than to kick your husband straight in the ass.

“Right.” Dion’s one word replies are dismissive - the doctor doubts he’s listening at all.

All the while the brunette is being dragged by the collar. He only listens in silence as the two assumed co-workers or something of that sort have a one sided argument or conversation. He can’t tell what it was.

“You have like what, thirty men?”

“Thirty five.” He takes a pause before correcting himself. “Well, now it’s thirty four.”

“Thirty four? And you choose me, a weak and mild doctor -”

“More like an annoying one,” Dion cuts in, starting to regret bringing Ash along. He forgot how… yappy he can be. Even with the amount of money he pays him, he always has something to complain about.

“... If your wife ever divorces you, I’ll help her in every way I -”

SNAP

Twigs break in half under your husband’s feet, the prisoner choking as the taller man turns on his feet so quickly it gives him whiplash. Ash immediately shuts his mouth as shadows start to cover the sharp features of Dion’s face. His eyes glow in the moonlight. His scarlet eyes are narrowed, filled with unsaid threats, glare so sharp it cuts into his very soul.

The redhead takes a step back as his employer towers over him. He breaks out into a cold sweat, the forest having become silent - like every animal in the vicinity sensed the bloodlust of this obsessed man and went into hiding.

It feels like death itself is breathing down his back, his stomach twisting and turning painfully. His mouth becomes dry, and he can hear every breath Dion takes. So, this is what it feels like, to be on the sharp side of Dion’s blade.

He gulps, Adam's apple bobbing. The air becomes suffocating.

“... it was a joke.” Ash says slowly, unable to look away from the grim reaper. A quick glance to his hands shows that they are both tightly clenched. The enemy is shivering in fear as well, worried for his own safety.

One wrong move and he’ll lose his head, it doesn’t matter if he wasn’t involved with the conversation. The fact he’s here at all spells out his doom.

This rage was different from the one that was directed towards him. He doesn’t know who the wife - you are, but at the mention of divorce, Dion became a different man. A worse man.

Did you mean that much to him? Or was it a pride thing?

“...A joke? I didn’t realize my marriage was a joke to you.” Husky and deep, your husband’s voice sends chills down the other two spines. Each step carries weight and the poor man dragged along regrets ever taking the job.

“No, I don’t think your marriage is a joke… I’m sure she’ll open up to you. Eventually. Just a bit.” Trying to soothe the pissed man proves to be futile.

Ash doesn’t understand why Dion was so smitten with you. You were strangers prior to the engagement - only shared a space in the ballroom without interacting with each other. However, one memory that will never be erased from his mind was when the then nineteen-year-old had pointed at you with his red eyes and declared to the doctor he would marry you during a ball that took place a year ago.

Right after you and the Agriche accidentally locked eyes.

Ash always knew he was mental. Just not to this degree.

“Listen, I’m sorry; I overstepped. Let’s just get this done - the faster we finish the faster you can return home. Maybe not into her arms, but at least you’ll see and hear her voice. Right?”

At the mention of that, the murderous man calms a little, but the looming threat of being cut down is still in the air. In the moonlight, your husband looks imposing, his red eyes glow as his short black hair moves along with the wind - all he’s missing is the scythe, standing tall and oh so close to putting his hand on the hilt of his sword.

Ash slowly lowers his hands when Dion sneers at him one last time and turns his back. Tension still in the air and in everyone’s body, they continue the walk. Each step is on the verge of being heavy, but caution prevents them from dragging their feet. The captive was soon thrown over Dion’s shoulder, the sound of dragging getting on his nerves while Ash brought up the amount of noise it made.

The captive and Ash stare at each other in silence. He almost feels bad for the man, but the doctor quickly reminds himself that he was his employer’s enemy - if he pities him he might cave in and help. But helping would mean that Dion would cut his pay, assuming he doesn’t put him six feet under.

Or both.

“... we’ve been walking for a bit now. Maybe you should turn around to let the man get a view. We might have taken a wrong turn.” The doctor suggests as Dion hums, considering it. He halts and drops the man who lands face first on the ground. Dirt gets in his eyes, groaning in pain as he rubs it out.

“If you try to run I’ll cut your legs off.”

“And this is why you don’t have any friends.”

The captive listens in confusion, baffled that there’s someone who can shit talk the infamous Dion Agriche and live. A pause and he stands to his full height, a head shorter than your husband. Dusting himself off, he quivers under Dion’s sharp gaze. His voice cracks as he looks around before giving them directions.

Or at least, attempts to.

Swoosh

Thud!

“Wha!?” Ash backs away as an arrow impales the imposter’s head. He falls to the ground immediately, eyes becoming lifeless. Blood pools underneath his head as some drips down his face. Dion whips his head to the right, where the arrow came from.

Swoosh

Before it can hit him, Dion catches the arrow with his hand after rushing in to save Ash. He snaps it in two easily. The forest becomes quiet. Both men look to the right, but sense nothing.

The Agriche feels a hit to his pride once he realizes that he had just lost his prey. His scowl deepens, and Ash squats to investigate the dead body that lays on the cold ground.

Gently, he lifts the head, getting a good look at the fatal wound. Upon closer inspection, the head of the arrow was dipped in a purple liquid - most likely poison. He glances at the man standing behind him, but quickly returns his attention to the corpse.

‘Not that it matters if he got hit… he’s immune to most if not all poisons. Oh, but what if he’s not immune to this one?’

The doctor mentally questions as he looks over his shoulder again. Only to be met with the sight of Dion licking the arrow head, tasting the possible poisonous liquid without a second thought. Ash blinks blankly.

‘Are all Agriches like this?’

“It’s poison -” the black haired man starts before he gets interrupted, holding the urge to throttle his employee back. It’s so tempting.

“Obviously -”

“- that’s made from Mellow light*” He finishes while he glowers at Ash. “How unfortunate. Had I known it was drenched in it I would have let it hit you.” A crooked smile plays on his lips as the redhead furrows his brows at the younger man's ‘teasing’.

“Ha ha. That’s enough from you - what do you want to do with the body?” He looks at the corpse next to him. “Should we burn it? Or bury it?”

“We’ll bring it with us.” Answer your husband. Without another word, he grabs the corpse by the collar of the shirt and drags it alongside him. “It’d be interesting to see their reactions.”

Ash stays quiet.

- - -

“Where’s the doctor and the young master?”

“I saw them heading that way…”

“Were we abandoned?”

“Do you honestly think they would do that? Master Lant would have a field day if the young master just up and left. Even if he’s the favorite, he wouldn’t be able to get away with doing such a thing.”

Chatter fills the air as the soldiers scratch their heads. Stars twinkle in the night sky, and yet despite the pretty sight, only tension is present. Everyone is tense as some look around them to make sure nothing or no-one surrounds them.

“Actually,” one young man starts after he looks around, “where’s Adam? I haven’t seen him since we got back.”

“Maybe the young master disposed of him.” One says casually.

“Or he was eaten by a monster and that’s why the other two left - to investigate. It’s normal for them not to say anything sometimes.” Another man offers up, scratching his head despite the implication that their fellow soldier is dead somewhere.

It’s a normal occurrence they’re used to seeing rather than experiencing - it was only a matter of time until someone from their group would die in action or get disposed of by one of the Masters.

Despite their unease, they stay at the camp, weapons ready and alert about their surroundings. The night was still young and the person in charge was missing.

- - -

They stopped at an abandoned cabin. However, like the fools they are, chatter is loud enough to be heard from outside, and a lantern was lit inside, showing the silhouettes of people through the windows. Two people stood guard outside, Dion and Ash hiding near the trees.

“Talk about being obvious,” Ash mumbles under his breath, staring at the sight with furrowed brows. Wasn’t this a little too easy? Out in the open, did they think that the night alone would conceal their presence?

Or maybe this was a trap. Making it look too easy so attackers would act cocky or something along those lines. Acting without thinking. Makes it easy to -

“This is dull.” Dion walks out into the open, clearly having no intention of staying hidden. Unlike the swordsman, the doctor says in hiding. He sighs, shaking his head as he quietly prays for the poor souls. Three strikes of his sword and both are on the ground, dead. One with a slash to his neck and the other was pierced with Dion’s sword to his head. Their bodies fall to the ground with a ‘thud’.

Then, he kicks the door in without warning, caution thrown into the wind, the corrupted noble acting out of character. Slowly, the doctor follows after, watching from the doorway as your husband swings his sword to slash someone’s eyes, making them blind. The Agriche jumps back when one of the men thrusts their sword with all his might towards your husband’s chest.

He deflects it easily.

From the doorway, Ash witnesses as the younger male swipes his opponent from his feet, his booth making contact with their own, causing the enemy to trip over. Dion wastes no time in bringing his sword down, blood splattering on his boots and floor, the hem of his cloak also now stained as he kills him. There is no remorse in his red eyes.

The doctor shivers.

Two capable men remain. They look at the brooding figure like he was a beast - and perhaps he was, the man emotionless when it comes to his victims. Shaking in their boots, their hold on their sword’s hilts loosen. Their eyes are so wide it’s cometical.

“Remember to leave one alive,” Ash shouts from the doorway. Dion doesn’t spare him a glance as he rushes forward, and another man is killed. Blood is shed and none of it is from him.

The man who was blind by the Agriche writhes on the floor, palms pressed against the wound as he tries to soothe it. He’s also sobbing, and for a moment, the sound reminds your husband of you.

He’s quickly ripped out of his thoughts as his opponent dashes towards him, lifting his sword and is about to bring it down before Dion just… stabs him in the chest. The sword falls to the floor with a clatter as the man cripples over in pain. Slowly, life fades from his eyes, your husband taking it upon himself to end his life faster.

The sight is reflected in scarlet eyes and their owner feels nothing. He’s all but a canvas painted a bright red, no more room for anything else to be added, black fading at the corners.

The wails of the now blind man reach his ears. He turns on his feet, realizing he should have let one of the enemies who could still see live. A blind man can only help so much with directions.

Dion takes a quick glance around the one room cabinet only to realize one thing - there are no arrows. Whoever the archer was, they were not here. His eye twitches but he calms himself as he looks at the injured man on the floor, blood dripping from his eyes onto the wooden floor.

His steps are heavy, the floorboards creaking under his weight. Ash reaches the new victim before Dion does. He only stares, standing above him as the doctor checks out the gash.

“F-fuck! You - you -” The nameless man stutters out before he stops to sob, the pain unbearable. Ash doesn’t blame him.

“He’ll kill you if you keep talking without permission.” A half-lie, the doctor giving your husband a look. “Just keep your mouth shut until spoken to.” Reaching into his coat's inner pocket, he brings out a small bottle full of some type of medicine.

Dion scoffs as the doctor rinses out the wound, dusting himself off as the wails get stronger. Louder. What was the point of performing first aid? It’s not like he’ll live for long.

Without heistance, Dion kicks the man in the stomach once Ash is done ‘treating’ him. He’s getting impatient - their idiotic and poor attempt to kill him, to trick him was only making the length of his mission longer. He could be with you right now. Watching as your chest slowly rises up and down as you sleep, as his insomnia prevents him from joining you.

He could be in your shared bed by now, the only time you don’t squirm under his gaze. When he can trace the contours of your face with his eyes, wishing that he could do it with his fingers instead.

He directs his attention back to the matter at hand. Thinking about you only distracts him.

“Talk. The longer you lie or stay quiet, the longer I’ll beat you.” Not a complete lie. He swears he’s trying to be a bit less brutal. For you.

But it’s hard when it was hardwired into his very being at a young age.

“I-I don’t -”

THWACK

Another kick to the stomach that has the man wheezing. Drool flies from his mouth as he doubles over in pain. His entire body feels wrecked, his eyes fucked for the rest of his life, no matter how short. Breathing hurts but his lungs won’t stop seeking for oxygen. The burning sensation almost makes him wish he was dead.

“Ugh… I-I was ju-just ordered to be stationed here…” He braces himself for another kick that never comes. However, he doesn’t delude himself into thinking that the threat before him has decided to let him rest. He knows that Dion is planning something else.

And he’s scared to find out what.

“So you’re mercenaries. Who hired you?” The interrogation continues.

“I-I didn’t see his fa-face… he wore a ma-mask. Dark blue. A-a bit shorter th-than you." The mercenary gives details as he prays that his death will be a swift one. He knows he’s not leaving alive.

- - -

The matter was out of their hands now. He has to report everything to Lant, and wait for further instructions. It’s a routine he hates.

He’s treated no better than a show dog.

“At least you’re almost done with the original task.” The doctor tries to be positive.

Dion doesn’t answer as he brings the blind mercenary with him. Unlike with the first one, he carries this one over his shoulder the entire trip back to camp. It’s quicker and easier, while dragging him would slow him down a bit.

It doesn’t make him dislike it any less.

“Surprised you kept him alive.” The doctor stares at the unconscious man as he walks behind Dion. “What about the rest of the bodies?”

“We leave them as a message,” is all your husband says. What a crude thing to do, Ash thinks. But he doesn’t comment on it further.

By the time they reach camp, the soldiers look on in shock as their leader returns covered in splatters of blood with a man on death’s door slung over his shoulder.

- - -

“...you want me to do what?”

“Take the money and buy the necklace I told you about earlier. I’ll either be kicked out or they’ll run away immediately as soon as they see me.” He gestures to his messy appearance.

“Just take off your cloak! Wash your face! Besides, what will your wife think if she ever finds out I was the one who got it!? She’ll think that you’re lazy and it’ll only make her view of you worse!”

The hunting party is on the outskirts of a town they passed by on their way to the hunting grounds. Dion stares at Ash with money in his hand, silently ordering him to take it and buy a necklace that matches your pretty and lovely eyes.

Dion had passed through the town himself a few weeks ago while out on a different mission. Curious, he decided to check out the local jewelry store. He was only supposed to take a peek, not leave with plans to buy a certain piece. The only reason he didn’t get it right then and there was because he forgot his wallet.

He still holds that against himself to this day. While it’s true he could have used his status as being part of the Black Clan, it didn’t sit right with him. How soft has he become?

It’s all your fault. And yet, he doesn’t hold it against you. It’s impossible to do so.

“... I suppose you’re right.”

“Then go get it yourself!”

The blind and unconscious mercenary is forgotten on the carriage that also holds some monster parts.

The soldiers in the background try their best to ignore their conversation. But it’s hard when the doctor’s frustration is bursting through the streams, clearly done with their leader. While it was common knowledge among this group of how the two butt heads, it’s a secret outside of it.

For a mere common doctor to go against a child of Agriche, it would be a death sentence. Especially with his occasional condescending remark or tone that would bring punishment or even death for anyone else. However, for whatever reason, Ash Katopodis was the only one who ever lived without injury after shit talking Dion Agriche. The first time it happened, they waited with baited breath for the doctor to fall to the ground, dead.

The second time it happened they thought it was fluke.

Everything after that showed that he had a privilege that no-one else ever will have. It’s curious how he’s the only one.

One time, a soldier, a stupid one, who overheard Dion’s men talk about it did try to snitch on them to Lant, hoping to bring down Dion’s reputation. Safe to say his death wasn’t quick and painless. After that, they all realized that the only reason Dion kept them around was because they knew when and how to keep their mouths shut.

Still, it was entertaining for a man below Dion in status to lose his temper with the crimson eyed noble.

Even if they can’t hear every word.

“Take off the cloak - oh. Right. The Agriche crest.” The sudden memory of what’s engraved into that uniform hits Ash hard. How stupid of him to barely remember.

“You there! Come over for a second.” Not waiting for Dion’s response, Ash calls over one of the soldiers. He walks over in confusion, slightly irked that a doctor dared to order him around. But due to his leader being there, he keeps his mouth shut.

“Y-yes?” The man looks at both of them with uncertainty in his eyes. Worried, he keeps himself from turning around to avoid your husband’s eyes.

“Can you lend him your cloak? Just for a bit.”

Dion glares daggers at Ash.

- - -

“We-welcome! How may I help you to-today?” Open twenty-four-seven, Ash watches as Dion had knocked on the door of the store, deciding to stay in his stained clothes and dirty boots while staying outside, not staining the store’s floor. How benevolent of him.

The owner, who was originally confused and slightly annoyed, quickly changed tune once he saw the two men. Since he had met Dion before, he knew who he was. Which meant his automatic fear and willingness to work with him and not send him off only made sense.

“The necklace,” Dion starts while recalling how it looks, “the simple gold one with a small (e/c) jewel in the middle - how much?” He knows it’s genuine after the first time he examined it. What he forgot was the price.

This isn’t like him. None of this is. But the second you entered his life, he’s been… different.

The owner blinks before answering. “Oh, that one? It’s 1240 - but for you, I’ll only charge half.” Business is still business to this man, clearly. Still, seeing how it’s an Agriche who’s his customer, he doesn’t want to test his luck too much.

It’s also amazing how he memorized the price of each and every one of his goods.

“Alright.” Dion doesn’t try to negotiate to lower the price further. Ash watches in amazement as the exchange comes to an end as the gift is placed in a small elegant blue box that’s carefully placed into his pants pocket.

- - -

Ash left the party before reaching the Agriche estate.

Everyone else goes their own ways once everything is reported to Lant, the head of the family scowling at the news. Perhaps too tired to care much, considering the time, he dismisses everyone without incident. Everyone but Dion, that is.

“The girl didn’t leave your room today. Were you too rough before departing?” His father takes a puff from his cigar as he questions his son on a matter that frankly, doesn’t concern him. His ugly smirk only makes the context worse.

“... she’s still getting used to ‘it’.” A simple lie that has his father chuckling. It’s nails on a chalkboard, making his ears bleed.

“Interesting. I never thought you would be that type.” One more puff after a suggestive line. “Well, it’s late - you should get some rest. Or don’t, depending on your mood. It’s not like she can deny you.”

His hands form fists before they relax. Getting mad here wouldn’t help. Even though every fiber of his being is enraged that Lant is treating you like a sex toy - then again, in his eyes, you probably are. A nice little breeding tool given to him, his son.

He ignores the urge to give in and punch him.

He wonders how long he’s had these violent feelings towards him.

“Yes, father.” And with that, he leaves.

The walk to your bedroom feels longer than what it is. Too long. Even so, he doesn’t rush, knowing that you prefer it when he’s gone. A part of him does feel guilty about it, really. At times, he does consider separating himself from you physically - as long as you’re married, as long as you don’t look at anyone else, as long as you belong to him, it should have been fine.

And, truthfully, it was, at first. He was content with the knowledge that you were his wife and he was your husband. Looking from afar would sate his needs, small dinners here and there would have been better than fine. Just hearing your voice would improve his mood, and sharing a bed with you was nicer than nice.

That day when you were sitting on the floor and fell backwards, head resting on his legs, he couldn’t help but admire your beauty.

Although, looking back on it now, you probably took it differently.

The night where you allowed him to touch you, his fingers on the bare skin of your back, how loose you were with him, his resolve started to crumble. He shouldn’t have done that. He shouldn’t have acted in a suggestive way, either the position sending his mind places that you clearly didn’t appreciate nor agreed with. He should have gotten up the moment he was done with untying the strings and not imply he wanted to make you cum with both his words and actions.

His behavior that night only served to drive you away further.

You both had your first time together, which was amazing - but he does regret how it went. He should have been softer, kissed you, whispered praises in your ear as he slowly, inch by inch, entered you, said you were beautiful because you were, because you are.

But, shamefully, he was caught up in his head. Too eager to take you, to become one, his actions only worsen your impression of him. He should have been better. Instead of trying to hold himself back which only made him look disinterested, made him look selfish with sexual pleasure, he should have given in a little bit, at least with making you cum and sweet words he should have said instead of calling you cute only when you started to cry.

Maybe then, you would be more welcoming to fleeting touches and even accept a kiss to the forehead or at the very least, hold his hand. But now you only see him as a perverted creep, and no matter how hard he tries, everything only backfires on him.

He has no-one to blame but himself.

He pauses once he reaches the bedroom doors. It’s only now does he realize he didn’t wash up - still dirty and covered in specks of blood. Dirt in his hair, he wonders if he stinks or just smells like the outside. Or maybe that would smell bad to you too.

His eyes glaze overs at the thought of you shooing him away - can’t he just spend a few minutes with you? Maybe he should just… lock you up. That way, you wouldn’t be able to avoid him. You wouldn’t be able to give your attention to anyone else, if he just hid and locked you away all for himself.

A pause before he sighs through his nose. Not a good idea despite how tempting it is.

His thoughts are interrupted when his hand starts to turn the door knob without his knowing. He caves.

He’ll just take a peek. To see if you’re asleep or not. He’ll leave to wash up as soon as he sees you before going in.

Only he caves in once he sees you on the terrace, in nothing but your sleep attire. A frown pulls at his lips - it’s slightly windy - he knows this is only an excuse to get closer to you, but an obsessed man can only hold back for so long. In the beginning, he was satisfied with just being married to you. But your personality, your real one that shined through in the past, was addicting. Your skin was so warm and hair soft, and the way you had clung to him during your first night would have eventually caught up with him, wanting to hold you in his arms again.

It didn’t have to be in a sexual manner. Your genuine sweetness was never meant for him and he knows this. But, at times, it does hurt a bit that you just don’t remember past events, no matter how small.

Quietly, by reflex, he enters the room and opens the closet to pull out a coat. The first one he sees is a gift from his mother.

Despite his distaste of it, he pulls it out regardless and walks to you. You smell nice, he thinks as he gets close enough to place the coat over your shoulders. He sees the way you tense but he still can’t stop himself from saying -

“You’re still awake.”

= = =

EDIT: *- it's a plant I made up. That's all.

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#yandere #dion agriche x reader #dion agriche #Yandere dion agriche #yandere dion agriche x reader #twtptflob x reader #twtptflob #the way to protect the female lead's older brother #yandere twtptflob #yandere the way to protect the female leads older brother #roxana #deon agrece #deon agrece x reader #deon agriche x reader #male yandere #yandere x reader

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