#also please note he knows EXACTLY what hes doing he is not that naive

[seeminglydark]

A little slice from before they started seeing each other. Just a cute moment about running into your crush in a dark alley <3

bonus lore: this is the first time he would have called them by their new name

Caro and John are from my comics Seemingly Dark and Mil-liminal, they were childhood sweethearts who lost touch, and 7 years later Caro, now a superstar podcaster, is back in town. John's still trying to put the pieces of his fractured memories back together, but hes starting to get the idea.

[flowerandblood]

The Lost Haven (4/16)

[ modern mafia • Aemond x niece • female ]

[ warnings: uprotected sex, drunk sex (with consent), incest obviously, smut, fingering, the angst, suicidal thoughts, description of cruel physical violence, bad, bad things ]

[ description: The vacation from eight years ago still haunts his memories and doesn't let him forget what happened between him and his niece, the daughter of his sister and Harwin Strong. Their paths separate and he immerses himself in his father's mafia world until the day she calls him for the first time since those events. Sexual tension, dark, dangerous, withdrawn, thirsty Aemond. ]

Author’s note: As promised, this is another, this time official modern version of The Fall from the Heavens. In this version, Daemon is not related to the family, but is simply Rhaenyra's husband and the leader of the second gang, Alys and Larys are also not related to each other, but Larys is Harwin's brother. I will partly refer to the original series, hiding some easter eggs, and some will be a completely new, fresh plot. As in every universe, only Aemond calls her Rhaenys and this is not her real name (she is unnamed character and the others also do not know that he calls her that). There will be a lot more brutality and angst in this version, so watch out. You can read this as a standalone story. Song used in this chapter: Every Breath You Take by The Police

Series & Characters Moodboard Aemond & Rhaenys Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

Over the next few days, Daemon tried to get out of her what had happened and who had put the rape pill into her drink. To his fury, she lied that some guy she didn't know had done it, afraid of what would happen if her stepfather declared war on Larys Strong.

She figured this man wanted just that.

Chaos that he would be able to cash in on, using what was happening to destroy them.

"I do not comprehend you. From now on, I or your mother will be dropping you off and bringing you back from your classes at the University. No meeting friends or going out until you come to your senses." He communicated to her coldly and she replied nothing, not having the strength to stand up to him.

It wouldn't do any good anyway.

Although she should have been worried and terrified, she felt a strange kind of excitement and tension because her uncle, whom she hadn't seen for eight years, had really taken her out of there.

He had really helped her.

She closed her eyes, remembering the touch of his warm, broad hand on hers and his voice, so different from his childish one, deep and low.

Her heart beat harder at that memory, a pleasant, familiar warmth rippling through her lower abdomen.

She felt she had to write him something and after hours of thought she simply wrote the usual thank you. She couldn't stop the feeling of disappointment that spread through her body when he didn't write her back, even though she checked her phone once in a while.

For some reason, she had naively believed that something would now change between them, that she would regain contact with him, that his person would return to her life making her able to finally close this difficult chapter of her past.

However, he remained silent, exactly as he had done for eight years.

She thought it would stay that way until it turned out that her grandfather was organising his sixtieth birthday party with pomp and her whole family was to attend.

"No." She heard Daemon's voice standing in the corridor, overhearing in silence their conversation which he was having with her mother in his office. "There's no way I'm shaking that whore's hand."

"Daemon. My father is dying. You can only show up for a little while and then lock yourself in a hotel room. None of us like it, but I don't want to say no to a man who may not be among the living tomorrow."

Although no one seemed to be happy about it, they were all going to travel there and with each day approaching the event, she was panicking more and more.

She was going to see him for the first time in eight years.

He had no Facebook, Instagram or any other social media accounts: she had no idea what kind of person he was now, what he looked like.

She was afraid that seeing him would make her feel disappointed, that something inside her would finally snap, that the thought that all was lost would make her fall into a state she would never get out of again.

In addition, no one but her knew about what Larys Strong had told her.

Otto Hightower had ordered the murder of your father.

How was she supposed to look that man in the eye?

How was she supposed to look her uncle in the eye knowing he worked for him?

Driving there in their big, black Mercedes she felt like she was about to throw up, her heart pounding like crazy, making her head spin.

"Are you all right? You're pale. I don't want to go there either." Said Jace, glancing at her over his shoulder from the front passenger seat.

Daemon, who had been driving while her mother, following behind them drove the other car, looked at her in the reflection of his mirror, throwing her a piercing, menacing look.

He knew she was hiding something, he could feel it, and the tension between them grew more and more.

When they arrived, they were all searched: no guns were allowed inside.

This was to give the guests some sort of sense of security.

As they walked into the great hall, she was overwhelmed on the one hand by how many people were there, but on the other she was glad to disappear into the crowd. She felt her heart stop for a moment when she spotted Aegon talking to his mother – his blonde hair was pulled back, his jacket carelessly thrown over his shirt, sunglasses on his head.

She spotted Viserys sitting next to him, she spotted Helaena, she even spotted Otto measuring her with a focused gaze, but she didn't see him anywhere.

She felt a wave of disappointment at the thought that he would not come.

As they sat in their seats, searching for their name cards, she felt she was on the verge of crying.

He won't come because of her.

He would never forgive her.

They were served starters and drink, the loud music and the conversations of the people around her made her feel like she was at a wedding, only the guests were individuals she wanted nothing to do with.

She saw how tense Daemon was, looking around the room impatiently, throwing Otto Higtower a warning glance once in a while.

She saw out of the corner of her eye that someone had entered the room and froze, recognising him instantly – he was looking at her, his healthy eye wide open, his nostrils quivering with each of his deep, anxious breaths.

She was taken aback by how tall he was, how drawn and sharply defined his jaw and nose were, his pale, long scar running from his eyebrow arch to his cheek.

He was dressed all in black, in a leather jacket and turtleneck tucked into belted trousers, his short hair, although visibly styled in a hurry, looked elegant.

She wanted to get up, to approach him, to thank him for everything he had done, but as she rose from her seat he immediately turned his head away, something akin to disgust flashed across his face, from which she felt a squeeze in her gut.

She watched, feeling like an idiot as he took his seat next to Aegon and turned tense, thinking that she needed to get out of this place as soon as possible.

She walked out into the garden and headed towards the pier, wanting to be alone – she felt like her heart was about to leap out of her chest, burning tears squeezed under her eyelids, wanting to run down her face.

He couldn't even look at her.

He just pretended not to see her.

She couldn't say why it hurt her so much, why she couldn't let him go when he wanted it so badly: she felt there were years of unsaid words between them, wrongs that had never been made up for.

There had been no apology or explanation from anyone's lips, nothing to help her get back on the right track.

She sat on the wooden platform, staring dully into the black surface of the water, thinking about how it looked in the starlight as if it were some disgusting, dark, dangerous thick mass.

She had a feeling that if she jumped into it she would be all sticky.

She shuddered as she heard someone's footsteps, convinced for some reason that it was Daemon who had come out after her, unable to bear sitting with all these people alone. As she turned over her shoulder she froze, noticing him and stood up quickly, terrified by his gaze, piercing and cold, his eye wide open.

Her heart pounded like mad, her breath heavy in her chest as she watched him pull a packet of cigarettes and a lighter from his jacket pocket, his gaze fixed on her face.

"− what were you doing there? −" He asked finally.

She shuddered to hear that his voice was exactly like the one in her dream: cold, deep and low. She swallowed hard, overwhelmed by how close he stood to her, that he had come to her, that he smelled of some intense, masculine perfume.

"− what do you mean? −" She choked out with difficulty, unable to take her eyes off his face.

He took his time answering − he leaned with the cigarette between his full lips over the flame, its tip lit red and hissed as he took a drag.

"− what were you doing in that club −" He hummed. "− looking for a new experiences? −"

Something in the way he said it, mocking and amused, made her feel discomfort and pain in her chest. She furrowed her eyebrows, unsure of what she should answer to such a brazenly asked question, surprised by his directness.

His lips tightened in displeasure, something in his gaze changed – she had the impression that his iris had turned completely black as he puffed out smoke with his mouth, the smell of tobacco filling her lungs.

"− I don't like to ask twice −" He said coolly, making an unpleasant shiver pass along her back. She swallowed loudly feeling that her whole body tensed, ready to run away.

There was something about him that she feared, as if he wasn't fully human.

You don't even know what monsters lurk in the shadows.

"− I wanted to find out how my father died −" She said finally, wanting to see how he would react to her words.

To her surprise, he burst out laughing, however, it was a downright chilling sound that had nothing to do with genuine amusement. He tapped his finger on his cigarette, causing ash to fly to the ground.

"− and what did you find out? −"

She looked at him with big eyes feeling her heart in her throat, wondering if she should tell him, if she should confront him.

Will he kill her for what she says?

Will he hurt her family?

Despite the questions in her head, it seemed to her that her words had left her mouth without participation of her will.

"− that your grandfather killed him −"

He stared at her for a moment, surprised, his hand frozen in mid-motion to his mouth as he laughed again – this time it sounded like a low chuckle.

"− who told you that? − Larys Strong? − was he the one who dragged you there? −" He sneered making her feel a cold sweat run down her back.

How did he know?

Seeing the look on her face he grinned in a way from which she felt a shiver sweep through her − her breath caught in her throat as he took a few steps towards her, towering over her with an expression on his face from which she could read nothing, taking a drag on the remnants of his cigarette.

"− it was Larys who reported him − after the death of his father and brother, all the fortune fell to him − my grandfather just passively looked on −"

She felt as if he had stabbed her in the heart with his words − the real pain in her chest made her open her mouth wide, her eyes filled with tears of horror.

Larys had used her like a silly little girl.

He had planned everything.

"− did you know about this? −" She muttered, for some reason wanting to believe he had nothing to do with it.

The smile disappeared from his face, as if her question had frustrated him.

"− everyone knew −" He replied. "− he passed sentence on himself when he started talking with the police − his days were numbered anyway −"

His answer made her simply move ahead, bursting into a sudden, hysterical sob, as if everything she had held inside her for the past days, months, years, had poured out of her like a dark, viscous, thick wave that could not be stopped.

Everyone knew.

She sighed and squealed when she felt his wide hand clamp down aggressively on her arm like steel tongs, turning her violently back towards him, causing her pain. She tried to push him away, panting and whimpering, something about his movements, his brutality, the ache he was causing her gave her pleasure.

Some part of her felt she deserved it.

Some part of her wanted him to kill her, to strangle her with his own hands.

She sobbed when his hand tightened on her hot cheeks, wet and red from the tears that flowed down her face, forcing her to look at him − his wide-open eye seemed completely black to her, his lips parted in a heavy, drawn-out breath swollen with excitement and rage.

He was so obscenely close, watching her as if she were some pretty, interesting, expensive object, the smell of his perfume, his sweat and his cigarettes made her dizzy, everything around them seemed blurry to her.

"− don't you miss your favourite uncle anymore? − hm? −" He breathed out at last, his words on the verge of a hiss, his face so close that the tips of their noses rubbed against each other once in a while.

There was a kind of desperation and helplessness in what he was doing, in his words, in his gaze fixed lustfully on her lips, as if he wanted to bite her.

The person in front of her had killed the boy she loved and she knew it perfectly well.

"− I don't recognise you − God, I don't recognise you −" She mumbled at last, feeling the warm tears of grief run down her cheeks.

She closed her eyes, thinking that he could do whatever he wanted to her − strangle her or throw her in the water – she would let him do anything as long as she finally stopped feeling anything.

She squealed in pain as his fingers dug into her tender skin as hard as if he wanted to break her jaw − he took a loud breath through his mouth and shuddered as if something in her words had broken him.

"− good − because I don't fucking recognise myself either −" He hissed out in a trembling, dispassionate voice full of pain from which she felt hot in her heart.

A quiet sigh escaped her lips as his forehead pressed against hers, accepting at last that his brutality stemmed from a need for closeness, a need to take by force what he was sure she would never give him of her own free will.

Something in his words and in his gesture of despair made her hands, clenched until now on his jacket, rise higher, to his neck and to his face, running slowly over his jawline. He sighed and shuddered, feeling it, closing his eyes for a moment, the grip of his fingers on her cheeks easing.

She felt her nipples harden under the material of her dress, felt the space between her thighs swell and pulsate at the thought of what she wanted to do.

The moan that involuntarily escaped his throat when her fleshy, moist lips ran over his sounded sweet and innocent, the lick of his tongue that was his response made them cling to each other in a violent, loud, sticky kiss.

It had nothing to do with a gentle caress because it seemed to her that they were simply trying to devour each other − their hands clamped down on each other's bodies as if they wanted to merge into one, their slick tongues meeting again and again between their teeth, licking and teasing each other with loud clicks of their saliva, stripping this act of any sense of innocence.

They knew it was wrong and that's why they wanted it so badly, so when his fingers tightened on her plump buttocks, pressing her against the throbbing bulge in his trousers, she felt her sticky wetness run down her thigh, her hands clenched on his hair, letting him know he could take what he wanted.

"− it's your fault − it's your fault −" He panted into her mouth between deep, passionate, messy, hot kisses, his lips beneath hers swollen and wonderfully wet – he tasted of mint chewing gum and cigarettes, something forbidden, strange, terrifying.

He was a monster, and she wanted him to devour her.

There was no longer a lamp to light for her.

"− mghm −" She mumbled as she felt his hips begin to roll back and forth, rubbing deliberately against her lower abdomen, his tongue thrusting again and again deep into her throat, telling her that he could fuck her, he could destroy her, he could take everything from her, and she felt a wonderful heat in her lower abdomen at the thought.

She wanted him to do this to her.

She wanted to know what it would be like to feel him there, deep inside her.

What it was like to have someone devour you with every thrust of his hips, every loud sigh of desire that was wrong in itself, what it was like to experience fulfilment on the brink of revelation.

"− are you sure you saw her here? −" She heard Daemon's voice and froze, pulling away from him instantly.

They looked at each other with big eyes, pale and terrified, panting hard and quivering as if they didn't recognise each other.

Oh God, oh God, oh my fucking God!

"− I'm here − I'm coming −" She called out in a trembling voice and ran towards them, towards the light, seeing the silhouettes of her step-father and her brother standing just inside the entrance where two evening lamps were lit.

Back to the light, back to the light, back to the light.

Oh God, oh God, oh God.

Daemon furrowed his brow as he looked at her, his gaze fleeing to the side, far away to the silhouette of her uncle standing in the distance.

"Did he do something to you?" He asked coldly.

"N-no. No, I just thanked him for what he did for me. Let's go inside." She lied, stepping back into the hall, struck immediately by the loud music, Every Breath You Take was playing all around her, dancing pairs of businessmen, gangsters and drug dealers made her feel like she was about to vomit.

Oh, can't you see You belong to me? How my poor heart aches With every step you take?

"Mum, excuse me, will you show me what room I'm going to sleep in? I feel bad." She muttered with difficulty feeling like she was suffocating, her heart pounding like mad.

His tongue deep in her throat, his heavy breath smelling of cigarettes and mint, his swollen lips pressed against hers as if he had been dreaming of this moment for years.

This is your fault.

Rhaenyra stroked her shoulder, worried, and rose from her seat.

"Are you sure? There will be birthday cake and wishing soon." She said softly, but she shook her head, the words of the song echoing around her had her on the verge of crying.

Since you've gone, I've been lost without a trace I dream at night, I can only see your face I look around, but it's you I can't replace I feel so cold, and I long for your embrace I keep crying, baby, baby please

"I can't make it." She whispered.

She and her mother went to get her backpack with her things from their car, and then they walked to the hotel part of the manor − the lady at the reception gave them the right key, and her mother escorted her to her room wanting to make sure she could manage.

"Do you need anything? Shall I give you some pills for a stomach ache?" She asked, but she shook her head quickly, opening the door with her card.

"No, thank you. And I'm sorry. Have a good night."

"Don't apologise, my love. Sleep well."

As she closed the door behind her she turned on the light and saw that her room was tiny: it contained a small toilet, and beyond that a single bed, a desk with one chair and a wardrobe for clothes.

She pulled off her dress, washed her face and teeth, then changed into her pyjamas, which were really just an oversized white T-shirt and panties. The night was warm, so she turned off the light and opened the window, lying down in bed.

She tried not to think about what had happened, about how wonderfully he had kissed, about how she had never felt with any boy she had dated what she had felt with him, after years of separation.

She thought she was broken, that she was attracted to something that would help her destroy herself.

Even though her whole body screamed for her to relieve herself with her hand, to sink her own fingers into her warm folds, leaking with desire, she decided that she would not do it, that she would keep the remnants of her dignity before herself.

She fell asleep only hours later from exhaustion, dreaming of him, of him coming to her, of him taking the pillow in his hands, only to press it to her face.

She shuddered, terrified, seeing only darkness around her, hearing some noise. Only after a moment did she realise that someone was knocking on her door.

"− Rhaenys − fuck −" She heard his unclear mumble indicating that he was barely conscious and drunk. Her shoulders lifted in some subconscious defensive gesture, her lips parted in a terrified, accelerated breath.

Oh no, oh, God, no, no, no, no.

She heard a rustling and a thump, as if someone had fallen over, her hands clenched into a fist on the fabric of her duvet.

"− I want to go to sleep −" He muttered so that she barely heard him. She covered her mouth with her hand, feeling that his words, his request, what he subconsciously wanted was tearing at her heart.

He wanted to return to that moment, to fall asleep beside her as he had then.

It frightened her how well she understood him.

She stood up on trembling legs, feeling that they were as soft as cotton wool, and walked quietly to the door, pressing the handle slowly. She looked uncertainly out into the corridor, afraid of what she would see – his silhouette sat on the floor leaning against the wall, his head bowed, a nearly empty bottle of whisky in his hand.

He was not coping.

"Come." She whispered.

He shuddered and lifted his gaze to her, his stare soft and dishevelled. He muttered something under his breath, trying to get up, but fell over, collapsing to his knees, his bottle falling out of his hand, spilling its contents on the floor.

"− fuck −" He growled, wanting to reach for it and pick it up.

"− no − leave it − come inside −" She mumbled quietly, afraid someone would hear or see them.

His body was heavy and numb, making her help him up with great difficulty − he had to grab onto the frame of her door and lean against the wall to keep from falling over, and after a moment he slumped down on her bed, sighing heavily.

She closed the door behind him, swallowing loudly, and walked slowly towards him. He only flinched when she untied his shoes and pulled them off his feet, but furrowed his brow, displeased when she tried to pull his leather jacket off him.

"− you'll be too hot −" She muttered, slipping it off his shoulders but unable to pull it from behind his back, which was crushing the material. She squealed, surprised, placing her hands on his chest for balance as he drew her down with a sudden, sharp movement, causing her to fall against his body.

"− come here − God, you smell so good −" He exhaled making her moist insides pulsate greedily around nothing, a pleasant, tickling sensation filled her lower abdomen as his fingers ran through her hair in a gesture she might call affectionate.

He forced her to bend over so that her body clung to his − his thighs parted so that she could feel what was happening to him, how hard he was because of her proximity, while his lips clung to hers with a loud, messy click.

He smelled of alcohol, the taste of whisky melting on her tongue with each of his wet, hot, hungry licks − his hands slid from her neck down her back to her buttocks, slipping under her panties, his fingers digging into the soft texture of her skin.

"− tell me to leave −" He gasped out. "− tell me to stop −"

She moaned softly into his moist lips, knowing that she should do it.

But she didn't.

She felt his erection pulsate hard beneath her as she let the motions of his hands guide her body, rubbing against the bulge between his thighs, her weeping cunt all hot and swollen with desire, leaking with longing.

How could she let him do this?

How could it be so pleasurable?

She got the answer to her questions when his fingers slid deeper between her legs − she squirmed in his mouth, simultaneously terrified and delighted when the tips of his fingers found her hot, throbbing slit, slowly teasing her opening.

"− shhh − easy now −" He whispered in such a way that she felt a tickling shudder run through her lips, nipples and insides making her wetness begin to drip onto his hand, the circular motions of his fingers pressing wonderfully into her sticky folds began to be accompanied by the quiet clicks of her moisture.

She moaned into his mouth like a helpless little child − he hushed her as if he wanted to soothe and calm her, one hand placing on her head, combing his fingers through her hair, the other teasing her puffy little bud, once in a while running over her entrance, making wonderful waves of heat flow again and again through their bodies.

Their kisses became deep and lazy as they concentrated on the movements of their hips, rocking them so that they brushed against each other.

She shuddered and squirmed, shocked when she felt the tip of his middle finger sink between her fleshy walls, soaking wet with desire, sliding in and out of her with the sticky sound of her moisture, making her hips roll back and forth, coming out to meet him.

"− uncle − we can't − we can't, we can't, we can't −" She mumbled out, feeling his tongue thrust deep between her mouth with his sigh of pleasure, repeating the movements of his finger between her lips, her hands roaming over his cheeks and hair, stroking him tenderly as if she loved him.

As if she loved him.

"− we can − we will − we need to prepare you properly − shhh −" He gasped softly, making her body arch in a spasm of pleasure, a helpless, girlish moan ripped from her throat as his finger sank fully into the hot, soft structure of her throbbing cunt.

"− please − it's wrong − God, it's so wrong −" She whimpered, feeling tears of terror begin to run down her cheeks, her hands clenched on the material of his black turtleneck, her hips falling and rising on his finger, seeking fulfilment.

They both knew it wasn't enough.

"− shhh − I know, baby − I will take care of you − I got you −" He whispered as his free hand from her head slid down between their bodies, undoing his belt and the button of his trousers − she cried out loudly as she felt him slide them down along with his boxers, his fingers slick with her wetness pushing the material of her panties aside, directing her swollen, pulsing slit at the head of his cock.

"− please, Aemond, please −" She mewled, trying to pull away at the same time and spreading her legs wider, involuntarily allowing him to open her wide on his thick, long erection.

"− let me − I need you −" He exhaled, tilting his head back only to look again a moment later at their bodies, at what he was doing to her, at the way he was forcing himself deep into his niece's body.

The experience was wonderfully painful and pleasurable, as if something that had remained empty had at last been filled, as if she was at last whole, as if his body had always been part of hers.

Her walls offered him only apparent resistance, clenching against him in delight, his quiet, helpless moans were evidence of how good it felt.

She let him sink into her fully, sitting up on top of him, placing her hands on his chest, surrendering − she tilted her head back as his hips with deep, sure thrusts began to slam his cock into her body, his fingers clenched on her soft buttocks.

"− I − ah − mghmmm − G-God −" She mumbled out, bursting into sobs, parting her lips wide, leaning lower, letting him rub her with each stab where she needed it − her silky walls began to throb around his erection, soaking him wet, their breaths heavy and hitched, full of helplessness and vulnerability.

She felt strangely full, with each movement of his hips deep inside her body realising what they were doing and how sickeningly pleasurable it was.

"− thaaat's it − that's my girl − fuck, so good −" He exhaled, drifting off completely into the world of his fantasies, with steady, deep pushes building their way to fulfilment.

She thought in disbelief, panting heavily, that the experience of feeling him inside her was something almost spiritual, a revelation of sorts, her body rocking to the rhythm of his thrusts without involving her will.

What they were doing seemed both animalistic and natural to her, as if it was obvious that it had to end this way.

"− just a little more − please, just a little more − let me cum inside, baby −" He mumbled softly, his hands spreading her buttocks apart, allowing him to sink deeper into her fleshy core − she leaned over him and kissed him, their tongues colliding, licking each other in the most ungodly, perverted, lewd way imaginable.

"− A-Aemond − Aemond-Aemond-Aemond − ah! −" She whined into his mouth as he wove his hand into her hair and sank her face into his neck, feeling her warm moisture run down his thighs − her moans and cries of delight were muffled by his skin as her cunt squeezed and sucked him deep inside her in a stunning, overpowering orgasm that shook her body like a wonderful, hot, tickling wave.

She heard him sigh loudly and tilt his head back, clamping his fingers on her flesh, his body convulsing several times as if he had suffered some kind of attack when his hot seed filled her insides at last.

"− God − oh my fucking God −" He gasped out, panting heavily along with her, their hips moving for a moment more in a subconscious desire to prolong this feeling full of relief and warmth.

"− oh, baby −" He whispered, stroking her head and buttocks as if she were a small child.

For some reason unfathomable to her, she was not indebted to him, stroking his torso, neck and jaw, snuggled into him as she had been then, many years ago, feeling at peace, feeling safe, feeling good.

She felt his hand slide from her ass under his back, slipping his leather jacket out from under them, with which he covered their hips. His hand returned immediately to her soft buttock, as if he liked the feel of her silky skin under his hand, his soft manhood pulsing gently deep inside her.

She didn't mind.

"− sleep − don't worry − I want this baby −" He muttered and she swallowed hard, smiling involuntarily, wondering if he even understood what he was saying to her.

I want this baby.

His drunken alter ego was ready to become a father if it turned out that she became pregnant.

She sighed quietly and closed her eyes, focusing only on his scent, on his heart pounding hard beneath her breasts, on his broad hands embracing her body.

She thought, feeling a strange lightness in her heart, that she hadn't felt this wonderful in eight years.

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + twenty five

authors note: this chapter is emotionally heavy and taxing. please be mindful of your mental ability to handle heavy content.

cw/tw: angst, discussion of child abuse, and direct accounts of child abuse from said child.

song inspo: ‘looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes

masterlist +story playlist + taglist request form

words: 10k

Giving Roman his space while also being worried sick about him is the last thing Solana was expecting to experience this week, but it’s exactly where she’s got.

They didn’t leave on the best of terms. It wasn’t hostile, not nasty, and no one was angry. There was just this lingering tension. Some level of animosity and frustration on her part, because he refused to listen to her.

Because he refused to stay.

And that irksome guilt on his part. Solana could see it smoldering every time he looked at her, looked at her face, at the bruise. So much so that Solana went and put makeup on in the hopes that camouflaging it could ebb away some of the undeserved guilt. A fruitless effort because he still packed his bag, still gave her that almost reluctant kiss, still murmured an almost sad ‘I love you’ (that she did not reciprocate), and walked out the door.

He still left her. 

It’s childish to a certain extent. Her behavior during his departure. Solana knows and recognizes this. But, it stems deep down from a deep place of concern. She’s worried sick about him, hates that he hates himself for an accident. 

There’s not a single part of her that believes that man would ever lift his hand to her. That’s not her Roman.

What happened truly was an accident. She just wishes she could get him to see that.

She’s hopeful the item she snuck in his bag will help. 

Even if just a little.

The communication between them in the time since he’s been gone is almost non-existent. He texted her when he arrived in Italy and when he made it to the hotel. For that, she was grateful, but she just couldn’t find it in her to offer a written response, settling for hearting his messages. Again, childish. And Solana can recognize that her behavior also stems from just being frustrated with him, angry with him for not staying and going with her plan.

For going so far away to the point that she can’t help him. She just wants to be there for and support him, and all he can seem to do is….is push her away.

And that hurts.

Deeply. 

Especially when he’s been so good in trying and succeeding in supporting her in all of her mess. All she wants to do is return the favor, but he won’t let her. 

And that’s when the anger sets in. Such an unfamiliar experience. 

She’s not an angry person. But, she certainly feels like one.

It’s why she has the thought—or maybe hope—that training will be a good outlet for her to let off some of this uncharacteristic anger. 

If only it happened that way.

Or maybe Solana was too naive. Stupid, possibly, to think she could just walk into training like nothing happened, like the proof of something happening isn’t literally written all over her face in black and blue.

Solana has barely stepped into the training space when the smiles on both Bayley and Naomi’s faces collapse the minute they lay eyes on her.

“Oh my god, Solana!” They rush over, Solana starting to wish she’d taken the time out to use makeup to conceal the bruise. As much as she could. The pigmentation is deep, and even with the heavy application, it was still visible when she tried to hide it for Roman’s sake. “What the hell happened to your face?”

Solana looks away, already regretting her decision to come here in the first place. “I’m fine.”

“What the hell do you mean you’re fine?” Bayley’s eyes are wide, her face painted in disbelief. “Solana, your face is all bruised up.”

An exaggeration. It’s focused on one side of her face, but given the nastiness of its appearance, Solana can slightly understand the description. 

“Solana, what the hell happened?” Naomi repeats her question, this time her lips formed into a line before she asks, “who hit you?” Solana closes her eyes and shakes her head. This is the last thing she needs to be dealing with right now, especially with the nausea that’s starting to build. 

This morning sickness is clearly about to kick her ass with this pregnancy. 

“Solana….” Bayley cuts in, and almost instantly, Solana knows she’s not about to like whatever is said. “Did Roman hit you?”

At that, Solana’s attention is immediately focused back on Bayley. She was absolutely correct in that she doesn’t like the question. At all. 

She can barely find the words to respond to such a thing. “What?”

Naomi looks past her, motioning someone over by them. “Jimmy! Come here.”

Shit. 

And just like that, the situation is progressing from bad to worse. Yeah….she definitely wishes she’d just stayed home. 

“Whassup?” Jimmy’s jovial voice sounds from behind her, Solana barely able to match his smile before, just like Bayley and Naomi, it’s dropped the second he lays eyes on her. On the bruise. “What the hell?” 

“Jimmy, pl—”

“Solana….” Another indication more anger is about to be stirred up on her part. An accurate expectation given the next question to leave his mouth. “Did Roman hit you?” The second it leaves his mouth, she’s filled with anger, but there’s a matching level of that emotion on his end as well. He shakes his head, voice dead serious, more than she’s ever heard from him since their initial meeting months prior. “The truth, Solana. If that son of a bitch, hit you, I wanna know. I’ll handle it.”

They mean well. She knows they mean well, but it’s a combination of all the things. Of what happened with Roman. Roman leaving. A possible pregnancy. A pregnancy she’s hiding because she can’t tell her husband just yet.

It’s just too much.

“Would you all just shut up?” She snaps, voice raised, several sets of eyes on her with varying levels of bewilderment. “I said he didn’t do it, and the fact that you all even think he could ever be capable of that is disgusting.”

Because it is. Because they should know him better than that. He’s a lot of things, but that has never been one of them.

And the fact that they’re accusing him of such is infuriating to her. 

Shaking her head, she turns on her heel to leave. “I’m out of here.”

“Solana, wait—”

But, she does nothing of the sort, just keeps walking away, never once looking back.

————

Regrets are a tricky thing. Varying in size and impact. Never a major issue for Roman.

Not until two days prior.

Two days prior where demons from his past submerged, resulting and causing him to do the unthinkable.

On a basic level, he knows it was an accident. Knows that he would never intentionally do anything to ever hurt his wife. Especially in that way. But, the key word is intentionally, because regardless of what he intended, she was hurt.

She was hurt because of him. By his hands. And, that’s something Roman can’t seem to make peace with. Every time he thinks of texting her, of even trying to call her, he’s hit with a flash of her pretty, innocent face marred with that hideous bruise.

A bruise he caused her to have.

And he just as quickly puts his phone away.

He instead opts for something different, something he hasn’t dared to touch since spotting it when emptying his luggage and hanging up some clothes.

Roman walks over to the nightstand where the purple journal with tattered edges and  random stickers plastered has sat untouched. Until now.

Solana’s journal.

It’s aged, most likely one from when she was still a child, and he hasn’t the slightest clue when she placed it in his bag, but the minute he opens it and sees a pink post it with her handwriting on it, his stomach twists in a way it’s only done in the past few months after years of dormancy.

It’s a simple, short but powerful message.

You could never be them.

-Solana

Roman closes his eyes. Right away, he knows he’s in for a heavy, brutal insight into the hell she experienced for so many years. A part of him doesn’t want to. Doesn’t feel fully capable or even worthy of reading her vulnerable words. Her journals are a private thing he would never want to invade. However, she placed it in his bag for a reason. She wants him to read it, some of it, at least. 

The least he can give her……is that.

Bracing himself as best he can for what he’s about to read, Roman turns to the first entry.

Dear Mami,

I try really hard not to make dad upset, but it’s hard. He’s always angry and yelling at me. 

I know you always told me to stay out of his way, but it’s hard, mama. He makes me do all the cleaning and cooking like he made you. Sometimes, he doesn’t let me eat. 

I wish you were here.

Love,

Sol

————

Dear Mami,

Yesterday was really scary. Dad yelled at me for almost an hour and was throwing things. He hit me, too. I tried not to cry.

I’m trying to be strong like you, but it’s hard.

I’m not like you, mami. I’m not strong, and I don’t know how to be.

I miss you,

Sol

————

Dear Mami,

I keep looking for Hummingbirds. I know you said they don’t fly here, but I keep hoping I’ll see just one. I just want to see you again, mama. I miss you so much.

I wish they never took you from me.

I don’t have anybody anymore. 

I’m all alone.

Love,

Sol

————

Dear Mami,

I don’t know what I did, but I made dad really mad. He just kept hitting me and hitting me. Then Wes started hitting me too. It was hard for me to get the blood to stop, but I did exactly what you taught me, and it worked.

My body hurts really bad, but I’m scared to leave my room cause I might see dad.

I think I’m gonna sleep in the closet tonight.

Love,

Sol

————

Mami,

I’m sorry I haven’t written you. 

Something….something really bad happened to me, mama. 

The detective lady said it wasn’t my fault, but it was. I was too weak. I’m not strong like you.

I’m sorry I let you down.

I hope you still love me.

Solana

————

It’s that last entry that Roman has to stop at. He can handle a lot. Has handled a lot, but this…..this he can’t.

He always knew Solana went through hell in that house, both from speculation as well as confirmation from her. But, to read her words in real time, to see with his own eyes the extent of that hell.

A child. She was a fucking child.

No one deserves what she went through.

No one. 

And while he understands her intentions, maybe hope, she had with him reading her entries being enough to trigger more self-forgiveness. Thought that him gaining better insight into her abuse would lessen his feelings of guilt towards his actions…..that’s not entirely the outcome.

Maybe to some extent.

But, it’s hard to feel any bit better knowing he’s unintentionally contributed to her massive pile of traumatic experiences. 

Ashamed. Roman feels ashamed. A new, heavy ass experience that has him partially weighed down, even more so now knowing exactly some of the thoughts and sentiments Solana experienced while enduring years worth of torture. 

Eyes shut, he’s tempted to grab his phone and just text her, check in on her. Because while he hates what he did, he also hates how they left off.

How he left her. 

Because she didn’t want him to leave. Because she practically begged him to stay, but he left regardless, because he didn’t feel right being and staying around her after what happened. 

Didn’t feel like she was safe around him.

The way he still feels now. 

Redirecting himself, Roman instead swaps the journal for his phone, choosing to respond to messages from Dwayne and Matteo. Focusing on the business purpose of his trip. He can at least acknowledge that he’s done a decent job completely immersing himself in the role of Capo. A necessity given the purpose of this whole trip.

Well, the original purpose. 

Interactions with members of the Administration thus far have irked him almost as much as interactions with the Elders. Their judgmental expressions of his long hair—that he absolutely wears down just to piss them off—and tattoos—also hidden—do nothing to hide the racist reasons they truly despise him. 

It’s a nice distraction, knowing how much he gets under their skin, knowing that it kills them that he’s as intelligent and successful and fucking good as he is, hence why they can’t find a legitimate way to dethrone him. 

The memory of him putting a babbo down brings a small smirk to his face. A small slice of amusement tucked in between everything else heavy and egregious. It’s short lived, however. Because it’s not pertinent right now. 

No, Roman has other matters to tend to, much more important ones that he’s gone back and forth with himself on for days, ultimately deciding to bite the bullet.

Even with having this newfound piece of information via Solana’s journals. 

Roman moves over to the table and opens up his laptop, a quick glance at the clock on the wall alerting him that it’s time. 

Logging in and getting set up take less than a minute, only for her to not be on, that annoying ass “Your clinician will start the appointment shortly” welcome message taunting him.

And just like that, Roman is instantly annoyed.

Does punctuality mean fucking nothing?

He’s even more irritated when the screen lights up a couple minutes later revealing his wife’s therapist. “You’re late.”

Gail looks like she wants to roll her eyes but ultimately decides not to. A wise decision. “I usually don’t get into the office until—”

“I don’t care.” He honestly, truly doesn’t. There’s a bit of hesitation as he asks, “how is she doing?”

Roman watches her shift in her seat, followed by movement that indicates she’s moving around some items on her desk. “Good. I’m pleased with her progress and dedication to continuing treatment.”

That’s relieving to hear. Much more than he’s willing to let on. Especially after what he just finished reading. “Did she attend yesterday?” He already knows the answer, having stayed on top of Nia via probably annoying, frequent texts reminding her of all the important things. Times of Solana’s appointments. Location of said appointments. Importance of making sure Nia puts Solana’s medication back exactly where he keeps it.

All of the things.

“She did.” He sees it, the unspoken question in her voice. And, he’s prepared to tell her to just ask the shit, letting him decide if he wants to answer it or not. But, she’s two steps ahead of him. “Mr. Reigns, this call wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with the bruise she tried to hide with makeup, now would it?”

Fuck.

Roman doesn’t care about her question or the almost implication in said question. What he cares about is the fact that his wife is having to cake her face in makeup to hide the result of his lack of self0control. Is having to lie about how she acquired said bruise. 

It’s……crushing. Truly. 

Reminds him of her haunting words written as a child.

Similar words probably being penned in her most recent journal as a result of his actions. 

His arrogance is definitely knocked down a peg, as he asks in a low voice, “what did she tell you?”

Gail sits back in her chair, answering evenly. “Accident while training.”

It’s believable. Roman will give Solana that, but he’s not surprised. She probably spent years having to explain away bruises as a result of her despicable family. 

It’s difficult to not group himself in that same category, however. 

No matter what Solana says. 

“You said…..you said she’s codependent on me.” Roman’s gaze is focused on the cherry wood table in his hotel room and not on the woman watching him through the screen. It’s…..it’s easier that way. “How attached is she to me?”

Gail’s eyes narrow as she jumps straight to the point. “Roman, what exactly are you asking me?”

Nothing he ever anticipated having to ask. 

Or even consider.

It’s difficult for him to hide the heaviness in said answer. “What do you think it would do to her mentally if we weren’t together anymore?”

————

Here in the night

I see the sun

Here in the dark

Our two hearts are one

Solana grabs her phone and pauses the music, realizing it’s been a while since she took a break.

Sitting in her home library, surrounded by boxes, boxes filled with her books and journals finally transported from her work library has been the activity to occupy her racing mind for the past two hours.

It’s been a nice distraction. That and work itself the past few days. Getting back into her usual routine has been helpful, and coming back to a barrage of letters, cards, drawings, and other heartwarming gifts from the kids really was the highlight of her return. 

She’s never felt so loved than in the moment where they practically bum rushed her with hugs or when Mrs. Jensen handed over all of their “get well soon” gifts they’d brought in while she was away. It was enough to bring tears to her eyes, a welcomed change given those tears came from pleasant emotions.

Not like the ones she’s been crying ever since Roman left a couple days ago. She still hasn’t spoken to him. Not really. Not outside of occasional almost awkward check-in texts that she replies to with just as much awkwardness, if not just an emoji reaction. 

It’s miserable and stupid. She wants to talk to him. Wants to hear his voice, but she’s also trying to be respectful. Then there’s the lingering anger and frustration toward him for leaving, even if it’s subsided mostly into just sadness.

And loneliness. 

She misses him.

Misses falling asleep next to and waking up to him, something she was deprived of when she was away at treatment. But now, she’s right back in the same space. 

And even this, finally being able to start setting up her library/art room he thoughtfully created for her, is a bittersweet thing. She always imagined this being something they would do. Her handing journals and books to Roman for him to place up on the shelves that she cannot reach. His arms around her, frequently distracting her with dirty whispers of promised pleasure later that evening. Her sitting on his lap as she feeds him whatever she decided to make for lunch as they took a break.

It was just supposed to be different from this. 

Solana’s hand falls to her stomach. 

It was all supposed to be different from this. 

Tears pooling once again, she shakes her head, refusing to spiral yet again. She instead grabs her phone and once again ignores the unread texts from a variety of people. Naomi. Bayley. Even Melina and them.

Their messages are warranted given the abrupt almost cold text she sent to their group telling them the girls trip was off and to be postponed for a later date and time.

A part of her feels bad, but she’s mostly relieved. 

She just….she just needs space.

Doesn’t feel like talking.

If it’s not Roman, she’s not interested.

Her husband is the only person she wants to interact with, but she can't. Thus, her self-imposed isolation. 

He’s not an option currently, so until then, she just wants to be alone.

Solana is interrupted by her phone dinging, and the way she jumps with the hope that it’s maybe Roman is squashed the minute she realizes it’s not his notification sound and simply a calendar reminder. 

Appt w/ Dr. Michaels @ 2pm

Solana gasps and curses to herself.

She’d completely forgotten about scheduling that, most likely because she hates the fact that she’s even doing it.

She quickly hits dismiss on the alarm and stands up, sliding the phone in the back pocket of her jean shorts. The space around her is still a mess, some boxes partially open, others still taped shut. This is a project that’s clearly going to need to be completed in phases.  

Thus, she grabs a couple of unorganized journals scattered on the floor and drops them into a box, just to get them out the way, missing how a faded letter with her name written across in neat handwriting slips out one of the books and lays untouched and unseen on the floor. 

Out of the library and into the rest of the house, Solana has little difficulty finding Nia. Her husband's cousin who he somehow talked into, most likely forced, to stay with her has spent most of her time in her room, the gym, or the living room. 

And the latter of which is where Solana finds her, but not only her. Bautista is present, standing near the opposite end of the sofa where Nia sits.

It’s not surprising, however, given his almost “promotion” to guarding her at home, alternating with Solo for some outside outings as well. His service while she was away as well as his friendly disposition and Solana being comfortable with him securing this new arrangement.

Solana nervously clears her throat. “Nia?”

The other woman sighs. Loudly. “What?”

And just like that, the nerves are starting to set in. Nia isn’t going to like this. “I forgot I scheduled a doctor’s appointment today.”

Nia’s groan is also loud as she pauses the show and turns to Solana with a scowl. “Seriously? Can’t you like reschedule it or something?”

Not really. “No. I—I need to go.”

“Are you dying?”

Solana hesitates for a second. “Umm, no, but—”

“Then you don’t need to go,” she says it in the cheeriest voice, grabbing the remote to turn off the TV. Standing up, Nia briefly looks over at a quiet Bautista then back at Solana. “I’m going to take a nap.”

Solana frowns. Does Nia not have other plans then? Because, Solana could understand if her appointment interfered with pre-existing obligations, but if there are none….what’s the issue?

Once it’s just the two of them, Bautista clears his throat. “If…..if I may?”

Solana looks over at him, managing a small smile. “Of course.” It doesn’t matter how many times she tells this man he doesn’t have to behave so reserved around her, he remains firm with his professionalism and manners. 

Regardless, the respect is deeply appreciated.

He walks over to her, keeping a respectful distance but still close enough for her to hear his calm, leveled voice. “Roman Reigns is our Tribal Chief. He sits at the Head of the Table. We all acknowledge him just like we all answer to him.” His tone takes a firmer, almost convictive nature. “You are Solana Reigns. The wife of the Tribal Chief, meaning you sit directly next to him at that table. You only answer to him. No one else.”

Silence.

There’s a heavy but powerful silence that follows his words. A silence that’s filled with thinking and recognition. Solana has always known, never been ignorant to the power her husband holds. All that comes with his status and position. But, it’s not until this moment, not until Bautista frames it that way, that she fully recognizes just how much of that, if not all of it, carries over to his wife.

She is the wife of the Tribal Chief.

And that means something. 

Nodding from a newfound sense of confidence and credence, Solana offers a heartfelt, “thank you, Bautista.” Lifting her chin, she informs, “we’ll be leaving shortly.”

There’s a small smile playing on his lips. “Yes ma’am.”

Pleased and determined, Solana turns on her heel and doesn’t waver as she makes her way up the stairs and down the hall until she’s standing before Nia’s door. 

She doesn’t even bother with knocking.

Opening the door, Solana finds Nia laying in bed. She jumps up and removes her sleep mask, irritation all over her face. “What the he—”

“I said I have an appointment.” Solana has never felt more assured than she does at this moment, not a bit of her reluctant as she orders, “be ready in half an hour.”

And with that, she turns on her heel and walks out without another word.

It’s not needed.

She said what she said.

————

Despite an excellent, earlier display of assertiveness, to say Solana feels good about her decision, as a whole, would be a lie, because she doesn’t. Going behind Roman’s back is what she feels like she’s doing, and that is an awful feeling. But, she’s in this tricky situation where she doesn’t want to tell him about the pregnancy if there is in fact no pregnancy. And if she is pregnant, she doesn’t want to tell him via a text or phone call because that feels too impersonal. And, she also just doesn’t want to tell him, period, because he’s already beating himself up over what happened and him knowing that she is pregnant could only make it worse.

And yes, she could just take a home test, but at this point, she needs to know with absolute certainty. A home test can’t do that for her.

But, a blood test can.

Thus, where she currently sits: in the lobby of the private clinic where her husband’s doctor operates out of. Because she needs a medical professional, but she doesn’t know who to go to. Doesn’t know how this is supposed to work. She just knows that if she is pregnant, it’s important that it doesn’t get out for a lot of reasons.

Especially since she has to be the one to tell her husband.

Just when the time is right. 

“Why exactly are we here again?” Nia’s bored voice cuts her from her thoughts, Solana looking up from the thread she has opened. The one between her and Roman. “It’s probably just allergies.”

As part of doing her best to hide her pregnancy, Solana wisely made up an excuse of her throat feeling weird and a headache to explain to Nia and Bautista this otherwise random appointment. So far, it seems to be working. “Maybe, but I just want to make sure. You know Roman had the flu not too long ago.”

Nia rolls her eyes and wisely says nothing else, focusing back on the book in her hand. It’s not missed upon Solana how her gaze briefly darts to Bautista.

She’s not sure what exactly is going on there, but Solana could get behind it. In a strange sort of way, they just make sense to her. 

He could maybe help Nia level out the way Solana tends to help Roman with his temper.

“Mrs. Reigns?” 

Solana looks up to see the nurse standing by the door. She turns to Nia and Bautista. “I’ll be back.”

“You sure you don’t need us to wait in the hall or something?” His question is valid as is the concern on his handsome face, but Solana can’t risk them somehow overhearing the truth behind this appointment. 

“No, I’ll be fine.” She manages a small smile that probably doesn’t reach her eyes, turning on her heel to follow the nurse to the back. 

Solana is most definitely experiencing heightened anxiety that only intensifies when she spots Dr. Michaels coming from the other end of the hall. 

He’s not alone, however. A tall man, about the same height as the doctor. Smooth chocolate skin with a decent build for a man who looks to be in his fifties is beside him, focused on whatever Dr. Michaels is saying to him. 

“......firefighter, doctor, what’s next? Police officer.” She overhears her husband’s doctor who wears a teasing smile. “You’re just crossing them all off the list, ain’t you?” A friendly set of blue eyes settle on her when the gap between both is closed. “Well, what a sur—”

“Solana……”

Solana finds herself frowning, her attention directed to the man who she’s never seen before this very moment but who somehow knows her name and is staring directly at her. It’s not a predatory stare or even something inappropriate. It’s almost…..sad.

He’s looking at her like he’s just seen a ghost.

Dr. Michaels is also looking at the man next to him but with a different kind of expression. One that screams, you can’t just address the Tribal Chief’s wife so informally like that. “Mrs. Reigns, I apologize for the wait.” 

Solana shakes her head, still unsure why this stranger keeps staring at her. “It’s okay.” She hugs herself, looking past him to see if she can spot whatever door is open that could be the room they’ll be in. “Are you ready or…..”

“Of course.” He turns to the man beside him, offering a handshake. “Good to have you on the team, Dr. Adams.” 

Dr. Adams.

Yeah, not familiar at all. 

This Dr. Adams finally removes his gaze from her to accept Dr. Michaels handshake, only nodding as he gives her one last, almost regretful look and carefully moves past her.

Solana frowns in the wake of his absence. What was that?

Dr. Michaels apologizes again. “Sorry about that. Come with me.” Wordlessly, she follows him, moving to sit on the patient bed, anxiety growing once again as he closes the door. “Now, I hear you’re having some—”

“You can’t tell Roman I was here.”

It’s certainly not what she planned to say. Not yet, anyway. But, it’s exactly what comes out, Solana closing her eyes and going to correct herself. “I mean…..I’m gonna tell him myself. I just….I just need time.”

Time and a plan. Along with many other things she doesn’t need to tell the man before her.

His jovial disposition has shifted into something almost nervous and uncomfortable. “Solana, what’s going on here?”

She takes a breath, head tilted back, giving herself one final boost of encouragement before answering. “I need…..I need a pregnancy test.”

The release of what she’s been holding in for the past couple weeks is both terrifying and relieving. She hates that the first person she’s uttering the words to, even if just a thought of pregnancy, isn’t her husband. But, she also knows that she’s stuck between a rock and a hard place. Even more, she needs to know for certain, and Dr. Michaels is the only one who can provide her with that answer.

He looks only slightly less confused. “I see…..” Shifting the tablet under his arm to in front of him, he speculates, “and Roman doesn’t know that you might be…..”

“No,” she answers, voice small. “I’m—I’m going to tell him, but I want to know for sure first.” Again, only a part of a much bigger, complicated story. 

“Well, I can absolutely do a blood test, but I’m general medicine, Solana. I’m not an—”

“OB-GYN. I know. I just…..I didn’t know who else to go to. You’re Roman’s doctor, so he obviously trusts you.” Enough to manage his health, at least. “And I don’t know if there’s a specific doctor the Bloodline uses—”

“There is,” he supplies with a small smile. “I’ll make sure to give you her info before you leave. Even if….” He trails off, clearly not wanting to state what Solana would be shocked to find out is a false alarm.

She feels pregnant. 

He clears his throat. “I don’t mean to pry, but have you told anyone e—”

“No.” It’s an easy, truthful answer. “I haven’t said a word to anyone, and I won’t. Not until I find out if I am and definitely not until I tell Roman.”

He nods, clearly agreeing with this plan. “I will say, the big guy might order that this pregnancy stays just between you and your care team. And I guess me now,” he ends with a chuckle. “You’re the Tribal Chief’s wife who might be carrying his first official heir. That target over your head just got a hell of a lot bigger.” It’s weird, but his words don’t come across as fearmongering or even a scare tactic. Just a genuine warning of what’s to come. “But, that’ll be discussed between—”

“How is he?” It’s a breathless almost thing that falls out of her mouth. An unintended question but one she finds herself asking, nonetheless. “Roman, I mean, like….his health.”

Because on top of worrying about his mental state, being in front of his doctor has her curious about the physical side of things. 

“You’re a smart young lady, Solana.” Dr. Michaels starts, voice tentative almost. “You know how HIPAA works…..”

She closes her eyes. “I’m not asking you as a patient’s wife. I’m–” She takes a deep breath, voice firm and solid. “I’m asking you as the Tribal Chief’s wife.”

Bautista’s words still playing in the back of her head, Solana has never really considered what role she plays as Roman’s wife. Never thought to pull that card, because it’s almost out of character. She’s always been more inclined to shy away from status than to use it to her benefit. But, this is different. This is about Roman, and there isn’t much she wouldn't do to help him or even to know if and what he needs help with. 

And he’s been mum regarding his blood pressure as of late, so her curiosity is only naturally piqued. 

There’s obvious hesitation, but he relents, partially to her surprise. “He’s doing alright. Numbers look decent. Seems that he’s finally recognizing how serious this could be if he doesn’t do what he needs to do to keep from progressing to another stage again.”

“Wait. What?” Solana frowns. “Stage? What….what are you talking about?” A brief look of panic flashes in his blue eyes, alerting Solana that something is very much not right. “What stage?”

“Fuck…..” He closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “He didn’t tell you….”

“Tell me what?” Solana presses, her anxiety almost through the roof  “I’m not—I’m not gonna ask again.”

Dr. Michaels sighs with defeat. “Look, the last time Roman was here, his numbers were bad. Like, he jumped from prehypertension to stage one actual hypertension bad. I had to up his dosage and increase his follow up appointments as well as bloodwork check-ins.” Solana’s heart swells and her stomach jumps, and Dr. Michaels clearly sees how devastated this news has her, thus him adding, “but, like I said, he’s been on top of it and is looking good…..”

It’s hard for her to focus on that ending bit when all she can think about is one thing.

Lie.

Roman lied to her. 

She asked him. She fucking asked him how his appointment went, how his blood pressure was doing, if he was okay. And, he lied. He lied to her face. He told her he was fine, and he wasn’t.

He still isn’t. 

And this time, instead of lying, he’s just left.

Ran away. 

Like he always does. 

“Solana…..”

It’s the almost gentle way her name is said that alerts her to the fact that she’s crying, tears spilling down her face as she clutches her stomach. 

“Can I just have the test, please?” Because that’s all she wants and needs at this point. She just needs to know for certain, and she needs to get the hell out of here. 

She just needs to get away from it all.

————

Solana has never considered herself an irrational person. Most definitely not impulsive. Even with both of her suicide attempts, they may have been impulsive in the moment, but they didn’t indicate a truly impulsive personality or even disposition. 

But, that hasn’t been the case for the past three days.

No, it hasn’t been the case, because Solana’s current situation is the direct result of impulsivity.

She sits in her bedroom, Dulce sleeping peacefully in her bed on the floor beside her. Bautista and Nia are somewhere in the house that is not her main home, but the house purchased by her husband for her.

She’s in Isla Mujeres.

And has been for three days now.

Coming home from the shocking appointment, Solana found herself packing a small bag for herself, one for Dulce, and telling both Nia and Bautista to get ready because they were flying out that night. 

Her command left no room for argument, and that’s exactly what occurred, hence how Solana ended up where she is.

It’s been a true form of escape.

Feeling overwhelmed with all of it, Solana knew she needed to just not be around any of it.

And this place has served as a site of refuge, providing her with some level of tranquility that’s been escaping her back home.

Again, her random text to the group chat regarding her “going away” for a couple of days was met with another round of bombarding messages and calls. And Solana isn’t stupid, she knows and can understand her friends being concerned about her.

But, it’s not like she’s entirely alone. She has two people who are making sure she’s safe despite her perhaps strange behavior, and that’s all that matters.

Because she just needs space.

And in an unexpected turn of events, Roman has been added to that list.

He lied. He lied to her. Lied to her about something so important, something regarding his health, of all things. Was dishonest with her.

Again.

It’s becoming a bit of a theme, and she’s not naive. She can somewhat understand why he didn’t tell her. At first. Because she was in the midst of treatment.

But, she’s home now. She’s been home. Why would he not come clean?

Tears burn her eyes. It’s hard to balance understanding with feeling betrayed, because this isn’t the first time her husband hasn’t been honest with her.

And if she’s being honest with herself, this “reason” for the dishonesty being because he’s trying to protect her is…..it’s getting old.

She’s just so frustrated with him. 

So much of this could be avoided if he would just talk to her, and she’s running out of different ways to help him understand as such. 

Wiping at her eyes, Solana grabs a journal off the nightstand. Something she’s discussed with Gail in therapy as of late is the importance of never forgetting where she came from, how far she’s come. Remembering that she’s moving in the right direction.

It’s a strange thing, too. 

On one hand, reading journals from when she was a child and teenager could and maybe should be triggering. And it is. To a certain extent.

But, Solana is proud to say that she can revisit these painful memories and not be drawn back into those dark emotions but rather recognize that was how she used to feel. Where she used to be. 

Who she used to be.

But, not anymore.

Never again.

Solana leans back against the headboard and opens the journal, unsure what she’s about to read but ready regardless.

Dear Mami,

I miss you so much. I’m so so sorry for everything. I’m so sad now that you’re gone. I wish you were here. Daddy is so mean to me. Wes now too. He hates me because it’s my fault you’re dead. 

I’m so sorry. 

Love,

Sol

————

Dear Mami, 

Everything is so much badder now. Daddy is angry at me all the time. Wes too. They call me names. They hurt me, mommy. 

I wish I could be with you.

Yours,

Sol

————

Dear Mami, 

I’m sorry I haven’t written you lately. Daddy got mad at me for spilling some juice, and he broke my arm, so I couldn’t write.

I just got the cast off this morning. 

It still hurts a lot, but at least I can write you.

I got all A’s this quarter, mami! I’m trying to make you proud.

Hope you’ve forgiven me.

Solana

————

Dear Mami,

I feel so sad. Nothing makes me happy anymore. I try to think of you. Remember the times we would draw and sing and cook together. But, it’s not working anymore.

Mommy, I have times where I feel like I can’t breathe cause I feel so sad.

And sometimes when I just don’t want to breathe anymore at all.

Solana

————

Dear Mami,

I don’t want to do this anymore.

Solana

————

Mom,

It was a rough day. I had those thoughts again. I was able to fight them, but it’s so hard. 

I try to think about how you always told me to never stop dreaming. Never stop believing that life is a gift. I try, but it’s hard. 

I try to dream that not all men are like dad and Wes. That not every man in my life will hurt me. That maybe……just maybe I can fall in love someday. Find and marry someone who’s actually nice to me, who treats me with kindness, who loves me.

Kind of like my prince charming.

Do you think I could ever have a happily ever after?

Love,

Sol

Reading the entries definitely stirs up emotions, but it’s the last letter, however, that has her tears subsiding and the weight on her chest decreasing. A complete shift away from the heavy, depressing entries from such dark times in her life. 

A man unlike her dad and brother. 

Roman.

A man who would never hurt her like her dad and brother. 

Roman

A man she could love and marry. Someone who treats her with kindness and loves her. 

Roman 

Solana snaps the journal shut and cries a little harder, feels a little deeper, the realization hitting her like a stack of bricks over the head.

Roman isn’t perfect. He may seem like it sometimes, but he isn’t. He’s just a man. A human being like any other human being. He has his faults, the same way she has hers. He has his demons, just like she has hers.

But one thing that’s always remained consistent is him. He’s been her pillar since the beginning of their marriage, even when things were rocky and they were trying to learn each other. He’s been there for her.

More than any other man in her life, and this rough patch for him, for them, should not be anything that has her questioning him or their relationship.

Roman loves her. Plain and simple. 

The same way she loves him. 

And it’s that love that’s going to get them through this.

Wiping at her eyes, nodding to herself, Solana takes a deep breath. Swapping the notebook in her lap for the phone on the nightstand, she navigates to the unheard voicemail from Dr. Michaels.

The one that’s sat there for three days now, Solana not feeling well enough to receive that answer.

But, not anymore.

It’s time.

Eyes closing for a second, her hand drops to her stomach as she finally hits the play button.

Almost instantly, a new, male voice fills the room.

“Hey Solana, it’s Dr. Michaels.” Her heartbeat is a mile a fucking minute, Solana having to take a deep breath to help herself calm down. “Got your test results back and looks like you and the Big Guy better start babyproofing that big ole’ house of yours.” And just like that, Solana smacks the pause button on the voicemail before doubling over, a sob leaving her mouth.

She knew it. Felt it. But, there’s something about hearing the confirmation. Knowing without a doubt that she’s pregnant that’s almost overwhelming. 

In the best possible way.

Sniffling, she smiles down and rubs her hand across her stomach.

She’s pregnant.

“Now, I don’t want to freak you out, but your hCG levels came back pretty high, which isn’t anything bad. At all. But, it can indicate a multiples pregnancy. Meaning you could be carrying twins, and if that’s the case……”

It’s difficult for Solana to continue to focus on the rest of his message, something about him reminding her that Dr. Sharmell is the go-to OB-GYN for Bloodline pregnancies, as well as a phone number she’d guess for this doctor. However, as appreciated as that is, it’s mostly in one ear and out the other, because all she can hone in on is one word.

Twins

Twins like the ones she’s had several, frequent, recurring dreams about over the past few months. Dropping her phone altogether, Solana places both hands on her stomach, somehow, someway already knowing that he’s right.

She is carrying twins.

Smiling, laughing faces that are the perfect combination of herself and Roman rushing to the front of her mind, deepening her smile, increasing her joy.

Her babies.

Overcome with happiness, Solana finds herself grabbing her current journal that was also sitting on the nightstand, trembling hands skipping to the end of the book that she’s damn near completed. Using the pen in the middle, Solana shares the news, officially, with the only person other than her husband who she would give anything to have to celebrate with right now.

Dear Mami,

I’m pregnant. 

With twins. 

I’m getting my happily ever after, after all.

Love,

Sol

She must reread it almost a dozen times, each reading widening her smile. It’s such a strange thing, how quickly emotions can oscillate. She’d traveled the feelings spectrum from one end to the other over the past week, but this stop…..this stop is one she’d be okay with staying at for a while. 

Solana grabs her phone again, fingers navigating to Roman’s contact. She’s not going to tell him. Not like this, but this avoidance game they’ve been playing needs to stop. A glance at the time as well as her pulling up the world clock reveals it’s almost midnight in Italy, but that doesn’t stop her from dialing the number regardless.

It’s time to talk to her husband.

Except, it’s not.

Because the phone goes straight to voicemail. 

Solana frowns. She can’t recall a time where Roman’s phone has ever been off. On Do Not Disturb, sure, but off?

Never.

Not since she’s been with him, at least.

The beeping on the other end alerts her to the fact that she can either leave a message or hang up. 

She decides on the former of the two options.

“Hey….” Clearing her throat, she does her best to keep her voice steady, a tricky task considering the life-changing news she’s sitting on. “I—I wanted to talk to you. I—I miss your voice. I miss you.” Swallowing, she smiles, wishing she could bask in this moment with him. “Call me back when you get a chance….I love you.”

Hanging up the phone, Solana scoffs, still slightly in a state of disbelief. Looking down at a still sleeping Dulce, a soft giggle leaves her mouth at thinking about how her fur baby is going to react to there being a real baby in the house.

Two.

Climbing off the bed, phone in one hand, Solana moves over to the dresser and grabs a change of clothes before heading to the attached master bathroom.

She’s done a lot of sulking while in her supposed happy place, engaged in a lot of avoidance behavior. 

No more.

She has a reason to smile, to be happy, to be excited. And she wants to lean into that.

Solana starts to make a mental list of things she wants to do before leaving in a couple days. The item at the top is to go see Paloma. She’s barely spoken to the older woman with kind eyes and a warm personality since first meeting her months prior.

It’s time to see her again. 

But, as much as she would like to focus on an agenda for the remainder of her trip, it’s difficult for her mind to not keep gravitating back toward the news.

To the thought of life growing inside her. 

Two lives formed from a beautiful though flawed love. Two individuals who have lost so much yet stand to gain so much more through the lives they’ve created together.

Solana knows Roman will be an amazing father. He’s been so good to her, so patient, so loving. Seeing that extended to their children just fills her with all of the butterflies.

They’ll definitely have to make some changes. She might have to cut back work hours. He could maybe work from home more, if that’s even a thing. No nanny. Roman probably wouldn’t trust anyone anyway.

And the guest room closest to them could easily be the shared nursery for both children. It only makes sense for the babies to be close to them, getting different, separate rooms as they get older.

Standing in the shower, continuing to go over any and all the details, there’s a small bit of sadness at not being able to share the news with her friends. She knows they’re all going to be so happy for her, and Solana knows they’ll plan the biggest, most elaborate baby shower that she’ll probably have to bribe Roman into attending.

All of it, even the maybe stressful things, keeps her smile on her face. 

It’s just been some time since she’s felt so happy. A well deserved thing following an almost week of anything but.

But, it’s as Solana steps out the shower, wraps the towel around her and checks her phone, her smile dims at her lock screen being littered with notifications.

1 missed call from Jey 

3 missed calls from Jimmy

4 unread texts from Jimmy

2 unread texts from Jey

And just like that, her stomach drops.

Something is wrong.

Given Jimmy is the one with the most outreach attempts, she bypasses reading any messages and just skips right to calling him.

Pacing across the bathroom, each ring on the other end feels like an eternity. Finally, he picks up. “Solana.”

“What’s wrong?” It’s blurted out, her desperation and fear loud and present. “What happened?”

A heavy sigh on the other end of the phone. “Solana…..”

“What happened, Jimmy!” She doesn’t mean to yell, but she does mean to stress that she needs this man to tell her just what the hell is going on.

Another pause. “Fetu took a turn for the worse.” Her heart stops. “She’s…..she’s probably not going to make it through the night.”

Of all the things to come out his mouth, Solana could have never guessed that would be it. She’s instantly in a brief state of shock. This can’t be……no, it can’t.

“What?” Is all she’s able to muster, leaning back against the counter, heart rate a mile a minute.

“I don’t….I don’t know all the details. Ava was too upset to talk, but—”

“Roman….” 

Jimmy blows out a deep breath. “He’s already on a plane here. He…..he was actually already on his way.” Solana’s frown deepens. “He wanted to surprise you.” And the knife just keeps twisting. “He knows and should land in a couple hours, but I don’t know if—”

“Don’t,” she cuts him off. Solana can’t even fathom the notion of what he’s about to say. It can’t…..no. “Don’t say it.”

“Solana….” She’s never heard Jimmy sound so despondent. “From the way Ava was talking, she doesn’t have a lot of t—”

“He’s gonna make it.” There is no other alternative. None that Solana can consider. At least, not in this state. Because she’s still trying to sit on the fact that Roman’s laughing, smiling, hoot of an aunt is now suddenly at death’s door. It doesn’t make any sense. They were supposed to go see her. Solana had already texted and talked with Ava about surprising Fetu with a visit when Roman returned. 

And now…..

“I’m on my way.”

She can practically picture Jimmy’s surprise. “Solana, I don’t—”

“I need you to meet me at the airport and take me there,” she continues. Because Solana has only been there once, she doesn’t know how to get to Fetu’s place. But, Jimmy does, and something tells her Roman will land back home before she does, and she doesn’t want him wasting a second waiting around for her so they can go together.

“Solana, you’ve never…..you’ve never been around Roman when he’s lost someone. I don’t—I don’t know if it’s a good idea for you—”

“I am not letting him deal with this alone,” she vows, anger replacing the fear. “Prepare the jet for me.”

“Solana—”

“I said I’m going!” She snaps. Solana is certain her shout bypasses the perimeter of the closed bathroom door, travels into her bedroom and permeates throughout the house. “If you don’t want to help me, that’s fine. I’ll find a way. I will fucking swim back home and walk my way there if that’s what it takes, because I am not letting him deal with this alone.” There’s absolute silence on the other end. “Now are you going to help me or not?”

Jimmy is quiet for a good minute before answering. “I’ll be there when you touch down.”

There’s a small slice of relief that fills her at his agreement, but it’s nothing to sit in given the weight of the situation. “I’ll see you then.” 

Hanging up the phone, Solana hurriedly applies her deodorant and slips on her bra and panties. Walking out the bathroom, she moves over to the dresser, pulling out some sweats and a shirt. Once her sneakers are on, she’s grabbing Dulce, apologizing for waking her up as she moves out the room and down the stairs.

She finds Bautista and Nia in the kitchen, not hesitating as she informs, “pack your stuff. We’re leaving.”

Their surprised, borderline confused expressions make all the sense, but it’s Nia who speaks up. “What do you mean we’re leaving?”

Solana ignores her, carrying Dulce to the backdoor and letting her out, keeping her eyes on her puppy as she finds the patch of grass to relieve herself. 

Nia, of course, refuses to let it go, pushing her at a time where Solana is already trying not to sink into panic. “Look, you have been an impulsive mess all week. Randomly making us fly out here and now you’re making us randomly fly back. What the he—”

“Would you shut up!” It’s similar to the way she snapped at Jimmy, but angrier. More personal. “I don’t answer to you, Nia. I said we’re leaving, so we’re fucking leaving!”

And at that moment, Dulce hurries herself back inside, Solana slamming and shutting the door as she storms past a bewildered Nia to go back upstairs and finish packing.

Shaking hands, quiet sniffles, and silent tears accompany her preparation. She tried to call Roman again, only for the phone to once again go to voicemail, further worrying her.

He’s been pushing her away all week, but this…..this feels different. 

He’s icing her out, and it hurts, but not for her. She hurts for him, because he was already in a not good place before leaving. And now this?

“Please don’t take her from him…..” Solana finds herself pleading, praying for the first time in a long time. “He can’t…..he can’t lose her.”

Because he can’t. 

Because Solana can’t even imagine what losing Fetu would do to Roman. She isn’t sure how he’d handle it. 

If he could handle it. 

Less than twenty minutes later, Solana and Co. are out of the house and on their way to the airport. Dulce, forever perceptive, remains in her lap, every so often licking her arm and whining, cuddling close to Solana.

To her stomach. 

It’s appreciated. 

Necessary.

Because Solana is a nervous, emotional wreck sitting on the jet, Bautista and Nia wisely keeping their distance, leaving her alone in the bedroom with Dulce close by her side.

Solana tries to call both Roman and Ava one last time before takeoff. Neither answers.

It’s not unexpected, but it does make that despair lingering in the pit of her stomach grow.

Makes Solana think back on the letter she has tucked and hidden away at home. Makes her reflect on that almost ominous interaction with his aunt. 

Fetu shakes her head, Solana looking down when she places a white, sealed envelope in her hand. “I need you to give this to him when the time is right.”

Those words now haunt her, cause her to wonder just what is contained within that letter. If….if it was intended for a time like this.

A time where she’s no longer around.

Solana shakes her head, a sob breaking through as she tries to gather herself. She’s an emotional mess, yes, pregnancy hormones probably not helping, but regardless, she can’t be.

She needs to be strong. 

For Roman.

It’s what she keeps telling herself, reminding herself of as she’s forced to utilize some of her coping skills to settle her anxiety. Because it’s not just her she has to think about anymore.

It’s her babies, too.

Solana is nearly running out the jet the minute it lands and they’re clear to exit. She leaves Dulce with Nia, instructing her to take her back home.

Nia doesn’t argue with this.

But, the minute she steps foot out of the jet, her feet on ground, her eyes locked with Jimmy who waits near a black SUV…..she knows.

She just knows.

Solana’s hand goes to her stomach. “No……” Jimmy’s eyes shut as he runs his hand over his face, unshed tears glistening once he reopens his eyes and looks over at her. “Please, no…..”

“Solana….” 

Her voice breaks. “Don’t say it.”

But, he does. He absolutely says it. “She’s gone, Solana.”

She knew it. Knew it the moment her eyes locked with his that are filled with such tremendous grief, holding a truth she’d give anything to be anything but. But, on top of the grief that now fills her body the same way it fills Jimmy, there’s an entirely different layer that nearly grounds her when that realization settles. 

“Roman.” She’s almost scared to ask, but she has to. She just has to. “Did he….”

And it’s the way Jimmy’s sadness deepens as he shakes his head no that Solana’s already wavering resolve crumbles, that she breaks down in front of her husband’s cousin. Jimmy moves over to her, letting her cry into him at the second horrifying realization bulldozes into her with the weight of solid concrete.

Roman didn’t make it in time.

He didn’t get to see Fetu before she passed.

He didn’t get to say goodbye.

[eccentricallygothic]

| Big Brother |

Description: Fermin does not like to share you with anyone. 

Pairing: Dark Step-Brother!Fermin | Naive Step-Sister!You.

Disclaimer: This story is purely a work of fiction and does not represent Fermin Lopez in any way. It also contains dark and mature content so browse at your own discretion, please. Minors do not interact. 

Warning(s): Dubcon/Noncon, Fermin is mean, dark!Fermin, infantilization, unprotected p-in-v, spanking, degradation, dacryphilia, dumbification, possessive!Fermin, obsessive behaviors, ddlg vibes. 

Note: The Pedri one is gonna be much bigger as it has my favorite trope and Spanish man so it'll have to wait, unfortunately. Until then… 

.

Fermin does not like to share you with anyone. He doesn't know when exactly his contempt for his step-father's daughter turned into this but he doesn't care. Nor does he try to rationalize it anymore.

You are his, as he is yours.

It's quite simple, really. You're family and no one can or should come between you. No one will ever be as sincere with you like your family– he is and being the naive little thing you are, you should know that big brother always knows best. 

It doesn't matter even if he's younger than you. 

Fermin says it's all about what's in the head.

And yours is as empty as a wooden doll's.

So you say nothing and simply whimper as your head lowers when he roughly drags you inside the house by your arm before taking you to his room. You want to speak up; tell him about the forgotten kid in the park that you're supposed to be babysitting.

But you know better than to speak when big brother is angry. 

What he says goes. 

And so you're bent over his study table within the next new minutes with your skirt pushed all the way up to your waist while you sob uncontrollably and take your punishment.

“I- I am sorry, big brother– ah!” Your back twists upwards when yet another ruthless rap resounds against your tender skin that is flush with a deep shade of red. “I- I swear! I was only helping Lucia swing– ouch!” A rough hiccup rips out of your throat when your brother refuses to show you any mercy. “Please!” Fermin is not in the mood to listen. 

But he can never be wrong. Because he is big brother. So the fault is definitely yours. How many times has he told you not to speak to other boys? But you are one disobedient little sister! Big brother only wants what is best for you and to protect you because all boys except for him are pigs who only want to take advantage of you! 

“I knew this job was a bad idea” your form stills and your blood runs cold. Slap. But no scream comes out of you this time. Oh no. “You're too little to be out by yourself let alone handle another kid” his voice is low; the deadly calm of his tone causing your knees to tremble. “I fucking knew it–”

“NO! NO BIG BROTHER, PLEASE!” You are absolutely powerless against him so if he pulls the plug on your job, no one will be able to let you keep it. “I swear! That boy came to me first! I swear! I have no idea who he was!”

Fermin grimaces as he clenches his already tense jaw so hard that it ticks. He lands another harsh spank on your quivering ass. Of course. You didn't even notice how that boy has been circling you and Lucia in the park for a few days now, having finally mustered the courage to speak to you only today as you are known as Fermin's sister. 

“I am s- sorry…” You draw your words out as you feel him snatch the tatter of your panties away. “I promise I'll b- be better n- now, big bro-ther, p- please just- OH!” Your eyes squeeze shut as you break into another fit of sobs from the powerful slap that lands on your bare folds now. 

“Tsk, how many times do I have to teach you the difference between punishment time and play time, huh little sis?” A loud squelching noise sounds in the air as he spreads your drenched pussy lips. “Shamelessly making a mess all over big brother's desk during her punishment like a silly little slut, tsk” the blood under your already flush cheeks bubbles as you whimper. 

“S- Sorry, big brother…” Your toes curl as he goes about feeling up your mound. “C- Can't help…” Your teeth pull your bottom lip between them when one of his fingers start to toy with the sensitive band of your entrance. “P- Please… help…” Fermin has taught you to come to him whenever you feel funny between your legs because you have a serious condition that must be kept a secret if you don't want the scary hospital people to take you away from your home and big brother forever. Thankfully, he knows how to fix it so all you have to do is to go to him whenever it happens. Your big brother is the best, really. Because he doesn't help you like meanie doctors with bitter medicine but instead plays with you in an admittingly odd but fun way that is stranger than anything you've ever done but it is also what you can only describe as very nice at the same time. 

“Tsk, are we in a position to make demands?” You wince at the way he scolds you before landing one last powerful smack to your pussy, making you cry aloud as you crash into the desk you are bent over from the force. “Disobeying big brother and putting yourself at risk and then whining about help, I spoil you too much, don't I little sis?” You bite your lip as you hear his fly go undone. 

Oh God. 

He takes you unprepared sometimes when he is angry or unhappy. 

Today is going to be one of those days. 

If only his junior -as he likes to refer to it- wasn't so big, you wouldn't be so scared. 

Because his girth has nearly ripped you many a time. 

“Whining for weeks because all your little friends were getting babysitting jobs and so you wanted to get one too…” Your fingers tightly curl around the edges of the desk as you feel his thick tip press against your entrance, his warm big hands clasping around your sides firmly. “Misbehaving with big brother and throwing all kinds of tantrums…” Well, yeah. You did give him the cold shoulder until he agreed. “Assuring him you would be fine only to do this–” his last words nearly melt into a hiss as he jerks his hips against yours with a powerful thrust and in comes plunging his hard shaft. 

“BIG BROTHER!” A most vile moan escapes you as the upper half of your body goes limp over the smooth surface of the desk. 

“Just imagine if I wasn't out front fixing my bike?” He is beginning to get breathless, huge cock moving between your channel of flesh and out of you slow yet rough. “And if I didn't save you in time?” A spank delivers onto your bruised ass but it is much lighter than all the other ones you have been subject to this evening. “Do you have any idea how badly that could have ended for you?” But his reproaches are no more than background buzz for you now. Your eyelids have gotten droopy and your senses are melting. 

Big brother's dick is inside you and his thick veins angrily pulsate against your bare, sensitive flesh in the best way and that's all that matters.

“Hnnng” your lips feel dry as you bite down on them, your back arching and pussy squelching out a whine when he pulls out nearly all the way. “Big brother– AH!” His hands restrain you from moving along the force of his cock this time around so all of him can be buried deep within your cunt instead of your body slamming into the desk.

“Or maybe… big brother isn't enough for you now, huh? Is that it?” Your eyebrows furrow at his words as your eyes struggle to open because his movement is beginning to get frequent… and not in a nice way. “Is that why you're going around town like a stupid little slut with her silly little pussy in need of fixing?” Your body can't help but rock a little despite his hold on your hips as the stiff skin of his cock grazes against your sensitive flesh faster and faster with each thrust. When you continue to mewl and clench around him instead of answering, Fermin clicks his tongue before he lands a slap on one of your ass cheeks, his fingers coiling around your hair. “Well?!”

“N- No!” Your features twist in discomfort when you feel the band of your entrance forcefully expand around the base of his cock in order to accommodate his balls since your pussy is so wet and your walls so greedy that they want to devour all the dick he has to offer. “B- Big brother w- will always be e-nough for me!” Your neck cranes backwards as you feel him tug at your strands while his bottom half claps against yours loudly. 

“That's fucking right” your mouth falls open when his tip works its way up your cunt and finds the spot where your nerves are sensitive today, the harsh thrust causing your head to spin. “And you better remember that the next time a silly little boy approaches you” neon stars began to appear in your vision as he moves you down and onto the table before his hands roughly move to your thighs, his hips violently snapping against yours all the while. The sound of the other side of the desk colliding with the wall next to it fills your hot ears as you feel Fermin spread your legs as far as they can go, his ballsack sinking into your sore yet much gratified entrance with each thrust now. 

“Tell me you're mine” you feel him bend one of your legs before placing your knee on the table to access you even deeper. “Tell me you're all mine!”

“BIG BROTHER!” You are panting desperately like a bitch in heat, your tight insides on the verge of your first of many orgasms of the day. “I– AH! I AM– OH!” His fingers slip between your cunt and the smooth wooden top of the desk. 

Fermin's back drapes over your back as you feel his lips hover over your ear, his coarse digits gliding across your slippery folds. “Say it and big brother will give you the cummies” he kisses the tear stains on your flushed face. “You like the cummies right?” He speaks to you like one does a child while obliterating you like you are his very own personal whore (you are). You vehemently nod, grunting and whining as you focus on holding yourself back because cumming without big brother's permission is prohibited and you are in enough trouble already. 

“I AM Y- YOURS, BIG BROTHER! A- ALL YOURS! O- ONLY YOURS!” You scream out in agony, feeling yourself overcrowded, overstuffed and overstimulated all at once. “P- PLEA–” 

Fermin loves your sobs of pure wanton. “Cum for big brother” as if a switch goes off, your orgasm barrages through you like a dam coming undone. Temporary vertigo fills your ears as your pussy tightly clenches around his hard shaft that is still pounding your seeping cunt just as hard. Your vision falters and your body gives up as the upper half of your body that you were barely keeping upright drops against the table with a soft thump. 

Your body spasms as your toes curl from the overstimulation but you know better than to complain. Big brother does so much for your protection and pleasure, it is only fair that you returned the favor by being nice to him back. Yes, he is difficult to satiate and one cummie is never enough for him. 

But taking care of each other is what family is all about.

… Right? 

.

I appreciate feedback >.< Also I can't believe I neglected exam prep for this lmfaooo <3 

[strqwberryscapes]

aftermath

summary -> qimir has changed since he left the jedi order behind. since he left you behind. but little does he know, so did you.

content warnings -> canon typical violence, near death experiences, angst with a happy ending

no use of y/n. she/her pronouns

the ask -> helloooo! I like to request where qimir x reader were close when they were padawans. but one night they have a pretty bad argument that doesn’t end on a good note. it became messy when qimir left without telling her & he thought she hated him (based of the argument). they meet again but in a fight where she's badly injured by him (accidentally). angst angst angst please but happy ending please. thank youuu in advance ! 💗

"you can't just leave the order!"

she whispered harshly, gripping his arm. she wanted to yell, but the temple garden's weren't exactly the ideal location to do so.

how could he just go away like that? how could he leave her?

"this isn't my path. i'm made for more."

qimir's voice was firm. he had set his mind, and although he was sure he'll miss her, he had to go. he knew that jedi wouldn't approve of his views on the force- he also knew that she shared them with him, but for some reason refused to join his escape.

"i know you are." her voice was pleading, and her hand moved from his forearm to hold his hand. "but this is reckless!"

qimir's gaze fell to their joined hands, and he squeezed them.

"i told you, you can come with me."

"i can't- I can't leave my master, my friends-"

"but you can leave me?" his voice came out harsh, frustration hiding the hurt. he slipped his hand away.

"you're the one leaving!" she snapped, poking his chest.

if it hurt him, he didn't show it. he didn't understand. how could she be so naive? she wasn't free- they weren't free. and they could be, only if she dared to see beyond the jedi teachings.

he had to show her how serious he was about his decision. he grabbed his lightsaber and in an instant cut off his padawan braid. it fell to the ground.

her eyes widened, and she let out a surprised gasp. the braid was supposed to be cut by one's master, during knighting- the most sacred jedi ritual. even if he wanted to, there was no turning back now. and she couldn't do the same. it wasn't right.

"oh, qimir what have you done..." she reached to touch his cheek, but he backed away, stopping her wrist.

"you made your choice."

his voice was cold. he had to forget about her now, didn't he? leave this life behind, leave the order, and leave her.

qimir turned away abruptly, without a single look back.

he left her alone among the neatly trimmed bushes. the temple was silent.

she tried to stop the tears from falling down her cheeks when qimir's figure disappeared from her sight. did she really mean so little to him?

she forced herself to take a slow breath.

this wasn't the jedi way. whatever was it that they had was doomed since it's beginning.

they had both chosen their paths.

she moved swiftly through the narrow hallway, clutching the map in her hand. her breath was shallow. she managed to get rid of all the guard droids, at least that she knew of- which wasn't easy given they were made by the sith. she grimaced at that automatically. her old master definitely wouldn't approve of what she just did. but there it was- her old master. she didn't have a master anymore. she wasn't a padawan.

but she wasn't a jedi knight either.

neither was qimir.

jedi don't steal sith artefacts, do they?

she didn't want to run into any more of the droids again, and so she slowed her pace a little, tapping into the force, extending her senses into the maze of the ancient build. she relaxed a little when she felt small animals in the dark corners, moss, and the exit just nearby- the safety of her ship awaiting.

she was about to resume her journey, when suddenly a dark, threatening presence entered through the half broken gate.

the raw power in their force signature made her shudder. whoever it was, they must have sensed her too. she shoved the map into a secure pocket, drawing her lightsaber, and pulling her hood and mask to cover up her lips and her nose. they were a force user, and she couldn't risk getting recognised.

and then he showed up. she didn't even have time to process what was going on, when a red blade flashed between her eyes.

a red blade.

she backed away quickly, deflecting his strike, trying to assess her position. the stranger was wearing a helmet, concealing his identity, but she sensed something familiar. could that be a jedi? she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

and she didn't have the luxury of contemplating, as another blow almost cut her hand off. he was strong. strong and fast. as they fought she realised that he isn't using a particular combat form- he was unpredictable and aggressive.

that's what gave him the upper hand. he moved his forearm forward, and her blade suddenly broke in front of her eyes. was he wearing...cortosis?

she tried to dodge his blows desperately, and while moving that violently, her mask slipped down to her neck.

then his lightsaber pierced her stomach. a sharp pain striked through her body, and she let out a cry.

but as quick as it came, he withdrew it immediately. there was a change in the air- as if someone flicked a switch.

she fell to her knees in shock, clutching her wound.

the stranger fell to his knees as quick as she did.

took off his helmet in seconds, only to reveal a pained, guilty expression in his dark brown eyes-

"qimir."

she whispered, not believing her eyes. he was alive. alive and seemingly well- surely better than her at least. a bitter feeling tugged at her heart in realisation that he'd be the one to kill her.

"did you find what you were looking for?"

she asked, wincing in pain.

he didn't answer.

"the map is in my pocket."

she choked out. even after he doomed her fate, she couldn't bring herself to hate him. the same way she couldn't do that when he left. coughing, she tipped forward, ready to hit the hard ground, but instead, she landed in his extended arms.

"breathe."

was the first word qimir said to her, his voice strained.

she listened. it wasn't like she had much choice.

qimir furrowed his brows, focusing on her. he couldn't allow her to go. not here. not like this. he still hadn't tell her so many things...

he gently lifted her arms off of the wound that he inflicted, and placed his palm over it.

qimir took in a slow breath, trying to ignore her ragged breath and shaky hands.

ignore her scared gaze.

then he ehxaled, transferring his energy into her body. the gaping hole in her stomach gradually disappeared, leaving only burnt cloth behind.

she looked down at her stomach surprised. she was sure he's going to cut her suffering but-

"i'm sorry."

qimir whispered. he felt so guilty that he didn't recognise her. that he hurt her. more than once. after all that time...her force signature was completely different.

so was his.

"don't leave me here."

she spoke before she could stop herself. she tried not to think about of how pathetic she sounded.

but maybe qimir didn't want an intertwined future now. maybe he still thought of her as a lost cause.

"forgive me."

he pressed his lips gently against her temple, whispering words of apology.

and that gave her the answer.

reblogs appreciated<3

masterlist

[visionsofmagic]

let’s have a secret #gojo satoru & ryomen sukuna [mini-series]

“tell me love, what your heart desires? to fly in the sky or to dive in the deep ocean?”

synopsis: gojo satoru and ryomen sukuna – are rivals until the death. apart from some similarities – being egoistic, cocky, playboys, and having a cold manner when it is necessary, they had one thing in common; you.

tags: [in general] slow-burning, friends to lovers, enemies to lovers, clan mentioning, jjk au, female character, dilemma, complex feelings, arranged marriage, happening in modern times but clans still have their powers, curses exist, class problem, mature content. ✱ author’s note: I needed to leave this out of my chest because I have been thinking about writing & publishing this one for so long, and now we have ended jjk [:(], we need more & more stories to read from beautiful writers. hoping I will be one of them for you! this will be a mini-series, but let’s see where we are going. have fun & stay healthy!

opening. | episode 1. [upcoming]

     “You have to be joking!”

Closing your eyes for a second, you put your hands on your ears to lower the impact of Shoko’s screaming voice directed at your mother. She stayed silent and calm even when she could hear the disbelief in Shoko’s tone, and see your uncertainty about the whole situation.

“Shoko,” Your mother finally spoke, “Please calm down.” She looked at you, saying ‘calm down your friend’ in a non-verbal way yet you were in your world at the moment; thinking about how you had ended in this exact situation when you were having one of the best days of your life with Shoko and her two best friends one day ago.

Nevertheless, you held Shoko’s wrist, helping her to sit down beside you on the sofa, and smiling a little at how your friend was protecting you, unlike her character type. She was indeed your true friend. “Calm down, baby,” You said, “I know it’s hard to process but neither I nor mother are responsible for this.” You sighed, remembering what your father who rarely looked at you in the eyes said yesterday evening, at the dinner table. You remembered how he only left a few words, then ate his dinner, and vanished in thin air as if he didn’t leave a bombshell on the table right there. It took a few hours for you to understand what was going on entirely.

The first thing in the morning you did was call Shoko, telling them that you needed her, and she came shortly after. After you told her everything, she began to be angry, not understanding how you acted in this way; you were so calm and a bit naive. It was the opposite of your nature to stay calm and naive instead of leaving the house and not coming back until your father decided to do otherwise. You didn’t understand too, yet, you had to stay like that for the sake of your mother because she was also a victim of your father’s sudden decision, not knowing her husband would ever do it or hoping he wouldn’t do it. Here you were though, three of you sitting in the living room.

“So, since no one really asked the poisonous question,” Shoko began after a deep breath, “Who is it?”

You blinked, glancing at your mother, seeing her having the same expression as you did.

Shoko giggled awkwardly, finding it funny and waving her hand in the air, “Really?” She asked you, “You didn’t even ask who your father was talking about?”

You negatively shook your head, cursing to yourself because of how dumb you had become – why it was happening like this anyway? What made you numb to stay low? Or who – your brain asked, yet, the answer remained none. Only a glimpse of whiteness appeared behind your lashes, inside your brain, for a second and you couldn’t catch it. When you were about to deep into that, Shoko shook your body lightly, rolling her eyes as she said, “You are something else, aren’t you, y/n?”  

“Why?” You asked, sounding dumb enough to make your best friend laugh, and saying, “You exactly look like Gojo now, you know that?” under her breath.

Gojo.

Gojo Satoru.

Yes! – your mind screamed, yes, yes, yes – but yes to what? Yes, he felt close but you knew him only for a few months now, nothing more. What is happening?!

You got up suddenly, the whole room became blurry. Going out was the only thing in your mind ‘cause the house seemed to be overwhelming. “I need to go out.”

After giving an excuse for your behavior, you went to the garden. The voice of the door hitting echoed. It felt like you were escaping from your own thoughts, from the various voices in your head, to become steady again, to have enough consciousness to comprehend. You needed to be yourself again and act – you even didn’t know whether you would have an arranged marriage like your mother did or not. You knew she never had a chance to be free and it was clear that she didn’t want her daughter to end up like her even when she was glad because she had you – the most precious thing in her world. You loved your mother too, respected and never made her sad in any possible way. That’s why you were thinking of understanding your father’s offer instead of being straight-headed and doing what you would normally do; leave the house, continue to work and make it bigger, only visit your mother until your father realizes your confidence and determination.

“Pfff –“ You left a huffing, taking deep breaths, and stop thinking. Sometimes, when you were lost in your thoughts, you would stay alone and think aloud, letting the endless ideas go through your mind to the world around you, waiting for useless ones to vanish and only leaving important ones behind. “I really fucked up this time, didn’t I?” You said, walking around your small garden, eyes on the green of it; trees, flowers, and your two little cats playing with their mother under the shadow of the biggest tree’s branches. “How I would want to turn into a cat now.” You said, smiling at them. They always calmed you.

Kneeling down, you looked at the little kittens jumping in excitement and looking at your face with shining blue eyes. One of them was white while the other one was black; these discriminative features that they have inherited from their two colored mothers. Even though they were opposite, they looked like a puzzle; being in harmony when connected.

“You wouldn’t want that,” A voice be heard, making you jump with the cats. The wind tightened up, trees’ branches danced in rhythm, and cats’ ears rose in curiosity as they looked at the person behind you.

From the way they looked, you were curious about the person because his raspy and deep sound was – familiar?

Without standing up, you turned your head in the direction of the voice, and the moment you looked at – him, all the past memories came into your mind.

The man stayed cool, not seeing his effects on you just yet.

“Ryomen?”

“Greetings brat.”

to be continued.

[literatureloverx]

Now i'm curious (from how you considered dazai's openness around chuuya "debatable") about how you consider chuuya and dazai's dynamic? I'm not presuming you think their connection isn't important or anything, or that you think dazai doesn't trust chuuya, but i'm interested in how you think dazai's openness around chuuya is debatable. I'm 50/50 on it too tbh, so maybe your analysis can give more insight :D

Sure, dear, let’s dive into it.❤️ This has become a grand analysis + my comments lmao. I hope you enjoy it!❤️

🩵~~~🩵~~~🩵

First of all, it’s important to note that I personally classify Dazai and Chuuya’s relationship as truly meaningful and admirable—but not in a romantic way.

I want to be clear that I don’t see their dynamic as romantic, which is where I differ from many Dazai x Chuuya shippers. This is exactly why this post will be very, VERY long.

Asagiri himself said that he understands where the Dazai x Chuuya ships are coming from and he definitely gets it, but he won’t make the ship canon because he doesn’t want to dishonour/disrespect the original authors.

So it is indeed very kind of the illustrators and the studio to still provide the fandom with “fan service material,” which is on one hand very thoughtful and kind, but on the other hand fuels toxic shippers and feeds their theories, which they accept as absolute facts. (I suppose they make much money from it no matter what they do, so why would they care, right?)

I’m not trying to demoralize anyone or diminish their character shipping preferences. Everyone is entitled to ship whoever they want, and I don’t want this post to come across as a hate post.

However, I don’t view these dynamics (or any ship in BSD) through rose-colored glasses but rather in a more realistic light.

Many ship blogs tend to romanticize nearly anything that fits their perception (and while I often understand where they’re coming from, I find their interpretations naive compared to other logical explanations), but I want to approach this from a perspective that stays as realistic and logical as possible.

So, I kindly ask those who are sensitive about their own opinions and perceptions to consider skipping this post, as I don’t intend to hurt anyone’s feelings.

A small reminder: you’re allowed to have your ship and preferences, but please don’t act like they are canon or the ultimate truth, or hate on those who don’t share your opinions. This is truly rude and disrespectful.

Wow, that intro was long, but it needed to be said. Now, let’s dive into it:

🩵~~~🩵~~~🩵

🩵~~~🩵~~~🩵

If we brush off the fan-service material of the scenes in Dead Apple (which we still don’t know if it is canon, and those specific scenes aren’t even incorporated into the light novel, I hear? I’m not sure about it, though; I haven’t read the light novel), what remains?

In my humble opinion, there is a great understanding between the two of them on a humane level, but their dynamic is double-edged.

So why did I consider Dazai’s openness around Chuuya "debatable"?

It starts with Dazai’s perspective. I once saw someone write (sadly, I have no idea where; sorry, I’m not good with past experiences and memories) that “Fyodor understands Dazai but doesn’t get him, and Chuuya gets Dazai but doesn’t understand him.”

I believe this thesis to be entirely true. The problem is that while Chuuya gets Dazai but doesn’t understand him, Dazai gets and understands Chuuya very well.

Let us move over to the 15 manga, if I recall correctly (lmao).

There was a scene where Dazai was ready to sacrifice a whole city just for Chuuya to find out his truth about humanity because it was bothering him on such a deep level.

Dazai could understand his feelings very well because he himself is also struggling with his own humanity.

Their dynamic is so meaningful because they are like two halves of an apple.

Dazai struggles with his humanity because he doesn’t feel human (the true reason behind it remains still unclear), but he is physically human.

Chuuya struggles with his humanity because he is physically inhuman, but he is still human with every fibre of his being.

I believe Dazai can see that as well, which leads him to believe that Chuuya is the most humane person he’s ever known.

This is entirely true. Chuuya embodies almost every aspect of a human so perfectly—with visible flaws (he is so gorgeous to me), emotions, impulses… (this aspect could be a whole other post, but I need to stick to the main point right now).

Does it matter that he is physically inhuman?

No, of course not. What truly matters is the inner persona of someone.

That is the exact aspect Dazai is struggling with. He feels empty, he feels inhuman because he lacks all those aspects Chuuya brims with.

I personally see admiration on Dazai’s part because Chuuya embodies the things he lacks perfectly.

We either admire people who are able to do or have the things we cannot, or we’re simply jealous or hateful. In Dazai’s case, he admires Chuuya; he is flabbergasted.

But wait… hate? How does this manifest in Dazai?

Remember how he said that he’s been trying to find a way to kill Chuuya for the past 7 years?

Well, first of all, I don’t believe he genuinely wants Chuuya dead. However, this statement could indeed be true (with Dazai, you never know if it is), because Chuuya embodies everything he is not.

He might have found solace in simply the imagination of getting rid of him, not truly trying to make it a reality. Because we all know—if Dazai wanted to, he would have.

The reason why he doesn’t want Chuuya truly dead? Well, isn’t it obvious? I believe from the bottom of my heart that he cherishes Chuuya. But not in a romantic way, because in the canon context, there is really no evidence of that.

You can find so many clues that suggest their bond is deep, heartfelt, and close. It is so beautiful, truly. Their bond is one of my personal favorites of all BSD relationships.

But the romantic side of it? There truly is none.

This is the common problem here. Just because their bond is very meaningful and deep, people find every opportunity and reason to make a romantic relationship out of those things because we sadly live in a world where meaningful relationships are not appreciated at all but simply put in a box called “romantic & sexual tension” (there speaks the INFJ). Most relationships are multifaceted, people.

However, I’m babbling too much. Let’s dive into Chuuya’s perspective:

Chuuya seems to be more aggressive towards Dazai, clearly and often declaring that he “hates” him. Does he now?

No. I don’t believe that he does.

I believe that he sees through Dazai’s antics and his void of self, which makes me think that he is rather feeling bad for him (compassionately). I know that Chuuya doesn’t seem to be the most empathetic person in all Bungo Stray Dogs universe, but I believe that he actually is quite empathetic; he just doesn’t show it much.

He tolerates Dazai’s unsettling aspects most of the time, even though he is short-tempered.

Speaking of him being short-tempered, this side of him shines even brighter at Dazai’s side. He is much calmer and composed around others.

I believe that this is: first, because he trusts Dazai that he has everything in control so that he can act more freely; second, that Dazai knows exactly how to push him into irritation, which makes him aggressive quite rashly.

I said this before when I described Chuuya’s ideal type, and I’ll say it again: Chuuya doesn’t hate Dazai, but rather the challenges he provides that unsettle him deeply.

Now, I’d like to point out another example: Remember when Chuuya hit Dazai, and Dazai said to him that it hurt and he is only a human too? Chuuya answers coldly, “no one would believe that” (again the 15 manga, I believe?).

This is the solace Dazai seeks from Chuuya. He helps Chuuya to see that he is indeed human and expects the same in return from him, which Chuuya doesn’t provide.

Chuuya, someone Dazai sees as the picture-perfect human, denies him his own humanity. That must hurt really, really bad.

This is exactly what I mean with “Chuuya gets Dazai but doesn’t understand him, while Dazai gets and understands Chuuya.”

Chuuya is unable to provide Dazai with solace because he is so fixed on his worry about the other people dying and struggling that he is unable to see that he hurts Dazai.

Which is ironic because not seeing what is in front of him is again, very Chuuya-like and very humane, after all.

We’re human; we may be impulsive, we make mistakes, we might hurt our friends and families.

And Dazai again is looming in shadows, lying almost dead on the sofa without a care how many people will die, which is again, very inhuman.

So, let me bring in another aspect:

Why did Dazai install a bomb in Chuuya’s car before he left the Port Mafia?

I believe it was his coping mechanism, as always. His cheerful, uncaring attitude he wears like a mask, his desperate attempt to show Chuuya he would’ve loved to get rid of him, but sadly he was lucky—once again. That stupid slug.

Chuuya is someone who Dazai cherishes, maybe not as much as Odasaku or even Atsushi, but he cares deeply for him. (This is initially why I thought that Dazai has a heart of gold, because he is able to cherish so many people so very deeply, and he himself isn’t even really aware of it, which is adorable to me.)

I read somewhere that those two are soulmates, and I believe that to be true also, but as I already said—not in a romantic or sexual way.

Remember when I said that I adore soulmate connections, not only the romantic ones but also the platonic ones? The relationship between Dazai and Chuuya seems to be exactly that to me. I love them and I love them as a duo as well.

So, as an addition, I’d like to speak about their unwavering trust in each other, which is one of the main aspects of their relationship and dynamic. Dazai trusts Chuuya because he knows that Chuuya understands his trust and has already plotted the entire situation with no errors whatsoever. Chuuya needs to play his part in order for Dazai’s plan to work out as intended.

The reason Dazai trusts Chuuya is quite simple: Chuuya is a truly trustworthy person. To work as partners, they need to establish a strong sense of trust, which plays out perfectly. They are both able to forget their quarrels and focus on the job at hand, making them unstoppable together. Chuuya is known for his loyalty; it is his most prominent personality trait. That is why Dazai trusts him so much, knowing that Chuuya also trusts him because he understands that Dazai never fails.

To Chuuya, Dazai is nothing short of a genius—a very strange one, that much is sure. He is well aware that Dazai is depressed and lacks many of the qualities Chuuya possesses naturally, but he doesn’t really judge him for it, as seen in his high tolerance for Dazai’s antics and childish manner.

In summary, their bond is truly admirable, deep, and very important. Please don’t diminish it by confining their relationship to a box of sexual and romantic feelings in a canon sense, as this simply cheapens their dynamic.

Create your ships, write your fanfictions, but please don’t be rude to others who don’t share your perspectives. It’s absolutely fine to disagree with my opinion and interpretation, but please be respectful to me and my dear followers.❤️

Reminder: Chuuya calls Dazai “Dazai”, just like the ADA members, which is his surname. This suggests distance. Dazai calls Chuuya not “Nakahara” which also would be his surname, but “Chuuya”, his given name, which suggests that he might disrespect Chuuya or not take him seriously, since Chuuya is actually older than Dazai. I’m not sure what to think about this fact, so I wanted to mention it but I had no idea what analysis I can make out of this.

[ruskaroma]

ordinary, corrupt human love. | chapter 2: you get me closer to god.

Summary: John is a manipulator, and she, is the new subject of his obsession.

Warnings: this chapter contains stalking, mentions of large age gap, graphic descriptions of violence, and manipulation.

read the warnings. john is not only a menace, he is evilllll.

Author’s note: and we are back, baby. today, in this chapter, you are going to be witnessing a LOT of fucked up shit from none other than john wick himself. my man’s been doing a lot, god bless his poor soul.

also may i remind you all that the reader here is naive! she is stupid! she is not the brightest! she’s just desperate for attention and affection, so her decisions are always stupid and all of that. (please do not hate her, she is trying her best.)

this took me a while to write because it’s long asf and also because you know me, i always struggle with the english language, but i hope i won’t disappoint you with this chapter!

thank you so much for waiting and continuing to support this fic! really, it gives me a lot of motivation to keep writing, and i really appreciate all your sweet comments and reblogs on my last post.

i hope you also enjoy this new chapter since we’re going to have another peak of what goes on in john’s dark, dark mind. (I PROMISE THE SEX SCENE WOULD BE IN THE NEXT CHAPTER.)

and again, this is not edited so all mistakes are on me! i really do apologize, english is not my first language.

Word count: 10.6k

also read on AO3

In this business, you’d see different kinds of reactions when a man walks into a room.

They all see themselves above everybody else. They think they’re better, deadlier, smarter. That’s the kind of mindset you need if you want to survive. How will you get out of being held at gunpoint when you’re a weakling?

When a man walks into a room, they’ll take a moment to stare.

On the outside, you’d think these people have a lot of respect for one another since they all work in the same circle anyway. But in real life, you’d see the blatant lack of respect these people truly have for each other, because they’ll stare and judge.

When John walks into a room, it’s a different story.

Fear.

John is not like any other man in business they think they could just judge and get away with it, no. John is well respected and feared. He could see it in their eyes when he pass by. The extreme discomfort and alarm to be in the same presence as him. Even if they try so hard to hide it, John sees right through them.

They view him as… something but human. He’s a killing machine. An attack dog. A monster, some would even say. 

Back in the days, John wasn’t exactly fond of the names they’ve been giving him. When he was still new in the game, he didn’t like how he struck fear over these people because he wasn’t quite sure how to handle the power he truly has over them.

But now, something has shifted.

John is a free man. Not the kind of free when he was with Helen, but free nonetheless. Free because instead of getting alarmed with the fact that he’s feared all over this underworld, he’s taking advantage of it. Much to the higher ups dismay. They have been having a very hard time keeping up with his recent activities.

Growing up, it seemed like John got the worst sadistic discipline in Ruska Roma.

All of them did, don’t get him wrong. All of them suffered – blood, sweat and tears. They were all forced to go through extreme discipline, because it’s the crack of the whip that gets the rats going.

But John… John got the worst of it.

He used to take the fall for his fellow students. Fingers couldn’t count just how many times he was belted on the back for someone else’s mistake. The amount of times he was starved, denied of any kind of food or water, and that’s how it’s always been.

John has always been denied for the things he wanted. The things he needed.

Now, he is not greedy. He’s not just going to take everything in his way like a kid that got away from its parents’ grip, because he doesn’t want a lot of things. John already has a house, a dog companion, enough money to last forever.

John already has everything except her.

His most happy moments couldn’t compete with the hot curl within his guts that he feels every time his mind flashes back to that night. That night when she gave in, when she gave herself away to him – willingly. 

John didn’t need to give her a little push to finally get her. She practically offered herself to him, bared her neck and John’s itching to take a bite. To finally make her his once and for all, but really, he doesn’t need to do that to know that she’s his. 

Like he said, he’s not going to force himself into her life. He’s going to be welcomed. By the looks of it, it seems like it wouldn’t be such a hard thing to do after all. Not when she’s already giving up information about herself to John through texts – she’s practically making it easy for him to get her.

So naive. Doesn’t got a fucking clue in the world.

Mine. Mine. Mine. Fucking mine –

John looks at his phone, reading the messages both of them sent each other the night before, and there it is again. The itch in his hands, the need to possess.

13.06.15 11:46 PM

Bambi: hello! this is Y/N from the club the other night

13.06.15 11:46 PM

Bambi: also that Y/N who returned your super expensive looking coin hehe ;) i hope you didn’t forget about me!

John changed her name on his phone. He changed it to something more… intimate. More sweet. 

13.06.15 11:48 PM

John : I could never.

13.06.15 11:48 PM

John : You’re hard to forget.

He remembers – no, saw – how she responded. With a smile on her face, hopeful.

13.06.15 11:49 PM

Bambi : using my words against me, i see :D 

13.06.15 11:49 PM

Bambi : good to know you’re still as slick as the last time we chatted haha

13.06.15 11:49 PM

John : Hard not to. I wanted to impress you.

13.06.15 11:50 PM

Bambi : you already did.

13.06.15 11:50 PM

Bambi : with all your brooding and intimidating look. just my type ;D 

John smiles to himself as he reads the message. He remembers the look on her face when she’s typing, and hasn't got a clue that the man she’s flirting with was observing her just from across her building. John wouldn’t call it invading her privacy, he calls it keeping her safe.

13.06.15 11:50 PM

Bambi : anywho i asked for your number for a reason. i really do want to talk to you again. not just in chat, i mean, but also in real life :) 

13.06.15 11:50 PM

Bambi : maybe we could get to know each other more? what do you say??? meet up again, but this time planned unlike our other previous meetups?? haha

He is not a teenager to be feeling this giddy over reading messages, but she truly brings out something shameful in him.

13.06.15 11:51 PM

John : I should be the one asking you that.

13.06.15 11:51 PM

Bambi : you were taking too looonggg :( 

13.06.15 11:51 PM

Bambi : so what do ya think?

13.06.15 11:52 PM

John : Of course I’ll go. I told you I’d make time for you, didn’t I?

13.06.15 11:52 PM

John : I’m a man of my word.

13.06.15 11:52 PM

Bambi : ok that’s great! i was so worried you wouldn’t say yes.

John had averted his eyes from the phone that night and onto the little lady across the building. She was rolling around on her bed, still dressed in her pink, fluffy robe and her hair was still wet. She looks like a puppy that John wanted to pet; stroke her hair and tell her she’s his good girl.

13.06.15 11:52 PM

John : When do you want to meet? 

13.06.15 11:53 PM

Bambi : aahhhhh let’s see

13.06.15 11:53 PM

Bambi : i have classes tomorrow morning BUTTT we can def meet up during lunch! i get out of school at like 12 and go to work at 3 :D

I know, John wanted to say. I’ve memorized your everyday schedule in the span of two days.

13.06.15 11:53 PM

John : How about I pick you up from your school, we grab lunch, and I drop you off to work?

13.06.15 11:53 PM

John : Or is it too soon? 

13.06.15 11:53 PM

Bambi : oh my god no way REALLY?

13.06.15 11:53 PM

Bambi : nooo it’s not too soon don’t worry! you def could so we have more time to talk and everything! i just hope i won’t be bothering you or anything.

13.06.15 11:53 PM

Bambi : do you have work tomorrow? you look like a 9 to 5 kinda guy :P 

God, she’s fucking adorable. 

13.06.15 11:54 PM

John : I don’t, so you don’t have to worry. I’d love to talk to you more as well.

13.06.15 11:54 PM

Bambi : ok! i cannot wait for tomorrow. i should probably sleep now tho so i wouldn’t look shitty when you see me :D 

13.06.15 11:54 PM

Bambi : here is the address of my school. [Address]

13.06.15 11:54 PM

Bambi : can’t wait to see you tomorrow, john! goodnight, see you soon! x

13.06.15 11:55 PM

John : Goodnight, sweet girl. Have a good sleep.

John hadn’t meant to type that. He felt his heart drop to his stomach, terrified that he somehow scared her away with the sudden affection. But then he saw her read his message, dropped her phone on the bed, and then rolled over again like a lap dog.

She’s too easy to tame, so gullible. John almost couldn’t believe how fast she folded, how desperate she really is. But then again, he could say the same about himself. Lonely and desperate, they were meant to be together. He likes to believe God had put them in this position because of fate, because he has a plan for every single one of us.

John’s never been the one to believe in Him, but he finds himself grasping to that very little delusion that keeps him from going insane.

*

11:55 AM, the students are already making their way out of their designated buildings. 

John is keeping his guard on high alert, eyes scanning the crowd to find her. He’s parked just across the school gate, leaning against his car as he checks the time on his wrist. He’s also holding his phone in the other, waiting for it to vibrate in case she drops a message.

He’s never felt this giddy before. Hands clammy and eyes searching frantically, excited because he’s finally getting to spend alone time with her, but also worried in fear of losing her in the crowd. John doesn’t like it when he doesn’t have the upper hand. When he doesn’t have control of the situation. When she’s not in his line of vision and could be doing god knows what without his supervision.

He checks his phone again. 11:58, where is she?

John knows at this time, she should be out and about already, waiting for a cab to her apartment. His fingers itch, hovering over the screen of his phone. He begins contemplating if he should send a message, but that would make him look demanding and clingy. He doesn’t want to leave that kind of impression on her, or otherwise he’d have no choice but to abduct her and keep her locked away if she thinks about running –

He blinks, sucking in deep breath. 

“Shit,” he whispers, looking up to the school gate again. This isn’t good. What the fuck was he even thinking? 

John tries not to think about it. Tries to convince himself that he is not as fucked up as his mind is making him out to be. He wouldn’t stoop that low, he’s not that cruel –

Are you not?

A certain someone appears in the crowd, standing outside the school gate, already spotting John and waving at him from across the road. Her face is bright, smiling wide. John never wanted to possess something so bad.

He waves back, all his dark thoughts suddenly gone, and everything is rainbows and sunshine. John watches as she crosses the road carefully, looking left and right, seeming small with the people around her. She looks like a lost puppy.

John wants to pet.

“John, hey!” she beams, running up to him to give him a hug which catches John off guard. She’s on her tiptoes just to wrap her arms around his broad shoulders, and John doesn’t want to make her upset for not immediately reacting with her affection, and so he puts his arm around her waist and bends down to place his chin on her shoulder. 

He fights the urge to bury his nose in her neck, then maybe sucks a few hickeys, leaving a bite mark to show that the big, bad wolf has already marked his mate.

She’s so fucking easy to get, John thinks.

When she pulls away from the hug, John tries not to look disappointed. Her cologne lingers in his nose. “Sorry. Force of habit.”

“You don’t ever need to say sorry for that,” John says, faux stern as he places a hand on her waist subtly. She looks like she doesn’t mind, that’s a good thing.

“Okay then,” she smiles politely. “Oh, and I’m sorry if I look like a mess. Just say the words and I would totally change to more appropriate clothes before we go somewhere.”

“You look beautiful,” John says smoothly, standing up straight. Even though she looks underdressed next to John who’s wearing a three-piece suit, she is still heart-wrenchingly beautiful. In fact, John likes the contrast.

“T-thanks.”

“Should we go?”

“Sure! I’m excited,” she giggles, the sound practically dancing in his ear. “I’m hungry. Where will we eat?”

“Hm, what do you like?” he asks.

“Dunno. Burger and milkshake.”

“Sounds unhealthy.”

“The only thing I can afford, unfortunately,” she jokes, though John doesn’t answer, only opening the car door for her. “We should eat in a diner. I know a good one! Also cheap, so you won’t have to worry about the price.”

“I never worry about the price, darling,” John murmurs, but still loud enough for her to hear as she gets inside the vehicle. He swiftly walks to the driver’s seat and starts the car, glancing at his little bambi who’s observing the interior intensely. “You like it?”

“It’s so cool. I’ve never been in a car like this.”

“You’re going to have a lot of firsts when you’re with me.”

As John starts driving, the girl beside him babbles. Not that he minds, of course. He listens and nods, so obsessed with her voice that he could listen to it forever. It’s amazing how John could easily hide the fact that he was just stalking her from across her apartment the night before in the back of his mind, like it never even happened. It’s amazing how he could act like he wasn’t just thinking about kidnapping her and locking her away from the public forever.

But then again, everything about his little bambi would make anyone risk it all for her.  It’s not just John. Anyone would do the same if they were in his shoes.

“How was school?” John asks, averting his eyes from the road for a moment to look at her.

“Eh, it was alright. Classes always drain me, no wonder I’m so hungry now,” she answers politely. One of the few things John noticed about her. How she doesn’t run out of things to say, how she can get the conversation going. “How about you? You going to work after our lunch? You’re dressed up for it.”

“I took the day off today,” he replies vaguely.

“What? Why?”

“I have a date with you.”

She seems to be shocked by John’s choice of words, but she’s more concerned with the fact that John took the day off for her. “Y-yeah, but you didn’t have to do that. We could just go on a date next time.”

“The sooner, the better,” he explains, feeling another surge of something hot into his veins. She agreed that this is a date. Just how fucking gullible can she get? “Work is no problem for me. I want to get to know you more.”

“O-okay. I wanna get to know you more too.”

When John catches a glimpse of her bright smile beaming at him, his hands tighten around the wheel and he steps on the gas harder.

*

John doesn’t like how his mind isn’t making him remember about Helen.

He should be remembering her. He should feel some kind of guilt for being in a restaurant with another woman, but he doesn’t. Every single day since she died, his mind would always make him think about her. But now, it’s like John completely forgot about her existence at all.

The wedding ring on his finger is long gone. Ever since his unhealthy obsession began, he thought that wearing that while doing something so sinful felt so wrong. Helen shouldn’t have to witness all the things he had done in the name of a girl he had only met once that time.

The diner isn’t packed with people. The sizzling of the burgers grilling on the pan and the chatters seem to drown out eventually when his little bambi starts talking.

John gives her a small smile, barely there, just to show her that he’s listening, all his attention is on her.

“Time seems to pass by so fast, huh? I remember when I bumped into you the first time, I really thought I wouldn’t see you again,” she starts the conversation with a bang, but thankfully John’s prepared for this type of talk.

“So you really wanted to see me then?” he smirks slightly.

“Yeah! You’re really good looking and it’s not always I see a guy as handsome as you in my apartment complex and my school,” she says bluntly, though John could see the faint blush on her cheeks when she mentions the word ‘good looking.’ “So of course I had to take my chance when I met you again at that club! God, you were my knight in shining armor. I would’ve been crushed to death if it wasn’t for you.”

“That’s why you should always be careful on the road. You’re small, everyone could look past you if you weren’t careful enough.”

She pouts, placing her chin on her hand as she stares lovingly at John. “You’re exaggerating. I’m not small. You’re just saying that because you’re too big. And I’m always careful on the road – it was only that time that I lost balance and almost fell.”

“Then it better not happen again,” John says sharply, leaning back against the cushioned seat as he stares back at her challengingly. “But there’s no need to worry for the next time. I won’t let that happen again.”

“Next time?” she teases. “So you want to see me again next time, then?”

“Have I not made it clear with my actions and words?” John shoots back, raising another eyebrow. She likes it when he’s being stern like this. All authoritative. She might not know it yet, but her body language speaks for itself. “Do you want to see me again?”

The little bambi smiles brightly, and It hurts. It hurts John to see that smile because she’s just like the sun. But no matter how much she shines, John would do anything just to touch. Just to possess. Just to break.

“Of course! I wouldn’t have gotten your number if I didn’t, right?”

“Good.”

It’s not like she could do much anyways if she says no. Nothing will ever stop John from seeing her again, no matter how bad the procedure would be.

The food then arrives and is served on the table, and John thinks he has never felt anything like this before.

His hands have never felt this itchy before. That desperate, longing feeling to just possess the very thing that’s placed right in front of you. Everything about her is just so captivating, staring up at John like he’s the one who hung the moon, so full of adoration and hope.

Seems like John isn’t the only desperate one between the two of them. He could see it in her eyes. She’s practically begging him to take care of her.

And really, he can’t blame her.

An absent mother and an alcoholic father. No wonder she’s seeking attention from a man like John. A man old enough to be her father – if not older than her own father. John would be more than willing to fulfill the role her father failed to be when she was young. He’d do anything to protect her, morals be damned.

She looks too good to be true sitting right in front of him and he didn’t think watching someone devour a burger twice as big as her face would be so endearing. The way she licks her lips, the way her eyes sparkle every time John would pay attention to the little things she’d absentmindedly insert in her stories. No one must’ve given her this kind of attention before. No one but John.

“Oh, before I forget!” She places a hand on John’s arm that’s perched on the table. A mere innocent touch, yet he can’t help but feel a little giddy on the inside. “We’ve been talking for like, an hour now, and I still haven’t asked what your job is. I’ve been really curious ever since you told me you took a day off just for this. Are you like the boss or something?”

Ah. Of course.

A question like this is inevitable, thank god John came prepared. 

“No,” he simply says. “I’m a book binder. I collect and restore books as both a hobby and job.”

“Wow,” she nods her head, now interested as she leans forward and closer to him. She smells so sweet, John feels like he’s snorting sugar. “I didn’t think book binding could earn you so much money. Considering you’re dressed pretty… comfortably. And you have a nice car.”

“It pays enough,” John replies. Sooner or later she’d find out what he really does for a living, and no doubt she’d be scared. John already has a plan of action for when that would happen, but for now, he’ll try to keep it a secret as long as he can. “Pays enough to let me spoil you in the future. In fact, I think I might just start spoiling you now.”

“You say that to every woman you meet?” She quirks an eyebrow, teasing. 

“Just for you. You’re special.”

John sees the way she immediately turns shy and nervous from the statement. It must’ve felt overwhelming, having someone so much older and with more experience to hit on her like that. But John would say it brings a whole different feeling in him, like ego-lifting of some sort, knowing he just might be the only man that treated her right in her life.

Does killing one of her guy friends and storing him in his basement means treating her right? Does stalking her and watching her sleep from across the building is a way to treat her right? Different story to be told for another day.

“I believe you,” she says, smiling. 

Of course you do.

John diverts her attention from him. “You’re a veterinary student and also part time in a veterinary clinic. What made you want to pursue it?”

���Uh, let’s see. I don’t really have like, a very logical reason for it. I just really love animals and I want them to be part of my job as well,” she shrugs. “As for the part time thing, one of my older friends works there and got me in to gain some experience. I don’t really do much, I help with the paperworks and watch how they do stuff around there.”

I know.

“Your unconditional love for animals is logical enough.”

“I know right. Best job in the world, I might add. I get to pet all kinds of different animals everyday, and mind you I’m not even a real doctor yet,” she giggles, then tilts her head in curiosity. “Do you have a pet, John?”

“I do. I have a dog,” he answers, taking a sip of his own milkshake. It’s sweet, it’s something he’s not used to, but it reminds him of her. “Unfortunately, I haven’t named her yet.”

She frowns. “Why not?”

“I don’t know how to. I’m not good with names,” John shrugs. This conversation with her alone just might be the longest conversation he’s ever shared with someone ever since Helen died. And even with his late wife, he wasn’t as talkative as this. “Maybe you could name her. She’s a large pitbull but surprisingly very gentle for her size.”

“Oh my god, John, I have to meet her!” She beams. “Maybe on our next date, don’t you think? Let’s bring her with us to the park, have a little picnic there or something.”

Next date.

She wants to go on another date with him and she is making this a lot easier for John.

His lips stretch into a rare smile, fingers twitching subtly around the glass as he stares right into her eyes. There’s no hidden intention behind them, just pure adoration with a twinge of hope. Probably hopes that John wants the same thing as her, but he wouldn’t let her know that she is in for a lot more than she bargained for.

“I can’t wait for our next one.”

*

John could still remember the little things that made him feel human. 

Back in the Marines, when he first killed somebody, he felt a tremendous amount of guilt and self-hating that he couldn’t sleep for a week. He’d have nightmares of it; of holding his gun up to somebody’s head and blowing it up with just one single movement. The residue of the flesh splattered all over his face, some of them even went to his mouth. His hands shaked but he didn’t let his crew see it. In their eyes, that wasn’t the first time he had done it.

When he was recruited by Viggo and his little minions, the guilt of killing people was still there, but barely. He used to wish he didn’t feel any guilt or remorse at all every time he pulled a trigger, but looking back at it now, he wishes he could just take it all back. It was only guilt that he felt most of his life, but it made John human.

Now, he doesn’t feel very human as he stands in the middle of an abattoir holding a machete with pints of blood pooling at his shoes.

Back then, he used to kill. Point, shoot, leave. A very short routine he told himself to stick with unless he wanted to get in trouble. But now, he is not only just killing. John is fucking slaughtering people.

His eyes land on the dead body hanging from the meat hook. Naked, gutted alive just a few moments ago. His stomach is sliced open with his own intestines wrapped around his neck, and it fucking stinks.

The raw stench of human blood mixing with the already reeking smell of the slaughtered pigs hanging just besides the one John had slaughtered himself. 

Really, John should feel even just a little amount of remorse or disgust. His client didn’t particularly gave him a specific order on how to fucking kill the target, John did it himself. He didn’t know what the fuck was he thinking when he was doing the wet work, all he knows is that he’s getting worse each day that passes.

The killing part took some time considering the man certainly put up a fight. He was smuggling drugs inside the pigs he was slaughtering. It works on people too, though it’s too risky. Dying with balloons of cocaine up your throat or ass isn’t exactly the way you’d want to die, nor the kind of state you want your body to be in.

John really didn’t mean to go this far, but all the pent up anger and frustration led him to do something so ugly. He feels like a ticking bomb. Every second a little part of humanity just starts fading away, who knows what would happen if all of it were gone. 

This is his first kill since his date with his bambi. That was five days ago. John decided to take another job while he’s waiting for her next decision. He doesn’t want to look clingy and creepy by constantly texting her every chance he gets, so he lets her do it in her own phase. Though, waiting for her texts sure did take a lot of rampant rage on John’s side. Lots of broken furniture and a creepy amount of hours watching her sleep from across the building. 

Just because John is letting her do her own thing for the meantime, doesn’t mean he gets to take his eyes off of her. It’s for the best. 

Their last conversation was yesterday. It was a pretty long conversation, but not long enough for John’s satisfaction. She left it off by saying she’s going to be busy studying for her test and cleaning her apartment, which John didn’t have the time to check if she was telling the truth since he was busy himself.

John is dying to see her again but he knows he’s gonna have to wait it out in the Continental. Or maybe if he’s feeling a little bit insane, he’d ditch having to rest and spend his time sitting on a dusty chair in the same dusty room he’s been staying in for awhile; the building across from her apartment. But until then he’ll have to see where time will take him.

His phone ringing in his jacket is what snaps him from his thoughts. Bringing a bloodied hand to get it, he almost couldn’t press the screen by the slippery liquid covering his fingers. John presses the phone to his ear, waiting for the person to speak.

“Hey, boss. How’s Russia treating you so far? Hopefully not great ‘cause I’ve got some news that will cheer you up.” The deep voice of Alex echoes in the abattoir. It must’ve slipped John’s mind that he had sent Alex again to tail her again while he’s out overseas.

He furrows his brows, curious. “How is she?”

“Hm, let’s see here. Your little pet has been up and about all day with her little friends after they’ve finally noticed the disappearance of that little shit we took care of a while back – speaking of which, how is he by the way?”

“Rotting. Dissolving in my basement,” John replies, hands tightening around the handle of the machete. So this is what she’s been doing and the reason why she hasn’t messaged him all day. “I say the fucker got what he deserved. He’s a creep who preys on women to rape, I’m just thankful we got him out of the way before he got to her.”

“Yeah, well. She doesn’t know that and I doubt she’d even stop looking for her creepy friend unless they’ve found him. What do you want me to do?”

“Give it a day or two. Wait for me to get back and I’ll take it from there.”

“Anything else?” John hears loud chattering in the background, he furrows his brows.

“Yeah. Where are you right now?”

“Uhh, keeping her in my sight like you told me to?” Alex sounds particularly sassy. John doesn’t know if he should be pleased or not. “She’s at a restaurant. I think she’s having a meeting with her other friends or something – she looks upset.”

“Upset because of her missing friend, I assume.”

“Probably. Have you talked to her at all today, boss? Pretty sure I have not yet seen her pick up her phone all day.”

“No,” John simply says. “But she will. I’m sure of it.”

“I see you’ve finally gotten her dependent on you now.”

“Not enough, apparently, since she’s gone a full day without talking to me.”

“Well, you’re definitely getting there,” Alex says under his breath. “I’m going now, boss. They’re leaving to god knows where.”

John doesn’t say anything else, only ending the call and pocketing back his phone. He looks around the area, the coppery smell of blood is stronger than before. He is the reason why it stinks in here, the reason why there’s so much blood and brutality. The body that hangs right in front of him is lifelessly staring with dead, cold eyes. John resists the urge to shove a balloon of fucking cocaine into his stomach, the same thing he’s been doing with these pigs, brutalize him more if that’s even possible, but he knows it wouldn’t help his already worsening mentality.

The thought of someone seeing this body and thinking about how fucked up the person who did this doesn’t concern him as much as it should. 

Instead, John turns his heels and walks away from the scene. 

*

Unsurprisingly, getting her to depend on John isn’t the hardest task to do.

It just might be the easiest.

The moment John arrives at the Continental, he takes his time to message his bambi. It’s only reasonable, he wouldn’t come out as a clingy creep since it’s been a full day since his last message, he has every right to know what and how she’s doing despite already getting enough pictures and updates from Alex.

He asks her how she’s been, waits for approximately ten minutes before he finally gets a reply. In those ten minutes, John takes his time scrolling through the pictures Alex had sent him. Pictures of her bundled up in large, colorful sweaters and wearing a frown on her pretty face. She looks rough, but she makes looking rough look good.

Bambi : hi, john :(( sorry i didn’t text you all day. was busy with something 

John : That’s alright, I understand. I’m just glad you replied. Did something come up? Was it about school?

Bambi : kind of. my friend from school is missing and we don’t know where he is. we’re worried because he hasn’t answered any of our calls for a week and his apartment is practically empty.

Reading that almost makes him resist an urge to sickly smile to himself. His fingers hover the screen, careful of what his next words might be. 

John : I’m sorry to hear that. Have you gotten any updates from the police? What did they say?

Bambi : nothing yet unfortunately. no one saw him the night he went missing :( 

John : I’m sure you’ll find him soon enough. I hope nothing extremely bad happened to your friend.

He sounds… manipulating. There aren’t any more words that could describe what John is doing to her. He doesn’t even know if he can still make up excuses to tell himself that everything is completely fine and normal.

The girl that he likes is currently sharing about the horrifying tragedy her ‘friend’ is facing, the horrifying tragedy being John’s fault, and he’s fucking lying about it. And what truly terrifies him the most is not about the fact that he’s manipulating her, he’s terrified because it feels normal and just… fine.

Normal, normal, normal–

Can John really win her over by going this path? If not, would it really matter?

He will still have the upper hand if this doesn’t end well. But then again, there’s a very small chance that it wouldn’t – if not none at all. John just needs to play his cards well and there wouldn’t be a problem. 

Bambi : thank you john. really hope that too. it doesn’t feel the same without him

John’s jaw ticks.

What do you mean it doesn’t feel the same without that fucker? I killed him for you! He was a creep who only wanted to fuck you and take you away from me and–

A dangerous feeling suddenly surge into his veins that he wants to put back together all the pieces of that fucker just to destroy it in his hands once again.

Maybe mutilating him and dissolving him in pure acid just isn’t enough. Maybe he deserved more. Maybe John should’ve took his fucking time torturing that little shit instead of killing him instantly.

John : And how are you? I hope you’re not too worried about this matter that you start to forget about taking care of yourself.

Bambi : i’m doing fine, but a bit sad bc of it. i also miss you and i wish u’re here so i wouldn’t be too sad

And just like that, it’s like all his resentment and rage just one minute prior vanished in a snap of a finger. A small smile makes its way to his face and a surge of ego soars into his chest. She has no idea she’s got a dangerous assassin wrapped around her finger and the consequences it’d bring her.

Bambi : are u still overseas? when will you be back?

John : Tomorrow, hopefully.

John : And I miss you too, sweetheart. I promise I’ll be back as soon as I finish work.

Bambi : can’t wait to see you. do u want me to pick u up at the airport? :D

John : Thank you, baby, but that won’t be necessary. I don’t want to keep you busy when you already have too much in your hands.

Bambi : mkay. but call me or text me when u arrive, ok?

John : Of course.

*

John is not stupid.

If he ever noticed a man following his every step, he didn’t once care or say a word.

It’s one of Winston’s men, obviously, following him around throughout his business in Russia up to boarding the same plane as him back to New York. Considering John had managed to catch on pretty quickly at the fact that Winston sent someone to trail him, this poor guy is not doing a particularly good job.

At first, John thought about taking care of the guy himself and bringing Winston a souvenir of his dog’s fingers or even one of his eyeballs, but decided that he is not that cruel.

He could be, but knowing he holds all the power over several people under The Table makes John wants to play the game a little longer and just fucking shiver in excitement.

Obviously Winston had noticed that John is up to no good. Not that it’s any of his business, he’s more likely just scared for his own life. He’s probably thinking it was a bad idea to bring John back into the game now that he’s living up to the horrors of his reputation and giving people exactly what they wanted.

When John first returned to the field, it was only to avenge his late wife and nothing more. But now that a bigger monster has grown within him over the course of his stay, he’s now also looking for the fuel to his fire.

And boy did he find it.

The fuel being in the form of a young woman who’s unaware of how much power she has over John. It’s only a matter of time before all hell breaks loose. 

*

10:56 PM.

“Hello.”

“Hello? John?”

“It’s me, darling. How are you?”

“Doing fine. Studying for my exam and all. Why are you calling at this hour, though?”

“Just wanted to let you know that I just arrived back in New York and see how you’re doing.”

“Oh, John, it’s so late. I was thinking earlier that you would arrive tomorrow morning or afternoon, you didn’t tell me you boarded a flight.”

“I wanted to be back as soon as possible and wanted to surprise you, but my flight got delayed so I only just arrived now.”

A soft laugh rings in his ear.

“You’re so cheeky. We can just meet up tomorrow if you’d like, go on a picnic at a park or something. I really, really wanna meet your dog.”

John hears a sigh, then the sound of paper rustling in the background. He counts – one, two, three – here it comes.

“I miss you, John.”

He pushes the curtain aside with two fingers, peering his eyes in the small opening as he watches the figure at the other side of the building. She’s sitting on her study desk in front of a laptop, freshly showered and wearing specs that John can’t help his heart to ache.

It’s been so long.

“I miss you too, sweetheart. Couldn’t stop thinking about you when I was away.”

“That’s very sweet. I hope you brought souvenirs for me, though, or otherwise I will be very sad.”

“How can I forget? I bought everything that reminded me of you when I was there.”

“Now you’re just spoiling me.” Another laugh, then John sees her getting up from the chair and laying on the bed. “I’m happy that I’d get to see you again tomorrow, John. Everything that’s been happening is just so… I don’t know. Stressful, I guess. From my friend missing and school work, I don’t even know where to start. I just wanna be with you again.”

The mention of her friend Jay ticks him the wrong way, but he can’t also help but notice the longing and desperation laced in her voice as she said the last part. John knows it wouldn’t be too hard for her to be dependent on him, he just didn’t expect it to be this easy. They’ve only met once in real life, but their constant texting and calling through the phone makes it up for it. 

“Don’t let yourself worry too much on matters that don’t concern you.”

Silence, then John watches her bite her nail anxiously. “What do you mean by that, John?”

He doesn’t particularly like the way his name just rolls off her tongue like that – like she’s his age, the same way Helen used to call him. He doesn’t want to be reminded of Helen when he’s with his little bambi, it just makes him feel even shittier with the situation. It sorta reminds John how much he truly changed when he lost Helen.

“Don’t worry about your friend too much. I know it’s hard that he’s missing, but don’t put him first before your own well being,” John advises, manipulation just dripping off his tongue like it’s the easiest thing in the world. He doubts she would notice, though. “I’m sure the police got it covered by now. I’m more worried about you.”

John could still see her expression through the window despite being far away. She’s thinking about it, letting herself get swayed by his lies and persuasion. She’s too easy, she just doesn’t know it herself, but John does. And he’s going to take advantage of it as much as he can. 

He counts again – one, two, three – and she’s dropping her hand to the bed and sighing softly. There she is.

“Okay. You’re probably right, I worry too much.”

John doesn’t reply but gives a silent hum that indicates he’s agreeing. He sees her taking off her glasses and putting it on the bedside table, suddenly the itch in his hands is back.

There’s a voice nagging at the back of his head and asking him just what the fuck is he doing, that he should stop this madness before it gets out of hand, but would that really make a difference? Even if John did stop, he’d still continue to live with the fact that he was a monster who stalked a young woman out of sheer obsession. He’d already got her dependent on him, he’d already laid out the plan on how this would turn out, why is he suddenly questioning now?

He had done stuff that was worse than manipulating. He didn’t feel a single drop of empathy when he was slaughtering people and shooting them in the head, but why does he feel guilty manipulating her?

“John? Did you already fall asleep on me?”

Soft voice snaps him out of his thoughts, then it’s followed by a soft giggle. John feels butterflies exploding in his stomach. 

“Sorry. I was just–”

“It’s okay, John, you can sleep. You’ve probably had a long day since you’ve been on a flight and everything. I’m going to sleep now too, we have a date tomorrow, remember? Don’t forget.” The faux strictness in her voice makes him smile, then he sees her smiling just as big through the window; giddy and excited. “Goodnight, John. It’s really nice talking to you again. I can’t wait to see you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, darling. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She hangs up first, smiling to herself before putting the phone back to her nightstand. She settles on the bed comfortably, tucking herself into her blanket, unaware of the fact that there’s a monster lurking on the other building, watching her every move like a hawk.

He catches a glimpse of himself in the old mirror on the dusty wall, dressed in black and predatory, reminiscent of the devil himself. 

Might as well live up to the name.

*

John is aware of how dead he looks in people’s eyes. He barely smiles, he’s always dressed in black, and he always has trouble showing emotions through his face. He makes sure that he gives off that aura that shows how much he dislikes everyone in the fucking room. How much he just wants to pull out his gun and shoot every single one of them in the head.

John despises the way they look at him. Like they pity him for losing his wife, for getting dragged back to the life he had already left. Though, he can’t really blame them, really. He used to pity himself too, even now for letting himself get even worse, but he wouldn’t really call it pity. He doesn’t know what it is, but it’s not pity.

The next day is interesting, to say the least.

He couldn’t get a minute of sleep the night before, the image of her sleeping so peacefully without a worry in the world bored into his mind. It’s extremely fascinating to him just how careless and… dumb she is. Dumb in a way that it’s benifiting John – the both of them, actually – and not in an offensive kind of way.

It was around two in the morning when he returned back to the hotel, managed to sleep for an hour or two before ripping off the blankets and had a drink the first thing in the morning. John didn’t bother taking a nap after that, just walking around the room making sure all is well and everything will be according to plan.

At 8 AM, she texted John a good morning and said it would be better for their date to be at 4 PM. John then replied that it was perfect, though he doubts he can wait that long.

12 PM, for a man as calm and collected as John, he sure as hell can’t fucking sit still in one place.

He’s paranoid. No amount of texts from his bambi is enough to keep him calm. The time is ticking too slowly for his liking and he has no other things to do in his free time. Except be paranoid.

John grabs his coat, kisses his dog goodbye and decides to stop by a grocery store to prepare for their date. He should at least make them both a sandwich and buy drinks, knowing that the little gesture would be enough to put a smile on her face.

1 PM, John comes back with shit ton of paper bags in his arms. He’s doing too much, he knows it, but too much is still better than not enough.

John goes to the kitchen to prepare. The orphanage taught him how to cook – well, not really. John taught himself how to cook, because if he’s not going to cook for himself and half of the kids back in Ruska, they’d all be dead with no survival instincts to save them from starvation. Being an assassin who could withstand any form of torture all while not knowing how to cook would be the greatest joke of the century. John’s not the one to be laughed out.

2 PM, everything is settled and in place, his little bambi texts him to let him know that she’s getting ready and cannot wait for their date. John then takes his time to get ready too.

3 PM, John is dressed in a nice white t-shirt with a brown leather jacket on top. He looks civilised, no one would know a damn thing that he’s one of the most feared men in the underworld who slaughters people for a living.

His dog is quiet in the corner, chewing on her bone toy until John puts a collar and leash around her neck. Her eyes perks up in excitement, already knowing they would go outside to play. John always takes his time making sure she gets to socialize with other dogs, whether it’s in a park or just down the street.

“You’re excited, baby?” John murmurs, petting her ears softly as he kneels down to her position. “You’re gonna meet someone special. Want you to be nice to her, alright? She’s gonna be your mom.”

John hauls everything into his car in a matter of minutes. The picnic basket, the blanket, his gifts for his little one that he got from Russia, also including his dog. She’s behaved yet excited as she peeks in the mirror watching her owner work.

He slides into the driver’s seat and locks his seatbelt, starting up the car and driving away from the hotel. Earlier, John had seen a couple of his co-workers loading up his trunk dressed like he’s going on a date – because he is – no doubt they’re snitching and would tell Winston. He couldn’t care less.

He arrives outside her apartment after thirty minutes, parking his car right by the entrance. He can’t help but grimace as he looks around the place. He remembers meeting her here, the day after he killed that good-for-nothing junkie. He wonders if she ever got the news, how she reacted when someone got killed the same day John was visiting her area.

It won’t be long before she wouldn’t be living in this area no more. It’s too dangerous, filled with a bunch of goons who get themselves tangled up in petty gang wars. John knows a gangster when he sees one, and it looks like every single man who lives in these crowded apartments are either pushers or gangsters with no sense of direction in life.

She doesn’t belong here. She should be in John’s house, locked up and isolated where she’s safe under his supervision. He would treat her like a princess, give her the things she deserve.

John gets out of the car, pulls out his phone and sends her a message to let her know he’s outside her building. He leans against the car as he waits.

A minute passes and a very happy bambi appears in the elevator, dressed in a pretty sundress and a white tote bag with a text John can’t see. She’s beaming up at him as she exits the building, and John hasn’t got the time to react before she’s lunging herself forward and going on tiptoe to wrap her arms around his neck.

“Whoa easy,” John murmurs, immediately wrapping his arms around her waist for support, placing his face in the crook of her neck and inhaling her scent; it’s sweet, not a surprise. “You miss me that much?”

“So much, you don’t even wanna know,” she murmurs in his chest, not quite reaching his neck despite being on her tiptoes. “I hope you miss me just as much.”

John pulls away, gives her a look as he places her large hands on her hips. “I might’ve missed you more than you missed me.”

She giggles, John could see her eyes through the heart-shaped sunglasses she’s wearing. It’s cute. “That’s not possible, I will fight you for it.”

“Hm,” John hums, eyes wandering down her lips to her dress. It stops just above her knees, John has to mentally prepare himself for the worst. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” she says sheepishly. “You like it? I think it’s the perfect picnic outfit.”

“I love it,” John clarifies. “Looks perfect on you.”

“You look gorgeous yourself,” she giggles, eyeing John up and down teasingly, catching her bottom lip between her teeth. He isn’t so sure how to react to that, hopefully his dick wouldn’t take the liberty to rise from the dead at this moment. “This is the first time I’ve seen you not wearing any suits. Domestic looks good on you.”

“What can I say, I’m a changed man.” John means both good and bad. “And before we go, I want to introduce you to someone.”

Before she gets a chance to ask, John slides out of the way from his position of covering the car window and reveals a very happy pitbull waiting to be introduced to her mother.

Her smile is wide when she spots John’s pet excitedly wagging her tail inside the car. “Oh my god, she is beautiful! John, open the door, hurry, hurry, hurry–”

“Okay, okay–”

The moment John pulls the door open, the dog comes rushing out to jump and starts licking her face.

“Oh, lookie here, baby! You’re such a cutie! What’s your name, hm? Don’t got a name yet? Your dad can’t think of a name to give ya’?” 

Her giggles are like music to his ears.

The sound of paws pattering on the concrete and her high pitched voice talking to the dog fills the empty street in a matter of seconds. When she isn’t looking, John begins looking around the area, his eyes landing on the apartment building where he preys at some nights. 

There’s a person at the front desk, staring at him like he knows something, and like a switch that goes off in his brain, John recognizes this man as the same one who bumped into him a few nights ago in the hallway in front of the abandoned room where he’s staying.

They meet eyes, John flashes him a knowing look, then the man immediately looks away.

John’s jaw ticks. He’s gonna have to deal with that later.

He turns his attention back to where it’s most needed. She’s still playing with the dog, crouching beside the car while the puppy just drowns in her affection. John really hates to break the moment.

“Shall we get going?” He interjects, voice deeper than usual, still feeling a little on the edge from that man by the front desk earlier.

“Sure. She gonna be in the backseat?”

“You bet.”

John opens the door for the both of them and lets her help the puppy get inside. Before he slams the door close, he makes sure to take another look at the apartment, seeing the man already staring back at him.

Yeah. He’s really gonna have to deal with that later.

*

They arrive at the park around 4:25 and John is the one to set up their spot while she and the puppy play in the empty field. It’s empty, totally empty, and John couldn’t be more thankful than that since he really doesn’t want to be around other people besides her. She’s the only one that matters.

John notices that she brought her own dog toys, probably the ones she keeps to herself since she does work in a vet clinic after all. The sight of her happily running around the grass with his dog is enough to bring him to his knees, he is only but a man.

John calls her to eat and the two of them come running towards him and plops down on the soft blanket next to the basket full of fruits.

“Had fun?” John speaks, sitting beside her on the ground as he watches her get a plate of pasta for the two of them. She insists she gets to plate their food, John lets her.

“Very. Didn’t know she’s quite energetic, luckily for her I can match her energy extremely well.”

“It comes with being young, I guess. Can’t really relate,” he jokes, receiving the plate full of pasta she gives him while she snickers at the statement.

“Come on, John. You’re still fit despite being old.” John watches her take a bite of the food. He’s not subtle, he’s straight up staring at her lips as she wraps her mouth around the fork, savoring the flavor with closed eyes. “Hm, this is delicious. Where did you learn to cook like this?”

“By myself,” he shrugs, taking a bite of his food to keep him from taking a bite of her instead. “I’m surprised you aren’t creeped out.”

“With what?”

“With my age,” John makes it clear. “You’re young with a bright future ahead of you–”

“Yet here I am having a date with an old man?” she interjects, wiggles her eyebrows, teasing clearly with the way she emphasizes the last part. “I can’t believe you thought I’m gonna get creeped out. You’re a grown man with a stable job and not to mention very hot, I find that very sexy.”

“You think I’m sexy?” he raises a brow.

“Yes, I think you’re very sexy. I haven’t once encountered a guy my age who has the same status as you,” she sets down the plate on her lap for a moment. “You know, experienced and mature.”

“I see,” John nods. It’s very clear that she’s always found the people who contrast her so well attractive. She wants a savior that would save her from everything, luckily John fits in the description quite too well. 

They delve in a normal conversation after that. John makes sure to steer away all questions regarding him and his life, a way to learn more about her other than the pictures and videos and information he’d been sent by Alex.

John already knows a lot about her, it wouldn’t hurt to learn a little more.

Ten minutes go by, a bottle of wine has been pulled out of the basket and she’s spilling her whole life to John in a matter of moments. From lttle memories from childhood to how she moved from her hometown to New York to get away from her father. How when she was younger, she begged her toys to talk to her and she wouldn’t tell anyone. How their family pet back in the days impacted the choices she made to choose her career path – to become a veterinarian.

John listens. He’s always been good at listening instead of talking, so he listens. 

5 PM, the two of them play with the dog and she decides to name her “Blue.”

“Is it because she has blue eyes?” John asks.

“Yeah. Not really original, I know, but it fits her.”

“Blue is perfect.”

It’s already 6 PM when they decide to head home. She’s still talking the moment they’re in the car and John is still listening. There’s something about her voice that just… pulls him in. It’s so sweet and soft.

When they arrive outside her apartment complex, it’s dead silent. 

“I really enjoyed our date today, John,” she smiles when he opens the door for her, now standing in front of him and looking up to meet his eyes. “The pasta was delicious. I hope I get to eat more of them in the future – and oh, I really, really enjoyed playing with Blue! I’m so thankful that you let me name her even though it wasn’t really special–”

“Hush,” John jokingly interrupts. “The night might be over, but I can assure you that I will see you soon again.”

“How soon would that be again?”

“Eager to see me already?”

“Maybe.”

“You know I always make time for you, sweetheart,” John croons, placing a large hand on her chin and staring deeply into her eyes. “Is it too early for me to kiss you?”

She laughs, then wraps her arms around his waist to pull him in closer. John looks at her and falls in love for what to be a millionth time today. She never fails to take his breath away. “Not too early, I promise you. You should’ve done that sooner.”

“Well, I’m gonna do it now.”

Before she can add another word, John leans down to smash his lips against hers, his large hand finding its way on the small of her back to deepen the kiss that she can’t help but whimper into his mouth.

Fuck.

Her lips are so, so soft. John can still taste the lingering sweetness of the wine from earlier and being so close to her that her scent is shutting off his entire brain. If he won’t stop, he might just end up fucking her on the hood of his car until she can’t walk straight.

Their lips move in tandem and she’s following his head like she always does. Her small hands are gripping his leather jacket for support, so pliant and vulnerable, already trusting him enough to kiss him on their second date. 

This is a sudden shift in his universe, John knows he’s already won.

He’s the first to pull away and their lips are wet and connected with saliva. She’s flushed and out of breath like expected, John wants nothing more but to break her and make her his.

Oh wait, she already is.

“How was that?” John asks, voice deep.

“I wanna do it again.”

He chuckles, rubbing his thumb on her cheeks while she’s busy avoiding his eyes. “Let’s save it for next time.”

He’s gonna control himself.

“That next time better come by fast,” she threatens jokingly. “I’m gonna miss you.”

“Don’t talk like you’re not gonna see me for days, baby,” John whispers. “You know I won’t let you go that easily. You’re mine now.”

He doesn’t miss the way her pupils dilated and the way the clutch she has on his leather jackets becomes tighter. She’s already fallen deep into his trap, John wants to push his claws in even deeper.

“Say it again,” she mutters, leaning in against his warm large hand as she closes her eyes. “Say it again. Please.”

John smiles when she isn’t looking. He really won.

“You’re mine.”

*

That same night, 4 AM, John is back in his work clothes and arranging something in a dark room.

The stench of metallic blood hitting his nose, and he stands in the middle of the room to inhale that scent – god, does he truly miss it.

The sight of a man in front of him wakes something dangerous within John’s veins. Hands tied up behind the chair, head dropped forward, lifeless and cold. His lower stomach is open, guts hanging off the floor as the other half is used to gag him in the mouth. His eyes are missing, John took the liberty to take them out for staring at him too much, and he couldn’t be any more relieved when he did.

“What do you know?” John had asked as soon as the man woke up from his head concussion.

“Y-You!” The man had yelled, John didn’t bother finding out his name. “You fucking creep –”

John’s hands twitched beside him. He remained silent.

The man went on a rant about how he’d seen John around lurking outside the apartment complex and using the abandoned room on the fifth floor and that’s all John needed to know.

He didn’t need another pair of eyes to tell him what’s right and wrong. Winston is already enough.

The next morning, John receives a text from none other than his bambi. A picture of numerous police cars outside her apartment and an ambulance, and another picture of a dead body covered in white blanket getting pulled out of the building.

Bambi : there was an accident that happened near me, john :(( 

Bambi : the police said somebody was killed and i’m scared

Bambi : they said he was gutted alive 

John is smiling to himself when he types his response.

John : What kind of a sick person would do something like that?

He is not a sick person. He’s just in love.

Taglist: aerangi starrgir1 heluvsvalefr danika1994 fraisejoon doggodorime ohmytate

[rin-fukuroi]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 [𝐀𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢]

Part 1

Please do not translate or publish my works without my permission.

The originals of my works can be read here

Fandom: Honkai: Star Rail

Pairings: yandere!Argenti x fem!reader

Warnings: yandere, abduction, mention of suicide.

Note: English is not my native language, so I apologize if there are errors in the text qq

I didn't think that I would ever write a sequel and thought that the last work with Argenti was complete, but here I am (¬‿¬ )

art: @oririnxx(Twitter)

Argenti's heart is bursting with guilt and shame. Even in the short time that mutual understanding and love reigned between you, he managed to establish himself as a person who can really be trusted. His feelings and thoughts were always so pure, almost transparent, and you were never in doubt for a moment. Even when he decided on such a desperate act.

You know his house is your house, right? Probably so, since you without hesitation, although sighing heavily, but agreed to go to him, without even asking what exactly he wanted from you. You can always find warmth, care and understanding here, if necessary.

But this time you will find here only the remains of Argenti's conscience. He feels the rot getting deeper into his unscrupulous heart with each new second of waiting. How could everything have gone so far? How could his unconditional adoration and desire to make you happy be perverted to such an extent that he really decided to make you love him?

No, no. You have already loved him before, which means he does not force you, Argenti only… He is trying to awaken in you the old feelings, the seeds of which, he is sure, are still able to bloom again with velvet roses, the fragrance of which will immerse you in the same blissful haze as his.

Oh, you should know how he is tormented. Even when you are already standing on the threshold of his house, he just wants to take you in his arms and never let go, but he plays his role of a heartbroken person who now needs your support. But does he play? You really broke Argenti's heart, but he reassembled every tiny fragment so that the vessel would be filled again with awe and tenderness addressed only to you.

You, of course, can't leave him in this state, even if you caused it yourself. It's so mean to play on your guilt, but what choice does he have? You no longer look at him the way you did in the days when you both didn't mind being in this isolated bubble of love from the rest of the world, focused only on each other. You no longer touch his hand with tenderness, now your fingers are anxiously clenched around Argenti's palm to comfort. You no longer run your tiny fingers through his soft hair, letting the man's head rest on your lap, no longer smile at him with a sincere, really saturated with absolute happiness smile.

Why is that?

If you were happy, why is that no longer the case?

Argenti can't even admit the idea that there is even the slightest bit of your fault in what happened. Of course, it's his fault, so he's ready to sacrifice his own conscience, ready to disregard principles, and all this for you.

The knight seems to be looking at his own reflection in a mirror, in which he sees all the vices that have always been hidden so imperceptibly in the depths of his soul. He only has to touch such a disgusting Argenti reflection of the desires of his own heart, and there will be no turning back.

"For you… just for you…"

For your sake, he is ready to let the darkness completely take over his mind and body.

You are so naively kind, agreeing to stay at his house for the night. You probably haven't had time to enter into a relationship with someone else yet, which Argenti so vehemently prevented, and, he believes, it really paid off.

Yes, that's it, look at him, stay with him, share this bitterness with him, so that together you can drown it out with the sweet taste of reunion, which you also want.

Surely you do, because otherwise you wouldn't have come to him, wouldn't have followed the call of your heart when he needed you so much. You're still worried about Argenti, you still don't want to see him so broken, you're still gentle with him even when you let your relationship turn to dust. Oh, no matter how hard it was for him to admit it, you crushed them yourself. Argenti still doesn't understand what made you commit this unforgivable crime.

But it doesn't matter anymore.

The knight will ban any doors for you, whether it's the doors to the outside world from your new bubble or the doors to a new life in which he has no place. He is ready to accept your tears, ready to accept the words that wound him like a thousand blades that cut his heart. Now he is defamed, spoiled and deserved punishment for what he did. But it was the only way he could put everything back in its place.

What are you going to do, cornered? Oh, of course you're angry.

You curse him, beg him, cry, even lie about what you love. Argenti understands why you're acting like this and won't blame you. You are connected, of course, connected. The darkness that has taken root in the purity of his feelings has affected you, but together you will be able to share this burden. It may take days, weeks, or even years for you to accept what has become of you, but Argenti believes that in the end you will understand that this test is presented from above to both of you in order to strengthen your love.

✧ ✧ ✧

It hurts him to look at how nothing has changed after weeks.

It was stupid to think that you would be able to understand him so soon, but Argenti does not lose hope.

Although, something has changed… He no longer hears your screams, you are no longer banging on the door, desperately trying to get out, no longer crying. Now you look like an empty shell, devoid of any feelings. It scares Argenti so much, but he understands that this is how it should be. You have to get rid of what prevents you from loving him again. Anger, disgust, contempt, hatred — that's what the Knight fights day by day, steadfastly withstanding your attacks, and finally he got rid of most of the obstacles.

— Y/N, forgive me…

"You're not really sorry"

— I'm doing this for you…

"No, you're doing it for yourself"

— I'd do anything for you.

"Then just kill me"

— I love you…

"And I hate you"

Now you're silent when Argenti tries to talk to you. His perfect face, which makes you sick, is always distorted in remorse, and it seems that he really believes that he is sorry. But you know very well that this is not the case.

Most of all, you hate the moments when Argenti insists on helping you take a bath. Bile rises in your throat every time his hands touch your body, but you endure, swallowing the nauseating lump again and again, realizing that you have no choice. You always take one look at him while he gently soaps your skin, noticing how his lips are stretched in a smile, and turn away again, not wanting to see how your disgust for some reason brings him pleasure.

You trusted Argenti.

You always believed that his feelings were really sincere, so he would be able to understand and let you go, but now you were able to look behind the exquisite screen of love, hiding the slippery, stinking and rotting obsession that the man you once loved succumbed to.

Now you feel sorry for Argenti.

Really sorry.

If it weren't for the hatred that dulls all other feelings, you would want to grab his hand and lead him away from the wrong path that he chose, mistakenly believing that it would lead him to happiness. But, to your great regret, he dragged you after him. No matter how much he tries to cleanse your body, your soul rots along with his, soaked in the disgusting fumes of his mutilated care and tenderness, with which he tries to regain something that will never regain its former form.

✧ ✧ ✧

— Y/N, you haven't eaten all day… I brought your portion of dinner.

Argenti is standing in the doorway of your luxurious room, which he has filled with everything he knows you love, believing that it will make you stop hating this place. You don't want to meet his eyes, and you press your knees even harder to your chest, huddling in a corner on your soft bed.

The knight feels his heart constrict in his chest. It happens every day, every time you turn away from him. He wants so much to see your eyes looking into his for once, he wants to hear your voice, but he must be patient.

You hear footsteps approaching and already know what will happen next. Argenti will put the plate on the bedside table and leave you alone, as he does every day. No matter how much you want to stop it, sometimes your stomach is so unbearably twisted with hunger that you can't resist the instinct of self-preservation and force yourself to eat a little. But not today.

— Y/N… — this is something new. You feel it touching your shoulder, sending a sickening shiver under your skin. — I know you don't want to be here, but can you… at least have dinner with me tonight? I promise, if we sit down at the same table, like… — he wanted to say "like before", but suddenly stopped. — Your appetite will return if you share a meal with someone.

How annoying he is. Is he really that naive, or is it just a mask to lull your vigilance. You don't know anymore. You have long ceased to recognize in Argenti the one you once loved.

But you know for sure that the sooner you fulfill his request, the sooner he will leave you alone. At least until tomorrow.

That's why you let him wash you, let him dress you in beautiful outfits that he likes. Not you.

You nod reluctantly, still not moving from your seat, and you hear Argenti exhale softly in relief. If you had dared to look at him, his soft lips would surely have been stretched into a satisfied smile when he received an answer from you.

You wait for the nausea from his touch to finally recede along with the feeling of his hand on your shoulder, and you get out of bed in a doomed way, hearing Argenti take the plate from the table and go to the kitchen.

No matter how much you wandered through the corridors of his luxurious house like a living corpse, it always seemed to you that the walls were about to crush you, but, unfortunately, this never happened, so after tasting a new portion of disappointment, you stop at the kitchen door, noticing a candle on the table, whose dim light drives away the darkness rooms, two glasses of wine and two plates, displayed on exquisite snow-white napkins. Argenti stands waiting, pulling out a chair for you. Your gaze stops for a moment on his hands clutching the back, and the body again gets chilling goosebumps when memories of those hands touching your body pop up in your head.

He really did his best to make this dinner look like a fucking date. It's so disgusting that it almost makes you laugh.

You reluctantly accept Argenti's help, sitting down uncertainly and allowing him to pull your chair closer to the table designed for two.

The meat on the plate is still steaming slightly, as are the shiny grilled vegetables. The food looks delicious, but … for some reason, bile rises to your throat again when you take a fork and knife with trembling hands, preparing to pierce and cut off a juicy piece of your dinner.

Argenti watches with curiosity how you do not dare to try your portion without starting to eat before you do. To be honest, the Knight loses his appetite when he sees you so depressed, not trusting him so much that you are even afraid to eat in his presence. Do you really think he means you harm? Can't you see how hard he's trying for you? Even so, he's glad to finally see you taking even tiny steps towards him.

It's all so much like hunting. Argenti has created an atmosphere of security in your bubble, but has set traps here and there, patiently waiting for you to finally take the bait. He knows you can't hate him forever. Sooner or later you'll have to give up, you'll have to get used to a new life with him.

You hesitantly pierce the meat with a fork, watching the soft fibers displace the juices flowing onto the plate before nervously swallowing and starting to cut. Thoughts immediately flash through your head about how convenient it would be to use this knife to slit your stomach or cut your throat… Yes, it would certainly be better than opening your veins, because then Argenti could still have time to save you. You can see your own blood trickling down the shiny silver metal, instead of the cloudy pinkish liquid oozing out of the steak as you slowly separate a tiny piece from it.

These thoughts… really discourage your appetite, but that's all you can think about while you're here. What's the point of satisfying your hunger if you just want to get it over with? But you also have to play your part, you have to be smarter than Argenti, you have to set your traps, so you touch the meat with your tongue, feeling a slight taste of spices, before sinking your teeth into the juicy fibers and chewing, hurriedly sending a piece down the esophagus.

Argenti is delighted.

Although the corner of your lips twitched when you swallowed a piece of your dinner, he is pleased to see that you are finally eating a warm meal prepared for you with love and care. Usually you just wait for the food to cool down, stubbornly denying hunger before it finally gets the better of you. Argenti has always been frustrated by how you exhaust yourself day by day, but it would be too much to force food cooked by him into you, right?

The knight was finally able to relax, and happily started his own meal, doing the same thing with his piece of steak as you. After tasting the meat cooked for you, Argenti smiles gently.

— Is it delicious? — the man asks, but then with a quiet clink puts the dishes on the plate, seeming to think about something for a second. Of course you won't answer. — I hope I was able to please you a little, Y/N.

He was about to continue his meal, gently wrapping his long fingers around the stem of a wine glass, when suddenly his gaze caught on your frozen figure. Your gaze is focused on the next piece of meat. The silence in the kitchen is broken only by the soft sounds of pinkish drops of juice dripping onto your plate before your lips are pursed, but then hurriedly open when you finally lift your head for the first time in several weeks and look straight into Argenti's emerald eyes. Your piercing gaze seems to have pinned the Knight to the chair, and he watches with bated breath as you take air into your lungs. Your chest heaves slightly with a light breath, and the man's heart shudders.

— Yes… very tasty, thank you.

To hear your voice… oh, you're just killing poor Argenti. During your imprisonment in his house, you managed to teach him to enjoy such little things that he did not attach any importance to before. Your views on him have always seemed to the Knight something as ordinary as the sound of your voice caressing his ears every day spent with you. But now he was so happy to hear even the words you barely uttered.

Argenti will even turn a blind eye to the fact that you did it just to distract his attention.

Did you really think that he didn't notice how you stole a knife from the table with a skill that the best of thieves would envy? Well… he won't scold you for it. You don't know what's best for you, only he knows, so Argenti will definitely protect you from any threats.

But later.

For now, just let him enjoy this moment. Even if it's an illusion, even if it's a lie, even if he invented it all himself, Argenti wants to believe that you took a small step towards him, and this…

Damn. Now his patience is trembling, being held suspended by the thinnest thread that is about to break.

You won't hate him even more if his retaliatory step completely erases the distance separating you from each other, will you?

[imjustasimpxd]

My Angel (Part Two)

➬ Reiner Braun x Fem reader

Part One | Part Three | Masterlist | Blog Home | Aot Masterlist

Summary : Reiner was always taught that the devils of Paradis were vicious creatures, but what is he supposed to do when he soon finds himself reluctantly falling for one? Or when he is forced to go back to Marley and leave her altogether?

Word count : around 5, 200 words

Warnings : Again, very angsty. Reiner feels guilty about what he’s done, reader is angry with him. Crying, mentions of heartbreak. Spoilers for season 4 part one.

Author’s notes : reblogs are appreciated!! I appreciate all feedback on my writing so that I can know what you guys liked and what you think I should improve on😊

Disclaimer : this is a work of fiction and should in no way, shape, or form, be taken seriously.

Side Note : this fic, and everything else I’ve written on my blog, is mine and only mine. I work very hard on everything I write so do not, under any circumstances, modify, copy, or steal my work.

❗️Important Note❗️

There will in fact be a part three! While I was writing part two, it ended up becoming so long that I just decided to split it up. That’s why this chapter leaves off on a cliffhanger (and that’s also why it took me so long to post this one). But I thank you all for your patience. If anyone else wants to be tagged for part three then let me know in the comments! :)))

“Can I please ask where exactly we’re going?” Reiner questioned, his voice lacing with a hint of annoyance as Falco gripped his arm, anxiously pulling him towards the city’s back alleys.

“I told you it’s a surprise! A friend of yours wants to say hi before the show starts!” Falco explained, glancing backward at his superior with a cheerful smile as he continued to pull him in the opposite direction.

“Is that right?” Reiner spoke sarcastically, scoffing quietly to himself as he took in the boy’s words.

What was Falco really up to?

Surely the whole “a friend wants to say hi” explanation was made up; because Reiner Braun wasn’t exactly a man you would think of as having friends.

Sure, he was surrounded by people a lot of the time, and he even had allies with whom he got along pretty well with. But even so, Reiner knew he was nothing more than a comrade to them; nothing more than a vessel to wield the armored titan.

But that was okay, because they were nothing more than comrades to him.

With being born Eldian as well as being a warrior for Marley’s military force, Reiner Braun didn’t exactly have the time, luxury, or frankly, the mental strength to seek out any social interactions beyond strictly work-related ones.

Well, at least, not anymore.

He made that mistake once, and in doing so, it cost him the demolition of a poor woman’s heart; as well as his own.

In fear that opening up to another person again might cause that beating vessel in his chest to truly see itself past repair, Reiner Braun had decided to close himself off from others, refusing to repeat those tragic events of his past.

So, with that in mind, who exactly was this “person” that Falco was happily dragging him by the arm to see?

It couldn’t have been anyone he was genuinely close with; there wasn’t anyone like that for him, not anymore at least. Any authentic connections he once had with people were now severed, collapsed by the calamity he caused back on that forsaken island.

So who on earth was he being forced to see?

“It’s just in here!” Falco said excitedly, his finger pointing toward a wooden door as they rounded the corner; one that lead to a basement stationed under an older apartment complex.

From the outside, the place looked dim and run down, its location secluded to a quiet and unfrequented street.

The very sight had Reiner scratching his head in confusion. Of all places, why here? Why pick such an isolated area to meet with him? Not only that, but why would this person send a naive little boy to escort him to this place instead of just contacting Reiner directly?

Was this a trap he was walking into?

Should he leave?

Like a flame set to brush, panic began spreading through Reiner’s veins. His free hand was gripped into a strained fist and his eyes darted in all directions, watching out for any surprise attacks.

If this really was a trap, if someone was anticipating charging at him, then he’d be ready for it.

Suddenly, the wooden door opened. Loud groans from the beat-down hinges filled the air, followed by the sound of footsteps; footsteps that belonged to a dark, hooded figure.

Reiner’s eyes widened at the scene before him, an eerie feeling twisting in his stomach as he watched the mysterious person walk out the door; heading in his direction.

Whoever it was, he thought about fighting them off, even going as far as raising both his hands in the air to assume a defensive stance.

However, that’s when he caught a glimpse of Falco next to him. The little boy had started to head towards the figure, almost as if he was acquainted with the human; if it even was human.

“Falco wait!” Reiner quickly followed in the boy’s footsteps, gripping his arm before he could walk any closer to the person. “We should leave.” He suggested, anxiously tugging on the boy’s limb in hopes to urge him back in the opposite direction.

“It’s okay Mr. Braun,” Falco smiled, quick to reassure his superior. “This is where he said to meet him.”

Who’s he? Was it that person lurking around with the cloak draped across their face? Or was there someone inside as well?

Reiner didn’t have any answers, nor did he have a definite resolve on how to react in this situation. Should he trust Falco’s judgment and allow this “meetup” to happen? Or should he grab the boy and run while he still had the chance?

The latter seemed like the best option, especially considering the fact that Falco was just a child, and therefore could’ve easily been manipulated into something dangerous.

He wanted to trust Falco’s words, but it was too risky. If something happened, the boy’s blood would be on Reiner’s hands; and he couldn’t bear the weight of any more sorrow, or any more guilt.

“We’re leaving, Falco!” Reiner insisted, readjusting his grip on the boy’s arm to forcefully pull him away from the situation.

Although, just as he’d turned around to take those first few steps, he heard something that made his body freeze, and his heart clench.

“If you’re done arguing you can go on ahead. He’s waiting for you inside.”

That voice. Reiner knew that voice.

It was the same one he used to hear nagging at him to wake up in the early mornings. The same voice that used to comfort him whenever he was feeling disheartened.

It was… the same voice he never thought he’d have the pleasure of hearing ever again…

All he received was one simple sentence, but that was all the verification he needed. There was no doubt in his mind, the voice he heard: belonged to you.

“Y/n?!” His body immediately turned around to face the hooded figure. His eyes then squinted, trying to see more than just the gentle silhouette of a pair of lips and a jawline that was exposed by the moonlight’s glow.

The figure froze at his words, saying nothing in response; almost as if they didn’t anticipate being recognized.

“Y/n, is that you?” Reiner asked again, hoping to earn a response this time.

However, there was none; at least, not a verbal one.

All he gained was a sudden flinch that occurred once he spoke that name a second time, followed by the subtle shaking of fingertips that poked out from the sleeves of the cloak.

You must’ve been scared, embarrassed; perhaps even both.

And who would blame you for it? The last time you saw him he had slaughtered more than half of your comrades. Who knows what he’s capable of now after four years have passed?

“Falco?” Reiner finally broke the silence, glancing down at the boy he was still holding on to. “Why don’t you go on inside, I’ll be with you in a minute.”

However, before the boy could open his mouth to speak, he was quickly interrupted. “There’s no reason for him to leave! I’m not staying to chat.” A stern voice echoed past the cloak covering your face, but that didn’t phase Reiner.

He knew it was you from the moment that first syllable left your lips, even more so now that you’d spoken a second time.

Your tone was serious, added with a hint of aggression in order to scare him off, but he wouldn’t be turned away by that. Not when this was the chance he’d been silently praying for ever since he left that island four years ago. The chance to finally see you once again, even for just a moment.

Now that this chance was finally here, standing in front of him, there was no way he’d let it slip away; regardless of the tone you used with him.

“Just a few minutes?!” He insisted, taking a few steps forward in case you were preparing to run away. “Please?” He asked in a much quieter tone, his eyes practically begging for you to give in, to grant him even the smallest portion of your time.

Even after all these years he still knew how to persuade you, didn’t he? He must’ve, otherwise, your mouth would’ve never opened to let out a frustrated “Five minutes and that’s it!”

Reiner’s shoulders quickly relaxed at your words. His head then turned towards Falco subsequently, giving him a quick nod of his head: which apparently was his signal to “get going.”

Falco’s gaze switched between Reiner and the person he was apparently dying to speak to. The boy was unsure of what was going on, or who that unidentified person even was, but nevertheless, Falco knew better than to argue with his superior; so he’d comply with the orders given to him.

“S-sure…I’ll just, be inside then…” Falco spoke hesitantly, slowly backing away to walk toward the wooden door. He stopped momentarily after placing his fingers on the handle, almost as if he was waiting for Reiner to change his mind. But after receiving no signs of a change of heart, Falco reluctantly opened the door and stepped inside; closing it behind him.

The moment that wooden door shut, an unpleasant silence filled the air. Instead of partaking in the “conversation” you were supposed to have, the two of you just stood in silence.

You didn’t dare speak up. Reiner was the one who made you stay after all, if anyone should be the first to start this conversation it was him.

Your eyes were fixated on him with a calloused glare, your lips refusing to part even the slightest bit.

Reiner on the other hand, wore an expression more timid and anxious than yours.

He shifted uncomfortably on his feet, fingers fidgeting with each other as he contemplated the best way to start this conversation.

“I uh…” He tried to speak, but the words fumbled in his mouth, leaving just as quickly as they came.

It’s ironic, just a moment ago he was begging for you to stay so that he could have the chance to talk to you, but now that his chance had finally arrived, he couldn’t think of anything to say.

As he stood there, overanalyzing a potential response, he noticed the way you scoffed, clearly annoyed at his delay in response.

You were growing impatient with him, and if he didn’t take the opportunity to speak with you now, you’d most likely never allow him another chance to waste your time again.

So, after what had seemed like hours of silence, when in reality was more like 1 minute, Reiner finally spoke up.

“Can you take off the hood?”

Your eyes quickly narrowed in confusion at his odd request. Out of everything he could’ve asked, everything he could’ve apologized for, this is the first thing he says?

“Why?” You questioned, still unsure of his intentions on the matter.

“I just…” He began, but his words quickly started to fade out, almost as if he felt unworthy to be asking in the first place.

Nevertheless, you were persistent.

“You just what?!” You snapped, frustrated at his apparent dedication to withhold information from you; a recurring dedication at that.

“I just…” he inhaled shakily before speaking, “I want to see your face.”

You paused at his words, taking a moment to process what he’d just said. After expecting something pitiful, or perhaps even bitter coming from him, it was quite a shock to receive this: a fairly tender request.

He wanted to see your face? Why? What difference would that make?

It’d be the same one he saw four years ago, nothing’s changed; at least, not to you.

Despite asking for something which would require him to look upwards, Reiner kept his eyes glued to the ground, as if he felt undeserving to see you again. It wasn’t until he heard the heavy sigh that jerked past your lips, along with the quiet “fine” you gave in response to his request that made him finally look up.

As his gaze lifted, watching you pull that gloomy hood off your head, Reiner was met with a flashback of memories.

It all reappeared in an instant: the sound of your adorable laugh, the way your hair looked when the sun glistened across it, even the small little habits he’d discovered about you as time went by; they were all coming back, recollecting in his mind clearer than if it all happened a day ago.

Reminding him, painfully, of a time when things were simpler, when he was happier, and, most regretfully, a time when he had you.

Pulling off that hood allowed him to finally lay eyes upon a face he hadn’t seen in ages. A face he used to watch soundly sleeping next to him at night, placing gentle kisses all over when no one was around.

It was the same face he used to stare at in fascination; taken back by the beautiful way your lips would curve upwards into a smile, or even the way your eyes radiated the most alluring shade of color when the sun shone across your skin.

That face was one he had desperately longed to observe once more for the entirety of four long years, and coincidentally, it was the same face that now stared him down with an irritated glare.

Absent was the sparkle your eyes once held for the man standing before you, and gone was the loving countenance you were never hesitant to grant him.

Now your face lay still, your features refusing to move even the smallest bit in case it were to form some sort of pleasant expression towards him accidentally.

Who was this woman?

If not for the fact that he had easily identified her face, Reiner wouldn’t have recognized her.

Where was the kind and loving woman he fell in love with? Was she not the one standing before him now?

No, this woman was different. This one seemed to hold an inkling of abhorrence towards him, easily provoked by just his presence alone.

Was this… the product of his own making?

Was this… what he’d turned you into?

As if he wasn’t tormented enough by his decision, now he was witnessing the consequences of his actions unfold before his very eyes.

“How.. how are you here?” Reiner stuttered, still in shock over the fact that you were actually standing there; that for whatever reason, his prayers to see you again had finally been answered.

“I’m only here in service of a friend; nothing else.”

Your response was so vague, so cold; nothing like the endearing way you used to speak to him.

“Which friend?”

“It doesn’t matter,” You replied forbiddingly. Your tone sounded so distant, so unfriendly towards him.

To think, the last time he heard your voice, it had told him “Goodnight, I love you.” But now that voice was harsh as it spoke, probably regretful of saying those very words after waking up to find out he’d abandoned you that next morning.

The difference in your tone was beginning to eat away at Reiner, straining that beating vessel in his chest more and more with each look of your indignant expression. As if you’d just picked up a shovel and started digging, deepening his guilt further than it already was; if that was even possible.

“Your minutes are up by the way, and I have to leave.” You suddenly spoke, hoping your statement was bleak enough to end the conversation, meaning you could finally leave; finally be free of him.

“Wait!” Just before you could escape, Reiner quickly reached forward and grabbed your wrist, clinging to it as if his life was hinging on it. “Wait please, don’t leave…”

“That’s rich coming from you.”

He deserved that. Honestly, he deserved more than that.

Call him whatever names you could think of, and he would let you, he’d allow every single one of them, no matter how excruciating, because he knew they were true; because deep down he knew he deserved them.

“I’m not interested in what you have to say, Reiner.” Your words were like knives to his heart, causing the already aching organ to shudder yet again. “Whatever it is you should’ve said it four years ago.”

Was that true?

If he really did explain it to you before he left, would things be different now? Would you have understood his situation? Understood why he had to do it?

Why he had to leave?

“Please,” he implored, desperately maintaining that grip on your wrist. “Please, just let me explain it to you.”

It was pathetic, how he was begging like this, pleading for you to stay and hear him out as if he wasn’t the one that left you in the first place.

“Nothing you say will change what happened.”

He knew that was true, but in spite of that, he still refused to let you go again without telling you, without apologizing at the very least.

“I know,” he admitted, a glossy haze shimmering in his eyes as he looked at you. “But please, I want you to know the truth.”

A part of you wanted to leave, to deny him any further chances to cause you more pain with an explanation. However, another part of you wanted an apology. You wanted to hear his side of the story; to hear whatever excuse he had for abandoning you. No matter how twisted, or pitiful, his reasoning was, you couldn’t deny you had questions you wanted him to answer.

“Fine then. Tell me.” You quickly adjusted your posture, staring at him with your eyebrows raised; a gesture he remembered you only used when you were serious about something.

“Why did you betray us?”

Here it was, the moment he had been waiting for since this conflict arose: his chance to finally be understood, to be seen as more than just the traitor he was made out to be.

“I was given orders,” he started, retracting his hand from your wrist now that you’d clearly abandoned the option to run. “I had no choice but to follow them.”

“And what were your orders?” Your voice sounded heavy, almost as if it was hurting to bring all this back up again; like a wound that was still fresh, still desperately trying to heal itself.

Reiner’s mouth remained shut, his head lowering as he closed his eyes, not wanting to answer your question. He knew he’d be made to look like the villain no matter what he said, no matter which way he worded it.

Did that mean he really was the villain?

In your eyes, maybe.

Perhaps you’d never accept his side of the story, never be able to see past the wretched sins he’d carried out. But regardless, even if he never got the forgiveness he so desperately wanted from you, he couldn’t hide from the truth any longer. It was time to embrace it, all of it.

“They told us to sneak in and make allies first, that way we had the people’s trust and no one would suspect us.” He sighed, his eyes refusing to look up at you in fear of the face you’d make upon hearing his confession. “Once the time came, we were ordered to steal the founding titan by whatever means necessary. And if anyone tried to stop us, we had permission to silence them, using whatever tactics we deemed fit.”

Reiner’s heart felt tight as he let those words out, his shame growing stronger now that he was remembering it all, remembering what he’d done.

How did things end up like this?

He was just trying to do what he was trained to do: save the world from ruin; that’s all. But here he was now, that mission an embarrassing failure as he reminisced on his actions; the same actions that caused such sorrow for so many people, including himself.

And as if things weren’t bad enough, as if Reiner wasn’t feeling guilty already, he heard a sudden change in your breathing that could only mean one thing: you were beginning to cry.

“No, wait!” His head quickly lifted to look at you, instantly regretting it as your distressed face came into view. “Please, don’t cry.” He begged, using his thumb to wipe away the liquid collecting on your skin; which you surprisingly allowed him to do without putting up a fight.

“Don’t cry, okay? Not for me.” He demanded, despite his own eyes welling up with tears as well.

He just couldn’t bear it, knowing he was hurting you yet again.

It was almost as if nothing had changed, even after all those years. As if he was reliving those horrors of his past once more, reliving that anguish he saw imprinted across your visage when you found out he was the armored titan; the same armored titan that had killed so many of your friends.

You didn’t understand it, even now.

Was the man who used to dote on you really the same person as the one who carried out such violence and hatred against your people?

How could that be true? How could he have done such a thing, committed such betrayal against the woman he loved?

What changed? Was it something you did?

Or perhaps a more gut-wrenching explanation: he never loved you to begin with. Maybe that’s why it was so easy for him to give you up, maybe, this was his plan all along.

“What else?” You asked, your voice trembling in the process.

Reiner’s face quickly scrunched in confusion, unsure of what you were getting at. “What do you mean?”

“Were those your only orders?” Tears quickly began trickling down your face faster than Reiner could stop, your gaze looking more despondent than ever. “Was there really not anything else?” Your lips parted to let out a stinging sob, one that seemed like it’d been held in for too long.

It was obvious you were waiting for some sort of answer from him, and every second he delayed with a response was only tormenting you further.

But, even so, it didn’t change the fact that Reiner didn’t understand what you were asking of him; or what you wanted to hear so badly.

Your eyes stared at him in sorrow, more tears absorbing into your skin before you asked your question one last time; phrasing it differently now.

“Was falling in love with me a part of your mission too? Was I just another means to accomplish your end goal?”

Reiner’s heart convulsed at your words, his mouth agape to let out a pained gasp.

Did he just hear that right?

A tool?! Is that really what you thought? Is that really all you assumed you were worth to him?

As if you could ever be such a thing.

Granted, he understood how you may have assumed that, given the matter of his betrayal and all. But, despite that, he never expected such an absurd accusation.

There was a wide range of names you could’ve called him: a traitor, a liar, a monster; anything, and he would’ve accepted it; He would’ve owned up to it.

But this: questioning whether or not his affection towards you was genuine; that was one accusation he’d never admit to.

You were never a tool, you weren’t even a part of his plan to begin with. Falling in love with a woman of Paradis wasn’t exactly one of the orders he received when he was assigned to that mission. In fact, getting involved with you went against the sole purpose of him being there; the sole purpose of his assignment.

He was sent there to exterminate the Eldian race, to wipe out every last one of those despicable beings so that the world could finally be safe.

Falling in love wasn’t an order laid out in his job description at all, much less with a woman of Paradis. And yet, he did.

Reiner was a strategic man, he wasn’t one to easily abandon orders, no matter how difficult they may be. That in itself should’ve been enough to prove his affection toward you; because he never would’ve done such a thing had he not felt it was worth it, had he not felt you were worth it.

Nevertheless, here you were, teeth gritted in frustration as you impatiently awaited his answer.

Your face spoke only of torment, and it pained Reiner to have to witness it. The way your eyes were slanting together in an unsuccessful attempt to subdue your tears, your fingers curling into fists to help better contain your irritation, all of it was a clear sign of the repercussions his decision to abandon the woman he loved had caused.

It was just like the last time, you were falling to pieces over him once more, and Reiner couldn’t stand the sight of it.

Your gentle cries may not have been as loud and mournful as they were four years ago, but it didn’t matter; the fact that you were even crying in the first place was enough to make that twisting sensation return to his stomach; possibly becoming permanent at this rate.

Reiner stretched his arm out to grasp your hand, hoping to console you, however, you quickly backed away, refusing to let him touch you.

“I don’t want your pity!” you spat, your fragile body trembling from both the anger and suffering fueling inside. “I just want the truth! Did you ever love me?”

Was that even a question?

Yes, he was fully aware that it would’ve been hard to believe the authenticity of someone who’d abandoned you; someone who so easily decided to turn against you, as if doing so didn’t phase them in the slightest.

But regardless, ignoring the heinous crimes he’d committed, did you still believe he never loved you?

Were his actions before this messy conflict never enough to convince you of his sentiments?

What about all the times he’d hold you in his arms, whispering to you about how happy you made him feel? Did you really not believe any of that? Was he pouring out his heart’s inner-most secrets for nothing?

Or what about the times he’d surprise you with food, despite rations being low? He almost got caught stealing food for you so many times; which was unwise of him considering the fact that it could’ve possibly had him kicked out of the survey corps: meaning his whole plan to infiltrate the military would’ve gone up in flames.

Or, perhaps how he’d always try to keep an eye on you during missions, making sure you never encountered something too dangerous for you to handle. You always complained that he was being too paranoid, but it was only because, unlike you, he was aware of the kind of power titans held; the kind of pain they could’ve, he could’ve, inflicted upon a tiny human being.

All he ever wanted was to protect you, to do what was best for you. Did you really never realize that?

Even after he made Annie and Bertholdt promise not to lay a hand on you during their countless fights with the survey corps, even after all the times he put your saftey before his own mission, was it still never enough?

Even when he left you behind, did you really never consider the fact that he could’ve been doing it because he thought it’s what’s best for you?

You would’ve never been safe with someone like him, so he spared you from that danger by leaving.

Even though he caused you much pain by doing so, did you still never put that together?

“I understand if you don’t believe me when I say this,” Reiner began, “But I never stopped loving you.”

Even before any words left your lips, the doubtful look stringing along your face was enough to tell Reiner that you didn’t believe him; or were highly skeptical at the very least.

“If that’s true, then why wasn’t that enough for you to stay?”

He’d asked himself the same question so many times before. Why didn’t he just give up on his mission and stay with you? It’s not like he wouldn’t have preferred that option in comparison to the one he chose.

Why didn’t he just let the Marleyans presume him dead, forgetting his life in Marley and starting a new one with you on Paradis?

He wanted to, he considered it even. But there was one factor he was forgetting that made all the difference; one tiny reminder that convinced him to abandon that option in the end: you deserved better.

If he stayed behind like you would’ve wanted him to, like he would’ve wanted to, then he would’ve been living a lie; deception would’ve been rooted at the heart of your relationship.

He would’ve never been able to fully open up to you because doing so would mean he told you the truth about his past, about where he’s from and why he came here in the first place. He’d have to fabricate every detail about his life up until this point; tricking you into believing he was born inside the walls just like you. He’d need to have an excuse for everything: why his parents weren’t around, where he was born, what his home life was like, everything.

Nothing about his life would be real anymore, from the moment he’d wake up, to the second he drifted off to sleep at night, he’d be living a lie.

Every time he’d look at your innocent expression he’d be reminded of the secrets he was keeping from you, the lies he was tricking you with; and he couldn’t live like that. He refused to live like that.

“Staying would’ve only put you in danger, so I left, taking the danger with me.”

“I see.” Your voice was strained, as if you were having trouble processing everything. The shock from seeing him again so unexpectedly still hadn’t exactly worn off yet, and with the addition of all this new information piled on top, you didn’t necessarily know what to say; or how to react.

So, instead, you remained silent, hoping some ideas might materialize inside your head as you waited.

However, you weren’t kept waiting for long because Reiner quickly took an initiative to speak once again, asking something that left you stunned,

“Is it okay if I kiss you?”

Your head quickly flung upwards to look at him, contemplating whether or not you heard him right.

“What??” You asked, aghastly, desperately hoping you misheard his question.

“Is it okay if I kiss you?” He repeated, unfortunately proving that your ears were working just fine, and that you did in fact hear him correctly the first time.

He only meant it as a farewell, nothing more.

He knew this might very well be the last time he ever saw you again, so, with that in mind, he wanted to leave you with something pleasant to remember him by.

He had every intention of letting you go, he’d walk away and you’d never have to see him again afterward.

Just one last memory with you, that’s all he wanted. One last moment to reminisce on the merriment of his past before he let you go for good.

That’s what he wanted at least, but, when you finally uttered a response, he realized it might’ve been too much to ask for.

“I’m with someone else now, Reiner.”

Part One | Part Three | Masterlist | Blog Home | Aot Masterlist

(YES THERE WILL BE A PART THREE. So comment below if you want to be tagged).

Tags : @thebadbatch @mvteria @nervouslad @ah-finally @usagikookiejams

This fic, and everything else I’ve written on my blog, is mine and only mine. I work very hard on everything I write so do not, under any circumstances, modify, copy, or steal my work.

Keep in mind that commenting to tell me what you liked, what you don’t, how I can improve, and any suggestions you have helps me A LOT more than simply liking my posts. If you’ve had the time to read my story, how much longer does it take to leave me some feedback on it? 😊

[fizzywashere87]

Hello!! If it's alright with you can i please request rottmnt with a mom like yor from " spy x family "? Platonic, funny one-shot, hc or anything you want.

Like she's sweet and would go up and beyond for her babies but she's secretly an assassin and that's the one thing she WON'T tell anyone at all.

notes: OMGIE YESESES!!! (we don't talk about the fact this is over a month past due but :D) I'm going to do them altogether- and I'm making reader's personality like what you described to me so I'm sorry if i misunderstood anything!! Hope you enjoy and tysm for requesting!!

We Love You Anyways, Ma (HC's)

Toitlez

I think it's a trend for the rise!turtles to have dumbass parents

Look at Splinter from even before he was mutated

Barry.

yeah, you're a little naive but isn't everyone?

Now we know where your boys get it from! :D

April is apart of the family btw and she's your daughter

I reckon Mikey does all of the cooking anyways because you...

cannot.

The few times you tried ended with Raph, Leo, and Mikey screaming in the background, while Donnie extinguishes the fire

You guys lost a very important member of the family that day,

Speck.

You burned 'im at your failed attempt at cooking

That poor speck of cooking residue that was immune to cleaning supplies :(

Not even you, the mama of this carnival was able to remove

Maybe had a 'lil funeral as everyone cried but Donnie wasn't phased his ass was waiting for it to happen-

The lair is literally spotless

Nobody ever questioned why you were so good at cleaning

Actually, Leo did, I lied damn intuition i swear he has it

The boys get away with a lot, I'm sorry

"Where have you boys been?" You stand with your arms crossed scowling at the boys, they just got back to the lair and they do not look like they were anywhere you would condone as their mother.

Leo steps up, flashing you a smile, a bright one at that, "Sorry we're late Ma, we wanted to stop and eat pizza! We're sorry for not letting you know, we promise we'll let you know next time." He says, sounding oh-so genuine, how could you not believe that? Raph, Donnie, and Mikey are standing in the background nodding along to everything Leo is saying and you look at all of them carefully.

"Alright, be more careful next time! You had me worried!" You'd smile, and that would be the end of the conversation as your boys scurry away as a person right in the head would deem; suspicious.

You're not right in the head btw.

Overall, you guys are a family and you love each other tons

They do appreciate everything you do for them

You love them unconditionally and would do anything for them Please give Donnie validation and praise- boy needs it

You'd also do anything to protect them

Did I mention you're crazy strong?

Yes, you trained the boys so they have your agility

At some points you're overly gentle but you'll never tell anyone it's because you can't handle your own strength

Your excuse is that they can't handle it

You brush it off as a joke though

It's hard hiding such a big secret from them, but it's for their safety

They don't know why exactly you're so strong and cool, you played it a certain way that they'll never question

You do have your dumbass moments, but they never imagined you as an assassin- their mother? nah.

Your children come up with some weird ass shit on a day to day basis and never once they put two and two together

Your dumbass children i swear-

The boys love watching you in action

From the close combat that almost nobody can match-

To the way you effortlessly handle your blades

The way you know the exact points on a person to aim when attacking

Or how you've basically never lost a fight

The way you can scope out where your opponents are and how quick your reflexes are-

No you're not an assassin

I'm just lying!! You are!

If they ever were to find out, it's because your dumbass let something slip

The boys and April caught onto something

Leo confronted you in an indirect way

Boom

Exposed.

"WHAT?!" They simultaneously exclaimed in shock. Donnie pulls out a bunch of tech- probably to add to his file he has about you, Leo is shaking you by the shoulders demanding more information, Mikey copes by running around yelling 'OHMIGOSH,' Raph fell over backwards as if he were an object, and April yells 'I knew it!'

It's chaos.

As everyone settles down, you have no choice but to fill them in further, you go sit down at the table and they listen to your story. They are very shocked, very confused on some things, a lot of things are adding up now. But they aren't mad at you for keeping such a secret, none of them are, they think it's hella cool.

Leo raises his hand with a question and you wait for him to go on,

"So did the weird creepy fox yokai end up with the ugly bunny yokai or the nasty hamster one?" He recalls one of the missions you just told them about.

"I'm pretty sure it was the bunny." You answer, not really phased by the type of question he just asked and everyone nods along calmly.

Yeah. This is your life and you wouldn't wish for anything different.

[sucker-for-yanderes]

Secret Admirer

Yan!Izuku x Reader

It happened all the time ever since they met. 'What?' you may ask?

.

The following.

The stalking.

.

Izuku Midoriya's utter focus was on a single girl. She was ordinary and quirkless just like he used to be. Not only was she beautiful and kind but he related to her heavily as well. She truly was one of a kind.

Izuku often wrote in his notebook about her. No, not his hero notebook. No. This was one was separate. Its sole topic was strictly her. (Name). Not only that, but he had a picture book for her as well. And everything was laminated. He even drew cute sketches of her and also of her with him. His notes included her daily schedule. What time she woke up, her morning routine, her breakfast, when she leaves the house, her regular route to get to work, and so on. Izuku was pleased to find out that he could follow her and observe her so closely without being detected once. And she never got suspicious either. How naive. Clueless little (Name). It was almost as if she were little red riding hood and he were the big bad wolf, waiting to pounce. But no, not just yet. 

After a long day of observing (Name), Izuku finally retired back to his own apartment. He opened the door to his dark room and entered without switching on the lights. The room was filled with pictures of her. All of these were taken off guard or from her social media. Even from her yearbook and baby pictures that he somehow mysteriously had gotten a hold of. He had every kind of picture of her. Even most intimate pictures of her such as (Name) changing or relaxing in the bathtub. The drawers at his desk are filled to the brim with pictures of her. But there was a certain one that was filled with love letters made out to (Name). Of course, he's never given them to her because he knows she would surely freak out. God, I'm such a pathetic coward. Izuku thought to himself. However, Izuku was also a careful, smart person. He knew exactly what he was doing.

Izuku exhaled and slouched back in his chair at the desk and turned on the computer, revealing his background screen. Can you guess what it is? Indeed, it was you again. The screen showed the generic apps and then there was a file in the top far left corner titled your name. And that's exactly what he opened. It had all the pictures of you that he owned. A loving smile tugged at his lips as his eyes became clouded with lust. He adjusted himself in his chair and quickly began unzipping his pants. His breathing became slightly heavier and his heart rate rose to a familiar high. Izuku took out his hard member that ached to be satisfied. How he wished she could satisfy this raging hunger for her inside of him. How he wished he could have her right here with him, right now, her soft mouth over his member. It throbbed and twitched, craving her touch. Izuku liked to take his time with these sort of things. He edged himself out of pleasure but also for a more important goal; to gain sexual stamina. In order to please his darling longer, of course. He observed the pictures and would tilt his head back, letting out low groans of pleasure. He loved imagining all of the dirty things he would do to her. And the best thing about it was that it was sure to happen one day. She will be his. 

The next morning, (Name) went to unlock the door to her apartment but was shocked to find out it had already been unlocked. Fearing someone had robbed her, she quickly entered, making sure to lock the door behind her, and carefully examined her apartment. The (h/c) haired girl raised a brow as she found nothing had been stolen but someone went through the trouble of cleaning and organizing her room. The freaky thing about it? This person knew how she liked things. Everything is exactly how (Name) places her belongings and such. She went to her neatly made bed to find a dark red rose laying in front of a letter. Curious, she opened the letter. She was shocked to find out she had a secret admirer. Not only that, but he was smooth with his words. Coming up with a letter like this took time. It was carefully thought out. It sent chills down (Name)'s spine how her admirer knew no boundaries.

With a doubtful shake of her head, (Name) made the incorrect decision of shrugging it off as a prank one of her friends must have pulled on her. But for some reason, she kept the letter instead of throwing it away. She found it oddly sweet. If she really did have a secret admirer, she would surely want to know who it was. But that's impossible. (Name)'s low self esteem took over and she shrugged off the thought of someone liking her. No one liked her that much that she'd have a secret admirer, right?

[noforkingclue]

Hi can you please please write a fic where reader is young and Sherlock loves her, she does too but her parents are against it. Like her father is furiously against it and her mother thinks she's too young for him and he might not see her like that, it upsets her and she confronts Sherlock if he really loves her, because if yes then she'd do anything, go against all odds to be with Sherlock.

Note: requests are currently closed

So I made the readers in her late twenties and Sherlock in his late thirties so there's a ten year age gap.

Hope you like the fic :)

Title: Approval

Warnings: age gap relationship

Everything tag list: @greenrevolutionary, @byebyebreezywrites, @spngingerbread21, @layazul, @lov3vivian, @simonsbluee

From the sound of your footsteps up the stairs Sherlock could tell that you were upset. No, he frowned as you got closer, not just upset you were angry as well. The door to the flat flew open and you marched into the room. Sherlock momentarily took his gaze off of his experiment as you collapsed into his chair.

“What happened?” he asked as he turned his attention back to his work

“Do you love me?”

It was one of the rare times that Sherlock was caught off guard. He sighed and turned off the bunsen burner and leant against the kitchen table.

“Why?” he asked

“I… want to know.”

“No you don’t.”

You glared at him as you pulled your legs up to your chest and curled into a ball.

“Just out of everyone,” you muttered softly, “why me?”

Sherlock hesitated for a moment unsure about exactly how to proceed. You were always better at this than him, loath as he was to admit it to himself. You understood people in a way that he never could.

“Would you like a cup of tea?” he asked after an unhealthily long silence

“I would like you to answer my question,” you said, “but I wouldn’t say no to a cuppa.”

You stood up and joined Sherlock in the kitchen. You knew that cooking (chemistry didn’t count) wasn’t his strong suit, despite his best efforts.

“Why are you asking whether or not I love you?” Sherlock asked while the two of you waited for the kettle to boil

“Why aren’t you answering my question.”

“I would like the context.”

“It’s-” you cut yourself off and ran a hand over your face, “It’s my parents.”

Sherlock glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. You were going to say something else but he could read you well enough to know not to push it.

“What did they say?”

“My Dad doesn’t want us to be together,” you snapped, “He thinks you’re too old for me and I’m too young and naive to know what I really want. My Mum also thinksI’m too young and that I don’t understand how the real world works. For fucks sake, I’m almost thirty. I have a job, pay rent. I’ve seen horrific shit in my job that they couldn’t even think could happen. There are celebrities that have twenty, thirty year age gap relationships and yet they think ten years is too much.”

You hadn’t realised you’d been crying until Sherlock put his hands on your shoulders.  You pressed your forehead against his chest and he tensed under your touch. However, after a moment he raised his arms and wrapped them around you.

“I need to know if you feel the same way,” you said, “that you love me. If you do, I will fight for this. If not…”

You trailed off and inhaled deeply. You closed your eyes not wanting to finish the sentence.

“I love you, Sherlock Holmes,” you said softly, “I really do but I want you to understand what I am giving up. Do you… do you love me too?”

Sherlock’s grip on you tightened and he pressed his forehead against your shoulder. Your breath hitched slightly and Sherlock said,

“You are one of the few people who tolerate me. I know that I am not the best at… expressing my feelings towards you but,”

He pulled back and looked down at you. His hand rose to your chin and tilted your head so you were looking directly at him.

“I assure you that I do feel the same.”

“Good. Then I know exactly what to tell my parents.”

You raised yourself up on your tiptoes and pressed a brief kiss on Sherlock’s lips.

“I’m also sure that Mycroft would be happy to get your parents to stop commenting on our relationship if you asked him.” Sherlock muttered

“He’d do that for you?”

“I said that you’d need to ask him. He might do that for you.”

[kit-walk3r]

hii can you do an imagine where kit or tate is ashamed about his scars but we reassure him we love him scars or no scars and kiss every one of his scars to show him?? very fluffy, thank you!!!!!!!

Hey, thank you for the request! I’ve written a lot of Kit recently so I made this one about Tate.

Scars (Tate Langdon x fem!reader)

After finding Tate doing the unthinkable to himself you try to make sure he knows just how much you love him.

Warnings: Strong feature of self harm, both the act of and discussion. Please be warned.

Note: This is pre-death Tate. Also, I did actually previously write a oneshot about Tate’s self harm which you can read here. This will kind of link to that. Please be careful reading this if you have triggers.

You found out by accident. You know Tate never would have told you otherwise. He was rather secretive, and although you’d been getting to know each other the past few months and had grown rather close he still didn’t disclose much about himself. You’d been trying to get him to open up more, after all you’d told him a lot about you, but the most personal stuff you’d got out of him was that he had a brother and a sister. Besides that, it was all superficial stuff like his love for Nirvana and interest in birds. Tate was clearly very private, and although you respected that you just wished that he trusted you more.

Tate hadn’t been at school that day, and you were worried about him. He would usually meet you at your locker, but that morning he wasn’t there. And then later on he wasn’t in class and didn’t find you for lunch either. You spent the day distracted and worried about him, so as soon as the bell rang signalling the end of the school day you were out of the building and heading straight in the direction of Tate’s house. You hadn’t been before, but everyone knew that Tate lived in the infamous Murder House so you knew exactly where to go.

You politely knocked on the door and waited patiently for a response. After a few moments it opened, revealing a blonde woman stood smoking a cigarette. This must be Tate’s mom, you presumed. “Yes?” Her voice sounded bored.

“Hi,” you greeted politely. “I’m Y/N. I was just wondering if Tate was home?”

The woman said nothing, and instead turned around. “Tate!” She called out loudly.

No response.

Tate’s mom turned back around and sighed. “He’s probably up in his room listening to his hooligan music,” she said. She opened the door further. “Please, come in.”

You stepped inside, taking in the grandness of the house. It was hauntingly beautiful.

“Feel free to go on up. His room is on the top floor.” Tate’s mom said, motioning to the spiral staircase. “Maybe you can talk some damn sense into him,” she muttered before walking off.

Following his mom’s direction, you made your way up to Tate’s room. You wished you could embrace the house’s beauty, but you knew of what dark atrocities had happened here, and couldn’t help but feel unnerved as you walked through the halls.

Top floor, Tate’s mom had said. As you reached it you could hear the loud, echoing beats of Nirvana, no wonder he didn’t respond when his mom called for him. The sound of the music was practically deafening. You knocked on what you presumed was his bedroom door, since it was where the music was coming from, and waited. There was no response, so you tried again. Still nothing.

You let out a slight chuckle when you came to the conclusion that he probably just couldn’t hear you. You knew that when Tate was listening to his music he could drift off into his own world and that was probably what had happened right now. And naively, you presumed that he wouldn’t mind if you came in, that he would be happy to see you. So, you twisted the door handle and opened the door to Tate’s room before stepping inside.

You didn’t expect to find what you saw.

Tate was sat cross-legged on his bed, oblivious to your new presence. In front of him was a small, open box, next to it was a handful of crumpled tissues. The tissues were stained red.

On the bed, Tate was looking down at his arm. His sweater sleeve was rolled up to his elbow and he was holding something small and shiny to his wrist. Your expression changed quickly from one of amusement to one of horror as you watched Tate drag the small, silver object across his pale skin, revealing a thin red line that quickly grew thicker.

“Tate?” Your voice was barely above a whisper as you took in the sight before you, but somehow it was still enough for Tate to hear you above the music.

Tate’s eyes widened when he saw you standing there and realised what you had just seen. “What the fuck are you doing here?” He raised his voice. “Get out!” He jumped up from the bed and motioned to the door. “Get out!” Tate repeated.

Instinctively you thought you should get out of there, but your eyes were drawn to the sight of blood trickling down Tate’s wrist and it made you stop. Tate was hurting, he was in pain and you couldn’t just leave him. He was starting to freak out and you were scared about what he’d do in his panicked state if you were to leave. So you stayed.

You edged towards him, eyes full of sympathy. “Tate, what are you doing?” Your voice was soft. You outstretched your arms, wanting to pull Tate in and give him a hug but he did not reciprocate this feeling, and instead pulled away out of your reach.

“Go away,” Tate grumbled. He was no longer shouting, but his voice still had a bitter harshness to it.

“Tate, it’s okay,” You tried to sound reassuring.

“I said go away!” Tate shouted again and you paused for a moment, wondering if maybe you should leave. But the blood caught your eye again and you knew you wanted to help Tate.

You continued to walk towards him, but this time he was no longer pulling away. He just watched you walk towards him, a weird look in his eye, like a cross between sadness, fear and anger.

“Let’s clean this up,” you said softly, lightly grasping Tate’s hand. “Where’s your bathroom?”

Tate realised that there was no use in trying to get you to leave, so accepted defeat and led you to the bathroom next to his bedroom.

You motioned for Tate to take a seat on the toilet before opening the cupboard above the sink and looking for something to clean up Tate’s cuts. You found a small box filled with bandaids, wipes and tissues amongst other things. Perfect.

Turning back to Tate, you knelt down so that you were level with him and pulled out a couple of tissues. You carefully began to clean up the blood that had trickled down his arm, internally wincing at the sight of multiple scars decorating his skin. Your heart ached at the thought of Tate hurting himself this badly and you felt an urge to protect him. You hated that he was feeling this way.

Tate was silent as you cleaned up his cuts. He didn’t even flinch when you cleaned the cuts themselves with a wet wipe, even though you could imagine that the feeling stung. “We need to make sure these don’t get infected,” you said. Tate didn’t say anything.

When the blood was fully cleared you saw the extent of what Tate was doing to himself. “Oh, Tate,” you sighed sadly, not knowing what else to say. You pulled a bandaid out of the box and placed it precisely over the fresh marks Tate had left today. Then, you ever so gently pressed a kiss to it, before grasping his hand and giving it a comforting squeeze.

“I didn’t want you to see this,” Tate muttered, barely audible.

“Why?” You asked, running your thumb over the back of his hand in a comforting manner.

“It’s not exactly attractive,” Tate laughed humourlessly. “And I wanted you to like me.”

“And you think me finding out that you… hurt yourself would make me dislike you?” Tate stayed silent. You sighed. “Tate, that’s not true. This doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

“You sure?” Tate asked. He looked down at the scars scattering his forearm. “They’re kinda gross.”

You hated hearing Tate talk about himself in such a way and wished he would stop. But you couldn’t force him to, there was no such way. Instead you just had to let him know that you were there for him, always.

“There is nothing to be ashamed of,” you said softly, looking him in the eye. You could see a sadness in his eyes and knew that he didn’t believe you.

Using the grip you still had on his hand, you lightly tugged Tate’s arm towards you. Then, just like before when you put on the bandaid, you gently pressed your lips to the inner skin of his wrist, above one of his scars. Your gaze flickered up and you could see Tate looking down at you, eyes watering slightly. You smiled at him before pressing another kiss to his arm just below the bandaid. Then another one further down, and another one further down. You made sure that you kissed every one of his scars, wanting to convey how loved he was by you and how his marks didn’t repulse you or make you hate him.

“You’re not gross, Tate,” you murmured as you looked him in the eye again. A single tear was rolling down his cheek and you wiped it with your forefinger. “I love you. And this,” you squeezed his hand. “Doesn’t change a thing.”

Tate shakely smiled.

“Shall we go lay down?” You offered, and Tate nodded. He stood up and pulled you back in the direction of his bedroom. He looked down awkwardly at the remaining things on his bed he’d been using to hurt himself before quickly shoving them away in a drawer, out of sight.

You kicked your shoes off and took a seat on the bed. Tate joined you, but instead of laying next to you or maybe curling himself around you he laid so that his head was resting in your lap. You smiled down at him and comfortingly began to run a hand through his mop of blonde hair.

“Why do you do it?” You asked quietly after a few minutes of silence.

Tate shrugged. He stayed silent for a moment before finally answering. “The Indians believed that blood holds all the bad spirits,” he said, with very little emotion in his voice. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the relevance. He continued. “Once a month in ceremonies they would cut themselves to let the spirits go free.” He paused. “It’s smart.”

Your hand stopped moving through Tate’s hair. “And you think you have bad spirits?”

Tate nodded. He didn’t respond or elaborate for a while. “I just have all these bad thoughts,” Tate finally said, sniffling, and you realised he was crying. It was as if someone had flipped a switch and all of Tate’s emotions had come flooding back. “And I can’t stop them.”

“Like what?” You asked, concerned. You started playing with his hair again.

“I can’t tell you,” Tate shook his head. “You’d hate me.”

“I wouldn’t hate you,” you said reassuringly.

“You would,” Tate disagreed.

“I just want to help you,” You tried to comfort him.

“Don’t!” Tate snapped, sitting up abruptly.

You were taken aback by Tate’s sudden outburst. You didn’t mean to pry, you just wanted to be supportive, and you worried that you might have upset Tate more.

“Sorry,” Tate mumbled. He wiped his eyes. “It’s just… If you knew the stuff that went on in my head, you’d be running.”

You sighed. “Tate, look at me,” you said softly. Tate shook his head and turned it away. You sighed and gave his hands a tight squeeze. “Tate, please. Look at me.”

Tate didn’t move. You thought you were never going to get through to him, but then he slowly turned and looked up at you. His eyes were red from the tears and his cheeks were damp and your heart broke. “You don’t have any bad spirits,” you said. “You’re not a bad guy.”

“But what if I do? What if I am?” Tate asked brokenly. “The places my mind goes… it scares me.”

“You’re not a bad person,” you repeated. “And I’m not scared of you. I just want to be here for you, to help you.”

Tate sniffled and wiped his eyes.

“Will you let me help you?” You asked quietly.

He nodded.

You laid back down, and Tate joined you. He curled up next to you on his side and you wrapped your arms around him, as if trying to protect him from the world.

“I’m here. And I love you. And I’m not going anywhere,” you said with certainty.

- - -

Perhaps Tate was right all along.

•———•

Okay this ended up being angsty and fluffy but I hope this was okay! Tate’s mental health is something that I’ve always found interesting and wanted to see explored more so I do find it interesting to write about. Thanks for the request!

Requests are still open!

Taglist: @jellyluvr @howtobesasha @dewberryobssesed @luv4evan @kaismanwich @violetharmonstwin @daylas-life

Want to join my taglist? Just reply here!

[leaderpinhead]

Delwyn (OC) - Snowy Pen Pal

Day 3 of Fluffcember 2024 Prompt: Snow Man Note: Delwyn is an OC of mine who is a student of Pomefiore Dorm.

Delwyn knew he was being followed. Living in a dorm with a person like Rook made it very easy to recognize the signs: the raised hair on the back of his neck, the subtle shift in the air, the sudden fleeing of everyone else in the area. The last sign was usually just a sign of Rook, but Delwyn figured anyone with stalker-like tendencies would be avoided by normal people. 

When the third group he encountered immediately ran the moment he passed them, he sighed and turned to confront his stalker. “Rook, please. I told you hitting that bird with a snowball was a complete accident, and I do not have a secret power for hun...ting?” 

Delwyn confusedly searched the area when he didn’t find Rook hiding behind a nearby bush. He spun in a tight circle, his confusion mounting when he didn’t see Rook anywhere. He knew Rook was fully capable of disappearing when he didn’t want to be seen, but he was never serious when he stalked Delwyn. More often than not, he wanted Delwyn to find him so he could dramatically swoon and pretend they coincidentally ran into each other. Delwyn believed Rook just didn't know how to approach people in a “normal” way. 

A sharp tug on his shirt made Delwyn look down. A small face smiled up at him. A pair of round ears energetically fluttered above a shock of orange hair. “You got really pretty hair!” 

Delwyn crouched to the child’s level. His hands fluttered around him, not wanting to spook the boy but also wanting to grab him and run as quickly to the headmage’s office as possible. “Are you lost? Do you need help finding a parent? How did you get on the campus?” 

The boy laughed. He grabbed one of Delwyn’s fluttering hands and put it on his head. Delwyn automatically patted his soft hair, which seemed to be exactly what he wanted. “I not lost! I playing hide an’ seek with Unca Leona. He say if I hide really, really, really good, I get candy!” 

Delwyn’s panic somewhat settled, though he still questioned Leona’s blase treatment of his nephew. Surely even Leona wasn’t careless enough to allow the small boy to run around the campus with no supervision. Delwyn wouldn’t even allow Dai to walk around the campus, and Dai was fifteen years old! 

“My name’s Cheka!” Cheka happily continued. He bounced in place to urge Delwyn to continue patting his head. “What’s your name?” 

“Delwyn,” Delwyn automatically answered. His hand mechanically moved against Cheka’s head. Cheka didn’t mind, emitting a quiet grumble that almost sounded like a purr. “You can call me Wyn, though. Most of my friends do.” 

“It’s nice to meet you, Winnie,” Cheka said with a surprising amount of politeness. “Do you know my Unca Leona?” 

Delwyn nodded. “I do. We had a few classes together last year.” 

“That makes you Unca Leona’s friend!” Before Delwyn could argue with the naive logic, Cheka grabbed the end of the braid hanging over Delwyn’s shoulder. Delwyn winced at the sharp tug, but he knew there was no malicious intent behind the action from the way the boy cooed over his hair. “It so soft! But cold. Like snow! I like snow. Do you like snow?” 

“I do.” Delwyn used his free hand to adjust the hold Cheka had on his hair. “My family takes a vacation in the mountains every year to see the snow.” 

Cheka’s ears drooped, and his smile disappeared. “I don’t get to play in snow much. It don’t snow in the savanna.” 

The small, sad sniff from the cub pierced Delwyn’s chest. He glanced around once more. The only other student he found immediately ran in the opposite direction. (Delwyn was starting to question the apparent fear the other boys his age had of children.) 

He stood from his crouch and extended his hand to Cheka. The boy took it without hesitation. Delwyn decided he needed to discuss with Leona how easily his nephew trusted strangers...or tell Vil, so Vil could have a discussion with Leona. 

For now, Delwyn guided the boy behind the library where they couldn’t be seen from the main street. He put one finger against his lips. “Don’t tell anyone what I’m about to do.” 

Cheka nodded and put his fingers to his own mouth. Delwyn breathed deeply and concentrated on his magic. The spell he chose was a simple water spell, and it should have made a small waterspout in his hand. Everyone on campus learned it their first year because it was simple but also a fun party trick to show off when they went home for the holidays. 

With Delwyn’s magic, the water he summoned immediately froze. He delicately tapped the small icicle. It shattered into smaller pieces, showering his palm with a thin layer of ice flakes. Cheka leaned closer, his mouth gaping and eyes shining. 

Delwyn waved his other hand, and the ice flakes swirled on the small wind he summoned. The flakes compacted to form a small snowman in the palm of his hand. Cheka’s awe exploded with a loud squeal when he recognized the shape. “It’s a snowman! Can I hold it? Please!” 

Delwyn chuckled and carefully put the small snowman in Cheka’s hand. Cheka cooed and brought it closer to his face. “It’s a real snowman! It’s not even snowing! Make more!” 

The happy little skip in his heart told Delwyn he would have made an army of little snow men for the happy little lion. A derisive snort behind him made Delwyn freeze. “Luring little children behind the library? Shame on you, Storm.” 

Delwyn spun around so quickly that he lost his balance and fell flat on his rear. He stared up at Leona with wide eyes. He tried to protest against the accusation, but he could only spit out a confused sputter. Leona stared at him through half-lidded eyes, one ear twitching in obvious disinterest. 

Cheka—completely oblivious to the new awkwardness—ran to Leona with his hands extended. “Unca Leona! Look! Look! It’s a snowman!” 

Leona huffed and put a hand on the top of Cheka’s head to stop his energetic bouncing. “Yeah, yeah. I see. Didn’t I tell you to stay in the lounge?” 

Cheka ignored the question completely and ran back to Delwyn. “Make another snowman for Unca Leona, Winnie!” 

Delwyn could only voice an embarrassed squeak. Leona grabbed the collar of Cheka’s shirt like a mother cat would grab a kitten by the scruff of its neck. Cheka whined as he dangled in the air and went limp in Leona’s hand. “You’re not getting anything after making me run around the campus looking for you. Give up your little toy before you make a mess everywhere.” 

Cheka whined, but he obeyed his uncle. He held out the snowman, and Delwyn took it before either of them could get into more trouble. Leona huffed and tossed Cheka over his shoulder. He flicked his tail at Delwyn. He didn’t say another word, which Delwyn was grateful for because he probably would have melted into an even bigger puddle of embarrassment. Cheka waved back at him while Leona stalked away towards the Hall of Mirrors. Delwyn could hear Cheka happily describing everything that happened after Delwyn found him, especially how Delwyn told him not to tell anyone what they were doing. 

Delwyn sighed and glanced down at the little snowman he held. It was already melting, so Delwyn released the spell before slowly climbing to his feet. He had a sinking feeling Leona would be giving him the stink eye whenever they passed in the halls for the foreseeable future. 

He didn’t expect Leona to approach him the very next day and toss an envelope at him before marching off with a muttered, “The brat needs to find pen pals his own age.” 

Confused, Delwyn carefully opened the envelope and pulled out the thick sheet of folded paper. The very childish drawing of two stick figures—one with bright orange hair and the other with long, braided white hair—stood on either side of a smiling snowman. Crooked letters at the bottom of the paper spelled out I mak u Snow Man 2! 

Delwyn smiled and tucked the letter away in his textbook. The warm feeling in his chest stuck with him for the rest of the day, even when Rook jumped out from behind a pillar to boisterously compliment the beauty of his “radiant smile!” 

[mxltifxnd0m]

imagine sam being a hypervigilant parent when his kids start using the internet bc when he was like 12 he used to go in chat rooms and play games with other people (who he supposed to be his age ofc bc he’s smart) and he met someone who he thought was a rlly pretty girl who understood him and was totally hot wanted to meet him and they were in the same area but they never ended up meeting bc he left town on the day it was all supposed to go down (he begged john to stay but john is a cunt so he was like “naur”) and like a few days or weeks later (however long it’d take to forget it) there’s a news report on a child trafficking ring that’d got busted and if they showed the photo they used to try catfish ppl sam would be like “shit” in his head and he never talked to anyone about it because he thought ppl would see him as stupid.

anyways cut forward to now and ur like proper confused as to why he’s so hypervigilant like “urm why r u such a helicopter parent around the kids” obvs you’d be protective too but he’s a different breed

also side note he kept them off the internet until like they started middle school and even then he was reluctant, if he had the full say he wouldn’t have allowed them on the internet until high school

yeah then he tries to keep it from u bc he’s scared you’ll see him as less masculine and more stupid so you two drift until it kinda turns into a big(ish) argument but eventually in bed after the kids have gone to sleep u ask him and play with his hair and he breaks down and tells you everything and how he still thinks about it to this day and you just comfort him as he holds you suffocatingly tight, like veins are visible he’s using that much force and his biceps are flexed and his boob is twitching like in that one scene in s1 where he’s shirtless fresh out the shower (i heard it’s a nervous twitch idk) but yeah and you just make him feel loved and comforted through and through

then when the kids are old enough for the story to be comprehensible to them he tells them and they understand and make sure they’re careful (obvs there’s still gonna be arguments bc they’re teenagers but ygm)

-💽

oh god this is going to break my heart T_T but i could believe this happening to sam because he probs would have unrestricted internet access when he had the chance to be on a computer in the local library so he would be playing games and going on chat rooms. but lets not forget that his boy is 12 and doesn't exactly know the rules of the internet since they weren't well established at the time.

but yeah i think he would have a negative outlook and berate himself for being naive and so trusting of people on the internet and it puts him off of chat rooms and any kind of social media. and im of the mindset that he wouldnt be a fan of dating apps because we all know the catfish rate on those loll

ooh yeah he would be so anal about having screen time for your kids and limits them and has parental control on all of his kids devices and checks it constantly for what your kids are doing and you figured that this was just for his peace of mind but you thought it was a bit excessive but you let it happen. but yeah i agree the fact he'd try to keep them off of the internet as long as possible but his kids are smart and are able to work around it (they just go to you if they need help with it and what not) but he knows its inevitable that his kids need to use it for school and what not.

ooh i could see this becoming a big argument because he might become really overbearing with his kids and being paranoid about who's out there on the internet and he's kept this to himself for so long (he hasn't even told dean about this) and when you do argue about it, he eventually blows up and admits to what almost happened to him when he was younger and you let him talk it out and comfort him. now you know why he's been overbearing with the kids and them being online.

ughh please don't put that in my mind because i will start clawing at the enclosure i get put in when i see a half-naked sammy (i will be putting this key detail in my next smut fic trust lol) but yes he just needs to hold you as he calms down and falls asleep as you coo in his ear telling him he's safe and loved and other warm sentiments as the two of you calm down from the argument and all of the big emotions that were expressed that night.

and yeah i fully believe that he tells his kids about his experience when they're older so they can understand the full gravity of the danger on the internet. they would be understanding just like their father but before he admits it to them, they're definitely stubborn and they kinda roll their eyes at him being like 'we know what we're doing' and being stubborn little shits like him lol