#brotherless au reader: calls moon out on his bullshit so hard it immediately grounds him from a murderous haze

[bones-of-a-rabbit]

“So what are you gonna do? Kill me?”

The sheer boldness of the statement, the borderline challenge, the unsaid ‘I dare you,’ makes Moon pause. You’re scowling up into his face, eyes blotted by shadow and staring him right in the eye. He’s frozen- hand poised, fingers curled slightly, tensed, ready,

“Do it, then.” Your voice is solid, not quite accusatory, but something else, “Come on. Kill me.”

Your hands- when had you gotten them free?- came up and gripped him by the wrist, jerking his hand down so his palm is solidly on your throat, his fingers pulled back slightly so they're touching you as little as possible. You force him to keep his hand there for several seconds, still keeping him frozen in the moment with your eyes burning into his- dark, intense, unyielding,

You released his wrist and he pulled away, shifting his weight off of you to kneel on the floor by your outstretched legs. His eyes are fixed to a scrap of red cloth a few inches from his little finger. A piece of your jacket. The only evidence of the fight- no, not really a fight, a struggle, because you hadn’t been harmed, he hadn’t hurt you,- that had happened in this room. You sit up, and he knows you are looking at him. 

“Coward,” you say, and stand up, turning your back on him. 

[lilydragonartist-roleplayer]

FUCKING?

CoNtExT??????????

PLZ

“So what are you gonna do? Kill me?”

The sheer boldness of the statement, the borderline challenge, the unsaid ‘I dare you,’ makes Moon pause. You’re scowling up into his face, eyes blotted by shadow and staring him right in the eye. He’s frozen- hand poised, fingers curled slightly, tensed, ready,

“Do it, then.” Your voice is solid, not quite accusatory, but something else, “Come on. Kill me.”

Your hands- when had you gotten them free?- came up and gripped him by the wrist, jerking his hand down so his palm is solidly on your throat, his fingers pulled back slightly so they’re touching you as little as possible. You force him to keep his hand there for several seconds, still keeping him frozen in the moment with your eyes burning into his- dark, intense, unyielding,

You released his wrist and he pulled away, shifting his weight off of you to kneel on the floor by your outstretched legs. His eyes are fixed to a scrap of red cloth a few inches from his little finger. A piece of your jacket. The only evidence of the fight- no, not really a fight, a struggle, because you hadn’t been harmed, he hadn’t hurt you,- that had happened in this room. You sit up, and he knows you are looking at him. 

“Coward,” you say, and stand up, turning your back on him.