#content warning for gore and a slight depiction of a gun.. if you can see it

[apollyonsdarksecrets]

The Suppressants

Alpha! Joel Miller X Omega!AFAB!Reader

Part One, Part Two

(( it won’t let me post the URL for part one, so please visit the link below to my Master List where you can find Part One!))

The complete Collection: Apollyon’s Master List.

Summary: What do you do when you run out of heat suppressants? You turn to the only person who can possibly get you more medication; even if it means airing your biggest secret. But when Joel doesn’t have what you need you must travel together to meet another dealer. Surely you’ll get more medicine score your heat starts… right?

Warnings: 18+ content, post-apocalyptic world. A/B/O alternative universe, (A/B/O dynamics including: Scenting, Marking, Knotting, Heats) age gap (Reader is 26, Joel is late 40s), reader has been on suppressant most of her life, Joel teaches reader about guns, parental lost (not depicted on page), he falls first, angst(?), gore and violence. SMUT: Fingering, PIV, no use of protection (wrap it up y’all!), slight breeding kink if you squint, knotting, marking, heavy praise kink. ((Please let me know if I missed anything))

The day creeps on into the late evening, and as stars begin to speckle the sky you finally draw yourself away from the window, unable to see anything but your own reflection. Joel sits by the fire, trying to make it seem as if he wasn’t watching you the whole time your back had been turned. He shuffles his legs, picking at the ruminants of the rabbit on his plate.

“He’ll be here.” Joel glances up as you pace over, biting at your thumb nail as you stare into the orange and blue embers.

“Yeah, yeah I know.” But there’s a catch in your voice, your smile wavering slightly when you catch his eye.

He holds your stare for a moment, and you’re unable to hide the pinch of worry between your brow, your smile falling further. “Come on, sit.” Joel nods at your sleeping bag, sliding the rest of the rabbit towards you. “Gotta eat, kid. It ain’t gonna do you any good to make yourself sick while we wait.”

He has a point. You slide your bag closer to him and the fire, crossing your legs as you sit, pulling the plate into your lap. The silence stretches between you, filled only by the pop of the logs in the brick fireplace. You dare a glance towards Joel, finding him leaning back on his hands, legs stretched out and staring into the fire. Both of you lost in your own heads, wondering what could have happened to make Mark so late.

“Let me ask you something.” You’re caught staring, your cheeks flushing as Joel turns to look at you.

“W-What?”

“How long have you been on this medication?”

“Oh um… Eight? Nine years, maybe.” You shrug your shoulder, popping a piece of meat into your mouth.

Joel stares at you, stunned. “That long?” His thoughts turn instantly to how the medication could have affected you, how your body works, down to your biology. He can’t stop the spark of horror showing in his eyes before you notice.

You blanch slightly, stammering over your words. “Well… well yeah. I mean I couldn’t let anyone know, obviously. It’s… mom explained it like it was pretty much birth control. Never have a heat, never have to worry.” You try to shrug it off but Joel shakes his head, turning his body towards you.

“Yeah, but even then birth control isn’t supposed to be used your entire life… Are all of your instincts suppressed?”

The look on his face, how his eyes have grown wider, it makes you fidget. “Um… I guess so. I don’t really know what though.”

Joel shakes his head slightly, finally resting his gaze on the fire. “How come you never decided to find an Alpha to settle with? Someone you trusted?”

Your cheeks grow warm, the plate long forgotten in your lap, staring at Joel as the firelight dances across his features. “Well, I…” You don’t advert your gaze when he looks back at you, your heart steadily beating faster. “I thought about it… but I’m… I’m scared. I’m scared that the moment an Alpha finds out that he’ll use me, strip me of everything I am until I am nothing more than my biology…”

Your words are heavy in the air, the two of you staring at each other as the logs shift and crack in the hearth. Joel sits up a little straighter, resting his arms on his knees and glancing you over, breaking eye contact first.

“You told me.” His voice is gruff, underlying emotions caught at the back of his throat and your eyes widen.

“Of… of course I did-You’re…”

“Different?” He offers, eyebrows lifting, gesturing with a hand. You nod, suddenly all too aware of how close you are to him, how his eyes burn into your own, how he’s a larger than life presence in the room and that…

It doesn’t scare you, nothing about Joel has ever scared you. Unlike most of the Alphas you had the misfortune of crossing paths with.

It’s a startling realization, stealing your breath as you turn away.

Joel is different. He’s always been different.

“Y/n?”

You set the plate down clumsily beside him, the clunk loud on the wood floor, before you stand with your bag.

“I’m tired… do you mind taking first watch?”

Before he can answer you’re walking away, setting your bag down near the wall farthest from his. You crawl in and turn over, the pounding of your heart keeping you up for most of the night.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Day one of staying in the safe house slowly rolls into day two. Then those hours bleed over into day three and the anxiety that was pumping through your veins has morphed and transcended into pure terror.

There is still no sign of Mark as you and Joel pick at breakfast.

There is still no sign of Mark as you pace back and forth across the house when Joel tries to convince you to sit and eat lunch.

Now the sun is beginning to set, and the limitations of your calm have reached a breaking point. The empty pill bottle lays by your bag, an orange beacon of what is to come should Mark never show. The heaviness of the situation is slowly suffocating the air from the room, and there is nothing either of you can do as you wait, and wait, and wait.

Joel watches you from his spot by the window, lines of stress carve your face, your body jerky with how tightly strung your muscles are as you fold another blanket from the pile you had found in one of the back rooms. He isn’t sure what more he can do, though his instincts beg to comfort you, to take you in his arms and soothe your fears. But he knows it would be a lie, that as soon as the medication begins to work out of your system you’ll go into heat at any given moment, if not immediately.

He glances out the window for what feels like the hundredth time, willing the short blond man to materialize on the empty street.

Your breath is staggered in your lungs, panic slowly tightening its grip around your neck by the minute, no matter how hard you try to keep it at bay. You toss another blanket onto Joel’s sleeping bag before bending to pick up the next, shaking it free of the dust that had gathered over the years. You try to focus on the feeling of the soft material beneath your fingers, or the way the particles float through the air, catching the sunlight. You count the blankets in each pile, trying to even them out.

“One, two, three-“

“Honey.”

You jump at Joel’s deep voice, turning to find him staring at you, his arms folded across his chest, his eyebrows pinched once more. “Y-Yes?” Your eyes flickering to the door expectantly, a spark of hope wishing to fan to life.

Joel rolls his lips together, adverting his gaze. “Ya might wanna take all those blankets into that back room… Make somewhere comfortable for yourself later.”

Your heart plummets into your stomach, the feeling flooding from your hands as the blanket falls to the floor. “W-What? Why?”

“I don’t think Marks going to make it.” Joel watches the color drain from your face in an alarming amount of time, his back stiffening as he pushes off the wall, suddenly afraid you’re going to faint as you sway on your feet.

“N-no… No.” Denial takes a head, your eyes becoming watery. “He said he would be here, he-he has to be here!” Despair makes you raise your voice, and the look of pity in Joel’s eyes only makes the feeling worse. “Why isn’t he here?”

Shaking his head, Joel runs his hands through his hair. “Darling I wish I knew. There’s a number of things that could have happened. From him deciding what I was trading wasn’t good enough to he could have possibly been attacked.” Joel’s words hold reason, and you want to accept them, you want them to make you feel better, to understand that this journey was a risk with no guaranteed reward.

“I can’t go through this Joel. I can’t.” Your voice breaks as he becomes blurry, tears burning your eyes that refuse to fall just yet. “I can’t go home, I can never go back to the QZ.”

“Baby… Yes you will.”

“No I can’t! The moment I get remotely close to those walls an Alpha is going to hunting me like I am some kind of-“

Joel is suddenly before you, gripping your shoulders, and his solemn features are extremely clear as the first tear falls. “Ain’t no one, and I mean no one gonna lay a finger on you. I wont let that happen.”

“I’m an unmated Omega, Joel…” You whisper, trembling under his grip. “I’m prey.”

The words are heavy, laden with the truth. Where as the few mated Omegas there are, are relatively safe in the presence of their Alpha or pack, an unmated Omega is injured prey in a room full of predators.

Joel cusses, his grip tightening ever so slightly, fingertips digging into your sweater. He ducks slightly, bringing himself to your level, and this close you can see the slightest specks of colors hidden amongst the brown in his eyes. Golds and greens swirling together. You get so lost in the depths of them for a moment that you start slight when he speaks.

“Listen… I’ve been thinking about this and I just… You need to hear me out, alright? You know I’d never do nothing to hurt you, but this is the only option I see.”

Hesitation bubbles uncomfortably in your stomach, your nod small as you suddenly realize how close you both are, how strong his smell is growing.

Joel swallows thickly, searching your eyes. “Let me mark you.”

You gasp, pulling away and Joel lets you, raising his hands in the air as you stare in growing disbelief. “What?”

Joel rushes to explain, sensing the rising fight that is about to ensue. “After. After you get through your heat, when it’s time for us to leave let me lay a mark on you. It wont be a mating mark, just a claim. Any Alpha that dares to come near you will scent me immediately.”

A trembling hand flutters to your throat, the most traditional place for a mark of any kind. “That’s… That’s a really big commitment Joel…” You breath, looking up at the older man. “I couldn’t… I couldn’t ask that of you.” The thought of bearing Joel’s mark though makes the blood in your veins feel thick, something deep in your stomach clenching as you imagined what it would feel like, how his mark would appear on your skin.

“You aren’t ask anything of me, Y/n. I am offering you a solution.” Joel insists.

A solution.

Is that all it is?

Though claims are not as strong as Mating marks, Joel’s scent would be imbedded into your very being; and as he said, not a single person would dare mess with you. Him being one of the most powerful people in the QZ… But there is something whispering at the back of your mind, a fleeting feeling of disappointment that startles you.

Is this just a man doing whatever it takes to uphold his bargain?

“I mean… I understand. It-It’s just… what if there is someone you find later on, they aren’t going to be happy that you have already marked another person.” You feel stupid just saying that, but apart of you wants to know, some part that is is suddenly feeling small and insecure as you stare at Joel.

Joel’s smile is bemused, the corners of his lips hardly lifting as he cocks his head. “I ain’t been worried about such things for a long time, darling.” There’s a gleam in those brown eyes as he looks at you, ��Is that a problem for you?”

Your skin flushes, the color filling the apples of your cheeks, and you can no longer hold his stare. Joel takes a testing step forward, and when you don’t retreat, he closes the distance. He curls a thick finger under your chin, tilting your head up with no where else to look but at him. Your pupils are blown out, covering the beautiful color of your irises, and he feels the slight bit of weight as you seemingly, unknowingly press your chin into the warmth of his hand. “Hmm?” He prompts, easing a little closer, the toes of his boots brushing yours, and you squirm in place. His presence is overpowering, making you feel small in a way that has your breath hitching. “Got someone you’re sweet on?”

The low rumble of humor in his voice makes you blink, stuttering your answer. “What? No-No of course not…” You think back to the conversation just a few nights ago, how you realized that you found more than comfort in Joel presence and you suddenly feel as though you’ve been doused with cold water.

His smile grows with your silence, a dimple peaking through the scruff of his beard, those crows feet reappearing by his eyes as he slips his hand along your jaw. “No one? Not a single soul?” He teases, his voice soft like the stroke of his fingers over the back of your jaw. You push his hand away, turning your back to him as you shake your head in embarrassment.

“I’ll consider it.” You mumble over your shoulder, a shudder ripping through you.

“That’s all I am asking for.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

As the sun dips past the rising building, needs you’ve never felt before begin to surface with the creep of night. Sitting on the floor of the back room, you readjust blanket after blanket to your liking. Every one that Joel lays out you have to pull and tug into the right place, wadding up some and discarding others.

Joel watches you, patient as he follows your instructions on how to help as you make your bed. You worry your lips between your teeth, sitting back on your heels as you stare at the mess before you. “It’s alright, your instincts to nest are starting to come out. It use to be that when Omegas lived with their Alpha’s they would have specific rooms designed just for their nests.” His voice is calm, trying to quell your anxiety.

“Really? That must have been nice…”

“It was. The space was sacred to an Omega, it was completely filled with things that they desired and found comfortable as well.” An intrusive thought fills Joel’s mind, an image of you, curled up amongst soft blankets and pillows. Your face no longer pinched with fear, instead soft with contempt.

Your voice breaks him from his thoughts, a sheepish look crossing his features as you shake your head. “Something is missing… It doesn’t smell right… I need…” You whisper dies off as you look over, catching Joel’s stare. Your eyes move lower slowly, zeroing in on the dark green flannel he has thrown on over his t-shirt. Joel follows your gaze in confusion, cocking an eyebrow.

“Whatcha’ need, sweetheart?”

You swallow, his scent had been filling the room over the last few hours, calling to you, blanketing your nerves. He smells of pine woods, and whiskey, and the way a campfire clings to your clothes the next day. It’s intoxicating, a mouth watering scent you could easily become addicted to.

“Could… Could I have your flannel?” You can barely get the words out, embarrassed by the need for his scent to feel comfortable in your nest.

Joel stares at you in surprise, his eyes widening. “My shirt?”

You smooth out a wrinkle in the blanket you’re sitting on, unable to look him in the eyes as you stammer. “You… You smell good and it-it’s been comforting this entire trip…” Whatever you could possibly say to justify your request dies in your throat, sizzling with shame.

The room is quiet for a long moment before Joel moves out of the corner of your eye. He rolls his shoulders back, working the garment off his arms and handing it over. “There ya go.”

Your hand trembles minutely as you take it, his eyes locked with yours as you draw it to your chest, your heart pounding in your ears.

Joel’s next breath is cut short, a sweet smell beginning to permeate the air and he realizes your medication is leaving your system. Your natural scent is sweet, like peaches and chocolate, and something fresh like the first rain of spring.

It makes Joel’s stomach tighten, fire starting to kindle low in his groin, and he realizes he needs to put distance between the both of you while he can.

“I’m going to get you some food.” he stands from the crate and your gaze follows, traveling up the expanse of his body. Past his long legs clad in dark denim, past his tapered waist; further up his wide chest and corded arms until your focus is finally of his face.

You’re noticing things you hadn’t before, like how his salt and pepper beard has a heart shaped patched just under his jaw. The wild way his hair curlers, framing his face, and once more you’re drawn to the set of his lips. They look soft, warm, like they would move perfectly against your own.

“Honey?”

Joel’s thick accent washes over you, and a blazing heat licks up your spine making you whimper. Pain rips through your abdomen, your body suddenly feeling wound tight full of sudden need that leaves your panties slick.

His eyes widen, hit by the full volume of your scent as it perfumes and envelopes the room.

“Fuck, I’m-“

“You’re in heat.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

If you had to take a bet on who would be the first to break, you would have bet on yourself.

And you would have lost.

48 hours of hell.

48 hours of crying and silently begging for anything to end the pain.

Your fingers have hardly dented your heat, whatever relief you can bring yourself is too short lived, the agonizing pain eating you up until the point you’re certain you will die in this cramped little room. Joel’s flannel is damp with tears as you burry your face into the wad of material, the scent bringing you as much comfort as it brings you pain. The need for him is becoming too much.

You want to scream for him, beg for him to fix it the only way an Alpha can, but you force yourself to bite your lip.

The floorboard creaks suddenly on the other side of the door, and you know it’s Joel, checking on you once again, unnecessarily taunting you with what you can’t have. You whine, frustration eating at you as your hand cramps once more between your slick thighs, forcing you to stop rubbing cruel circles around your clit. You stare up at the ceiling, tears spilling along your temples and catching in your damp hair as you count the cracks in the drywall. Anything to focus on that isn’t the pain and need between your legs, or the way your skin sticks together with sweat.

The moment is to short lived and your body is moving, trying to find a comfortable position as you roll onto your knees, pressing your chest to the mound of blankets. You groan softly, letting your weight rest on your chest as your knees slide apart, your hand once again finding your pulsing clit. Burying your face into Joel’s flannel you huff a sigh, working yourself towards a quick high when the sound of the brass doorknob turning catches you off guard.

You shoot up, wrapping one of the loose blankets around your naked form just as Joel steps into the room.

Embarrassment and shock keep your tongue glued to the roof of your mouth as you stare at each other. The dying sunlight in the room casts him in shadows, his tan skin appearing darker, but his eyes shine as they rake over you.

He is quick to note the change in your smell, how the stress and pain have caused your scent to become overly sweet like turned fruit. The next thing he notices is his crumpled shirt, and the bright flush of your cheeks as you tighten the blanket around you, sweeping the garment underneath. Joel steps closer and you lean back, your breath hitching at the hunger in his eyes.

“Joel…” You try to warn, but he cooes softly and your cunt clenches at the noise.

“baby doll…” Tears fill your eyes at the softness of his tone, and he hurts to ease your pain. “Let me help you, sweetheart.” His voice is rough, ragged like he hadn’t spoke in days.

“No-No… I’m okay, I’ve got in under control.” You lie even as your body begs for the help.

Joel gets to his knees before you, hands clenching over his thighs. Your cheeks are bright red, your hair in a tangled mess on top of your head from where you had tried to tie it up. He has to keep himself from follow the beads of sweat that roll down your jaw before disappearing down the curve of your neck.

“I can’t sit out there a moment longer, listening to you crying and whimpering. It’s just me, you know you’ve always been safe with me.” You don’t reply, your eyes squeezing shut as a sharp shudder rips through you and it tugs at his heart. “Can I come closer?” You freeze, realizing that he’s asking to come into your nest. A delicious feeling of comfort rolls over your muscles at the idea, and you nod slowly.

Joel’s knees pop and creak as he climbs onto the pallet behind you, where he grips your shoulders and digs his thumbs into the tense muscles.

A small sob rips from your chest, leaning heavily into his grip. “I’ll do whatever you need, just say the word. If I need to leave I will, if I need to just sit here a while and talk you through this I can. But I can’t sit on the other side of that door and listen to you cry.”

His words simmer through your mind, stinging your already aching heart, and another sob is forced from your throat. Joel hushes you softly, his rough palms slipping up your neck then back down, as he pulls you back letting you rest against his chest.

Joel’s warmth bleeds into your own but it feels different, soothing. His scent is the strongest it’s ever been, filling your lungs with each shakey breath, and you feel something shift. Hushed words muddle together in your ears, your head leaning back against his chest as a breathy moan leaves your throat.

Without thought your hips begin to grind slowly, need pulsing so hot and heavy between your thighs that your hand travels down thoughtlessly. Your breath hitches as your fingers swirl around your swollen clit, slipping through your lips and pressing into your opening.

“Little Peach.” Joel’s voice is gruff, and another sob spills from your lips.

“I-I’m sorry… I didn’t ask for this Joel, I didn’t ask to be born like this.” Before you can snatch your hand away, horror flooding through your body, Joel is there. His hand finds an opening in the blanket so loosely wrapped around your body, gripping your wrist stopping you.

“I know… I know you didn’t but there ain’t no reason to fight it now baby. It’s said and done.” His clauses are rough against your skin, and you hold your breath as he covers your hand with his own. “Use me. Take what you need, whatever it is.”

Your eyes are droopy with lust when you turn your head to look up at him, the softest whimper leaving your lips when Joel shifts behind you , pressing the hard ridge in his pants against your back.

“I…” You swallow, thighs trembling as you feel your laced fingers brush the thatch of curling hair covering your pussy. “I don’t want to make you do anything…”

When he chuckles the sound reverberates through your back, “Darlin’,” He drawls the word out close to your ear, “You didn’t make me stay, you didn’t make me come in this room. And you certainly aren’t making me do this.”

He emphasizes his point by tracing the drenched slit of your cunt, earning a high pitched squeak. “Fuck, peach… So wet, she’s just fucking dying for some attention isn’t she?”

Your head, feeling heavy, falls back against his shoulder, eyes squeezing shut as bliss fills your body. Joel tugs testingly at your blanket and when it slips from your fingers, Joel pulls it away revealing your body to him.

Joel sucks in a breath, his pupils dilating as he drinks in the sight of you laid out between his legs. Your chest rises and falls with each quick breath, the sheen of sweat gleaming on your body in the dim golden light of the room. “Look at you…” A hunger permeates his words, his breath growing more ragged as he draws a delicate circle around your clit, eliciting a gasp. “You are beautiful, so very, very beautiful.”

Your hips circle, seeking more of anything he is willing to give you. “Please, I need you… I need you, Joel.” You turn your face into his neck, your breath fanning over his skin.

“Ain’t gotta beg, pretty girl. I’ve got ya.” His fingers draw lazy patterns around your clit and you moan, slow and drawn out, hips bucking as he keeps a steady pace. Joel works you up easily with a few expert swipes, your back bowing as your orgasm crashes through you. Your cries of ecstasy are muffled against his throat, thighs squeezing his hand.

He shushes you as you float back to reality, gasping for breath as you relax against him; your muscles loose, bones feeling like jello. “Atta girl, easy Peach.”

You try to catch your breath, reviling in the small reprieve he’s given you. “peach… why peach?” You whisper, making Joel chuckle softly.

“It’s all I can smell ever since your medication wore off. Peaches and chocolate .”

You hum, a small smile playing at your lips. “Are you sure the chocolate bar didn’t melt in my bag?”

Joel smiles, lazily dragging his fingers across your stomach. “Yeah, I’m sure. Bakers chocolate doesn’t smell this sweet.” He presses a kiss to your forehead and your heart flutters, a calm washing over your mind at the same time a spark flairs to life in your stomach.

You lean back, eyes hazy, lids heavy matching the look of his own. The few seconds you spend staring at each other feel like an eternity before you close the gap.

It’s hesitant, as most first kisses are, a little puff of surprise between your lips before they seal together. Finding the rhythm that works so well as one moans softly and the other swallows the noice. Your hand slips up his chest, feeling the wild thump of his heart before it travels up his neck to rest against his jaw.

Joel helps you as you turn, never letting the kiss break as you shakily straddle his lap, pressing your body tight against his own. The spark catches quickly, setting fire to your body as you grind against the hard bulge in his pants. His hands grip the dent of your waist, encouraging your movements with soft squeezes, while you tug fitfully at his shirt.

“More.” You mumble against his lips, letting your heat take the lead, turning off all thoughts of shame as his shirt slips up and you lay your hands on his bare skin for the first time. He pulls the shirt off completely and you lean back, admiring him with lust blown eyes. Joel sighs softly, his head dropping back as your fingers run through the dense curling hair across his chest. His body is strong, sculpted by years of manual labor and survival, yet his stomach is a little soft with age. You scratch your nails down his stomach lightly, following the trail of hair down to the buckle of his jeans and Joel closes his eyes.

“I want you.” You lick your lips, salivating at the thought of what lies just below the thick blue denim. Joel moans again, his chest rising with the need for air as he nods.

“Gonna need to work you open for me, honey.” He breaths, his eyes falling to where your hands fumble over the button of his jeans.

“Just… I just need you, it’s okay.” There’s a frantic note to your voice, all logic thrown out the window at this point, need and instinct pushing you forward.

Joel sees this, and slips his hand around your throat, squeezing softly and forcing you to sit back, ignoring your desperate whine. “Ima give you what you want, but you’re gonna listen to me little girl. Am I clear?” There’s a touch of command in his voice, forcing your gaze to his and waiting until you finally nod your understanding.

He keeps his eyes locked on yours, sneaking his other hand between your bodies, stroking your pussy. You groan, eyes fluttering closed as your grind yourself against his hand, supporting yourself by gripping his arm. “That’s it… go ahead baby…” Joel’s voice is hoarse, his pupils dilated as he sinks two fingers into your heat. You gasp at the sudden stretch, the burn of his thick digits spreading you open. Your jaw falls slack, eyes rolling up as bliss radiates through your body. “Fuuuck, baby girl…” Joel pulls his fingers out before sinking them back in, the calluses he’s built from years of working with his hands rub along your sensitive walls, reaching places you never thought possible. “Y’er so tight… squeezing my fingers like that.” Joel’s Texan twang seeps into his words as his arousal heightens, his cock throbbing painfully in his jeans as he works his fingers in and out, faster and harder, mesmerized by the way your hips buck and twitch; climbing towards your next orgasm. “Come on baby… cum fer me darlin’.”

Your body sings for him, the force of your orgasm shaking you as your back bows and light explodes across your vision. Your thighs quake, Joel’s name falling from your lips as you sob, rutting against his hand as your cunt squeezes his fingers with each radiating wave of pleasure.

The soft, comforting sounds of his approval reaches your ears, his grip slackening around your throat as you slump against him. “So beautiful, cumming all over my fingers like that. I need to see you cum on my cock baby.” His words have you preening, his voice husky as you lean back, your grin lopsided and your eyes glossed over. Joel strokes a thumb over your cheek, and you turn your head, kissing his palm. “Lay back for me. Let me take care of you.”

With much effort you manage to lay back in your nest, your legs spread, hips circling invitingly as Joel climbs to his feet, finally stripping off his jeans. All that remains in the way of what. You need the most, are his thin pare of threadbare boxers. Your mouth salivates at the bulge in his underwear, giving you a good peak at the size of his member hiding just underneath. “How do you want me?”

Your voice is so soft, yet wrecked with lust, ready to please Joel. He smiles, his cock twitching. “why don’t you roll over for me huh? That’s right, goood girl.” You follow his instructions, knees slipping on the blanket, head resting on your arms as you try to catch your breath through the thickness of your anticipation.

Dropping his boxers he groans as his cock springs free, bobbing between corded thighs as he takes his place behind you, hands steadying himself on the small of your back. He sighs deeply, cock twitching and knot swelling slightly at the sight of your drenched cunt, inviting him to sink into your heat.

You wiggle your hips impatiently, turning your head and catching sight of him leaning over you, the predatory hunger in his gaze. “I know… I know you need this little one.” His voice drops to a husky vibration in his wide chest and all you can do is nod, your tongue feeling thick in your mouth. “It’s alright baby, I’ll make it better.” Gripping his cock, Joel glides his fingers over the long length of his shaft, teasing the throbbing vein running up his cock before slipping the flushed tip through your folds.

“Please… Please Alpha.” You beg through thick tears, gripping the faded purple blanket below you as Joel notches his cock against your entrance. He presses his hips forward, both of you moaning loudly as he sinks into your warmth. “Joel…” You simper, rocking your hips back, attempting to take more of him. You thought his fingers had been a stretch, now you understand why he was so adamant about opening you up. His cock is long and thick, spearing you open and stretching your walls in ways that feel like you might be ripped in two at any moment.

“Fuck… fuck y’re so tight.” Joel breathes raggedly, his focus torn between not busting right here and now and not thrusting into you savagely. “Easy baby, gotta stretch you out nice and slow.” You mewl, your eyes squeezing shut as you feel him slipping deeper and deeper with small thrusts. every ridge and bump rubbing across your sensitive walls, working you higher and higher.

A hand travels up your bowed spine, gripping your neck and pressing your face into the blankets. “This sweet pussy must have been made for me, huh? the way she squeezes me so tight.” Joel curves over you, his weight settling against your hips as he drives forward, burying himself to the hilt. You squeal at the sudden force, your legs shaking and weak profanities spilling from your lips.

Joel chuckles quietly, bracing his weight on his hands, trapping you below him. “You can take it can’t you baby? You’re doing so well.” He rocks back, sliding out a few inches before burying himself back into you, a gruff moan falling from his lips. He continues his shallow thrusts, like he can’t stand the thought of leaving your drooling cunt for to long.

“Y-yes, yes Alpha.” You stutter, the euphoria coursing through your body threatening to break your mind, as the engorged head of his cock presses against a sensitive spot along your gummy walls. “Please… Please I’m gonna-!” Your muscles lock, mouth agape, as your orgasm suddenly begins to crest.

With a growl, Joel presses his forehead between your shoulder blades. “Cum for me.” He grunts, already feeling his heavy balls drawing tight as your cunt starts fluttering. “Cum for me and I’ll give you my knot.”

A shrill scream bubbles out of your throat, your body jerking below his as you fall into that black pit of pleasure. Joel’s hand slaps over your mouth, muffling your cry of pleasure as his head shoots up, eyes locking on the window for the briefest of moments. “There you go baby, let go for me.” He breathes into your ear, pulling you tight to his chest as he plows himself into your pliant cunt. Fat tears spill over your cheeks, your desperate whines and whimpers caught in his meaty palm as his thrusts become harder, deeper, faster.

“This little pussy, she’s just begging for my cum.” The rhythmic sound of his hips snapping against your ass fills the room, just below it is the sloppy sound of his cock spearing into you. You nod weakly, working your hips back to meet him thrust for thrust and he grins. The look almost triumphant. “Yeah she does… Gonna let me breed her, huh? Gonna let me fuck her full of me?”

Joel drops his hand, circling your throat holding your head against his shoulder. “Yes! Yes oh god, cum in me, cum in me please!” Your cry is all he needs, his control snapping as he bully’s his cock against your cervix.

Joel grunts, his eyes closing and head tilting back as the first jet of cum paints your walls. You squeal, a noise so high and piercing that Joel jerks slightly. His knot swells stretching your cunt beyond what you think you can take, locking you to Joel.

“Fuck baby… you can take it, let go and relax.” He whispers, nipping your shoulder as he grinds his hips against your ass, his spend filling you to the point it has no where else to go, your stomach bulging ever so slightly before it leaks past his knot.

You whimper softly, your thoughts dissipating completely as Joel pants above you. He slowly rolls you both on to your side, cradling you close as he pulls a blanket across your shivering body. Smoothing the sweaty hair from your face he rains kisses down on your shoulders and neck, hushing your whimpers with praises, even as his cock still twitches in your depths.

“I’ve got you, rest baby, I’ve got you.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

“Hng- Joel… oh god…” Your head lulls back, Joel’s hand keeping you from hitting the floor as he cradles your neck. Fingers twitching around locks of grey hair, you moan Joel’s name as he drags his cock from your sodden pussy, only to press back in a second later.

Fingertip shaped bruises and dark red love bites littler your body, mirroring Joel’s. A new one popping up every few minutes, consequences of how you’ve spent the last four days.

Even now, Joel circling a pebbled nipple with the tip of his tongue, laving the delicate skin before pulling it into the warmth of his mouth. Your jaw drops, back arching in a silent plea for more, which Joel is happy to accommodate. His teeth scrape over the sensitive peak, sucking deeply before twirling his tongue around your nipple.

You bask in the feeling, your senses having finally starting to become your own as your heat subsides. You tug on Joel’s hair, pulling him from your breast with a wet pop, his brown eyes meeting your own. They’re heavy with lust, soft pants falling from his lips as he grinds against your core. Snuggly wrapped in your wet warmth, his hips barely move as he languidly fills you with every inch he has. The course hairs at the bottom of his shaft, made sticky with the mix of your releases, rubs against your swollen clit; giving it the right amount of friction to keep you on the edge of bliss.

You drag Joel’s lips to your own, moaning as he sweeps his tongue into your mouth, tasting you in the same manner as which he ravishes your body. Pulling back Joel stutters for breath, taking in the rose color of your kiss bitten lips, the seemingly permanent stain of color on your cheeks, how your eyes shine with need as they never leave his.

You lean up, pressing kisses along his jaw, down his neck tasting the salt on his skin. Joel’s hand moves from its place in the bend of your knee, to the plush of your hip, holding you as close as he can. He can hear you breathing in his scent with soft little whimpers, your hands gripping at him as if he is likely to disappear at any given moment.

Joel knows the feeling too well, it threatens to cave his chest in, to pull him into an inky void of loneliness if you decide, by the end of this, that it was all a big mistake. His long fingers tangle into your hair, pulling you from the crook of his neck with ease to stare into your laden eyes.

“You look so pretty like this.” Joel’s voice is thick, sticking in his throat. You make a soft noise of appreciation, rolling your hips to meet his shallow thrusts.

Joel’s pace slowly increases, his cock sliding further and further out before finding home again. Your lashes flutter, gasping quietly as he presses his forehead to yours.

“J-Joel…”

“I want to mark your pretty little neck, I don’t ever want to let you go.” A whine falls from your lips at a particularly hard thrust, your pussy becoming more sensitive, your bud grinding against his pelvic. “Want to keep you all to myself, keep you covered in my scent and filled with my cum.”

Joel moans as your cunt flutters, your legs starting to shake, nails digging into his shoulders.

You nod your head, bliss building under your skin. “Joel… Joel!” He leans closer, practically bending you in half as his grip tightens on the back of your neck.

“Say it baby, tell me I can mark you. Tell me your my Omega.“

“I’m yours! M-Mark me Joel, please!”

With a harsh thrust Joel sends you spiraling, dropping you over the edge into oblivion as his teeth sink into the thin skin of your neck. Your eyes widen, your grip tightening around Joel as the new sensation washes through your body.

For the briefest of moments you can feel everything Joel does, though his emotions pelt you so rapidly you can’t catch on to any of them before he draws away. There’s blood on his lips, a needy manic look in his eyes as his hips falter, moans falling off his tongue as he fucks into you. Joel grips the backs of your thighs, bending you in half, letting gravity work with him as he bears his teeth and molds your pussy to the shape of his cock.

“Mine, my sweet Omega. All mine.” Little whimpers and babbled prayers leave your lips, too limp and compliant below him to do much else. You watch his face twist, his nose scrunching, lips pulling back from his teeth, eyes closing as the first twitch of his cock sends a jet of seed deep into your cunt.

Knot catching, plugging your dripping hole, Joel collapses, hardly catching himself from crushing you under the heft of his weight. Your thighs burn from the stretch, your limbs loose and yet tight all at once as he nips and peppers your jaw and throat with kisses. Your head falls to his chest, a wave of exhaustion crashing into you as Joel rolls you both over, welcoming your weight on top of him.

*~*~*~*~*~*

“We’ve used up most of our food, but that doesn’t mean we can’t hunt down a few rabbits to hold us over until we get back.”

Joel squats by the packs, sorting through them, transferring all of the lighter things to your bag. You watch from the center of your makeshift nest, now fully dressed in your travel clothes, your eyes trained on each item he rearranges as your fingers pick at the blanket below you.

A large part of you doesn’t want to leave this room, it wants to stay buried in your nest with Joel beside you. Never to emerge again, growing oblivious to the world outside. But you know that isn’t how it works, that you have to take the next steps and navigate this new life ahead of you.

Joel doesn’t need to look at you to see your discomfort, your scent gives you away. The sweet smell now is too strong, bordering on sour. He looks over his shoulder, catching your eye. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“Is it?” You look like your verging on tears, your lip starting to tremble. Joel sets the bag down, his eyebrows furrowing as he turns fully. “I’ve never… I’ve never lived as an Omega, Joel. I-I mean, yeah I have been an Omega this whole time but I’ve lived as a Beta, I didn’t have to worry about going out of my apartment, I never had to fear an Aloha taking interest in me. I-I don’t know what to do with all of these emotions and-and feelings burning in my chest.” Tears spill over your cheeks and Joel quickly moves to you, sitting on his knees in front of you. You suck in a harsh breath, a sob threatening to swallow your words. “I don’t want to leave my nest.”

“Baby…” Joel pulls you into his lap, cradling you as he smooths a hands down your back. “I’ve got you baby girl.” He whispers into the crown of your hair, your sobs wracking your body as you cling to his jacket. “You aren’t alone, I’m here and like I’ve said, I ain’t gonna let a thing happen to you. You’ll still live your life just as you did before. We just need make a few changes is all.”

You sniffle with a nod, closing your eyes as you inhale his scent. “I’m sorry.” You mutter timidly.

“Ain’t gotta be sorry. Just need ya to trust me, okay?”

“O-okay…”

*~*~*~*~*~*

The sun is so bright after being locked inside the house for so long, you squint at your surroundings as Joel ushers you outside and down the steps. You look around at the sunny world, the bright lights and hues of approaching fall. It all feels so conflicting with the turmoil of emotions you feel inside.

You start down the walk way, Joel’s presence at your back, he’s talking about the trip home, how often you both will need to stop, the things that need to be restocked. Vaguely you are listening, your focus drawn to everything around you, something wrong scratching at your bones as you turn onto the street.

You draw to a halt, your breath leaving your lungs in a whoosh before you stumble back, knocking into Joel.

“Oh my god.” You gasp. Joel goes ridged, seeing the body splattered across the road at the same time you do. His gun is drawn in seconds, coming around you, instantly scooping the surrounding areas and you are following suit. Your gun trembles between your palms, your heart pounding in your ears as Joel takes steady steps towards the corpse. “Joel…” Your voice is hardly a whisper, your eyes darting away to the darkened openings of the building on every side of you.

“Fuck…” Joel’s voice is louder than you expect, your skin prickling under your clothes.

“Wh-what is it?”

“Mark.” Widened eyes shoot to his, your mouth dropping open in shock. Joel glances at you briefly before crouching down, grabbing Mark’s bag and dragging it to his side. Quickly looking away you swallow the growing vile rising in your throat at the glimpse of his desecrated body. Despite the hefty distance you can smell the copper tang of Mark’s blood, can see the pool of it dried against the black asphalt and the flies that buzz about his body.

“Your pills are here.” Joel’s knees pop as he stands, heaving the bag over his shoulder as his gaze snags on you. Your body trembles like an unsteady fawn, eyes riveted to the ground before you as you gulp in lungfuls of air. He sighs, glancing down to step around the dealer as he speaks. “Hey, it’s al-“

His next words are lost in a flurry of motion, a yell erupting from his throat as he’s slammed to the pavement, sliding across the rough ground as a weight lands on his body.

The rotting stench wafts into his face, just before graying chipped teeth gnash mere inches from his throat. A scream rips from you at the same time the creature shrieks, struggling against the handle of the shot gun pressing into its throat as Joel struggles to fight against its weight.

Without thinking you raise the gun, the crash corse you learned running through your brain all at once. You aim and fire, the first bullet whizzing past its head feet to the left. The thing claws at Joels thick jacket, looking for a hold to retch itself closer as Joel kicks out his legs, tangled in the bag he had dropped.

The next shot burst into the ground, a foot above Joel’s head and you cry in frustration, anger filling your bones, burning your nerves as you scream. “FUCK!”

You step forward, one arm lifting as you aim, twisting your wrist as you squeeze the trigger.

Everything goes still, your heart, Joel’s breathing, as the zombie drops. the ruminants of its head splattered across the ground and Joel hefts its body to the side, rolling out from under it. A nervous laugh builds in your throat, your hand trembling worse than ever but you can’t bring yourself to lower your gun. Joel looks up at you from the ground, his chest heaving and eyes wide as he takes in your stance.

“D-Does he l-o-o-ook like a BITCH?!” Your voice rings off of the surrounds walls, hysteria making you stutter as you recall the only line you could think of. Joel springs to his feet, despite his bodies protest, and quickly makes his way to your side. Slowly he pries the gun from your hand, turning you away from the body of the cordio before he scoops up the fallen bag and drags you from the bloodied mess.

*~*~*~*~*~*

The fire crackles lowly, just barely lighting the area around it as night descends over the forest. You sit on the moss covered floor, knees tucked into your chest as you stare at the glowing embers, watching as they flicker in and out. Joel is across from you, his knife chipping away at a branch, whittling the wood down into a small figure, hidden in the width of his palm. The boarders of the QZ sit just a mile away, waiting for your return, but what is it you are returning to? The trip back had been far quieter than before, you had retreated into yourself, haunted by the question.

The bottles of pills are a reminder every time they jostle and make noise in your bag. Would you go back to taking them, only to risk reliving this trip all over again? What is your life now if you don’t take them? Do you live with Joel now or on your own? The mark on your neck burns at the thought of being separated from your mate, a concept your hormone free brain is having a hard time understanding.

“I can hear you thinking.” His gruff voice makes you jump, your eyes darting to his, blinking away the bursting dots of light that cloud your vision from staring at the fire for so long.

“What?”

Sighing he tilts his head to the side, pinning you with the inky depths of his stare. “I can practically hear your mind working itself into a tizzy. Plus you’re flooding me with your emotions, darling.” You blanch, mumbling an apology as you shift in your spot. Joel watches you, like he had the entire way home. The dark circles under your eyes, the dullness of your skin, the soft scared whimpers you’ve made in your sleep these last several nights.

He knows worrying like this will only make you sick, physically and mentally, being an Omega only makes it worse. “Come here.” He opens his arm, signaling for you to curl into his side and its like your body is wired to follow his commands. You move without a second thought, tucking yourself against his side, a weak sigh slipping past your lips. Being this close your muscles relax, your thudding heart slowing to a steady beat to match Joel’s own. “Talk to me, pretty girl.” He whispers, kissing the crown of your head as you shuffle impossibly closer.

After a long moment of silence, basking in the way his hand runs up and down your back, you finally relent. “I am so scared.” You breath, your gaze traveling to the luming walls in the near distance. “I-I know you will do anything to keep me safe but… but there is only so much you can do.” Your words sting, the hushed way you whisper them against his flannel nearly unbearable. Joel tightens his grip on your shoulders, about to deny your claim but you press forward. “Should I take the pills? Save us the trouble? But then we will have to do all… all of this all over again and I just… I don’t know if I can.”

Tears fill your vision, turning your face into his chest as you sob quietly.

“Y/n… baby girl.” He drops his knife to the ground, carding his fingers through your hair, pulling you in tighter. Almost as if he could press you into his very being, keep you there so that you never have to fret or worry again. Joel lets you cry, lets your tears soak through his shirt until there is nothing left but a few soft hiccups in your breath and your sagging against him for support.

“Look at me, peach.” His fingers sweep under your chin, lifting your face to his. Your eyes are swollen and red, your face blotchy but he cooes softly. His heart hammering against his own ribs but he can’t let you see that. Not yet. Not when there is still so much you have to face and need his strength for. “If you want to take the pills that is entirely up to you, I don’t have a say in the matter.”

“But you’re my-.”

“No. No matter what I am to you, I don’t have a right to tell you what you should or shouldn’t do with your own body. But,” He holds your stare for a moment, searching your tear stricken face. “But if you decide not to take them, you need to trust me. My scent is already marred into your skin, anyone can tell you are mine with or without being able to tell you are an Omega under neath. I’ve got you, you just need to trust in that.” Joel holds so much certainty in his words,so much need for you to trust and understand what he means, what he’s hoping to convey in the silent moments that follow.

You swallow, your throat working and Joel can’t help but to look, to see the mark that rings the side of your delicate neck. Whipping the remnants of your tears with the sleeve of your jacket you give a shallow nod, Joel had always protected you, had always made sure you were never without. Deep in your heart you knew he would hold true to his words, he would do everything in his power to keep you from falling prey to anyone else.

You just needed to trust him.

“Okay…” You breath, nodding your head as Joel does.

He leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours, sucking in a deep breath. the fire crackles and pops in the silence that follows, both of you lost in the comforting presence of the other. When Joel leans back there’s a smile playing on his lips. “You’re wrong by the way.”

“Huh?”

“Jules never shoots his gun like that. You’re thinking of Menace To Society.” Your mouth drops open, eyebrows furrowing in disbelief.

“Yes he does! When he has that guy kneeling on the floor!”

Joel laugh with a shake of his head. “Nu-uh sweetheart. You’re wrong.”

You glare up at him, and his smile broadens, “We will just have to see about that.”

Your challenge only earns you a deep chuckle, before he pulls you in, planting a soft kiss on your lips. “What do I get when I prove you wrong?” The suggestion in his words reflect in his eyes, the deep dark brown swimming with excitement. a flush works up your neck, your hand tightening on the front of his shirt. “Wouldn’t you like to know? Too bad we will never find out.” Joel lets out a little growl, squeezing your waist playfully making you squirm.

“Just you wait, little one. You’re in for it.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

Tag List: @halfburntout @scorpionsaintt

[kokoch4n3l]

'•.¸♡BUY ME THE MOON࿐ྂ SANO "MIKEY" MANJIRO x f!READER

TWO — ribbons in my hair

chapter summary: your world collides with Manjiro's in the shadows of your father's mansion in the woods, where 'innocence' meets cruelty in a dangerous dance

chapter warnings: dark content 18+, inaccurate depiction of politics and political climate, unreliable narrator(reader), corruption, objectification, threatening, loneliness, isolation, gang violence, use of weapons(guns), murder, blood and gore, slight infantilization, kissing, making out, cheating, fingering(f), mentions of masturbation

word count: 9842

masterlist | previous | chapter 3

His voice, deep and gravelly, sends shivers down your spine as it reverberates through the silence of the night. The way he says "princess" makes your heart skip a beat, a rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins. You're acutely aware of the heat emanating from his body, the scent of his cologne mingling with the smoke from the bonfire below. It's intoxicating and overwhelming, and you find yourself utterly captivated by this enigmatic man standing before you.

But even as desire flares within you, a voice in the back of your mind whispers a warning. This man, Sano Manjiro, is dangerous. You can see it in the way he carries himself, in the aura of power and authority that surrounds him like a cloak. He's not someone to be trifled with, not someone you should be getting involved with. And yet, there's a part of you that's drawn to him like a moth to a flame, unable to resist the magnetic pull of his presence. But as a cool breeze card through your hair you realize that you've been caught, not just observing the scene below, but also caught off guard by this unexpected intrusion into your secluded world. You try to summon some semblance of composure, but your heart is racing, and your mind is racing even faster, trying to come up with some explanation for why you were spying on the bonfire. "Who are you?" you manage to squeak out, your voice barely above a whisper, even though you know exactly who this man is

Sano Manjiro doesn't answer, just continues to stare at you with those intense eyes of his, as if trying to read your thoughts. You swallow hard, feeling the weight of his gaze like a physical presence pressing down on you. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he speaks, his voice low and rough, sending shivers down your spine. "What are you doing out here, princess?" Manjiro asks, his tone laced with a hint of amusement.

You bristle at the condescending nickname, but you force yourself to maintain your composure. "I could ask you the same thing," you retort, trying to inject some semblance of authority into your voice.

He smirks, a wicked gleam in his eyes. "Touché" he says, his grip on you loosening slightly. 

You take the opportunity to straighten up, pushing away from the railing and crossing your arms defensively across your chest. "So, are you going to tell me what's going on down there?" you ask, nodding towards the bonfire below. "Or am I just supposed to guess?"

He chuckles, the sound sending a strange fluttering sensation through your chest. "Let's just say it's a little... business venture" he replies cryptically, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued despite yourself. "Business venture, huh? Looks more like a midnight ritual to me," you quip, unable to resist a bit of sass.

He laughs a deep, throaty sound that sends a shiver down your spine. "Well, you're not entirely wrong," he admits, his smirk widening into a grin. "But I'm afraid that's all you're going to get out of me, princess. Some secrets are better left untold."

You straighten your shoulders, watching as his eyes scan you. He does so quickly as if to not let you know he was checking you out but you catch him anyway. "You didn't tell me what your name is and uh... How do you know today's my birthday...?"

Manjiro walks back inside, scanning the inside of your room. "I have all eyes on Japan, [y/n]. Of course, I know who you are" He picks up your Miffy plushie off your bed "I'm Sano Manjiro..."

His voice trails off as he lifts the plushie, examining it with a faint smirk playing on his lips. You watch him warily, unsure of what to make of this enigmatic man who's suddenly invaded your secluded world. His presence is both intoxicating and intimidating, a dangerous combination that sends your heart racing and your mind spinning. "Sano Manjiro" you repeat, the name rolling off your tongue, feigning disbelief 

You know him obviously but earlier you just had to pretend not to know who he was just by glancing at his face. Everyone in Japan knows him. He was the leader of Bonten, the most powerful gang in the country, a man feared and respected in equal measure. And now, he's standing in your bedroom, holding your plushie like it's the most natural thing in the world. You shake your head slightly, trying to shake off the surrealness of the situation. "What do you want?" you ask, your voice coming out sharper than you intended. 

You're not used to feeling so out of control, so vulnerable. But with Manjiro, it's like he's stripped away all your defences, leaving you exposed and powerless. Feeling like that is something you do not like because money can't fix it. Manjiro's gaze flickers up to meet yours, his eyes dark and unreadable. "I want to talk," he says simply, his voice low and gravelly. "I want to know why the president's daughter is spying on my men."

You bristle at the accusation, feeling a surge of indignation rise within you. "I wasn't spying," you protest, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "I was just... curious."

Manjiro raises an eyebrow, his expression skeptical. "Curious, huh?" he says, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Well, you certainly have a strange way of satisfying your curiosity, princess."

You flush even deeper, feeling a surge of frustration at his patronizing tone. "I'm not a child," you snap, your voice coming out sharper than you intended. "And I don't appreciate being talked down to."

Manjiro's smirk widens, a hint of challenge flashing in his eyes. "Is that so?" he says, his voice low and dangerous. "Well, forgive me for assuming. After all, you are the president's little secret, aren't you?"

You bristle at the mention of your status as the president's hidden daughter, feeling a surge of anger bubbling up inside you. "That's none of your business," you snap, your voice tinged with defiance. "And neither is what I do in my own home."

Manjiro's gaze darkens, his expression unreadable. "Everything that happens in Japan is my business," he says, his voice low and dangerous. "Including what goes on in the president's secret mansion."

You swallow hard, feeling a surge of fear coursing through your veins. You know you're outmatched, outgunned. But you refuse to let Manjiro intimidate you. You may be the president's secret daughter, but you're no pushover. Fuck, Sano Manjiro isn't supposed to know who you are. Nobody is. It's the first time in your life that someone knows who you are and it's damn scary. You don't like this at all no matter how hot Sano Manjiro is. "Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you," you say, your voice trembling slightly. "But I have nothing to say to you."

Manjiro's smirk widens into a full-blown grin, a glint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "We'll see about that," he says, his voice low and dangerous. "We'll see."

You watch as he tugs at the ears of your plushie. "You're not supposed to know who I am..." you say after a moment of silence

It's right then that his smile fades. His demeanour turns cold. Manjiro carelessly throws your plushie back on the bed and steps closer to you once again. He's close, too close in your personal space. "Your father is president now, [y/n]."

His words hang heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the dangerous game being played. Your pulse quickens, fear and anger warring within you. "What does that have to do with me?" you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Manjiro's eyes narrow, his gaze piercing through you. "It means you're a valuable asset," he replies, his tone icy. "And in my world, valuable assets are either protected or exploited."

You feel a chill run down your spine at his words. The reality of your situation crashes down on you, the weight of your father's position and the danger it brings now painfully clear. It's only about 12:35 am, 35 minutes since your father became president and this hot motherfucker is already threatening you. "are you threatening me?" you ask him

Perhaps the rush of emotions you had earlier quickly faded after realizing that this situation is something that you shouldn't be in no matter how much you fantasize about it— no matter how much you've romanticized Sano Manjiro. Earlier when he had you pressed against the dark railing of your balcony, you were no better than those girls online fantasizing about Bonten and the rest of its top executives. But perhaps you were the lucky one to be able to see Sano Manjiro's face in person since there is not one picture of him online. Manjiro's gaze hardens, his eyes narrowing as he studies you. "Call it what you will," he says, his voice cold and indifferent. "But remember this, [y/n]. You may be the president's secret daughter, but you're not untouchable. You're not invincible. And if you think you can hide away in your little mansion and pretend the world doesn't exist, you're sorely mistaken."

His words cut through you like a knife, a harsh reminder of the harsh reality you've been trying so hard to ignore. You may have grown up sheltered and pampered, but you're not naive. You know the world is a cruel and unforgiving place, especially for someone like you, someone caught in the crosshairs of power and politics. "I've invested a lot of money in your father," he says "I know you're so clearly Saimori's favourite which is why he'll probably continue to let you off the hook but now that's he's president I don't want any kind of slip-ups from you. Stay hidden just like you have before"

"I know that already" You mutter

You're infuriated by him. You don't like the way Manjiro is treating you. It's not the usual admiration or jealousy you're used to by your peers at university. You don't like that he's not kissing the damn ground you're walking on or that he's not seething in jealousy at your perfect appearance. You hate it and you want Sano Manjiro so fucking bad but he's not reacting to you in the way you want him to or in the ways you're used to. Why the hell is he treating you the same way as Kaya?

Like a stain?

A mistake.

You completely change your tone. "You have nothing to worry about, Mr. Sano," You say formally and cross your arms over your chest 

Manjiro's expression remains impassive, his eyes boring into yours with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. "Is that so, princess?" he says, his voice laced with a hint of skepticism.

You nod, trying to keep your voice steady despite the racing of your heart. "Yes," you reply, your tone firm and unwavering. "I assure you, I have no intention of causing any trouble for you or your... business ventures."

Manjiro studies you for a long moment, as if trying to gauge the sincerity of your words. Finally, he nods, a hint of approval flickering in his eyes. "Good," he says, his tone softer now, almost... gentle. "Because if you did, well..." He trails off, leaving the threat unspoken but hanging heavy in the air between you.

You swallow hard, feeling a knot of fear tightening in your chest. You may have put on a brave front, but deep down, you know you're no match for someone like Sano Manjiro. He's dangerous, powerful, and utterly unpredictable. And now, you're caught in his web, trapped between your father's position and Manjiro's influence, with no way out. But despite the fear and uncertainty swirling inside you, there's also a strange sense of... excitement. You may not like the way Manjiro is treating you, but there's no denying the magnetic pull he exerts, the intoxicating allure of danger and power. You may be sheltered and naive, but you're not blind. You can see the appeal of someone like Sano Manjiro, someone who defies convention and rules with an iron fist. And deep down, beneath the layers of fear and anger, there's a part of you that's drawn to him like a moth to a flame, unable to resist the pull of his dark charisma.

But for now, you push those thoughts aside, focusing instead on the task at hand. "If there's nothing else, Mr. Sano, I think it's best if you leave," you say, your voice steady despite the turmoil raging inside you.

Manjiro nods, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before he turns and heads for the door. "Until next time, princess," he says, his voice a low murmur that sends a shiver down your spine.

And with that, he's gone, leaving you alone in the darkness of your room, your heart still racing and your mind spinning with a thousand questions. What does Manjiro want from you? And more importantly, what are you going to do about it?

One thing is for sure though, another item has just been added to your shopping cart. 

When you woke up the next morning the living room is filled with multiple gift boxes no doubt sent by your father. But it's one that catches your eye. The rest of the boxes are all wrapped in pink wrapping paper with bows but one small box is wrapped in black wrapping paper. You pick that one up first and unwrap it. It's a Vivienne Westwood box. You open the box and find the exact necklace you had been looking at last night, the same that lays idly in your cart because you didn't have enough energy to get up last night and get your father's credit card. It's the Valentina Orb pendant with gold hardware. The red gem in the center glimmers back at you. There is a note in the box too. You unfold it and read:

Happy Birthday Princess —SM

Sano Manjiro's initials are at the end of the note. A surge of conflicting emotions washes over you as you hold the necklace in your hands, the glint of the red gem catching the light. You're both touched and infuriated by the gesture. On one hand, it's a beautiful gift, something you've been eyeing for weeks now. On the other hand, it feels like a reminder of last night, of the encounter with Sano Manjiro that left you feeling shaken and vulnerable.

You toss the note aside, unable to bear the sight of Manjiro's initials staring back at you. Instead, you focus on the necklace, running your fingers over the smooth metal and admiring the intricate design. It's exquisite, a perfect reflection of your Manjiro's wealth and your own desire for luxury.

But as you slip the necklace around your neck, fastening the clasp with trembling fingers, you can't shake the feeling of unease that lingers in the pit of your stomach. What does this gift mean? Is it a peace offering from Manjiro, a way to smooth over the tension between you? Or is it something more sinister,?

You push those thoughts aside, forcing yourself to focus on the present moment. You have enough on your plate as it is, what with your father's newfound presidency and the looming threat of Manjiro's influence. You can't afford to dwell on what-ifs and maybes, not when there are more pressing matters at hand. With a sigh, you turn your attention to the other gifts scattered around the room. There are designer handbags, expensive perfumes, and even a few pieces of jewelry, all carefully selected by your father to celebrate your birthday. But despite the extravagance of the gifts, there's a hollow emptiness that lingers in the air, a reminder of the loneliness that pervades your secluded existence.

You're celebrating your birthday all alone while your father is out their celebrating his win. 

It's fine though. 

You just turned 20, it's no big deal— not as big as a deal of becoming president. 

It's fine that you're alone. You were an introvert anyway and you liked being by yourself. As you survey the lavish gifts spread out before you, a sense of resignation washes over you. It's not the first time you've spent your birthday alone, and it likely won't be the last. You've grown accustomed to the solitude, to the emptiness that pervades your secluded existence.

But even as you try to convince yourself that you're fine with being alone, a small part of you can't help but feel a pang of sadness. Birthdays are supposed to be a time for celebration, a time to be surrounded by loved ones and showered with affection. Yet here you are, surrounded by material possessions but devoid of any real connection.

You shake your head, banishing those thoughts from your mind. You refuse to let yourself dwell on the loneliness, not when there are more important things to focus on. With a sigh, you begin to tidy up the gifts, carefully placing each one back into its respective box. You may be alone on your birthday, but that doesn't mean you can't enjoy the gifts your father has bestowed upon you. After all, you deserve to treat yourself every now and then, even if it's just to fill the void left by the absence of genuine companionship.

But there was no time for self-pity right now. The next time your dad came to see you, you had to talk to him about Sano Manjiro and why the hell he knows you exist. He's not supposed to know. No one is. Your father would no doubt be too busy to answer the phone so all you can do is wait.

It was okay though. Nothing would happen to you. Your father won't let that happen and you know it. 

For now, you smile to yourself as you plan your weekly getaway.

You were about 13 the first time you left the mansion for a purpose that wasn't to go to school. The guards, although fucking huge and strong, were stupid as hell and didn't notice you leaving on your bicycle. You live there and know the locations of all the cameras and the blindspots, of course, you know how to get away undetected.  

Every Saturday night, you'd slip out through the back garden, where the dense foliage provided perfect cover, and make your way to the small town beyond the mansion's sprawling grounds.

Today was no different. You pull on a black hoodie, baggy blue jean shorts, and white Nike Air Force 1s, the casual attire starkly contrasting to the designer outfits and silk pyjamas that filled your wardrobe. With your phone and some cash tucked into your pocket, you head for the garden. The cool nighttime breeze fills your lungs as you navigate the familiar path, your heart beating with the thrill of escape. The road to the town from the mansion is empty. No one has any reason to come down that way. Both sides of the road are filled with dense forest with the occasional street light. You have your own little light on the front of your bike too so you're not too afraid of the dark. You were grown up and the dark was the last thing you had to fear. 

As you ride your bike, the wind whips through your hair and you smile. You've been doing this for years and it was fun(sometimes you wonder how much more fun these bike rides would be if you had a few friends with you like in those coming-of-age movies). The thought of friends joining you on these clandestine escapades lingers in your mind as you pedal harder, the landscape blurring past. It's a fantasy you've entertained more than once, imagining a group of friends laughing and riding alongside you, sharing stories and secrets under the cover of night. But for now, the solitude of your solitary journey brings a strange sense of freedom and peace.

Tonight for some odd reason, the town seems... empty. Of course, it usually was empty anyway considering there was nothing else ahead for miles except for forestry but, it was a little odd. It was never this quiet all the years you had been coming here. Oh well, you shrug and get off your bike, locking it into the bike rack you usually do. You push the odd sense of emptiness from your mind and continue towards your destination—a small, noodle place that stays open late. It's your usual spot, a place where you can blend in with the locals and enjoy a moment of normalcy away from the confines of the mansion. As you walk down the familiar streets, the quietness feels almost eerie, but you convince yourself it's just your imagination playing tricks on you.

You approach the noodle place, the warm, savoury scent wafting out as you push open the door. The small bell above the entrance chimes, a familiar sound that always makes you feel welcomed. Despite the unusual quietness outside, the inside of the noodle shop feels just as cozy as always. You slide into your usual booth by the window, glancing around to see only a few patrons scattered throughout the restaurant. As you wait for your order, you watch the steam rise from the bowls of ramen being served to other customers, the sound of quiet chatter and clinking utensils creating a comforting ambiance. You pull out your phone, absentmindedly scrolling through social media while your mind drifts back to the events of the previous night. Manjiro's unexpected presence, his cryptic warnings, and that beautiful necklace that sits on your clavicle all swirl in your thoughts.

It's about at that time the door chimes again and this time a bigger group enters. You pull the hood of your hoodie over your head and slouch a little in the booth just in case it is some of your father's men. You don't turn around to look at the group nor do you make it seem you're out of place. You simply sit there silently. It wasn't like they'd recognize you without your fancy pyjamas or clothing anyway. The group behind you laughs loudly, acting rowdy as all men do. 

A bowl of hot ramen is placed in front of you, snapping you back to the present. You thank the server and dig in, savouring the rich flavours and the simple pleasure of a meal enjoyed in peace. The warmth of the broth and the familiarity of the routine help ease some of the tension that's been building up inside you.

As you finish eating it is then you hear a familiar voice that makes the whole group shut up. "his first daughter is a snake, the illegitimate one is nothing more than a spoiled puppy"

Oh. 

Oh shit.

It wasn't your father's stupid 2-brain-celled men. It was Sano-fucking-Manjiro and his men. That should be nothing to worry about but there is this voice deep in your head telling you that you couldn't get caught by him— that it would prove to be fatal. You pull out a black medical mask you always kept in your pocket for emergencies and put it on then tug your hood further down. You had to be careful and be quick. "ready for the bill, dear?" the owner asks as you walk over with the empty bowl

You nod as the elderly woman takes the bowl and sets it aside for the men washing the dishes. You silently pull out the wad of cash in your pocket flick through it for the amount and hand it over to her. Just as she's about put it in the register, yelling from Sano Manjiro's group starts and you hear a click, that makes the entire group and noodle shop go silent. Hesitantly, you turn your head in the direction of the sound and that's when you see a gun pressed to Sano Manjiro's temple. 

Your breath catches in your throat, and you instinctively shrink back, trying to make yourself as inconspicuous as possible. The tension in the room is palpable, the air heavy with the threat of violence. Your heart races as you watch the scene unfold, your mind whirring with a mixture of fear and disbelief. Manjiro's reaction is unsettlingly calm. His expression remains neutral, his eyes cold and calculating as he stares down the barrel of the gun. The man holding the weapon is clearly nervous, his hand trembling slightly as he tries to maintain his composure. 

At that moment, a fight breaks out. The owner grabs you by the arm and pulls you behind the counter, shielding you with her frail body. You try to protest but she just hushes you and holds you tighter. The man washing the dishes also ducks as the first bullet goes off. You're shaking and ears are ringing at the loud bangs. You huddle behind the counter, your heart pounding in your chest as the chaos unfolds around you. The sound of gunfire reverberates through the small noodle shop, mingling with the shouts and screams of the patrons. You can feel the elderly woman's grip tighten on your arm. Peeking out from behind the counter, you see Manjiro moving with a predatory grace, effortlessly disarming his attackers and turning the gun on them. The man who had dared to threaten him is now at his mercy, barely alive on the floor as Manjiro towers over him, his expression as cold and unyielding as ever. "Pathetic," Manjiro spits, his voice low and menacing. "You think you can challenge me and live to tell the tale?"

The man's response is a choked sob, his bravado completely shattered. The shop has blood splattered on the walls and multiple men either dead or barely alive. The other paterons in the shop are under tables, trembling, fearing for their lives. The atmosphere in the noodle shop is charged with fear and tension. You remain crouched behind the counter, the elderly woman still clutching your arm, her frail body shielding you from the violence erupting around you. Your mind races, grappling with the sudden turn of events and the realization that you are in the presence of Sano Manjiro, a man far more dangerous than you had ever imagined.

Manjiro's men quickly subdue the rest of the attackers, efficiently neutralizing the threat. The sound of gunfire ceases, replaced by the heavy breathing and muffled cries of the wounded. You feel a surge of relief as the immediate danger passes, but it is quickly replaced by a new wave of anxiety. You know you need to escape before Manjiro notices you, but the fear of drawing attention to yourself keeps you rooted to the spot. "alright boys, round up the witnesses" A smooth deep voice says

You put a hand over your mouth to keep yourself from letting out a sound. shit. "oh c'mon stop crying" Another voice says "we ain't gon' kill ya'. Just gonna have a nice talk"

Your heart races as you hear the voices of Manjiro's men, their footsteps approaching the counter where you're hiding. The elderly woman holding you trembles, her grip tightening as she whispers, "Stay still, dear. Don't move."

Panic surges through you, but you force yourself to stay calm. You can hear the men moving through the shop, pulling out the other patrons from their hiding spots. Your mind races, trying to think of a way out. The door to the kitchen is just a few feet away—if you can make it there, you might have a chance to slip out the back and escape. Just as you're about to make your move, the counter above you is abruptly yanked away, and you're staring up into the cold, dark eyes of one of Manjiro's men. He grabs your arm, yanking you to your feet and pulling you out from behind the counter. The elderly woman cries out in protest, but she's quickly silenced by a sharp glare. "Look what we have here," the man holding you says, a smirk playing on his lips. "A little mouse hiding in the shadows."

You struggle against his grip, but it's no use. He's too strong, and your attempts to break free only make him tighten his hold. The man has slightly feminine feautres downturned droopy lilac eyes and his hair is fashioned in a striped pattern dyed in the colors of purple and blond tied back in a ponytail. He tugs at the medical mask and rips it off your face. "huh. Everyone else here is old except you" The man murmurs then calls out "Mikey, what do we do with the depressed university student"

Manjiro was probably behind you. He hasn't seen your face yet. Maybe you had a chance to get out of this without him seeing you. "Wakasa, that's my depressed university student" Manjiro says in a nonchalant tone

Or not...

You freeze at the sound of Manjiro's voice, your heart pounding in your chest as you slowly turn to face him. His gaze pierces through you, cold and calculating, as if he can see right through the facade you've carefully constructed. Panic surges through you, but you force yourself to maintain a calm exterior, refusing to let him see how rattled you truly are. Wakasa releases his grip on you, allowing you to step away from him. You keep your eyes trained on the floor, avoiding Manjiro's penetrating gaze as you silently curse yourself for getting caught in this mess. You should have been more careful, more vigilant. Oh you shouldn't have even come here tonight, birthday or not. Shit shit shit. Manjiro grabs the front of your hoodie and you stumble forward, a choked gasp leaving your lips. "you guys finish up here" Manjiro says to his men and literally drags you out the shop by the front of your hoodie

Your heart races as Manjiro pulls you out of the shop, his grip firm and unyielding. You stumble forward, struggling to keep up with his long strides as he leads you away from the chaos behind you. The cool night air hits you like a slap in the face, a sharp contrast to the stifling atmosphere inside the noodle shop. You can feel Manjiro's eyes boring into you, his gaze burning into your skin as he assesses you with a scrutiny that sends shivers down your spine.

You're acutely aware of the danger you're in, the precariousness of your situation now that you're alone with Manjiro. But even as fear courses through your veins, there's also a strange sense of exhilaration, a rush of adrenaline that heightens your senses and sharpens your awareness. You know you should be terrified of him, should be doing everything in your power to escape his grasp. And yet, there's a part of you that's drawn to him like a moth to a flame, unable to resist the magnetic pull of his presence. As Manjiro leads you further away from the noodle shop, you can't help but wonder what he plans to do with you. Is he going to interrogate you, threaten you, or worse? The possibilities swirl in your mind, each one more terrifying than the last. But as you steal a glance at his profile, you can't help but notice the faintest hint of amusement playing at the corners of his lips, as if he's enjoying the thrill of the chase.

You push those thoughts aside, forcing yourself to focus on the present moment. You need to stay alert, stay composed, if you have any hope of getting out of this alive. With a steadying breath, you square your shoulders and meet Manjiro's gaze head-on, refusing to show any sign of weakness. He leads you to a sleek black car parked just down the street, opening the door and gesturing for you to get in. You hesitate for a moment, the instinct to run screaming at the back of your mind. But you know there's no escaping Manjiro, not now. With a resigned sigh, you slide into the backseat of the car, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach as Manjiro settles in beside you. "what are you wearing?" Manjiro asks after a moment of silence

There's no one else in car. Just the both of them. The windows are tinted so no one can look in. "clothes" you manage to say, sucking in uneven breaths as your heart refuses to calm itself

Honestly speaking, it made sense for Manjiro to be asking that question. Manjiro leans over and pulls your hood off your head. "[y/n]" he murmurs your name, the look on his face cold "what the hell are you doing out here?"

"I... I just needed some fresh air," you stammer, your voice barely above a whisper. "I... I didn't cause any trouble... I was having noodles"

Manjiro's eyes bore into yours, his expression unreadable. "Do you think I believe that?" he asks, his voice low and dangerous. "You know the risks, and yet you still choose to sneak out in the dead of night."

You swallow hard, trying to steady your breathing so you don't lash out at him. Sano Manjiro is not one of your father's guards so you can't yell at him as you please. "I do this every week... I... Nothing has ever happened and it's literally a 20-minute bike ride away from the mansion!"

Manjiro's gaze does not soften at all neither does his grip get any looser. "Your father's position makes you a target," he says, his tone still commanding, making you feel sick "Do you have any idea what could happen to you if the wrong people find out who you are?"

"I know," you admit, your voice barely a whisper. "But no one has. Not here. I've been coming here since I was 13!"

Manjiro releases your arm and leans back, his eyes never leaving yours. "Freedom comes with a price," he says after a moment of silence "And right now, you can't afford it."

You feel a surge of frustration and defiance rising within you. "What about you?" you retort, your voice gaining strength. "You talk about risks and dangers, but you live your life on your own terms. Why can't I?"

Manjiro's expression hardens again, a flicker of something dark and intense passing through his eyes. "Because I'm not the president's daughter and I am supposed to exist unlike you"

The silence that follows is heavy and oppressive, the weight of his words settling over you like a shroud. ow ow ow. Your chest hurts. You don't like the way he's talking to you or the way he's looking at you. It's not fucking fair that he's being like this when you couldn't stop thinking about him all day. Why is he being so mean? Suddenly you're 5 years old again at your mother's funeral, silently listening to 10-year-old Kaya spew bullshit to you, saying things like "You should've died with her", "Daddy would have been happier if you were gone too", "my mommy says you're a mistake... not supposed to exist"

You look right at Manjiro with eyes full of anger. "You don't get to talk to me like that"

Manjiro's eyes narrow at your defiant words, the tension between you crackling like a live wire. The car's confined space feels even smaller as you both lock eyes, each refusing to back down. He lets out a low, humourless chuckle, leaning in closer until his face is just inches from yours. "Oh, I don't?" he asks, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Then who does? Your father? Those guards who barely pay attention to what you're doing? You think you're invincible because you've gotten away with it so far. But you're playing a dangerous game, [Y/N]."

You're about to open your mouth to say something but he cuts you off once again. "I know more about the world you live in than you ever will. Your father's position, the enemies he has, the threats you face—none of it is a game. You think sneaking out and playing at being normal is harmless, but it's not. It's reckless. And if someone were to figure out just who you are, do you have any idea the chaos it would cause?" Manjiro hisses angrily "All of my fucking money, all my years of hard work down to fucking waste

You bristle at his words, the unfairness of your situation crashing down on you. All Sano Manjiro cares about is his stupid ass money— the money he invested into the election. Nothing else. You still have no idea just why your father would even tell this man the location of the mansion and why he became 'business partners' with him when there were so many other rich men in Japan. Your father was a very charismatic man so he wouldn't have any trouble getting investors. So why the hell did it have to be Sano-fucking-Manjiro? Oh man did you have a bone to pick with your father. "So what am I supposed to do?" you snap. "Stay locked up in that mansion forever? Pretend like I don't exist? Is that what you want?"

Without missing a beat he responds "Yes"

Your heart aches even more. The word hangs heavy in the air, its simplicity carrying the weight of your predicament. You clench your fists, feeling the sting of tears behind your eyes but refusing to let them fall. You won't give Manjiro the satisfaction of seeing you break. "Why are you even here?" you demand, your voice trembling with a mixture of anger and frustration. "Why do you care what I do? You said it yourself, I'm just a spoiled puppy."

Manjiro's expression shifts slightly, a flicker of something almost imperceptible passing through his eyes before his steely mask is back in place. He leans back in the seat, his gaze never wavering from yours. "I care because your father and I have an understanding," he says finally, his voice calmer but no less authoritative. "Your safety is part of that understanding. If anything happens to you or people find out you exist, it creates problems neither of us can afford."

You scoff, shaking your head in disbelief. "So it's all just business to you," you mutter, more to yourself than to him. "Just another transaction."

"Everything in our world is a transaction," Manjiro replies coldly. "But don't mistake that for a lack of concern. Your father's enemies would use you against him in a heartbeat. Keeping you safe isn't just about protecting his interests—it's about protecting and hiding you from becoming a pawn in a much larger game."

Your chest tightens with the weight of Manjiro's words. You want to scream at him, to tell him how unfair this all is, but deep down, you know he's right. The reality of your situation, the fragility of your existence, is something you can't ignore. You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. "Fine," you say finally, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'll stay out of trouble. Just take me back home."

Manjiro studies you for a moment, his gaze searching your face as if assessing your sincerity. You expect him to call one of his men over to drive but instead, he says "You're upset..."

"I'm not" You deny, just wanting this to be over already

You press yourself against the door, wanting to make some space between you and Manjiro and look out the window. You don't like how this night turned out. Moving your gaze from the window to your sneakers, your eye twitches at the sight of blood splattered on the white material, probably from stepping in a puddle of it inside the shop. If you weren't annoyed and irritated before you sure are now. You look back outside the window. As the car remains still, the quiet between you and Manjiro grows tense. He lets out a sigh, perhaps sensing your genuine frustration and sorrow. His demeanour shifts slightly, the hard edges of his persona softening just a touch. He moves in closer, sitting on the center seat. "hey, look at me" Manjiro doesn't give you much of a choice as he grabs your chin and makes you face him and his grip, while firm, isn't as rough as before. 

You find yourself staring into his eyes, those dark pools that hold so many secrets and dangers. His expression is softer now, almost gentle, and for a brief moment, you glimpse the boy behind the ruthless facade. His dark eyes trail down your face to your neck and settle on the piece of jewelry you're wearing. Very briefly, a look of surprise flashes over his face. It was like he hadn't expected you to wear the necklace he gifted. There's a flicker of something in his eyes, a hint of confusion or perhaps curiosity before his features once again settle into their usual mask of composure. You feel a surge of self-consciousness under his scrutiny. "I didn't mean to make you so upset, sweet girl" He murmurs and suddenly he's too close

Manjiro's hand slides up from your chin to your cheek, cradling it in the way you've been wanting him to from the beginning. Finally, finally, he's looking at you the way you want and not the way Kaya and her mother look at you. Oh, fucking god did it feel good. It felt so good you were tearing up. Tears blur your vision, and you hate how vulnerable you feel in this moment. But there's something in Manjiro's touch, something almost tender that makes it impossible to pull away. His thumb gently brushes away a stray tear, his touch surprisingly soothing. "so how'd you get all the way here, hm?" Manjiro asks, his voice low but no longer sounding cold

Your hands tremble in your lap. Finally, Manjiro is talking to you the way you wanted him to. "I-I rode my bike..." you say and Manjiro smiles

"oh you did?" he murmurs as his thumb rubs against your cheekbone "The mansion is far from here. How long did it take you?"

"20 minutes"

He's speaking to you in this oddly condescending tone but for some reason, it sounds nice. You like it. It's 100 times better than the way he was speaking to you earlier. "20 minutes? oh poor baby, hm. You rode your little bike this far just to get away from that house..." Manjiro whispers and now you can feel his breath against your cheek

Your lips quiver. He's close, really close. "were you lonely?" He asks softly "You didn't want to spend your birthday locked away, did you?"

Your lips quiver. He's close, really close. "Were you lonely?" he asks softly. "You didn't want to spend your birthday locked away, did you?"

The words sting because they're true. You swallow hard, trying to find your voice. "No... I didn't," you admit, your voice barely a whisper.

Manjiro's hand moves to the back of your head, fingers tangling gently in your hair. "You should've told me," he says, his breath warm against your skin. "I would have come to get you."

You close your eyes, leaning into his touch. "I don't have your number" 

He chuckles and the sound makes your stomach drop in the same way it would when a rollercoaster goes down. "I put my number on the back of the note, sweet girl. You didn't see it?"

Your eyes widen in realization. The note—how had you missed it? You shake your head, feeling foolish and more vulnerable than ever. "I-I didn't... I didn't see it," you stammer, the words tumbling out in a rush.

Manjiro's chuckle is soft, almost affectionate, as he continues to cradle your head in his hand. "Well, now you know," he says, his voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. "Next time, you can just call me."

The promise in his words, the implication of a next time, fills you with a strange mix of relief and anticipation. You nod, unable to find the words to respond. Manjiro's touch, his presence, is overwhelming in the best way possible. He's no longer being mean, no longer talking to you in the same way Kaya and your stepmother do and you feel so much better. "I'm sorry for getting mad at you, sweet girl... I had no reason to talk to you like that. You just came here to eat" Manjiro whispers, his voice sounding so soft it tugs at your heart "Instead you saw some... unsavoury things... I'm sorry"

He was talking about the people that died in the shop. You hadn't even paid attention or even remembered what just happened in the shop. You had been too focused on him after all. "let me make it up to you, hm" And before you know it, his lips are on yours

You've been kissed before— many times actually. Mostly in middle and high school though. A very memorable kiss was in 10th grade when you kissed the crush of a girl that was trying to spread rumours about you. The kiss itself hadn't been memorable but the look on the girl's face after you pulled away from her crush was priceless. This kiss, however, is memorable. The way Manjiro cradles your face like you're something precious, how his lips lock with yours— so memorable. 

The kiss is electrifying, sending shivers down your spine and igniting a fire in your veins. It's a slow burn, filled with a tenderness you hadn't expected from someone like Sano Manjiro. His lips move against yours with a skill that speaks of experience, but there's something gentle and tentative about the way he kisses you as if he's afraid of breaking you. You respond eagerly, your hands reaching up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as you deepen the kiss.

Time seems to stand still as you lose yourself in the sensation of his lips on yours, the world outside the car fading into insignificance. All that matters is this moment. It feels like a lifetime since you've felt this close to someone, this seen and understood. And as the kiss deepens, the heat between you building with each passing second, you realize that you never want it to end.

With absolute ease, Manjiro slides his tongue into your mouth and you think your head might explode or already did. His tongue slides against your and you practically fall slack against the car door you were leaning up against. Manjiro tilted his head and deepened the kiss further, licking into your mouth, groaning in satisfaction.

Manjiro's mouth captured your full lower lip, sucking it into his mouth before his teeth sunk into the bruised pink flesh. The sting of the bite drew out a delicious whimper from you but Manjrio wasn't satisfied with stopping there. He pressed on immediately, licking into your mouth with filthy flicks of his tongue, devouring any stray sound that escaped. So caught up in the feeling of his mouth against yours, you hadn't even realized Manjiro had unbuttoned your jean shorts and was already slipping his hand instead after undoing the zipper. Due to your shorts being a bit baggy, he has a lot more room to move his hand around than expected. You don't even realize that Manjir's got his hand down your shorts till his fingers brush against your pubic bone. "h-hm?" your eyes fly open and he pulls away slightly from you

"shhh~" Manjiro simply hushes, pressing a kiss to your cheek, and his middle finger brushes against your clit making your hips jolt "Lemme make it up to you baby"

His fingers dip lower to your already wet hole and you feel his lips stretch into a smile against your cheek. Oh, this was slightly embarrassing you had gotten wet from simply making out with him. His finger dips slightly into your entrance before coming back up to your clit and coating the sensitive bud in your slick. You whimper weakly, eyes falling shut as he rubs little figure 8s on your little nub. "w-wait Manjiro" you choke out weakly

"yeah, baby?" He asks, lips still pressed against your cheek

A single finger dips inside your hole and you gasp at the feeling, hand scrambling to hold onto something— anything. It's right when your hands grasp at his biceps you remember "I-I'm a virgin"

To your surprise, Manjiro laughs softly. "Hmm? No wonder you got wet so easy baby"

A second finger slides in and your eyes fall shut again. You're gasping, whimpering and moaning out his name and Manjiro just watches all your expressions intently as his fingers work in your hole and on your clit. You've never felt this way before. Yes, you have touched yourself but it has never felt as good as this. When you touch yourself your simple goal is getting off and having that release you need. Manjiro on the other hand, was going slow compared to your fast needy movements when you're on your own. His fingers feel different too. They're thicker and longer than yours and for some reason, the roughness of his skin feels so good too. "Ma-Manjiro" you whine softly

Oh, you wanted to beg him to go faster but you have a feeling he wouldn't even if you did. "feels s'good doesn't it?" Manjiro murmurs as you open your eyes, meeting his

You nod frantically, crushing the material of his suit jacket in your hands. "f-feels g-good" 

He's stroking your clit so slowly it's almost torturous but it feels so good that your eyes roll back. "Oh it does feel good" Manjiro croons, his fingers inside you curling upwards and your hips jolt again

You're breathing heavily, muscles tensing and relaxing constantly as he's slowly bringing you over to the edge. "Manjiro~" you whimper out again, unable to stay still

Your head tips back against the glass and Manjiro takes that chance to press kisses along the column of your throat. You sigh, whimpering out his name over and over like a prayer. You've never been touched like this before and you sure as hell haven't touched yourself in the same way he is right now. A coil tightens in your lower belly as after what feels like hours you're brought to the edge. "'Jiro... 'm gon' cum" You whine, thighs trembling and eyes shutting tight

"go ahead, sweet girl," Manjiro says "Come for me"

Your back arches against the door of the car and a choked sob leaves your lips. Your vision turns a blinding white as his fingers keep stroking your clit, drawing out your orgasm till you're gasping and whimpering from the slight pricks of pain that start. Manjiro is murmuring encouraging words into your ears, guiding you through the fog in your head as you come down from your orgasm. "there we go... felt good, didn't it?"

You don't answer as he slides his hand out of your shorts. You're breathing shaky and heavy as he's zipping your shorts back up and buttoning it up again. He pulls away from you and reaches over to the front and gets a tissue, wiping off his fingers. You're still shaking, thighs twitching. First time in your life you've come so damn hard. "hey, you 'kay?" Manjiro asks as he fixes your hair

It feels like your skin is overheating now that you've come down from the afterglow of your orgasm. You nod weakly, unable to really get your words out. His hands come up to run through your hair, fixes the messy strands before they come down to the end of your hoodie. "let's get this off" he says "you're burning up"

You shake your head no. "'m not wearing anything under it"

Manjiro's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, his lips curling into a mischievous grin. "Is that so?" he says, his voice low and teasing. "Well, isn't that interesting?"

Heat rushes to your cheeks, embarrassed by your own admission, but the look in Manjiro's eyes makes it hard to feel anything but anticipation. There's a playful glint in his gaze, a hint of something more that sends a shiver down your spine. You feel even hotter now. "don't worry, sweet girl, we'll turn on the air conditioner and take you home... It's been a long night"

You exhale, feeling a mix of relief and disappointment at his words. Manjiro's hands remain steady at the hem of your hoodie, his touch grounding you in the present moment. "You sure you don't want to take it off?" he murmurs, his voice still carrying that playful tone.

You shake your head again, feeling a strange blend of shyness and defiance. "Not here," you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Manjiro chuckles softly, his fingers gently trailing up your sides, sending a shiver through your body. "Alright, alright," he concedes, his touch lingering for a moment longer before he finally pulls away. "We'll save that for another time, then."

He tugs you into his side and then pulls out his phone. You don't see who he texts but as soon as he does, the car doors unlock and two men enter, both sitting in the front seats. Instinctively you press yourself into his side, wanting to hide away from them. "Sanzu turn the air conditioner on" Manjiro's voice turns back to a cold tone as the pink-haired man in the driver seat starts the car

"will do boss, little princess probably needs it" The man, Sanzu, says and your face heats up even more

Manjiro's arm tightens around you protectively, a silent assurance that you're safe with him. The car's engine hums to life, and soon the cool air of the air conditioner washes over you, providing a much-needed relief from the heat that had built up in the cramped backseat. You glance up at Manjiro, his expression now a mask of calm and control as he gives instructions to the men in the front. His demeanour has shifted, the playful teasing replaced by a serious, almost authoritative air. It's a reminder of the world he operates in, a world you're only just beginning to understand.

You feel exhausted, so sleepy after Manjiro touched you like that. Your eyes fall shut and before you know it, you fall asleep.

There are a lot of things you want to ask Manjiro, a lot of which you know you will get no answers to. However, there is one thing you have figured out just from his obvious distaste of your outfit.

He likes you better with ribbons in your hair.

[END SCENE]

"she doesn't know..." Kakucho says lowly as he looks back at your sleeping form in Manjiro's arms in the back seat

Manjiro furrows his brows. "about what?"

"About you and Kaya being engaged," Kakucho continues, his voice quiet but firm. 

He glances at Manjiro, the weight of the words hanging heavily in the air. Manjiro's expression hardens for a moment, his jaw tightening. He looks down at you, peaceful and oblivious in your sleep, nestled against him. The contrast between the tenderness he feels for you and the cold reality of his arranged engagement to Kaya is stark. He hadn't wanted to think about it, hadn't wanted to acknowledge the complications that come with his world, but now it's staring him in the face. "She doesn't need to know," Manjiro says finally, his voice monotonous as usual "Not yet, anyway."

"and here I thought you couldn't get any worse" Sanzu says with a grin as he turns onto the secluded road up to the mansion "You're engaged to her step sister and you just got frisky with her in the backseat"

Manjiro’s eyes narrow, but he doesn’t respond immediately to Sanzu’s taunt. Instead, he gently strokes your hair, his expression a look of contemplation. "It's complicated," he finally mutters, more to himself than to anyone else.

"Complicated?" Sanzu snorts, glancing at him in the rearview mirror. "That's one way to put it."

Kakucho sighs, adjusting his seat to get a better view of both Manjiro and you. "are you using her to get a better hold on Saimori?" He asks

"that would make sense if you were" Sanzu continues Kakucho's words "fuck around with his favourite daughter. It's pretty obvious why he got you engaged to Kaya and not... this spoiled puppy"

Manjiro's grip on you tightens momentarily, his jaw clenched as he listens to Sanzu's words. The accusation hangs heavy in the air, and for a moment, it feels like the weight of the world is pressing down on him. He knows the truth behind his engagement to Kaya, the political motivations, the alliances it's meant to secure. "Partially" Manjiro confirms "It's partially that"

Sanzu lets out a low whistle, shaking his head in disbelief. "Well, ain't that just peachy," he mutters, his tone laced with sarcasm "My mass murderer childhood friend with the country under his boot likes a spoiled puppy"

Manjiro's gaze flickers with a hint of irritation at Sanzu's words, but he remains composed, his focus shifting back to the road ahead. "Watch your mouth, Sanzu," he warns, his voice low and dangerous. "You know what happens to those who disrespect me."

Sanzu chuckles, unfazed by the threat. "Relax, boss," he says, his tone light despite the tension in the air. "I'm just calling it like I see it."

Kakucho leans forward, his expression serious. "Mikey, you know this can't end well," he says, his voice a low murmur.

Manjiro simply holds you tighter to his side. "We're playing a bigger game now. We've got the president under our thumb and she's just extra precaution. A safety net. If Shinichi Saimori tries something, things will fall on his daughter that isn't supposed to exist"

Manjiro's words hang heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the ruthless world he navigates. The implications of his actions, the weight of his choices, are a burden he carries with a stoic resolve. As the car winds its way up the secluded road to the mansion, the silence between them is thick with unspoken tension. Kakucho watches Manjiro closely, concern etched into his features. "You're playing a dangerous game, Mikey," he says, his voice filled with a mix of caution and apprehension. "Bringing her into this... it could end badly."

Manjiro's jaw tightens, his gaze fixed ahead as he steels himself against the doubts that threaten to surface. "I know what I'm doing, Kakucho," he replies, his tone clipped and unwavering. "I can handle it."

Of course, they believe him. It's been years. They know Manjiro could handle it.

You, he knows what to do with, he's still yet to decide how to handle his hoe of a fiancé.

notes: oof well... I hope this chapter was better than the first. I was fighting for my life writing that sad excuse of a smut scene 😭

I hope you enjoyed tho.

check here for progress on the next chapter. Also if the content warnings for the next chapter are already up on the series masterlist, that means that chapter has already been written. Dates that I plan to post chapters are on the series masterlist as well.

likes, asks, comments and reblogs are appreciated ♡

taglist: @m-ilkiee @reiners-milkbiddies @short-cxke @brisssaaa009 @tenjikusstuff4

@asirensrage @merrymerrykiss @fushiquro @iwasei @kiwixpi @mysouleaten @luminouslaybyrinth @maraya-007 @dolfiins-art @yuyu12mm @kodzubaby @zantetsuwu @hayatisyourlife @bachiraslvr @bontensbabygirl

[xyl4-4444]

𝕲𝕺𝕽𝕰𝕿𝕺𝕭𝕰𝕽 2022, Day 16 | Today's prompt I got : 𝕸𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖘 𝖆𝖋𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖆 𝖐𝖎𝖑𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖘𝖕𝖗𝖊𝖊

Another goretober piece, that is also a MadCom fanart

What a suprise

BONUS!!!

old doodlepage of Hank from a year ago I'll never finish

[flatstarcarcosa]

our love grows flowers in the winter

Summary: Three months ago, Slade died. Four days ago, be barged back into the house like a whirlwind, and for a moment all was right with the world. Reese has discovered strangers can wear familiar faces, and to top it off: There is another Slade greeting them over morning coffee and acting as if nothing is wrong.

How can there be two Slades, and what do either of them want?

(part one) (part two) (part three) (fin)

Ship: wilson&wilson Warnings: violence, swearing, slight depictions of gore? there’s a big fight is all im sayin. slade kicks his own ass, finally, his life long dream.  sidenote: i decided to structure this piece similar to the comic. there’s titles between switches scenes, and the timeline isn’t entirely linear. i think it’s still simple enough to follow, but it was a neat exercise.

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

'Penitence' Bellevue Hospital, NYC Several Days Later

Slade’s arms are out at his sides in a show of defenselessness, shoulders slumped and head down. The gun sits on the side of the bed between them as Adeline regards him with hard eyes.

“If you still want to kill me, now’s the time,” he says. He’s said it before, of course. Over and over amidst their many fights. She knows he’s meant it every time, but this time it’s different. It’s not the adamant way he normally says it, it doesn’t carry the meaning of ‘I still love you, I’m sorry’, it doesn’t have the same undertones that show he’s only saying it to keep her attention for a bit longer. This time, he is all but begging her to go through with it.   This is not the man she married.  This is not even the man she divorced.

 The man in front of her is a broken shell, a cracking husk at risk of getting blown away by the next winter breeze. The man in front of her is hardly a man at all. She takes the gun, holding onto the feeling of the weight in her hand, and considers it for a long moment.

“No,” she finally says, dropping the weapon. “There’s no point. You’re no more Slade Wilson than the man that murdered my husband. You’re not the Slade Wilson I’ve loved, and hated for so long. You’re nothing now.”  He doesn’t respond. He lowers his arms and still doesn’t look at her, and it fills her with equal parts anger and pity. Anger, that he dares to ask one final favor from her, to give him one more thing after all she’s given.

Pity that he’s been reduced to this. He used to be strong, he used to be kind, he used to be a good man. Flawed, yes, but good nonetheless. What stands before her is none of those things but it is taking the form of something vaguely familiar, yet alien all the same.  “You want me to get closure?” she asks. “There is no closure, not with you, Slade. Not with any of us, and not for any of us. If I have to live with it, if Joey does, then so do you. So that’s what you can do for me. You can fucking live with it and let it eat you alive. It’s time for you feel the consequences of your own actions for once. Get out.”  Slade turns, padding across the room and pausing with his hand on the door.  “I really did love you,” he says softly.  “I know,” she whispers. “That’s the problem, you poison everything you love. Then it withers, and it dies.”  The door is silent when it swings shut behind him.  If Rose thought she was angry when this whole mess began, it is nothing compared to the feeling she is currently experiencing. Her footsteps echo throughout the stairwell as she takes them two at a time. The door to the parking garage bounces against the wall as she barrels through it. She finds Slade loading a duffel bag into the trunk of a sedan. When he turns, looking at her in surprise, she hauls off and punches him in the throat.  “You're not even trying,” she yells. Slade hacks out a cough and massages his neck. “You let me do that.”  “Why are you here?” he asks, hoarsely.  “To ask you what the fuck you think you're doing,” she snaps.  “What does it look like?”  “It looks like you're being a limp dicked coward and running away, again,” she snarls. Slade makes eye contact with her, and the blank look in his eye is almost enough to put out the fire in her chest.  “Why would I stay after this?” he asks. His voice is low, soft, and heavy with grief. “There's nothing here now, I made sure of that, didn't I?”  “So you're just going to wallow in your own fucking bullshit?” she asks, clenching her fists by her side. “I thought the whole point of you going back to Vermont was to stop running! To...to plant roots, or whatever bullshit you kept telling us!”  Slade slams the trunk shut and slams his fists again the metal.  “Those roots just got ripped up and burnt to the ground,” he yells. “I may not have started the fire but I still caused it! Hosun is dead, Barry is dead, Adeline is going to have a crippled arm the rest of her life, and Reese--!”  He stops mid sentence and makes no show to stem the tears.   “I'm not doing this for me,” he says softly.  “...dad,” says Rose. Her anger has finally died, and although she is still trying to process everything that has happened, she sets aside the urge to blame him. She gives into the other, stronger and perhaps more basic urge of being a teenage girl that wants her father, and clings to his chest. Slade won't hug you, repeats Bill in her head, but you can hug him.  For a moment, he does nothing but stand there as she cries into his shirt.  Finally, he returns the gesture, squeezing her like she is a buoy in a storm.  “I'm so sorry,” he whispers into her hair. Before she can respond, the moment is interrupted by the sound of a voice over the intercom.  “Wilson family, please report to the ICU,” says the disembodied voice. “Repeat, Wilson family to the ICU.”

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

'Your Return' At the Same Time Reese wakes up to the feeling of being choked. There is something blocking their airway, and they gag as they attempt to push whatever is in front of them away. Someone grabs their hands and pushes them back down as they make shushing noises in their ear. …Slade?  They want to open their eyes, but their body seems content to fight against the signals they send.  “Easy now, love,” says a soft, accented voice. “You weren't supposed to wake up until they got this tube out, it's almost over.”  “B...Bill?” they finally rattle once their mouth and throat are blessedly empty.  “The one and only, my dear,” he says. He brushes fingers through their hair. “Glad to see you back with the living.”  “Slade?” they ask. The word sears their raw throat, and it does not take much for Reese to figure out they have clearly been intubated. Their eyes begin to obey them once more, and they are pleased to find that Bill has already dimmed the lights above the bed. A team of nurses crowd the room, all of them talking among themselves as they poke and prod at Reese and the machines they're hooked up to.  “He's...” Bill trails off and closes his eyes. They do not need more of an answer. They know him too well.  Slade's probably already on a plane bound for Africa, where he'll hole up in his old ranch and proceed to annoy wildlife until an animal finally kills him and leaves him to bake in the desert sun.  Reese's eyes fill with tears that back up into their sinuses and begin dripping down their irritated throat. A nurse fetches a cup of water and a straw as they begin coughing.  “Can you breathe all right?” asks the nurse. Reese takes a small sip of water and manages to swallow half of it before their stomach protests violently against the intake of fluid.  Slade and Rose bust into the room just in time to watch them vomit into a basin. Long, silent seconds stretch out into minutes.  The nurses continue to do their jobs and one of them bothers to take Slade aside and fill him in on their condition. Reese notice the way Bill shifts, moving to sit more on the bed next to them and act as a barrier between them and Slade. They understand why is he angry and distrusting of his old friend, and they do not blame him for it.  Regardless, they want more than anything for him to move. “But are they going to be okay?” asks Rose. She is standing a step behind Slade, close enough to be part of the conversation and distanced enough to know she is not the intended target of it. The nurse takes a deep breath.  “The doctor will be here in the morning to do another evaluation,” she says. She speaks with a practiced, but no less believable ease that tells Slade this is not the first time she's had this discussion. “There was a lot of damage and a lot of blood loss. I don't know how the shrapnel from the bullet missed anything important, but it did. They're going to have an even more sensitive digestive system than they did before, and we had to take out a few things in their abdomen they shouldn't even miss, and recovery is not going to be quick or easy, but yes. I think physically they'll be all right, eventually. It's going to take time, and a lot of rest.”  “And therapy,” Rose adds. The words are barely out of her mouth when she realizes how inappropriate the comment it.  Slade says nothing in response.  His arms are flat by his sides, and he is clenching and clenching his fingers repeatedly.    “Yes,” says the nurse slowly. “Physical therapy will be important to their recovery. The fact that the shrapnel from being shot didn't hit anything vital is already lucky, but that the blade only nearly snipped their spinal cord is a kind of luck we don't often see.”  Still, Slade says nothing. Whether he doesn't know what to say, or simply can't say anything at all, Rose is unsure. She looks across the room, raising an eyebrow at Wintergreen. He blinks a couple of times before holding his hands up in a shrug. He has never seen Slade look as despondent and defeated as he does in this moment. He's just been told Reese will make a full recovery, and yet you'd think it was the opposite from his demeanor. It's only Reese grunting behind him that causes Bill to turn in time to see them trying to sit from their prone position.  “Hey,” he says, standing off the bed and placing a hand on their shoulder. “Easy. You're being held together with very expensive, medical grade duct tape right now.”  “Back hurts,” they say softly.  “I imagine it does,” says the nurse. She motions for the rest of her coworkers to file out of the room as she moves to raise the bed. “But don't try and sit up on your own right now. I'm going to put in an order for some meds for you. The rest of you need to figure out who's staying and who's going: we only allow one person at a time.”  “I'm gonna check on Joey,” Rose says immediately. She gives Slade a soft pat on the arm. “Okay?”  “...yeah,” he says distractedly.  “Perhaps you should both check on Joey,” says Bill. He crosses his arms over his chest and settles a stern gaze directly on Slade. “I'm sure he'd love to see his father.”  Reese's nurse quirks an eyebrow as she realizes she is clearly interrupting something, and wisely extricates herself from the room. Slade remains silent, standing in the shadows in the corner of the room, and Bill remains planted as the only barrier between him and Reese. Behind him, they let out an annoyed sigh and roll their eyes. It takes a bit of reaching, probably more than they should be doing, to get to the water cup on the table. They empty the contents into the basin they'd thrown up into and use their knee to slide the table away from the bed before chucking the empty plastic cup at the back of Bill's head.  “What the devil--!” he turns, blinking in surprise as he looks down at the cup clattering to the floor and back up to Reese.  “Thank you,” they say. It takes work not only to speak, but to keep their tone level. If there was a ever a time where they wanted nothing more than to be non-verbal, it is now. “Please go.”  “Reese, I don't think-” starts Bill. They cut him off by sharply yelling his name. He sighs and leans down to leave a quick kiss on the top of their head. As he passes Slade on the way out, he says, “I'll be down the hall.”  It is a promise, and a threat.  Although Adeline has always been clear with how much she wants Slade dead, Bill has always seen it differently: Slade is free to live his life and make his mistakes, but he does so knowing that should he ever become too far gone, or cross one too many lines, his oldest friend will not hesitate to remove him from the equation. Slade stays silent, and is admittedly having trouble parsing how an eviler version of himself getting zapped over from a different time-line and wreaking havoc is somehow his fault. He is no closer to making it make sense when the door clicks shut behind Bill and leaves him alone with Reese. His gaze is transfixed not on them, but on the area just towards the left of them, and they tilt their head a little as they take in the sight of him.  The last they'd seen him, he was bleeding out a few feet away from them and they know that even his healing factor can't reverse blood loss from nothing. The bandages peeking out from beneath his shirt tell them he's not bounced back entirely. They also know that many people have speculated over the years that Slade has some sort of subconscious control over his healing, that he can alter it's efficacy depending on how deeply he feels about something. Bill thinks it's why his eye never healed after Adeline shot him.  Reese thinks it's why there's still red spotting the bandages now.  “Hey,” they say. With what looks like a great effort, he turns his head to face them. They wonder if he's slept at all since he came home, even as they know he hasn't. They wonder if he's eaten, even as they know he hasn't. They wonder what kind of mental gymnastics he's doing to concoct a narrative that blames himself for what happened, even as they know he doesn't have to work all that hard for it.  In his mind, it is his fault for not being there to stop it. It is his fault for dying in the first place. It is his fault, and it will always be his fault and no amount of penance will ever absolve him of it.  The whole situation has shades of their kidnapping back in Florida. He'd been so upset and angry with himself about the situation, that for a while he refused to see reason and took it as a sign he needed to leave everything the two of them had built. Back then, it honestly wasn't much. It was a small, fragile thing with no roots to keep it in place and no new growth to push it forward and it was only Reese's indignant insistence that he didn't get to walk away from it that kept it from collapsing.  That was six years ago.  What the two of them have built is much more resilient these days, and Reese has already done the work of keeping it rooted while he was dead. It's time for him to do some of the work for once, and if that means he has to feel all of the sharp edges between them, then so be it.  Wordlessly, they hold out their arms.  Slade hesitates. The urge to turn and run is coursing through him as much as anything and getting stronger with every beat of his heart. He forces himself to take the first step towards Reese. By the time he collapses onto the edge of the bed and into their waiting embrace it is as effortless as breathing. They smell like iodine and rubbing alcohol and the most basic of hospital issued soap, but they smell like home.  “Hey, little one,” he says, voice thick with emotion and soft in their ear.  “Please don't leave,” says Reese. He squeezes them as tight as he dares without hurting them and rests his forehead in the crook of their neck.  “I'm not going anywhere,” he says, and for once in his life it is not only a promise, but a full one. The day will come when it won't be, of course. The day will come when he will unlock that familiar green army crate and he will be Deathstroke once more, but for now... For now he is alive and he is home, and he is not running away from any of it, no matter how many broken and jagged pieces are inside.

[kisstheashes]

Self Preservation CH. 7: Broken Toys

Summary: Torture toys were, unfortunately, few and far between for Anti. He knew he was lucky to find one so interesting.

Content warnings: graphic depictions of torture i.e eye gore, cannibalism, body suspension

Chapter Archive + Moodboard

Tagging:: @shadowstakeall @egopocalypse @antis-loyal-puppet @fandoms-creed @atlanta-art @steffid101 @starlightxnightmare @ratatat-barakat @here-be-becquerel @superbanananinja234 @floatingspacejunkie @watermelonsinmyattic @vity-dream @cute-anxious-kitten @sylver-rhymes (if you want to be tagged notify me! I’ll gladly add you to the list!)

A/N: There are a few things with this chapter that I want to mention: 1) This is a mega chapter. Its 6,000 words long. 2) PLEASE heed the content warnings. This is the most graphic chapter yet, and there are things in here that left me uncomfortable. Okay? I hope you still enjoy my evil ways! :)

JJ walked slightly behind Jackie, shaking. The halls were dark and silent. They had no direction this time, no static guiding them. Jackie seemed confident they'd find Marvin and escape, but JJ knew otherwise. Even if they could have found the way out, that monster would not let them leave. "Trying to find Marvin is going to kill us," he signed to himself. The sound of their footsteps echoing in the corridors was going to drive JJ insane. He needed to distract himself from the new nightmare he was about to be subject to. He swallowed the lump in his throat and started whistling.

Jackie flinched when JJ started whistling. It was a familiar tune by now, and though it was off key it didn't matter. The noise was a nice distraction. Jackie intensified his red glow, mind wandering. He hadn't thought that when he first met Henrik this is how their lives would end up.

Jackie heard an angry German accent as he walked passed the side street, then some very prominent threats. "Give me your wallet or I'll kill you!"

"You are not very creative, are you? I told you I do not have any money!" the German hissed.

A robbery. Jackie didn't care that he was in his street clothes; he ran to the scene. "Hey! No one is dying!" The robber was a young guy, possibly even a teenager. He was likely not much younger than Jackie. He was shaking and had wide eyes. He held a gun aimed at the older man whose back was to Jackie. 

The teen aimed his gun at Jackie then froze, confused over something. "I-I'll kill you too! Get out of here!"

Jackie put his hands up, moving forward cautiously. "I'm not going to hurt you, kid. I don't want to hurt anyone. He said he doesn't have any money. Let him go." Jackie kept his voice low and calm.

"I know he's lying!" the kid screamed, gun shaking. 

The German huffed. "Stupid kid!" The teen started pulling the trigger. "Scheisse!" The German went for the gun, but it fired. Jackie gasped, feeling the bullet tear through his gut. 

"Fuck!" Jackie held his stomach, blood spilling through his fingers. The kid gasped and ran away with the gun, and the German ran to Jackie.

"I am a doctor, let me help!" He took a quick look at the blood pouring onto the pavement. "Will you let me take you to my home? It is closer than any hospital." Jackie flicked his eyes up to the man's face, shocked that it looked exactly like his. The German smiled wryly. "I will explain later! Let me help you now."

Jackie nodded. He didn't have a choice, did he? "Do whatever you have to, doctor."

After Jackie was stitched up and comfortable on the sofa, Henrik had properly introduced himself and explained why they had the same face. Doppelgangers existed after all. Jackie sighed and chewed on his lip. He really missed Henrik. He hoped they could get him back from Anti's corruption. He could still save his friends. He had to save his friends. He wouldn't be able to live knowing he failed them.

JJ heard Jackie take a deep breath as he continued to whistle. In any other situation, that would have been a sign of relaxation and contentedness. Jamie tugged on Jackie's sleeve. When Jackie turned towards Jamie he signed, "Can you see me?"

Jackie glowed a little brighter. "Yeah...what's up?" Jackie's speech was slow, like when he was particularly pensive.

JJ swallowed, the slight burn forever a reminder of how damaged he was. "That demon will not let us out of here. It has plans for us." He faltered, images of claws and sharp teeth invading his head. "It knows us just as well as we know ourselves. We cannot beat it." Jamie's hands shook as static tingled their skin.

There was a determined look in Jackie's eye. "We will. We have to. I won't let him win!"

Anti giggled as he glitched into the hallway, lights turning on. "You͏ ҉c͝a͏ǹ't͘ s̵ave͡ ąnyone̸, J͏a̡cki̷eboy҉ ͡Mąǹ,"́ he hissed. A deep scowl was on his face, and neon yellow eyes burned with seething hatred.

Jackie felt chills go down his spine. Those piercing yellow eyes were haunting in their abnormality. "What did you do?" Fear and anger gripped his chest, but he refused to let it show. His glow turned into a brighter, ladybug red and encircled his hands as he readied an energy blast. 

"̢Not̴h͞i҉n̕g̷ you ͏ne̛e̵d ̧t̨o wo҉rry̕ a̧b̕ou̷t ҉jus͢t̛ ��y̢et," Anti said through gritted teeth. He bared his teeth, blood residue still clinging to them. He noted his toy fleeing, and let him. He wouldn't make it out. Anti glitched within a few feet of Jackie, scowl on his face. "͜Y̕o̷u̶'re ͏w̷òŕthl͢ess, her͜o͜. ͞On̢ly̧ ҉p̸r͟ólo͞n̵g̀i͡ng͜ ͟t͡h͏e͟ ̢i̵nȩvita͢ble҉.͠..͞" His claws itched to slash through that irritating red suit. His blood would hardly show up on it.

Jackie could hear Marvin's voice in his head, telling him to wait. But Jackie had done enough waiting. He threw the energy blast that had been waiting, and it hit Anti square in his chest. The glitch stumbled and let out a growl that sounded like a broken VHS tape. A knife flew at Jackie and he jumped out of the way, nearly fast enough to look like a glitch himself. Jackie opened his palm and the light from the fluorescents flew into his hand. They were plunged them into darkness but for the bright orb in his hands, which he threw at Anti. Jackie watched his projectile graze Anti's arm as he glitched away, the glitch letting out a hiss. "Hope it burns, fucker." 

Anti laughed bitterly, glitching behind the hero. He clawed into his back, Jackie let out a gasp before turning around to block another strike. He was stupid to take the only light they had, even if it was the most effective way to hurt the glitch. Anti could see him, but he couldn't see Anti. Jackie shoved then kicked Anti as hard as he could, coming into contact with the glitch's side. Anti moved silently, leaving Jackie like a sitting duck. He grinned, taking Jackie by the throat and slamming him against the wall. Jackie's head thudded on impact and he let out a deep groan. "͜Y̧o̕u may̵ ̶b͏e ̸super͘hu҉ma҉n but̵ y҉ou͢'̕r̴e̷.̵ St̸i҉ll̛. H͞ưman̷." He slammed Jackie's head into the wall again, before glitching him into an isolated room.

Disoriented by the concussion, Jackie couldn't focus enough to hurt Anti. He could only hear that damn twisted laugh before being left alone in a cold, dark room.

Anti glitched into the middle of a dark hallway, focusing in on his toy. He was still running, trying to find a way out. Anti could almost taste his delightful fear. His toy slowed and stopped; heart palpitating, tears falling. A lazy, wide grin split Anti's face as he ran his too-long tongue across his teeth. He'd waited a very long time for this day.

Jamie didn't need to hear the static to know the virus was suddenly standing in front of him in the dark. Feeling his corrupted aura was enough. JJ shook his head, shaky hands signing, "Leave me alone." His legs were too weak for him to run anymore.

Anti stepped within inches of his toy, staccato echoes of footsteps ringing. "͘Y͠o͢u'r͠e҉ mućh ͞t́o̴o fu̶ǹ f͟or͡ ̧that̷,"͏ he purred. Memories of Dapper tied down and screaming scratched under his skin. Anti gripped his toy's arm, glitching them into a small barren room, save for a few chairs and metal trays on stands, and something in the far corner Anti was saving for later. His toy was a shaking crying mess, unable to fight as he was tied to a heavy wooden chair. He gasped for breath, and Anti felt sparks go through him as he watched Dapper panic.

The monster ran his long tongue across his teeth, feeling giddiness spark his whole body. He twirled the knife in his hands. ͘"҉Wh͡er̷ę to s͡t͏a̕r͞t,͟ h̷m҉?" It hummed, then grinned. ͞"I w͜an̵t ͡to̸ ̷se҉e̵ ̸you̷r sc̀a̸rs,͝ Daṕp̨ęr̸.͜"͟ JJ shook his head, still crying. It felt like the beginning all over again. It tilted his head, contemplative. ̧"̷I th́ink yo҉u̴ ͘kņo̧w ̢t҉h̡àt'͞ş n͘ot ̴t͜he b̵egi͏nn̨i̸ng̶.͡" Jamie looked at the demon through watery eyes, seeing Sean. "͝J͟ac͝k̷," the monster reminded him through gritted teeth. "͢I t̢o͢l̶d̀ y̶o͘u ̀ţơ c̛a̛l̡l ͡m̢ȩ J҉a͏ck.̢" Its voice held a mangled Irish accent that was too heavy to be recognizable.

Jameson had successfully finished a film that day, and his friends took him to the bar to celebrate. He smiled. It was unwise of Jameson to expect anything more formal from them. Not to say he didn't enjoy himself; the bar was always fun. Enough drinks to black out, good music, and lovely women. However, this was a newly opened bar, with an unfamiliar atmosphere. Jameson stuck close to his friends, observing the other patrons rather than getting involved. It was crowded for a new bar, though he wouldn't complain. It wasn't polite to complain when one was being paid for. 

He caught a glance of a figure on the other side of the room; a flash of pure green then nothing. Jameson frowned, wondering if the liquor was affecting him already. Perhaps it was merely a store sign from outside. It did seem oddly human, so it was likely the liquor. Jameson sat back in the booth, asking one of his friends to order him a glass of water. "Already? Come on, James, there is no way you're drunk! You've had two drinks!"

Jameson smiled wryly. "Mayhaps I am only tired. I prefer to not take the risk of a hangover either way." Two of the five of them were flushed with drink. He hoped no one would get in trouble with the law again. One of them ordered Jameson a glass of water, which eased his mind.

As he sipped the cooling drink, Jameson continued to spot green flashes around the room. He thought it curious that he did not feel faint or dizzy. No one else seemed to notice the green human-shaped flashes. "Interesting..." he murmured.

"What?" His friend shouted in his ear, much too loud. It made Jameson flinch. "It was nothing of importance," Jameson waved him off.

Another, more sober friend caught his attention. "We all are going to find women to dance with. Do you want to join us?" He'd seemed to notice how distracted Jameson was.

"I would prefer to stay here. I might take my leave early tonight. I'm quite tired." His mostly sober friend clapped him on the arm before joining everyone else to dance. Jameson sat alone in the booth, attempting to spot the green flashes again. He hadn't seen any for a few minutes. Perhaps the water was what he needed. 

A spindly figure approached the booth, clearing their throat. Jameson had hoped they weren't interested in him. "Pardon me, but yeh look familiar." The strong Irish accent surprised Jameson, though not as much as the face. A complete look alike, save for the beard and piercing green eyes. His doppelganger smiled wide- it was one of the brightest smiles Jameson had seen in a while. "Do yeh mind?" He gestured to the seats. Jameson nodded, at a loss for words. The man sat opposite of Jameson and held out his hand. "Me name's Jack."

Jameson let out a huff of a laugh. "I'm Jameson Jackson."

JJ shifted in his binds and tried to regulate his breathing. He hated that memory. He'd been so inept. To think this monster was a friend. Foolish. 

Anti smiled, shiny knife in hand. "Do y͘o͞u̢ r̕eme͡mb̀er w͠h̴a̶t҉ y̛ou so̧uņde̢d͠ ͡l͝i̴ķe, Dappe̡r?͠" He giggled and sauntered closer, placing the knife against the scar on his toy's neck. Dapper took a shaky breath, eyes sliding to the floor rather than Anti's neon yellow eyes. He scoffed. ̵"͟I͝ d͡id͟n'͝t͡ ̢th͜ink ͢so͜.̷"͘ He forced his toy to look at him again. ͏"̢I d͠o͘. ͟S̛ham̷e ͝you͘ ͡w̶er̢e so̶ án͠n̶oy̛i͝ng̢. ͏Yo̶u̸ŗ v͏o͜ic̨e ̛wàs͟ ́won̸d͠e͜r͏f͞u̸l.̵"̡̡ He grinned wide and shark-like.

JJ wished he could look away. Those neon yellow irises burned into his brain; he didn't need to look at this monster ever again. "Get away from me," JJ thought. He knew it could hear his thoughts. It always could.

It bellowed out a laugh- it was the closed thing to Sean's laugh that Jamie had heard in a long, long time. "Why͘ th̶e ̶fu͜c͞k ̡woul̸d ͘I ̀d̴o͞ ͘t͡hat̸? ͡Yo͟u̵'re͞ m͟y̶ toy҉, Dapp̧er̀.͜ ̀I̧ ͜ça͘n҉ d͟o҉ ̵w̸h͡ate̸v́e̵r t͘he̴ he͠ll͠ I̛ w͟a͏n̶t̸ ̡w͜i̴th y̛ou҉.̵"̀ The demon's voice still held that Irish accent Jamie had never heard before. It chuckled and turned away, headed for the metal trays.

"That's not your voice."

Anti stopped dead in his tracks, turning back around. He studied his toy, pensive. "͝No͝t ͞in ͘thi̴s̴ ͘body."̨ The thing fuzzed out like it was still settling into that borrowed skin. "De͞a͟r ol'̵ ̸J̨a̸ck ̛is m̵e ͟f͠a̷v͡o̡ri̷t͠e̸ ̀to̡ug̷h̶.̢" The yellow irises were fading, right eye pure black. Anti hummed, flipping the knife in its hands. "O̡u̧t̸ ͏of̶ everyth͜i̶ng ̵I͏'̧ve͡ li̵ved ̴t̀h̛roug͡h̵,̸ t͜h͝i͟s c͟ertainly i͏s͢ t͏h͝e͞ ͝m̢os̨t͠ ente͢r̵ta̵i͝ning.͢.̨."͝

Jamie let out a breath that could have been a whine. "Why...?" He couldn't form a full thought, fear and the sound of static getting in the way.

Anti giggled. "I ͏wa͞s ̧tire̢d ҉of̢ ͞s͡i̧tt̨in͠g ̷and̷ ͝doi̡ng͏ ̴not́hi͡ng͝.͡ I'̸d ̴b̴een͟ ͞q̸u͠ie̶t͝ f̵or҉ ̶f̧ar ͏to͢o ̴l͘o͝n̵g.͞ I n͏ee̸ded ̀e̡xcite̛m҉ent."̢ He paused, a scowl showing up on his face. He glitched like he was coming apart, body contorting in impossible ways. ́"̨S͟t͞uck ̴i͟ns̕id̵e ͢a b̶ody̢ I̸ ͜k̀new͜ w͝as mi̢n͞e!̷ ́He҉ ̡refu̷sed to͞ ̡gi͠v̶e̸ mè th҉e̡ ̨c̶o͞n͡t͘ro͏l͞ ̨I̵ de͏s̕e͝r̡ved͝!̸"͏ he shrieked. Faint, historic voices played inside Anti's head. A reminder of what he once was. His neck snapped to the side, the slit on his neck tearing open a little wider. Fresh blood started trickling down to his chest. ͡"́So̵ p̸o͜si͜tive ͏I ҉w̴as͠ d͢ro͠wning!͘ H̀e ̢w͠a͜s muŗd͏ȩr̀ing ̵me̸.͡ Yo̷u͡ ̕all͟ ͡we̕re̢!̛"͢ ̴ He growled, now neon green eye burning with hate as he brandished his knife. "̶I ͟nev̡er̷ a̢ske҉d҉ ͠f̵o̷r̛ ̸thìs!̵ ̡T̵hey fo̢r̕c͝ed͘ t͏h̸is ̕b̸o̧d̕y͞ on m͘e!̧" Memories of those voices kept swimming inside his head. Arrogant attitudes and anger when the thing they created betrayed them. The centuries of alternating between leaving hoards of bodies in his wake then going into hiding so they couldn't find him. He wasn't going back to their slavery. He let out a small cry of pain as he glitched hard enough to feel himself start turning inside out. He scoffed. ̸"̴Per͡f̕ect ̀op̢p̡osi̴ţe͞,"͡ ̕ he mocked. T̷hey ͏w̕a͞n͠t͘e͢d Jac͠k͠ ͝t͟o ͠k͝i҉ll̢ me̶.͡.҉ ͜ ̢ Anti growled again, static crackling through the air like fireworks. He turned his attention back to his toy, heterochromatic eyes flashing yellow, red, purple. Remnants of lives gone by. A deep snarl resided on his face as he pointed his knife at Dapper.  ͝"͝I n̛ęe͘d̢e̵d ͞y͘ou.̷ ͞Y̢o̡uŕ ͜féar ̵m̀a͢d͠e ̵me ͟s̷t͏ro͝n͏g̕er. I co̕ưld̵ st͡ąrt̛ li̢vi͏n̡g҉ ҉aga̕in! ̕T͜ak͞i̴n͠g͡ ͡w̸h̕at̕ ẃa̶s r͏ightfu̡ll̢y͡ m͘in͘e̷."̴ ̛ The epileptic glitches made it nauseating to look at him.

The only sounds following the demon's rage were JJ's heavy breathing and the deafening sound of static. JJ didn't understand. How could have his brothers been killing this demon? What was it babbling on about? "Who is they?"

Anti hissed like he'd been burned, eyes flashing pure black with green irises. "͏Eve͡nt͠uál̡ b҉o̕di̴es̶,́" he growled. Anti gripped his knife, sharp teeth bared. "̵N͢oẃ. Let̢ ͟me͞ ̕s̴ee th̸e s̢car̸s ̨I ͟m̶a͞d̵ę."́ He twisted the knife in his hands, taking hold of JJ's collared shirt. He cut through the clothing carelessly, leaving scratches and gashes in his wake.

JJ gasped every time a new cut was made. Scars would form on top of scars. "You're a monster," he thought.

A small, stuttering sound that sounded like a scoff left the demon's slit throat. "́I've bee͟n͘ ̨calle͢d͝ worse͞.̡" Every word that left that twisted mouth; every sound that left that slit throat left a panic inside JJ he couldn't quell. Memories of kind words and blinding smiles twisted within memories of betrayal and fear.

Anti finished ripping his toy's shirt to nothing, exposing his heavily scarred torso. The cloth tatters settled around Dapper's wrists and arms like another restraint. Anti stepped back, sharp teeth poking through the smirk on his face. "̵E̕vȩry҉ ͡si̸ng̨l̡e ̴on̶e..͡.l̴ef͠t҉ b̷y m̴é.̶" He grinned, those lovely memories making him crave more. His fingers tightened around the handle of his blade. Those historic memories had quieted, replaced with all of the things Anti wanted to do to his toy.

JJ hung his head, watching his blood color his skin and soak into the hem of his pants. Tears welled then fell as Jamie held back from the sobs that wanted to escape.  "Why won't you kill me?" he cried out in his thoughts.

Anti had turned back to the trays, taking something small from one and pocketing it. Jamie's heart beat faster. The glitch kicked the empty chair closer to his toy. There was a sudden lack of static, the utter silence suffocating. He situated the chair slightly adjacent to Dapper's and stayed quiet, admiring his toy's scars. Anti sat in the chair and reached out with his knife and collected a stream of blood on it, licking it off. "̛I̸'͡l͠l k͏il҉l yo̢u ẁhen̸ ̨I g̴et̶ bo͡re͠d́ ͢of ͠y̴ou͢.̴" He hummed, licking up the remnants of blood from his knife. The demon glitched, grinning wide as the slit on his neck. "̧I̕ ̢h̷a͝v͝e s͏om̕ȩ ̵ve̛ry ͏special t̸h̢in͝g̷ş p͝l̸ann̷ed for͘ y̵o̵ú.,̧ ́D͟a͞p͞per͟.҉"

Jamie's lips parted in what would have been a whimper. Anti took a needle and threat out of his pocket, a static-filled chuckle escaping. "I͡f́ yo̡ư're͏ sti̷l҉l͜ i͜t w͠o͡n't hur̕t ̢s̶o̷ ̧muc͟h."͘ JJ glanced at the needle, fear in his eyes. Anti laughed and forced his toy's head up and to the side. He stabbed the needle through the lower right corner of JJ's lips. His toy tried screaming, breath coming out in short gasps. "You͢ ̡st̷il͢l͘ f͠òŗg̸e͡t̸ y͠o͝u ͢c̷a͠n't͞ sp͢e͘ak҉,̸ ̸Da͠p̀p̴e͞r,̶"̴ Anti giggled, continuing to sew JJ's lips shut.

More tears fell as the needle tore holes in his skin and forced his lips shut. He didn't ask- he didn't care why this was happening. It wanted to. It saw JJ as its toy. That was all he needed to know. It was more than he wanted to know. The pain from the needle was sharp, and the holes the glitch made burned like fresh fire as the thread ran through them. 

Anti was concentrating, silent as he recalled how to stitch from all his time in Schneeplestein's head. When he finished Anti cut the thread with his knife. The job was rough and messy, tiny blood trails settling between his toy's closed lips and down his chin. Anti smiled as he ran the tips of his fingers over the thread. "̨Mu͡t̛es ̴h̸a͘ve no r̶ea̡s͡ón to͞ ̕op͝en͜ th̛eir mo̕ut͘hs͠, do͢ ̶th̡ey̧?"҉ The demon's smile turned into a sadistic, mocking grin.

JJ hung his head as he sobbed. "Please, stop. You've taken enough from me." His hands twitched in their binds, wanting to sign.

Anti hummed and got up from his chair, tossing the needle aside. It landed somewhere close with a small dink noise. "̸No҉t ̢q̴ui҉te ͏y̴et I ͝hav̕eǹ'̧t.͜"͡ Jamie heard things being moved around on the metal trays."I͞ ̡h̀ave ͞a͞ ̶few̛ ̕ḿo̶re͡ ̡i̴de̕as,͡ ͘Dap͟p̀er.҉"̵ He heard the demon walk back to him. The chair creaked with his weight as he sat down. It started glitching with excitement, his laugh low and like a buffering video. JJ glanced at him, those heterochromatic eyes haunting. There was a black and silver tool in one of Anti's hands. JJ didn't want to know what it was for.

Anti stood, a sharp smile on his face. His body contorted in impossible ways. Excitement electrified his veins as he grabbed his toy's hair and tipped his head back. He flipped the melon baller like it was his knife, giggling. "̧Which̨ ̧one, ̀w̸h͜ich on̸e̡.̸.̡.̢" 

JJ was stone still with terror. He knew what this demon was going to do. JJ pleaded in his head, begging Anti to not do it. The thing smirked. "̷I ͠t̷hi͜n͟k͠ ͟the l͜e͏f͡t̴ on͞e͝ ͡w͘il͜l͞ ͠b̵e ̕b̸ett̡er.͠"͘

JJ tried struggling and turning his head away, but it was no use. The monster forced his eye open and slowly started taking his toy's eye.

His body strained and he struggled. Nothing Anti had done before compared to this pain. Blood streamed down his face and squirted everywhere. JJ's eye started popping out of the socket as the pain consumed him, making him sick and dizzy.

Anti bit his lip, breaking the skin and drawing a few droplets of blood to the surface. He contained himself and kept a slow pace, enjoying the sight of his toy's eye falling out of its socket. Bright blue and stark white covered in shiny red. Anti felt his borrowed heart start pounding, his hands shaking. He'd waited years for this. Everything had gotten in his way.

Blood poured down half of JJ's face and soaked the thread in his lips. His vision was flashing red and black and white. He could barely breathe and tasted copper. His body was giving out, muscles spasming and limbs going limp. His good eye was blurry with tears.

More than halfway through, Anti became impatient. His eyes were pure black and his claws were out, with sharp teeth and saliva dripping down his chin and getting lost in his beard. He snapped the rest of the nerves, feeling a severe full-body spasm go through his toy. He gouged out the eye the rest of the way, placing it in his palm. The demon dripped pink-tinted saliva from his teeth as he stared at it. The outer layer was broken in a few places, oozing the fluid inside. It was so warm yet so cold. So perfect. Anti looked into the dead iris, lost to the world. His body was pulsing with excitement and hunger. The forgotten melon baller clattered to the floor.

JJ was breathing hard through his nose, body still spasming. He could feel how empty the socket was, and it felt indescribably wrong. He couldn't see. He didn't think he wanted to see at all anymore. "Take the other one!" He screamed in his head.

The thought startled Anti out of his trance. He frowned and wiped away the saliva on his face, smearing blood instead. "͟Ẁhy̵?̶"͜ He sat in the empty chair. "̷I̕ ̡d͡o̡ǹ't ͝wan̸t ́bo̵t̡h̸."̶ Anti's voice was thick with electronics and an Irish accent, pitch shifting wildly. JJ blinked some of the tears away and watched the demon. His own eye was sitting in that clawed hand. That sick smile and pitch black eyes tormented him. "Per̵f̧ect.̵..̧" Anti breathed. His toy was perfect.

Anti's eyes dropped to the eye in his palm, excitement buzzing. "W͜atc̶h ̵me͞.͠"͢ Dapper's other eye looked as dead as the one in his hand. Anti's long tongue poked out from between his teeth and lips as he brought the eye up to it, careful of his claws. The demon licked it, a pleasured shudder going through his body as elation glitched his body. He pressed the eye to his lips, heart pounding. Anti bit the eye in half, the fluid running over his lips. He moaned as the taste exploded in his mouth, closing his eyes and tipping his head back. His skin tingled as he chewed on the half. It was soft and slightly rubbery and smooth. The eye fluid had a particular taste that Anti couldn't describe but relished in. His body glitched, exposed slit throat spasming and a trickle of blood slowly running down to his chest. He swallowed, a breathy moan leaving his lips. There was a pause as he let the taste linger in his mouth, long tongue snaking out from between parted lips. His eyes fluttered open and he smirked, popping the other half into his mouth. Eyes had always been his favorite body part. Anti licked his hand clean of blood and eye fluids, tongue wrapping around his fingers and gliding up his claws.

JJ wished he could scream. Blood still ran down his face, new blood flowing over older, sticky blood. The sounds that left that creature were disgusting and torturous. If Jamie were naive he'd wonder how it could receive pleasure from such an act. His empty socket felt foreign and full of dull, throbbing pain. Anti let the pleasure and fading taste simmer for a few more moments. He ran his tongue across his teeth, staring at his toy's exposed skin. "W͞hy ̴dídn't̛ ͏I̵ ̶try ̕you soon̛er̨..̧.?͢" he mused.

Jamie shook his head, begging the demon to stop. Anti leaned forward in his chair, propping his head up in his hand. "͜Ýo̢u҉ ̢kǹo̡w̡ ̛t̡h͞at̸ yo̸u ̢ha͡v͝e̢ no say͢,̷ ̕D҉a͜pper. ̧I'm̵ in con̨t͠r͜ol͞."͜ The thing grinned, teeth stained red. "͡Nów,͏" it chuckled, "̷sh̀oul͢d I҉ ̀uşe m͢y t̵e̛eth͝ ͏or̨ ͏ḿy͞ k̛nif̧e?"̴

JJ started sobbing again. He wanted to die. He wanted to be blind so he'd never have to see this monster's face again. He wanted to be so mutilated that Jackie would mercy kill him. "Anything. I don't care."

Anti narrowed his eyes. His toy seemed to forget he could hear every passing thought. "̡Y͟o͘u ru̶in m͟y ͏f̡ưn wi͞th͠ ̵yo͝ur ̶si͝lly̸ ̀f̸uc͘k͢i̵n͟g ͝d̀esi͡r̶e̕s. I'̴m̡ ̴f͜or̕ce̛d ͟t͘o͠ g̵o͘ ͟s̀o͜f͏t ҉o̶n you͘," Anti sneered, a low ringing noise filling the space. There was a moment where everything was still, then an utterly feral sound left Anti as he lunged for JJ, teeth sinking into skin and tearing off a chunk of his arm. A harsh, long breath left Jamie as his lips fought to be free of the thread. His binds disappeared and JJ found himself on the ground, the sound of splitting wood in the background. Anti was on top of him, choking him. JJ didn't have the strength to fight back. "Fucki̡ng͘ ̶p̨a̷th͜e͟t̡ic ͢c͟r̡ea̛t̢u҉r͘e!̨" it screamed.

Jamie didn't have a choice but to look at the thing. His eyes were pure black except for the neon green irises, brighter than ever. His ears were pointed, and its mouth stretched wider than should have been possible, sharp teeth dripping with blood. Up this close, the neck wound was disgustingly deep, varying shades of red and brown and black, the last few drops of dead blood pooling into the torn skin. Jamie could feel the claws around his neck as he suffocated, creating new wounds. The demon snarled like a rabid animal, too-wide mouth in an awful twisted scowl. "I ̢c̸ou͜l̢d̵ l̡èa͠v̡e ͜y̸ou͢ ̶to r̢o͡t͏!" ́ His voice was too high; an ear-splitting shriek that made JJ feel like his ears were bleeding. ͠"Bu̷t̨ you ̛wan̷t m̸e̵ ͜t̨o!̷ A͡nd w̕hy̧ ̴sh̕o͜u͜ld�� ̸I ͡do ̧àny͞t͘h̢iǹg͢ y̧o̡u want͏?͟ Y̵òu̵'r͢e m͞in͘e̢!̧"͟ Claws slashed through JJ's side, making him writhe. His own blood dripped off of those inhuman teeth onto his body. ̶"̡Yo̸u'̛r͜e̶ ̛w͢e͠ak!̛"̕ The thing's voice doubled over itself, bouncing off the walls and in Jamie's head. 

JJ was shaking, unable to draw a breath as the monster's hand tightened its grip around his throat. His hands on the thing's wrists were the extent of his fighting. It leaned down, black and green eyes boring into JJ's singular blue eye. Those sharp teeth in his peripheral44d reminded Jamie of his past. "͢I ͡c̷òu̕ld le̛ave y͏ou h͟ere ҉to fu̡ck̢ing ble̢ed̶ ̷o҉ut over̢ an̨d̀ ̷ov҉ȩr ̀w͏hile ̕I ̨have ҉fun wit̷h ́y͡o̡ùŗ 'hero͜'," ̸it growled. Jamie's fear clogged his chest, and his hands fell from the monster's wrists. Jackie couldn't get hurt. Not because of him.

With a snap of his fingers and a shower of sparks, a knife appeared in Jamie's hand. He swung as hard as he could, catching Anti's shoulder and tearing through his shirt. Anti's hand disappeared from around his neck, his systems shocked. As Anti stood up, JJ's eyes locked onto the sliver of that old burn scar Marvin left years ago showed through the torn shirt. The burn scar that spanned his whole chest; ugly and deep. 

A grin split Anti's bloodstained lips as a low giggle escaped. "̶Kée̢p͠i͏nǵ s͠e͜cr͘et͏s?͜"̶ He started emitting a low hum, green and black eyes wandering to the knife in his toy's hand. That was his knife. His toy had the power to summon it from somewhere else in the room. ̕"I'ļl ̧leaŕn ͜t҉h̴e͠m ͜all̕- ͝įn ͡ti͘me.͟" His smile widened as his focus drifted to the far left corner of the room. JJ wished that monstrous smile could be wiped away forever.

The soft thud of the monster's boots filled the silence of the room. Slow, unhurried, quiet. Jamie shifted onto his side, following it's gaze to a seemingly small piece of dim metal. JJ felt himself break inside as he started sobbing. Why couldn't this be over?

Static crackled through the air surrounding Anti as his smile relaxed into something lazy. His gaze wandered over to the abandoned tools for a moment, irritated his toy claimed to want to die. So many plans ruined. But not this one. "҉N̸o..͘.t͠h̕i̢s͢ ẃi͝ll ҉ne̸v͝er gįv̵e yo͏u you̧r ̨ŗelie͝f͘,"͘ he whispered. Static danced on Anti's skin as he stopped in front of the device, admiring the sharp tips and smooth metal. He took a breath, his excitement going to his head. He grabbed the ends and pulled them towards his toy, the old gears protesting in the pulley above.

Chains clinked and clattered as they moved through some sort of system. Jamie's heart stopped when he saw the devil walking towards him, pulling something with extraneously large ends. He knew now that if he went blind the only thing he'd see for the rest of his days would be who Jamie could only assume was the devil himself. It stopped close enough that JJ could only see it's black, scuffed boots in front of him. It knelt down, sharp smile seeming to have become sharper. "́Oh, ͝n̵o͘...̛I'̛m n̛ót th͜e̷ de̷vil̸,͜ D͡a̷pp̧er," it breathed, smile widening and eyes brightening. "T̸hȩy'̶re͝ ̵m̵u̶ch ̶w͡ors͡e̵ thąņ m̕e҉.̡" 

It grabbed Jamie by his neck, forcing him up onto his weak legs. He tried to cower and run as he saw what was in the thing's opposite hand, dropping the stolen knife in his panic. Large, shiny hooks. Meat hooks, if Jamie wasn't mistaken. His arm was grabbed by the monster's other hand, claws cutting into the soft flesh. A feral growl left it. "You͢'re͢ ̛n̡ot ̕ǵo̢in̶g͠ ąny͘w̕h́er͘e̷."̸ It forced JJ closer to it- so close he could smell how foul the thing was. It tightened its grip on Jamie's neck until he couldn't breathe at all. JJ fought as hard as he could, but it was of no use. He felt himself weakening until he couldn't fight anymore. Silent sobs left him as he accepted his fate. 

Anti chuckled, watching his toy's defiance die in front of him. He shoved his toy in front of the hooks, facing away from them. Anti took only a moment to admire the hooks again before stabbing one into his toy's right shoulder blade. Dapper spasmed and a long wheeze left him as the hand around his throat disappeared. Anti stabbed the second hook into Dapper's left shoulder blade, quiet as he shoved it deep enough. He adjusted the other side, working quickly before his toy could try running off again. When both hooks were deep enough, Anti took a moment to admire the blood running down his toy's back before ripping the remains of Dapper's shirt from his wrists. Anti took an ice pick from the trays and walked back over to the left corner, pulling on the chain.

JJ felt the hooks in his back tugging, then gasped as he felt the muscles in his back ripping open even more. He panicked when his feet started raising up, and he couldn't touch the floor. He would have gasped if he could, feeling his shoulders tear open more and blood run down his back as his whole weight was put on the hooks. Jamie stayed stock still, terrified that if he moved his whole back would come apart. He breathed in short bursts, his chest feeling like it had closed on itself. He tried to raise his arms to help himself but moving them only dug the hooks deeper into him, tearing farther into his muscle. Jamie sobbed with abandon, knowing he would die here.

Anti stabbed the ice pick into the wall, forcing the chain pulley to stop where it was- leaving Dapper hanging halfway to the ceiling. He ran his tongue across his teeth, letting out a low breathy moan as he circled his toy from below. "̶Your ne̷w̸ pu͜p͢p̵et s͠t͡ri͡n̨g̵s lơo͟k ͜g̸o̶o͘d͝ ǫń y҉ou." He smirked, tracing his claws down his arm. This body proved to be...reactive. 

Anti chuckled as the low hum in the room became louder and resonated in JJ's bones. Static lined his wounds, pushing on wounds that tried to close. JJ fought his body's instinct to writhe with the pain, feeling the hooks tear farther into his muscles and skin. His mouth strained against the stitches holding it closed. His empty socket filled with static that was painful and meaningless. Jamie's world darkened and swam; objects doubling up and fizzing out of existence. JJ didn't understand how he wasn't dying.

Anti stood still as he watched his toy's body fight the pain. Anti's claws absently raked through the air as time warped around them. The first instance he'd warped time it was painful and taxing. His host hadn't been able to withstand the altered state of reality and collapsed into itself. This one could. Because unlike others, this body was his. This body was meant for him. That ungrateful shit who inhabited it before was an impostor. Sean never realized what this body could do. How powerful it is. How it hummed with energy meant for Anti. How Sean took that energy and made a fucking career out of what was never his! He was always meant to lose. He could not keep fighting in a body who's every particle rejected him. Anti scowled. That damned doctor had nearly gotten his way. Anti snarled below the sound of the hum. That near success was the only reason he kept Schneeplestein alive. His skill was too valuable to lose.

Time jerked to a halt, then seconds started ticking forward again. JJ breathed heavily through his nose, again forcing himself to go against his instinct to curl up on himself. Blood still dripped from his body. His head felt fuzzy from the pain. His...his back. Something wasn't right. The hooks weren't moving much anymore. It felt like the hooks had made a home in his body. JJ heard the thud of footsteps, seeing it stop a few feet from where he was hanging. The monster studied him like he was prey. 

Anti smiled wide, giddy. The skin and muscles on his toy's back had fused onto the hooks, making sure he wouldn't go anywhere unless he was ripped off by someone else. He admired his work for a few moments, seeing how the skin clung to the hooks like they were meant to be there. He hummed, picking his knife up off of the ground. He glared at his toy as his thoughts moved to the last person in his way. "St͢ày̨ ̕p̵u̢t ̵wh͠i̢le͢ I̷ ͜k̀il̕l you̢r ̷h͜ér̕o,"́ it spat.

"What did you do?" JJ cried in his head. Nothing felt right. These wounds should not be on his body. He didn't understand how he knew that- it was an instinct embedded in his body. 

"̴Yòųr҉ "h̶er̕o" ̵h͝a͟s̢n'͜t h͏a͜d ̷t͢ime t̶o ̢r̶un.͢"͏ Anti cleaned his knife on his torn shirt. His toy would understand. Eventually. Not that it mattered. That damned hero would still be dead.