#the one on the left is that person i painted and drew before when i had artblock

[dunmeshistash]

Ryoko Kui Exhibition & ''Delicious in Dungeon'' Exhibition

"Delicious in Dungeon" Artwork

Cover illustration draft, vol. 1

Since this was the first volume, I tried out a few different drawings and had the editor and designer choose which ones they wanted, then made small adjustments. I personally liked the top-down draft, and the one of the cooking processes (back cover) the best. But looking back, I sincerely think it's good that we didn't go with those. (Kui)

Cover illustration draft, vol. 2

The format was decided for volume 1. So, volume 2 came together quickly. (Kui)

Cover illustration draft, vol. 3

I thought it might be cool to make the character Chilchuck darker in the foreground, and the background brighter! But it didn't quite work out the way I had imagined. I think it could have been a bit better. (Kui)

Cover illustration draft, vol. 4

I remember that the overall shape of volume 4 came together very quickly. The character Senshi's hands didn't fit nicely, so I moved them backwards and to the side. (Kui)

Cover illustration draft, vol. 5

I thought people might start to think "how many have I bought?" so I wanted to create a slightly different impression with this volume. I decided to put the character right in the center and try putting it together all in blue and green hues. (Kui)

Cover illustration draft, vol. 6

With the Red Dragon defeated, have we reached the halfway point in the story? With this in mind, I thought of how many volumes were left to go, and the number of characters, and decided to pair up the characters Namari and Shuroiro. In hindsight, it would have been fine to have them on one cover each. (Kui)

Cover illustration draft, vol. 7

The image is of focus lines converging on the character Izutsumi. This is the kind of cover, with upside down characters, which I've always wanted to try once(?) I submitted it as a trial, thinking that at this point the cover wouldn't dramatically influence sales. However, in the end, we decided it would be better not to have it upside down. (Kui)

Cover illustration draft, vol. 8

I tried blurring the mushrooms in the foreground, then I accidentally saved over it, and couldn't go back to the original. I remember apologizing that it was probably tacky, when I submitted it. (Kui)

Cover illustration draft, vol. 9

I don't think snake meat is marbled at all, but if it has an unfamiliar look, people might not recognize it as meat… so I made it look like beef to make it easier to understand. (Kui)

Cover illustration draft, vol. 10

I thought it might be interesting to have more than one of the main characters on the cover again, so I added the character Falin. I remember it wasn't badly received, but it still ended up just being Thistle on his own. (Kui)

Cover illustration draft, vol. 11

I wanted this cover to be covered in shiny gold. After I finished it, it didn't have enough color, so I painted the tablecloth green, and it ended up looking like Christmas colors. (Kui)

Cover illustration draft, vol. 12

Up to this point, the covers have featured one of the main characters holding cooking utensils in the foreground and a monster in the background, but I thought it might be interesting to reverse the format just before the final volume, so I drew this cover with that in mind. (Kui)

Cover illustration draft, vol. 13

volume 13 was meant to be the final one, but it was too thick to be published as a single volume, so we decided to split it into two. The question of “so, what should I draw next!?" may be at the forefront of volume 13. (Kui)

Cover illustration draft, vol. 14

I had decided that the final cover definitely needed to have everyone eating together on it, but because I was publishing two books at the same time I was pressed for time, and it was difficult to have a cover with so many characters on it. I also submitted a rough for an illustration that didn't need me to draw any crowds, but such obviously easy ideas are never adopted. (Kui)

TV anime "Delicious in Dungeon"

About the ending illustration.

I drew these based on the director's instruction "This kinds of pictures." I hardly ever have the chance to draw color illustrations, so it was a valuable experience for me. (Kui)

[Kui's commentary is from the english pamphlet]

[bettys-redwinesupernova]

CRAZY

rafe cameron x fem!reader

(mood board does NOT depict readers’ appearance !!)

SUMMARY: y/n knows exactly what makes rafe angry, and after a fight she uses it to her advantage.

based on this ask !! i hope it’s what you asked for anon, enjoy my lovely <3

(check out my other drew starkey & rafe cameron works here !!)

WARNINGS: lowkey a toxic relationship, cursing, rage has anger issues, reader is a teensy bit petty, angst but w/ a fluffy/soft ending though !! (lmk if i missed anything !!)

WORD COUNT: 1.1k

THIRD PERSON +

The fight had been bad—bad enough that Y/N had stormed out of Rafe's truck, slamming the door behind her so hard the sound echoed through the empty parking lot.

Her chest heaved with frustration, fingers trembling as she dug into her bag for her phone. She needed space. She needed air. And, most of all, she needed to get away from Rafe before she said something she couldn't take back.

Their relationship had always been intense, an unrelenting push and pull that left them both breathless. Rafe loved hard, and he fought even harder, his jealousy and temper a storm she'd learned to navigate. Most of the time, she knew how to calm him down—knew exactly what to say to keep the fire from burning too hot. But tonight? Tonight, she didn't want to be the one to fix it.

Her finger hovered over the settings on her phone, her heart racing as she tapped the switch to turn off her location. She knew it would piss him off. That was exactly why she did it.

The messages started almost immediately.

Rafe🖤: Where the fuck are you?

Rafe🖤: Turn your location back on, Y/N.

Rafe🖤: Don't do this right now.

Y/N ignored them, walking the short distance to her house. She needed a night to herself, away from his sharp words and possessive hands. By the time she locked her front door behind her, her phone had blown up with missed calls, each one filling her with a strange mix of satisfaction and guilt.

She tossed it onto the couch and sighed, running a hand through her hair. She hated fighting with him. Hated the way it drained her, leaving her restless and exhausted all at once. But at the same time, she couldn't just keep letting him get away with his controlling tendencies.

She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. A night of self-care—it was exactly what she needed.

—

Rafe was losing his mind.

He was pacing his bedroom, jaw tight, hands clenched into fists. He'd called her a dozen times, sent twice as many texts, and nothing. The read receipts taunted him. She was ignoring him on purpose.

His heart hammered in his chest, but it wasn't just anger. It was fear.

He knew Y/N, knew she was stubborn and fiery, but she wasn't reckless. She wouldn't just disappear—unless she wanted to prove a point.

"Fuck," he muttered, shoving his hands through his hair. He grabbed his keys off the nightstand and stalked out of his house. If she wasn't going to answer him, he'd go straight to where he thought she’d be.

—

Y/N had just finished painting her nails when the loud, insistent pounding on her front door made her jump.

She groaned, already knowing exactly who it was.

"Y/N. Open the goddamn door."

Rolling her eyes, she stayed where she was on the couch, letting him stew. She wasn't about to let him ruin her night of peace.

More knocking. Harder this time.

"Seriously?" she called out, still not moving. "Go home, Rafe."

"Not happening," he shot back, voice muffled but unmistakably pissed.

Y/N sighed, setting down her nail polish bottle with exaggerated patience. She padded to the door, taking her sweet time before unlocking it and swinging it open.

Rafe stood there, broad shoulders tense, blue eyes blazing with frustration. His chest was rising and falling with uneven breaths, like he'd been barely keeping himself together the whole drive over.

"You think this shit is funny?" he asked, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.

She arched a brow. "What are you talking about?"

He scoffed, shutting the door behind him. "You turned your location off, ignored my calls—what the fuck was I supposed to think, huh?"

She crossed her arms, unbothered. "That I wanted space?"

Rafe clenched his jaw, running a hand down his face. He was furious, but more than that, he was relieved. Seeing her standing there in pajamas, a face mask on, her nails half-painted—she hadn't been out doing something reckless. She hadn't been with someone else. She was just... here. Safe.

That realisation made his anger simmer just enough to be replaced with something else.

His shoulders dropped, his gaze softening ever so slightly. "You could've at least told me you were home."

Y/N sighed, some of her stubbornness fading at the exhaustion in his voice. "I just... needed a break, Rafe. From the fighting, from the way you get when you're mad." She shook her head. "I didn't want to deal with it tonight."

His lips pressed into a tight line, and for a moment, she thought he'd argue. But then he surprised her by exhaling slowly and nodding. "I get it," he muttered.

She blinked, caught off guard by his sudden agreement. "You do?"

"I don't like it," he admitted, his voice lower now. "But yeah." He ran a hand through his hair, the anger fading as something heavier took its place. "I just—I fucking hate not knowing where you are. It drives me crazy."

Y/N sighed, her frustration waning. She knew Rafe wasn't like this for no reason. He loved her, even if he didn't always know how to show it in a healthy way.

She stepped closer, hesitantly reaching out to touch his arm. "I wasn't trying to hurt you. I just... needed time to breathe."

Rafe looked down at her, his blue eyes searching hers. After a beat, he nodded again. Then, without a word, he pulled her into his arms, wrapping her up in a tight embrace.

Y/N exhaled against his chest, feeling the tension between them ease just a little. He was still possessive, still overbearing, but he was trying. And for now, that was enough.

"Can I stay?" he mumbled into her hair.

She let out a soft chuckle. "You already let yourself in, so yeah."

He huffed out a quiet laugh, his grip on her tightening. "I'll make it up to you."

Y/N pulled back slightly to look up at him. "Damn right you will."

He smirked, then pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead. "C'mon. Let's go to bed."

An hour later, they were tangled up together in her bed, limbs intertwined beneath the covers. Rafe's arms were wrapped securely around her, like he was afraid she'd disappear if he let go.

Y/N felt herself start to drift off, comforted by the steady rise and fall of his chest. Despite everything—the fights, the chaos—she knew she wouldn't trade this for anything.

Because for all his flaws, Rafe Cameron loved her in a way that no one else ever could. And if he had his way—no one else ever would.

(divider by @kodaswrld !!)

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

this was a short little one, but i’m trying to get through as many request before i go on holiday !! the ‘sports car’ drew starkey fic may be posted when i return as i’ll be taking a tumblr break for that week :)

still send in any requests, i’ll be working through my inbox until then !! some of these i’ve been writing for a couple weeks i’ve just had writers block lmao

[amysteryspot]

A Woman's Worth - Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

Summary: Anthony tries to salvage what's left of his marriage and discovers what his wife is truly worth. (Part one)

Fandom: Bridgerton (TV Show)

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Female Reader

Warnings: mentions of miscarriage, cheating and lots of angst. English is not my first language and this wasn’t proofread.

Word Count: 4648

A/N: After so long, this piece is finally here. Thanks for patiently waiting and thanks @cevansgoodgirl for the help.

There is a mix of a scene with Laurie and Amy in Little Women and another one with Benedict and Tessa (the model/painter in 02x05), just so you know.

He remembers the first time he saw her—really saw her.

The (Y/L/N)s were guests in Aubrey House, and (Y/N) was in the balcony with Benedict while both their mothers and most of their siblings were in the lawn.

Anthony is not even sure what drew his attention when he was passing by, he did not have a habit of eavesdropping, but he got himself held back when his brother commented on (Y/N)’s painting.

"I declare that's rather good." Benedict said making (Y/N) huff.

“We both know that good is not enough, Ben.” She said with a hint of sadness in her voice.

Anthony could understand what his brother was talking about. The painting was a rendition of the scene unfolding before them—their siblings playing around while their mothers watched over them. It was rather good, indeed.

"It doesn’t matter, there's no place for me to do art."

Benedict frowned. "That's quite the statement to make at twenty. If you don't think you're good enough you have plenty of time to try some more, do better." He pauses, poking her. "You say that to me all the time."

"Then perhaps inform the academy.” She says, sarcasm dripping in every word. “Although two of the founding members are women, we are still not allowed to enter the classroom. It doesn't matter how much money we do or do not have."

"At least not while clothed." He comments, making (Y/N) throw the rag she was holding at him, which Benedict swiftly catches, changing the subject. "Well, now that you’ve given up all your artistic hopes, what are you going to do with your life?”

“Polish up my other talents and be an ornament to society.”

It was as if Anthony was seeing his sister speak.

“You sound like Eloise.” Benedict took the words out of Anthony’s mouth.

“Maybe she has been rubbing up on me.” (Y/N) smiled.

“You are searching for a husband, then?” Benedict asks, helping her pack her things.

“Yes.” She replies sheepishly.

“That's where Mr Scott comes in, I suppose.”

Anthony had noticed how Mr Scott had taken an interest in (Y/N), he never thought she felt the same.

Benedict continued. “You’ll accept him if he comes down properly on one knee?”

“Most likely, yes.” She said, pausing to look ahead for a moment. “He’s rich, respectable.”

When Benedict stifles a laugh, she lightly slaps his arm and Anthony has to fight back a smile. “Don’t make fun.” (Y/N) reprimands him.

"I’m not, I’m not, I promise.” He pauses. “It does sound odd coming from you.”

"I've always known that I would marry rich. Why should I be ashamed of that?"

"There is nothing to be ashamed of, as long as you love him." Benedict answers in a more serious tone.

Once upon a time Anthony would have easily seen himself at his brother's place, talking about love, but not anymore.

"Well, I believe we have some power over who we love, it isn't something that just happens to a person." (Y/N) says, closing the trunk with her paints, pencils and brushes inside.

"I think the poets might disagree." Benedict offers softly.

"Well, I'm not a poet, I'm just a woman.” She reminds him. “And as a woman I have no way to make money, not enough to earn a living and support my family. Even if I had my own money, which I don't, it would belong to my husband the minute we were married. If we had children they would belong to him not me. They would be his property. So don't stand there and tell me that marriage isn't an economic proposition, because it is. It may not be for you but it certainly is for me."

For the first time since he stopped to hear the conversation, hiding himself between the curtains, Anthony felt like he had overstepped a boundary, so he made quick work of fleeing the scene, her words echoing inside his head.

Anthony remembers Benedict joking about how him and (Y/N) would make a good match. He listens as his brother tells him about the conversation he had with her and Anthony feigns ignorance to the subject, despite having heard the entire interaction. Benedict’s voice turns into white noise in the background as Anthony is transported back to a conversation he had with Daphne last season.

At the time he didn’t understand his sister’s words—perhaps, he never would. Daphne and (Y/N) shared the same struggles, but his sister had been set in marrying for love, (Y/N), on the other hand, had already resigned herself about having to marry for convenience.

It was then that Anthony recognized that the both of them were, indeed, a good match. (Y/N) was beautiful, well mannered, educated and very good at charming people. She came from a not very rich but respectable family. Anthony knew he was one of the most eligible bachelors of the season, despite his fame as a rake. It wouldn’t be a sacrifice to marry (Y/N), which made making the decision so much easier.

Anthony visited her the next day, explaining his proposal to her.

“You listened to us?” She blinked a couple of times, trying to digest the information.

“Yes,” he confessed, “and I’m terribly sorry for it, but we have to recognize that this might have been for the best.”

He observed as she took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling, a little frown on her face. She was beautiful this way. Even more than when she was charming half of the ton in the many social events he had seen her.

“If you don’t mind me asking, my lord, why marry now?”

Anthony sighed. “My mom has been forcing my hand since Daphne married. Even before that, if I’m being honest. It’s time to find a good wife, settle down, and fulfill my duties.”

“Don’t take my question as an offense, but why me?”

She seemed unable to quite grasp his words. Anthony wondered if she still hoped, deep down, to marry for love and that her conversation with his brother had been only a fickle attempt to protect herself.

“You’re intelligent, (Y/N),” He kneeled in front of her. “You are beautiful and your family is respectable. If you are serious about your words to my brother, we both want the same thing from such a union.” He paused. “Would it be so bad to be married to me?”

(Y/N) bit her lip and Anthony caught himself observing the action with a little more intent than he should.

“No, my lord, I believe it wouldn’t,” she said.

“Then why not make the best we can from a predicament we can’t escape?”

She averted his gaze, looking out to the balcony where her maid was sitting and reading a book, while watching over them.

Anthony took the opportunity to look at her—hair carefully brushed and pinned up, the way the light contrasted with her silhouette, making it easier to see her nose, her lips, the  curve of her neck…

“If I were to accept your proposition, would you be committed to this relationship?”

He frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“I know that for our society standards maybe that’s too much to ask, but if I can’t be loved I’d wish to at least be respected.” She looked straight into his eyes and then Anthony understood what she was asking of him.

“You have my word that once we are engaged the only woman in my life will be you.”

Anthony asked her father for permission to court her in the same day, then he got properly down on one knee a second time to ask for her hand in marriage, the two of them married within months. Benedict had been shocked by the whole ordeal, but all he cared about was seeing his brother and his friend at least a little bit happy.

The process of knowing each other had been smooth, a lot easier than what Anthony first anticipated. (Y/N) took her duties as the lady of the house seriously, making a point of listening to Violet quite often. His siblings seemed to adore her even more than they liked him, and although inexperienced, as he knew she was, (Y/N) had proved herself to be a good lover. For all of those reasons, Anthony thought that keeping his promise wouldn’t be such an impossible task.

Then he discovered that Sienna had never left town and Anthony, who always prided himself in being a man of his word, proved himself to be as bad as the rest of the men he was surrounded by.

He fell back into the sheets with Sienna, and not long after that his relationship with (Y/N) became purely a show. At first, Anthony thought his wife was oblivious to his escapades, but he had clearly underestimated (Y/N)’s intelligence.

They never shared a bedroom, but there was no disguising how his visits to her chambers happened less and less, as there was no denying the gossip of the house staff that could only lead her to his broken promises.

Anthony expected a fight, things being thrown at him, screams and hits, but they never came, and that was somewhat worse.

One night when he got home after meeting Sienna, (Y/N) was sitting in the dressing room between their chambers, knitting. She lifted her eyes from her work to bid him good night. It didn’t go unnoticed to him how her smile fell from her face as she took in his disheveled state. Anthony felt ashamed for the first time in years.

(Y/N) didn’t give him time to explain himself for being so late—maybe it was for the best because he honestly didn’t know if he could find a suitable excuse for that—she just got up, leaving her unfinished work resting in the loveseat, and marched to her room.

Anthony sighed, throwing his coat away carelessly. The force knocked out (Y/N)’s knitting to the ground and Anthony groaned before bending down to take it. He furrowed his brow when he recognized the pattern—an onesie.

Maybe Daphne was pregnant again? She would’ve told him, right? Simon would, for sure. Then it hit him. Holding the unfinished piece between his fingers, Anthony realized that that was the reason why (Y/N) had stayed awake waiting for him until that hour—she was pregnant and wanted to tell him the news. Instead of the happiness she must have expected, she only received the sight of an unfaithful husband and a broken marriage.

(Y/N) never mentioned it to him and Anthony pretended as if he didn’t know, waiting for her to make the first move, tell him at her own time. (Y/N) never said it though, but he couldn’t ignore the knowledge, and the more time he passed observing her, the more evident it became to him that his wife was, in fact, expecting their first child.

In no time she distanced herself from him and all came to the point of no return in the night where she had gone through the loss of their child alone while he was rolling in the sheets with Sienna.

Anthony tried to reach out to her, succeeding only one time, a week after that fateful night, but in the following weeks, there hadn’t been much talking between them. (Y/N) would barely answer his greetings or the occasional question he threw her way trying to start a conversation. They had a few events to attend and these were the only occasions where she would grant him more than a couple of words. Anthony knew that that was all pretend for the sake of their reputation.

She refused every attempt he made to apologize or explain himself—not that there was much to explain. He couldn’t blame her, even if he wanted her forgiveness. It was her right to hate him and not want him around after he broke his promise to her.

They had never talked about it. Not until today.

(Y/N) was holding Augie, smiling down at the baby that smiled back at her, barely blinking with a look of pure adoration in his eyes.

“This one seems really enchanted by you,” Daphne comments, caressing her son’s little fingers.

“He’s just getting used to me,” (Y/N) answered,  smiling at his sister.

“Well, it’s good training, since I guess you and Anthony will probably have one of your own soon.”

Is as if Anthony’s blood turns to ice. He looks at his wife whose expression turns into shock and then sadness in the blink of an eye. He recognizes the tears pooling in her eyes as she gives the baby back to Daphne and excuses herself, leaving the drawing room too quick not to draw attention.

He hurries back after her. Simon gives him an apologetic look to which Anthony answers with an equally sad smile. It doesn’t take him long to find her, bend down in the windowsill of one of the windows of the library, one hand covering her mouth to muffle her sobbing while the other rested on her belly.

(Y/N) doesn’t hear his approach, but when he touches her as if she was expecting him too. She jumps as far away from him as she can get as if his touch burned her.

“Don’t touch me! Don’t…” she doesn’t finish the sentence but Anthony could hear it loud and clear in his head.

Don’t touch me with the same hands you’ve touched her just a week ago.

“Okay, it’s okay,” Anthony reassures her, raising his hands so she can see them. “I won’t touch you if you don’t want me too, but I want to help you.”

“Nobody can help me,” she sobs, hands clutching tightly at her dress.

The sight breaks his heart. Anthony wants nothing more than to take her pain away and make it his, even though he is mourning the loss of their child with her. He knew her pain was fairly worse than his, she did not only lose a child but she had been losing her husband too.

“Why, Anthony? Why us? There are so many couples that don’t love each other and still have children, why can’t we?”

Anthony takes a step forward, then two, and then he’s bringing her into his arms, wrapping her tightly against his chest, his chin resting at the top of her head. She struggles against his touch a little, but she’s so worn out that it doesn’t take much for her to relax into him.

(Y/N) fists the lapels of his waistcoat, resting her forehead against his chest, letting herself cry.

“I wanted them so bad, Anthony,” she whispers between sobs, “so bad.”

Me too, he wants to answer. Me too.

They stay in the library, in silence, for a while. When (Y/N) finally stops crying, exhausted, Anthony takes her home without even saying goodbye to his family, sending a maid to let them know his wife was not feeling well.

Their relationship shifts after that day. (Y/N) appears so exhausted by the recent events that slowly, she starts to let her guard down again. Anthony is careful when dealing with her, his wife is fragile and the sadness in her runs so deep that he is always afraid to say or do something that will put her through more pain.

“You don’t have to worry so much, you know.” She says, making him look up from his papers to see her already staring back at him.

“I always worry.”

“I won’t break if we talk about it,” she guarantees. “We have to talk about it.”

Anthony is not sure if she’s talking about their baby or Sienna. Either way it wasn’t exactly a conversation he was eager to have.

“How are you?” He asks before he can contain himself. Anthony wanted to ask that for a while but never found the opportunity.

“Healing,” she answers, “or trying to.”

He nods, nervously picking at his nails.

“When did you discover?” She asks.

“The onesie.” He looks up at her.

“The onesie,” she scoffs.

“You were… waiting for me?” His question is almost inaudible, full of regret and shame, but Anthony knows that she heard him.

“Yes,” she answers, “I was.” There’s a pause, and then the blow to his face. “Obviously you were occupied with more important matters, my lord.”

“(Y/N)—”

“I know about her,” she confesses. “I’ve always known, just didn’t want to acknowledge it and have to face the fact that my husband, the one that promised to respect me, at least, had so quickly forgotten his own word.”

“It’s not your fault.” He tries to explain but it seems like (Y/N) has had enough of silence.

“Oh, I know, my lord. This is entirely your fault.” She paused. “And hers. Not that it will matter for anyone, I’ll be the one to blame, after all.”

Her words cut through him the same way they did the week after her miscarriage: it’s always the woman’s fault. Hers or Sienna’s, it didn’t matter. Anthony would never understand the full extent of the pain it was to be a woman in their society, he would never fully understand how much he put her through and yet, would never be blamed for it.

There’s no answer to her words, no explanation for his behavior or broken promises. All he can do is watch her swallow the tears that were threatening to fall and take a deep breath. Anthony opens his mouth to speak but she beats him to it.

“That night,” she says, “the night I… lost our child. You were with her.”

It wasn’t a question, but Anthony felt the need to answer it anyway, his voice low with shame.

“Yes.”

“I see,” she hums.

“If I could go back—”

“The outcome would have been the same.” She says.

“It doesn’t change the fact that I should have been there for you.”

“Yes, you should have.”

Anthony always knew that, since the moment he put foot inside their house and heard her screams, but hearing her say it had another weight.

“Are you still seeing her?” She asks, looking at him.

“No, it won’t happen again.”

(Y/N) scoffs. “Forgive me if I have trouble believing in it, my lord.”

“I know I haven’t been a good husband. God, I have been barely a good man since we married, but I promise you, I’ll learn from my mistakes and I’ll do better by you. I’ll be a better man, a better husband, one that you deserve and maybe, just maybe, I’ll get close to deserve you.”

The following days, they start to talk more during meals, and the silence that falls between them when they’re both at the drawing room—Anthony working and (Y/N) reading—is not uncomfortable anymore. Each day that passes makes Anthony believe that they can fall back into the friendship they had right after they married.

He doesn’t see Sienna again. Anthony sends her a letter telling her that they should stop seeing each other because he doesn’t want to hurt his wife anymore. Which is the truth. Every time he thinks about the last time he met Sienna, his wife’s cries of pain and sorrow plague his mind and he just can’t see himself hurting her even more than he already had without even realizing it.

Anthony watches her playing with Gregory and Hyacinth in the garden. His younger siblings are fighting for her attention but she doesn’t seem to mind, going back and forth in between the two of them with ease. Then she looks at him, a huge smile on her face that made him smile too. Her attention was quickly snatched from him to his siblings again and Anthony felt a pang of jealousy in his chest—he didn’t want to share her attention.

In the past few weeks, Anthony discovered that his wife was more than the character of the perfect wife that she played for the ton. She was very much real and very much a woman with desires and ambitions. Everything that happened between then made her more bold, she didn’t take his poor excuses anymore, she talked openly about all sorts of things and Anthony caught himself wanting to listen.

“Hum, did you finally realize that you got a diamond in your hands, then?”

Anthony turned his head to look at Benedict, who had a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

His relationship with Benedict was stranded since his brother discovered about Sienna. Anthony didn’t blame Benedict, he was friend’s with his wife since they were kids. He only had himself to blame for being so foolish.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Anthony answered, not bothering to pretend he wasn’t observing their siblings with (Y/N).

“Keep lying to yourself then,” Benedict smirked, turning away to leave.

Anthony called after him. “Will you ever forgive me?”

Benedict sighed. “I’m not the one who has to forgive you. I just expected more from my brother.”

“I know,” he agrees. Benedict makes a move to go out the door, and then comes back, pulling Anthony into a hug.

“Look, I could say a thousand things to you, but nothing will undo what’s done.” Benedict says when they part, a hand resting on Anthony’s shoulder. “Just… learn from your mistakes and do better. You’re my brother and I love you, but trust me when I say that you don't deserve (Y/N). Can you imagine what mother would have done to our father if they ever found themselves in the same situation?”

“They loved each other,” Anthony protested to prevent his mind from wandering.

“You are truly oblivious, brother of mine.” Benedict scoffed.

His brother’s word haunted him for the rest of the day and all the way back to their home. Always perceptive, his change in behavior didn’t go unnoticed by (Y/N).

“What happened,” she asked when they were alone in the dressing room.

Anthony hummed, turning around to look at her and trying not to get distracted by her beauty as she braided her own hair after taking off the jewelry.

“Nothing.”

Her reflection raises a brow at him.

“Do better,” she warns, getting up and walking up to him, face softening as she stands in front of him. “You know you can tell me anything, don’t you?”

He nods, taking one of her hands and bringing it to his face. Anthony’s eyes close.

“Is it about her?”

The question gets him off guard. His eyes open instantly to look at her and he drops (Y/N)’ hand instantly.

“No,” he answers, “no,” he adds firmly, cradling her face in between his hands. “There is no one else in my life but you. There won’t be no one else in my life but you.”

“Anthony…” She breaths, closing her eyes as her delicate hands take hold of his wrists.

He wants nothing more than to kiss her, but refrains. It’s not the time for that. They’re both healing and he doesn’t want to taint whatever it is they’re creating by getting ahead of himself. Instead, Anthony presses his lips to her hair, inhaling her scent.

“Stay with me tonight,” he pleads, not sure where the urge to stay close to her came from. Anthony expects her to put up a fight, but (Y/N) only nods, murmuring an okay, before guiding him to her room.

It’s the first time since that fateful night that the both of them sleep through it, getting up later than usual the other day.

Their first kiss after everything that threatened to push them apart for good, happens so suddenly that none of them expects it.

(Y/N) had received the news that one of her younger sisters was going to marry the man she loves, her happiness made her throw herself at him and before either of them could realize, they were kissing each other.

It was just a chaste peck on the lips at the beginning. When they realized what had just happened they parted, his wife didn’t bother to step away from him to escape his embrace. They just stared at each other, eyes flicking between their eyes and their lips and then she placed a hand at the back of his neck, bringing him close to seal their lips again.

Anthony responded in kind, his hands on her waist, traveling up her back as he tasted her. It was like he was kissing her for the first time. They were discovering each other again, learning what each other felt like.

Desperately, Anthony wanted to discover what the strange feeling at the pit of his stomach was. Since before they married (Y/N) made him feel different, something he couldn’t put a finger on. He pushed it down to the depths of his mind—the last thing he needed was feeling something other than respect and partnership for his wife.

He protested when (Y/N) parted her lips from his and it took him a second to notice Benedict standing at the door, a smirk on his lips.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, I just wanted to let you know that our mother is waiting for (Y/N) downstairs. Something about the charity?”

“Oh,” his wife exclaimed, “I had forgotten about it,” she said, wriggling herself away from his arms, making Anthony growl in frustration.

If she noticed, (Y/N) made a good job at ignoring it. The same couldn’t be said about his brother.

“I figured,” Benedict smirked.

“Not a word,” (Y/N) warned as she passed him by, slapping his arm playfully.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Anthony watched as she turned around, stealing one last glance at him before disappearing and taking his breath away with her.

“Huh,” Benedict hummed, “I see.”

Rolling his eyes, Anthony asked, “And what do you see, dear brother?”

“You love her.”

“Nonsense,” he protested, “we’re just good partners.”

“Good partners don’t kiss like that.”

The ride home was silent, but Anthony’s heart fluttered in his chest when (Y/N) searched for his hand. Could Benedict be right? Did he really fall in love with his wife? He frowned while looking out of the window of the carriage and (Y/N) might have noticed it, because she made a move to take her hand away from him. Anthony didn’t let her.

“What’s going on in your mind?”

“Something Benedict said to me.”

“If it is about the kiss, don’t mind him. It won’t happen again.”

Anthony looked at her exasperated.

“I surely hope you’re not serious about that.”

“Anthony…”

“How can I live without your kisses again is unknown to me.”

“You lived quite well without them all your life,” she smiles, shyly.

“But now that I know them, I can’t anymore.”

Painfully slowly, she moves closer, giving him the chance to meet her halfway and bring their lips together again.

It’s like a breath of fresh air on a hot summer day and Anthony can’t seem to get enough of her. They get so distracted that they don’t even realise the carriage has stopped in front of the house until the door is open.

Recomposing themselves, he observes as (Y/N) giggles at the situation and feels his heart flutter at the image.

As they prepare to retire for the night, Anthony stops for a minute before following her into her room—he has been doing that for quite a few nights.

When she notices that he hasn’t entered the bedroom, (Y/N) looks back at him with a frown.

“Anything’s wrong?”

Anthony smiles, “No, nothing’s wrong,” he answers, as she extends her hand for him to take, and they retire for the night.

[pellucid-constellations]

If It All Fell (2)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: If it all fell apart—if you forgot who you were—would you love him again? Would the bond guide you back? Azriel doesn't know if that uncertainty is one he can bear.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Angst!! (poor Az :/)

a/n: I hope you enjoyy!! :) More to come obvi <3 This is gonna be a long one.

Part 1 ♡, Part 3 ☾

Series Masterlist

~~

Did the small wooden box on the top shelf of the closet have meaning? 

Was it significant? 

From the bed centered in the middle of the room, you let your eyes take you along the delicate carvings in the wood. They looped and curved, dropping off in the pattern of a star, and then a moon, and then a misshapen cloud. 

You knocked your head to the side, ignoring the deep pain lingering there, and glanced at the empty spot on the dresser by the door. It was the exact size of the box. And the box—in its new, seemingly hidden location—looked haphazardly placed. 

Did they move it for a reason? 

Did they think you wouldn’t notice? 

Was this even your bedroom? 

You figured it must be. Clothes that looked to be your size were hanging in the closet. A vanity sat by the window with products on it that might compliment your complexion. There were paintings you found yourself enjoying hanging on the walls. 

So this must be your bedroom… but there was something missing. 

And it looked as if nothing was in the right place, but you had no frame of reference for where it was all supposed to be. 

You just knew that that wooden box didn’t belong under a knit sweater in the closet. 

The creak of the door drew your attention away from the apparent inaccuracy of the room. Two people entered, and it was a small mercy that you found some recognition in their faces. Majda and Mor slinked into the room, the latter with a sheepish, shy smile on her face, and clicked the door shut with a muted click. 

“Hi,” Mor greeted, as Majda set an absurdly large bag on the bedside table. The blonde shifted her weight between her feet. “My name is Mor. We met in the forest, do you remember?” 

Do you remember? 

It was unintentionally cruel. 

You nodded your head, not trusting your voice when it was so unfamiliar. 

Mor’s smile brightened a touch. “I was hoping you would. Although, with everything that happened I wasn’t going to put too much pressure on you.” She winked, and you were left feeling like an outsider in your own conversation. 

Majda bustled around your bed, asking permission before touching your head and your neck. You granted it to her, if only because she was the only person in the room not attempting to drive an uncomfortable conversation. Mor seemed very sweet, but she was hovering over you and glancing your way as if you were going to explode. 

Maybe you were going to explode. 

It’s not like you would know if that was a common occurrence for you. 

“I know you’ve woken up a few times since returning ho—here,” Mor quickly corrected, playing with her fingers and shifting onto her toes. “You were confused for a while before you fell back to sleep. Do you remember that?” 

Do you remember that? 

You shook your head. Majda’s hands glowed and warmed against your skull. 

Mor pursed her lips. “Hm, I suppose that’s to be expected. It was all a bit disorienting.” 

There were a few moments of silence. Mor dropped herself into the chair that had been pulled up beside the bed, fidgeting every so often. The old healer continued her assessment of you as you stared blankly out the window and tried to pretend there weren’t a pair of brown eyes burning a hole into the side of your face. You could hear footsteps beyond your door. 

They would pace one way, and then the other. 

“No change.” Majda’s voice startled you out of your stupor. She gave you kind eyes and a pat on your cheek. “This is above my abilities. I’m sorry. You are in good health, otherwise.” 

“My head,” you croaked out. Gods, how long had you been asleep? “It hurts. Hasn’t stopped.” 

The healer hummed. “I can give you some tonics, but until the source of this amnesia is sorted out, there will be no definitive fix.” 

A few glass vials clinked against the side table as Majda placed them there and slung her bag over her shoulder. She shared a few hushed words with Mor and then went to the door, swinging it wide as she stepped through it. You caught the tip of a wing in the doorframe, saw those same shadows from before curve around the hinges and pull towards you. 

They were ushered back just as quickly, and then the door shut as well, hiding the hints of your visitor. 

You hadn’t noticed you’d craned your neck to catch a glimpse until you righted it. When you heard more voices in the hall, you looked down at your fingers, blinking back tears you didn’t understand the origins of. 

“Sometimes, you like to read,” Mor said, breaking the silence. “You were in the middle of this book.” 

She placed the thick novel on the blanket beside your legs. Glancing up at Mor’s encouraging smile, you picked it up, feeling its weight in your hand instead of giving in to the one in your chest. You thumbed along the spine and then at the edges of the pages, stopping when your fingers caught on a sharp edge at the top. 

A bookmark—a place where you’d left off. You flipped it open but couldn’t follow a bit of it. 

More tears left your throat feeling thick. 

“What happens now?” you quietly asked, trying desperately not to cry in front of this woman that you didn’t know. 

“Now—” Mor began, clearing her own throat, her voice just as raw as yours. When she sat by your legs, you let some of the glossiness in your eyes show. “—we take things slow. Majda said we shouldn’t rush things until we find a source. Rhys—Rhysand… the one with the pointed ears and a pompous attitude—is in contact with other courts to try and get some help. There are other people in our Inner Circle that might be able to help as well.” 

You bit into your bottom lip until it hurt. “I’m part of this circle?” 

Mor’s smile was sad. “You are.” 

~~ 

You shifted in front of the mirror, uncomfortable despite being alone. It had been three days since you woke up, and each of those three days had been spent in your bedroom. Your bedroom, you had confirmed with Mor. 

The only two people you had been in contact with were Mor and Majda. You could hear other voices in the hall, sometimes see a shadow pass by your balcony at night, but you only ever spoke to Mor. Majda didn’t say much when she came in to check your head and drop off more vials.

“We don’t want to overwhelm you,” Mor had said, but there was something else, too. You weren’t comfortable enough to pry. She looked disappointed that you accepted her reasoning so easily. 

The three days were spent mostly alone, which you hadn’t minded, but the time spent with Mor was filled with stories about you. Where you grew up, how long you studied, all of your favorite things; she was in the business of introducing you to yourself, and she was definitely qualified for the job. 

You had asked her who she was to you, and you received a simple answer at that. 

“I’m your family,” she had said, and then she began talking about you again. 

She always got quiet when you spoke of your connection to others. 

Which was why you had suggested a lunch. 

You spent the better part of the last three days panicking, and then moping, and then aimlessly searching your bedroom for any hints of the life you led before this. All avenues either left you with a headache or emotional exhaustion. 

You remembered the three other men from that day—Rhysand, Azriel, and the one with the longer hair—Cassian, Mor had called him. You wanted to meet them properly… introduce yourself? A ridiculous notion; according to Mor, you’d known everyone for the past 300 years. 

But you didn’t know them, not really. 

And Azriel’s shadows—you wanted to see them the most. You’d been searching for the calm they offered you since the day you woke up, but couldn’t find it in their absence. 

“Are you ready?” Mor asked, a soft knock on the other side of the door. 

“I think so,” you called back. You’d grown more accustomed to the sound of your voice. It was still strange to hear the sound echo back in your head, but as long as you didn’t scream or yell, it was tolerable. 

Mor opened the door, took in your choice of clothes—a purple dress with sleeves that flowed past the wrists—and tried to hide the flutter of her lashes. 

Embarrassment immediately found you. “Was I not supposed to wear this? It was in the back of the closet so I thought—” 

“You look lovely,” Mor assured, linking your arm with hers. Touch was another thing you were growing accustomed to. It was easy with Mor. “You just haven’t worn that in a while. I was surprised to see it.” 

As she walked you down halls you had never seen before, you huffed out a dry laugh. “Well, this is the first time I’m seeing it.” 

Your joke fell flat. Mor smiled back at you, but it was the same smile you always saw. Sad, pained, bittersweet. 

“Who did you say was attending?” you asked, attempting to steer the conversation away from her sad smiles. 

“Just me, Azriel, and Cassian. There are a few more people we typically see on a daily basis, but we wanted to start out small.” 

“To not overwhelm me.” 

“Precisely.” 

Your steps were silent on the marble floor, the silk slippers you chose allowing some of the chill to seep into your toes. “So, why did they choose you?” 

Mor blinked and turned a confused expression your way. “What do you mean?” 

“Why did they choose you as the one person that speaks to me? Are you the least overwhelming of the bunch?” 

“Well that title certainly wouldn’t go to Cassian,” Mor grumbled out. She guided you to a large wooden door and offered you a shrug of her shoulders that looked far too nonchalant. “I was just the best fit for the job. I love you, but… I could handle this.” 

“Handle this? Am I really so terrible?” you asked, trying your hand at another joke. 

Mor’s smile looked more genuine this time as she shook her head. “No. No, you are absolutely wonderful. And that’s the problem.” 

You took a moment to try and decipher her words. Did you mean that much to these people? Did they care so deeply about your memories that only one person could stand to be around you now that they were gone? 

It was difficult not to fall into the immense vat of guilt you now found yourself teetering on the edge of. It was difficult to pretend Mor wasn't looking at you as if you had stolen something from her. 

That was the truth that was missing before—you would be too overwhelming to everyone else. Not the other way around.

Mor gave your hand a fond squeeze as if she could hear your thoughts, and then opened the door. The hinges squeaked and the sheer size of it caused a rather loud echo in the room, but neither of those sounds drowned out the sharp intake of breath from the dining room table. Your eyes immediately shot to the blue glow and the shadows twisting around wide wings. 

Azriel. 

He looked back at you, unblinking, mouth parted. His hair was clean cut and cared for, but something about it looked frazzled and untamed. It didn’t suit the stiffness with which he sat, nor the white-knuckled grip on his fork that he maintained. 

Black wisps slinked across the floor, stopping at your slippers and twisting around your ankles. You broke your stare from Azriel in favor of watching them swirl up your legs. True to your memory—which wasn’t a testament to much these days—their cool presence eased some of the pain in your head. 

A throat cleared. 

You snapped your head up. 

“Uh, I’m Cassian. I don’t know if you remember me from the other day—”

“I do,” you softly interrupted. 

Azriel choked out a shuddering breath. Your eyes lingered on the side of his face before returning to Cassian as he continued with, “Good. That’s good. New memories and all that. Very nice.”

“Cauldron, Cassian,” Mor admonished. “She’s not an invalid.” 

He threw his hands up in a placating gesture. “I didn’t say she was! I was being encouraging.” 

“Great, I’m sure we all feel very encouraged. Come, y/n.” 

You followed Mor blindly until a chair was pressed to your back and a plate was ushered in front of you. There were a few moments of silence, just the clinking of plates and forks, before the panic began to build in your chest. It was a familiar feeling for you, one of the only you could draw memories from. 

You should say something.

Azriel and Cassian, they were doing this for you—taking time away from whatever it was they were supposed to be doing to have a silly lunch. In a normal world, you wouldn’t need to have lunch as a way to reintroduce yourself to your family. 

Were they still your family? 

You knew nothing about them, could reciprocate nothing.

There had been no news about the witch that did this to you and no one told you if Rhysand found anyone to help. 

What if you were stuck like this? 

What if they grew tired of you wasting away in your room and forcing them into lunches and—

“That dish is your favorite.” 

Azriel’s deep voice rasped at the end of his sentence and sent every thought shooting away from your brain. You came back to present, catching yourself taking quick, shallow breaths and staring down at the table with no clear target. 

“You eat it every other week. I—We picked it up from a restaurant along the Sidra, a river in town,” Azriel explained. 

You brought your gaze up from staring a hole into the wood to find Azriel directly across from you, his posture more relaxed than before. His expression was patient, kind, and you nodded back at him. 

“Thank you,” you whispered. But that was odd—whispering during a meal. “Thank you,” you tried again, clearer this time. “I appreciate that—”

“Azriel,” he filled in, not allowing you the possibility of a mistake. “My name is Azriel.” 

You knew that. You knew all of their names as well as their faces. There were a few paintings shoved into the back of your closet that you had taken the time to study. 

Did they shove them back there on purpose? 

“It’s nice to meet you, Azriel.” 

Azriel’s jaw quivered, his lashes fluttered. 

He took a bite of salad. 

“I don’t know if you’d be interested,” Cassian began, clearing his throat again. “But we used to—well, no, we currently have a weekly arrangement where you drag me to the theater and make me watch a show and I pretend I hate it but I actually have a great time.” 

The lingering joy on his face made a small smile creep up onto your own. 

“Sound fun to you? Might be nice to get out of that room.” 

You took a deep breath, biting the inside of your cheek. This was a good sign, him wanting to spend time with you… him wanting to be in your presence and not break down into tears or anger or distaste.

“I would love to,” you said. “Although, I don’t know much about theater.” 

Cassian dropped a heavy hand on your shoulder. “Wouldn’t expect you to know much about anything, sweetheart.”

Mor snorted the water she was drinking back into her glass, you let out a surprised, scoff-like laugh, and Cassian grinned from beside you, all teeth and snark and playfulness. 

But Azriel. 

Azriel stood up, his chair screeching as it pushed out abruptly. His napkin was clenched tightly in his hand and the rigidness from before was back and in full-swing. The shadows that had stayed with you for the duration of lunch zoomed back to their master, displacing the material of your dress as they went. 

He had a bleak, hard look in his eye as he stared at no one. 

“Azriel?” you asked, and it was the first time you’d started any semblance of a conversation on your own. Even when you spoke to Mor, she was the one prompting you to speak. 

At the sound of your voice, Azriel quickly turned his gaze toward you, his eyes softening immediately. But just as quickly, his shoulders slumped, his napkin fell to the floor, and his hand came up to cover his mouth. “I—I’m incredibly sorry. I can’t do this.” 

And then he was gone.

Part 3 ☾

[dooberific]

❝ 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘰 𝘓𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘢 𝘎𝘶𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘛𝘦𝘯 𝘋𝘢𝘺𝘴 (𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘞𝘪𝘯 𝘏𝘪𝘮 𝘉𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘯 𝘖𝘯𝘦) ❞

harumasa x afab!pubsec!reader

genre: slice of life, hurt w comfort, vengeful woman meets silly man, reader is intentionally insane so get ready to cringe and die on the inside right alongside her, suggestive

summary: your heart has been broken a few too many times, and he’s broken a few too many hearts. the perfect flip side to each other’s coins, surely nothing bad could happen if you both accept silly bets.

wc: 11.2 k

I rocked my own shit w this trust me, but I was inspired by cinema. READ THE TAGS, I wrote this and made myself violently cringe a few times but you gotta see it through. Trust the process bbgs

There is a flip side to every coin, another half to every story, a perfect balance in nature between opposing forces.

On one side was him, and on the other, you. 

The bar was busy, brimming with a number of people. Business men with loosened ties enjoying a round after a long day, young women out for an evening on the town to celebrate, officers you recognized personally taking a load off their minds after a busy shift. The energy was relaxed, but maybe it was just the martini you nursed as you leaned against the bar talking.

“Trust me, there is not a single woman in this bar who would think any less of you.” Zhu Yuan slurred, stirring her own drink, a flush of red already creeping up the sides of her neck.

She was referring to the woes in which you confided with her. As your closest friend through the police academy, she had been unshakeable even as your rank advanced past her own. You had worried that things would change after your last promotion, that when you took the seat of Janus Quarter Commander of PubSec with the revelation of Bringer’s corruption that your relationship would become strained but that fear had long abated. She was just the same as ever, another loveless soul keeping you company, another person rather hopeless when it came to relationships.

She plucked the toothpick from her glass, the wooden stick garnished with olives as she pointed it at you. “What you need, is to start taking back.” 

She drew an olive off the stick with her teeth, chewing it thoughtfully. “‘s not fair, you are wayyy too good of a girl to be toyed with like this.” 

Your head hung. She was right, it really didn’t seem fair. You were successful, had a good job, and you liked to think your personality and looks weren’t half bad. But there was just something in the equation that was missing, some integral piece that left you chronically unable to keep a man for more than a week. It was nothing short of a mystery, one that slowly chipped away at your self esteem despite your best efforts.

“What do you suggest I do?” You mused, head raising as you took a sip of your drink.

Zhu Yuan shrugged, head swiveling as she surveyed the crowded bar, plucking another olive from the toothpick in her glass. She gasped as if struck with some brilliant plan, head whipping back in your direction. 

“You need to go find a guy.”

Your face instantly went stony. “I’m not following.”

“No, no, you need to go find a guy. Play with him a bit, make yourself a real dream girl in his eyes, then give him a taste of his own medicine. Drop his ass before he can even wrap his head around what happened, and leave him running for the hills.”

“That’s diabolical,” you countered, turning to lean your back against the bar so you could survey the room, glass raised back to your painted lips. 

“I love it.”

At the same bar, at the same time, sat the other side of your coin, a can of some bitter melon soda leaving a ring of condensation on the table by his elbow. He didn’t drink much, ya know “alcohol is bad when you take a lot of medication”, but he didn’t mind the social aspect of a bar scene when things seemed promising. 

There were a couple other HSO officers milling around aside from the ones he accompanied, Miyabi and Yanagi both perched at the table with him. He was hoping to get some leg up on things at the office with this little excursion, a little leverage to use on Yanagi next time she smugly refuses his time off request, but the conversation had rapidly devolved in a way that he could have done without.

“You need to be more thoughtful, Asaba.” Yanagi chided, the lens on her glasses flashing momentarily under the bar lighting as she adjusted her glasses. 

“I understand that you have personal issues you don’t like to discuss, but this serial dating thing you’re doing is starting to impact more than just yourself.”

He groaned dramatically. “C’mon Tsukishiro, I didn’t think she would show up at the office like that. I told you she was,” his finger raised circling his temple to emphasize his point, “crazy.”

Yanagi’s brow furrowed, glare deepening as she crossed her arms.

“And what about the one who staged a stake out in the parking lot in front of my car?” 

He shrugged. “She was insecure.” 

“And what, the poor girl before that was just some clinical sociopath?”

“Maybe?”

“She was the mailroom girl! She was totally normal! Asaba you can’t just blame everything on them. At some point you need to take responsibility for your part in it too. That’s why,” she pulled a folded stack of papers from her bag, tossing them on the table. 

“I won’t be accepting any of your leave requests until you can prove to me you can keep a relationship longer than a week.” 

Yanagi may as well have dropped a brick on his head from some great height from the way he reacted.

“Tsukishiro!”

“No, Asaba, I’m not backing off on this. You have to prove yourself, but I am willing to make a deal with you. If you can date a girl of my choice for ten days and she be willing to say you were nothing but an absolute peach, then I will approve you for a solid week of leave. No questions asked.”

He perked up. “No questions asked, huh? Deal.”

Yanagi grinned evilly as she turned in her seat, scanning the crowd within the bar with a thoughtful hum. There were plenty of options, both good and bad but of all those present she was drawn rather conclusively to the figure leaned against the bar, a tasteful yet flirtatiously cut dress hugging her figure perfectly as she sipped her drink. 

The Public Security Commander for the Janus Quarter? 

Yes, you would do well to make his life miserable, she thought as she pointed a manicured nail in your direction.

“I want you to go talk to her.”

His golden eyes sparkled with mischief as he rose from his seat, popping another button on his shirt as he loosened his tie.

“Bet.”

Day One - Make Him Crave You

You had somewhat unsuccessfully prowled the bar for your victim. Too many duds and married men, and you considered yourself above being a homewrecker. No need to kill someone else’s happiness, it wasn’t the respectable married folk who saw it fit to drag your heart through the mud. 

You were all too ready to give up and call it a night as you leaned against the wall. Going home and slipping off your heels and enjoying a greasy pizza on your couch was sounding much better than revenge at the moment, but it seemed fate had a different plan.

He was tall enough that he still maintained a few inches of height on you even in your heels, a fair complexion complemented with a mess of curled black hair. His face seemed familiar, though you hadn’t fully placed it in the time it took you to meet his eye and him to arrive at your side. 

You grinned over the rim of your glass. “Hi.”

He echoed your sentiment, a smile on his face as he stopped just within your personal bubble. Interested already? A good sign. Him being handsome was an added bonus, smoldering honeyed eyes warming you from the inside out. Hm, maybe too handsome.

“(y/n) (l/n).”

“Asaba Harumasa.”

Oh shit. He was an HSO executive officer, no wonder you found his face familiar, but if he knew you his face didn’t give it away.

“Cute.” You murmured, taking care to bat your lashes. 

“Thank you.”

“I meant your name.”

His brow raised, a small chuckle rumbling from his chest. “Thank you twice then.”

“Single?”

“Currently.”

“Surprising.” 

He hummed, giving you a once over. He was bold, you would give him that. “Same. Psycho?”

“Rarely.”

“Interested?”

“Maybe.”

You could practically see the thrill of the chase burning him alive, his lopsided grin relaxed even as he rubbed the back of his neck. 

“You hungry?”

“Starved.”

“Leaving?”

“With you? Only if you ask nicely.”

“Please?”

You held up a finger. “You’ve charmed me, one moment.”

You slipped past him and back to the bar, sidling up to Zhu Yuan as you passed her your glass. “Got one. Black hair, choker.” You giggled, as her head whipped over her shoulder to where you just came.

“Shit, (y/n), an HSO officer?” She threw back the rest of her drink before snatching up yours. “Good luck, girl, call me when you make it home?”

“Of course,” you bumped her with your hip as you grinned, “See you tomorrow~.”

You would admit that you had low expectations for dinner, after all, he was just some loser you met in a bar, so a sit down meal was a real treat. The conversation flowed easily, discussing work, life, things you had in common, and before you knew it you were pressed against the door of his apartment with his tongue in your mouth and his hands on your ass. 

He fumbled to get the lock undone, attention divided between the sloppy work of your lips hot against his mouth and a tiny keyhole that seemed much too difficult to overcome. The door gave way and you squeaked with surprise, as you stumbled backwards, hands stilled knotted in his hair as your back thumped against the door once more.

He laughed against your lips, the smear of your lipstick painted across his own. “Too fast?”

You nodded, your thumb brushing against his swollen lower lip. “Too fast.”

“Right…too fast,” he wasn’t listening and you supposed you weren’t either because you didn’t argue when he kissed you again, your fingers knotting into the back of his shirt. He rocked his hips against yours and you moaned against his lips, his tongue snaking into your mouth. He tasted like the gum you gave him after dinner. 

Your hands slid down to rest against his chest. Despite his lithe stature you could feel the muscles beneath his thin work shirt as you pushed him away. 

“I’ll see you around, Harumasa.” You said as you slipped past him and back into the hallway, peeking coyly over your shoulder at him. “Do yourself a favor and call me sometime.” 

You grinned as you exited back onto the street, the air crisp in your lungs like the world was congratulating you on your skill. Now it would be a waiting game, waiting on your phone to ring once he realizes you left your purse sitting on the floor of his apartment. 

You hoped he was a praying man, because he would need all the help he could get.

Day Two - Be the Cool Girl 

Your fingers flew across the keyboard as you worked on a new project submitted to your office. So far things had been quiet, but you expected that to not last much longer with how your cellphone sat perched beside you on the desk.

It rang once, twice, and you answered on the third, leaning back in your seat with a grin.

“Pray tell what I’ve done to be graced with a call from you today?” You hummed, a lock of your hair curling around your finger as he laughed on the other end of the line.

“You left your purse at my place.”

“Ohh, yeah I can’t believe I left it there.”

“I just figured you might want it back with all the cash, credit cards and those… reverb arena tickets for the New Eridu Underground Target Archery Club Finals for tonight.”

“Sounds like somebody’s been going through my bag.”

His head rolled lazily to the side where he sat at home on his couch, your bag on the coffee table. “No, you see my cat is super curious and knocked it off the counter where I put it last night and dumped it out.”

The cat, once resting quietly at his side now looked up at him as if it understood his words. He scratched its chin as it purred. 

“If you insist, but you’ll be disappointed because I’m going with someone else.”

“Not anymore you’re not. I don’t think you left your purse here on accident, if you ask me I think you subconsciously wanted to take me out again tonight.” 

Zhu Yuan would be disappointed but you were sure she would understand, it was for the greater good in the grand scheme of things after all. 

You hummed. “Alright then, mister psychic, I will see you at the street entrance at seven o’clock?”

“You got it~.”

The entrance to the Reverb Arena was busier than usual when you arrived, waving to Harumasa who already stood waiting for you, your purse in his hand. 

“Fancy meeting you here.” You called with grin, receiving your purse back as he extended it to you, his eyes trained momentarily on your shirt.

“Didn’t take you as a fan of the New Eridu Archery club.” He said as he nodded towards the graphic emblazoned across the front of your shirt. 

“I’m just fond of the Janus Quarter team.” You countered. 

“No kidding,” He fished a card from his wallet as he passed it to you. The faded blue plastic was stamped with the archery club’s insignia, the back etched with his name and member number. Looks like you would be dodging any price inflation tonight, members of the club received certain perks after all. 

 “Consider the rest of your evening on me then.” 

The arena was crowded as you had expected for the first night of the finals, but your seats were perfect despite the swell of other bodies pressing you close to his side. Part of you had thought it would be a less sought after event, but the crowd rapidly energized as the event continued to the final rounds of the night. 

You eyes trailed from the ring to your date, his eyes laser focused on the match. You almost felt a little guilty when you shook his arm.

“Haru, Haru? I’m really thirsty, could you go get me a drink?” 

He blinked down at you like he had been in a haze, eyes momentarily darting back to the ring. “Right now?”

You nodded, and he bit the inside of his cheek.

“A diet cola with no ice, please.”

You mustered up your cutest expression as he begrudgingly nodded and got up, pushing his way past the other patrons before making a mad dash to the concession counter. Your grin had turned malicious within moments as you returned to watching the match.

He was back within a minute or two, handing you your drink as you thanked him and recounted some of the tense final moments as you sipped your drink once, twice.

It was the true final match of the night now, and you had your diet cola in your hand. You elbowed his side.

“Haru, this isn’t diet.”

His head snapped in your direction. “What?”

“This isn’t diet, Haru please I’m so thirsty!”

He did his best to hide it but you could see the frustration crease his brow as he took your cup and disappeared again.

The match was over by the time he made it back, your drink in his hands as you thanked him profusely, snuggling up at his side as you walked out.

The crowd filtered out across the street as you emerged from the underground, tossing your cup with a practiced hand into the wastebasket. 

“Are you busy tomorrow, we could watch a movie or something?” He offered in an attempt to salvage the mood.

You squeezed his arm a little tighter, turning your head to peer up at him. “Sounds like a date, I’ll see you then.”

Day Three - Be Clingy

When you met up in front of Gravity Cinema in Lumina Square he had some notion of what you would be watching. Plenty of new movies had hit the box office recently, enough variety that he was sure you could find something agreeable and not painful to sit through. 

You looked happy as you stood beside him in the line, eyes dancing across the titles by the ticket booth. There were plenty of good options, things you wanted to see on your own that you were sure he would find entertaining like a new comedy that brought tears to your eyes just seeing the trailer on tv. 

“What do you wanna see?” He asked, bumping your shoulder fondly. 

“Hmm,” you tapped a thoughtful finger to your chin. “I want to see…that one.”

A rerun of Coffee Mate wasn’t what he was expecting, but you looked quite pleased with the situation as you enjoyed your popcorn beside him. The theater was full of couples or groups of friends enjoying the nostalgia of the rom-com, all engrossed in the film. He wouldn’t lie, his own interest was also growing.

You looked over at him, the warm tones of the movie screen casting a sepia glow over his cheeks. You might be a little disappointed by the end of your little escapade, he was one of the more handsome men you had dated. 

“What are you thinking about?”

“Hmm?” He looked over at you.

“What are you thinking about?”

“The movie?” His confusion was evident in his tone as his eyes darted from the screen back to your face. 

“So you’re just completely thoughtless?”

A man in the row behind you shushed you loudly, shooting you both a glare yet you didn’t relent. 

Harumasa looked rather taken aback. “No, sorry baby, I was just thinking about…how pretty you are, now hush and let’s just watch the movie. You said you loved this one, right?”

You sat your popcorn down, brows furrowing as you turned in your seat to face him. 

“Who is she?”

“Who’s who?”

“First you’re thoughtless, now you’re an owl? I said who is she? You’re obviously not thinking about me right now.” 

The man behind you kicked your seat as he hushed you again, and you turned to face him, a wrathful look on your face.

“Listen buddy, if you interrupt me one more time my boyfriend is going to beat your ass.” 

He looked from you to Harumasa, the latter’s face decorated with a nervous smile as he quickly assessed that it was in fact a fight he didn’t want to have any part in.

“Let’s go then.”

You grabbed at Harumasa’s arm as you followed him out of the theater. “Haru, baby don’t fight him.” You pleaded. 

“I don’t have any intention of fighting him, this is all just a big misunderstanding.”

But misunderstandings usually didn’t end with a kiss from another person’s knuckles being planted firmly against your nose. He stumbled back, hand cupping his nose as blood began to pour from between his fingers and down his chin.

The man pointed harshly at the both of you as you rushed to Harumasa’s side. 

“Nobody gets between me and Coffee Mate!”

 

He was strangely impassioned as he stormed back into the theater, leaving you alone as your hands cupped Harumasa’s face.

“Let me see,” you cooed sweetly as you pried his fingers away from his nose. His eyes were watering from the sting of the hit, blood smearing down his face and dripping onto his shirt in crimson blossoms. 

You fished through your bag for a moment before you produced a few tissues, cursing internally that your pack was almost empty and that your luck was rotten enough to have seated you in front of someone willing to take a swing in passion over a romcom rerun movie. 

It was bleeding more from one side than it was the other, a rivulet of thick blood streaming almost instantaneously after you wipe his upper lip clean. You apologized about a hundred times as you pulled a tampon from your purse, unwrapping it before shoving the cotton up his nose as he grimaced. 

“What the hell is this?” He questioned, the taste of iron washing down the back of his throat as his fingers grasped the little woven tail on the tampon to bring it to eye level.

“Don’t worry about it,” you grabbed his hands, ignoring the blood that smeared onto your own. 

“You were so brave standing up to that guy!” 

He blinked at you stupidly.

Day Four - Become his Manic Pixie Dream

His apartment was rather nice when the lights were on, surprisingly clean if the precise organization of his shoe rack by the door would be any indicator of the rest of his space.

He was busy in the kitchen, talking to you mindlessly as he worked. All the better for your cause, giddily kicking off your low heels as you perused the apartment. It felt like a man’s apartment, a little dark and sparse as far as decor went, and it smelled distinctly like herbs and anesthetic more akin to what you would expect of a pharmacy or apothecary than a home. 

His cat chirped pleasantly from where it lay stretched across the couch, rising to arch its spine into your touch as you stroked its black fur.

“Don’t tell your dad that I’m redecorating,” you whispered as you sat down the box propped against your hip and produced a pair of stuffed animal cats stitched to be embracing.

The white fur on the toys reminded you a bit of Officer MewMew, but you found them endearing nonetheless, patting them on the head and you continued on your trek of evil. More cheesy stuffed animals, a flowery pink quilt across his bed, an array of girly magazines on the back of his toilet to match the pink toilet seat cover you placed.

By the time you returned from your side quest he was waiting for you by the table, eyeing the new creatures that sat on his couch curiously. 

“Looks like you’ve been…redecorating.” 

You smiled at him sweetly, “I just thought you could use a woman’s touch in here, isn’t it cute?” You reached into the box you still carried, dropping it to the side as you produced one last trick form your theoretical hat. A little fern in a pink pot bounced merrily in your hand. 

“It’s a baby fern to mark the budding growth of our relationship! Just like us it will need lots of tender love and care to thrive.”

You placed it dead center on the table.

“And now you will have something to remind you of us all the time.”

Ugh, it made you want to hurl how silly and empty headed you had to act, but it was all for the glory of the hunt you reminded yourself. You had put up with some real bullshit in the past and still been hung out to dry, this was just a little payback inflicted upon a member of mankind.

He smiled and graciously accepted, but you could see the concern swimming in the hues of honey in his eyes as he pulled your chair out for you to sit. 

“Yup, I’m a lucky guy for sure.”

He was ready to let it pass, the archery finals were about to start any minute and dinner was ready. Sure your change in attitude was a little…unique, but maybe you were just having an off night.

You sniffled and he paused, practically covering over his seat as he looked up at you. You sniffled again, fanning at your eyes.

“What’s wrong, (y/n)?”

“Nothing, nothing, it’s perfect just—,”

“Just..?”

You blew your nose dramatically into your napkin as you turned your head away, voice warbling with tears. “I don’t eat meat.”

It was like being hit by a truck, his eyes bouncing between the precisely crafted chicken dish on your plate to your quivering shoulders and reddened eyes. 

“A full week off, no questions asked. A full week off, no questions asked.” It was a mantra running through his head on repeat as he sat beside you in a tiny booth at the nearest vegan restaurant to his apartment.

He didn’t mind it he guessed, though as he picked through the tofu bowl sitting in front of him he couldn’t help but be a little disappointed at the thought of the chicken now chilling in his fridge.

You seemed appeased though, your knee brushing against his under the table as you picked your own meal quietly. The waitress stopped by the table, topping off your glass of water.

“Something wrong with your meal, hon?” She asked, eyeing you curiously.

“No, no.” You answered quietly before he watched your face contort, your pitch rising into a sobbing tone as you threw your fork down.

“My boyfriend thinks I’m fat! And I can’t eat in front of him.”

“What!?” He said incredulously as you shot up from your seat, hands covering your face as you rushed into the bathroom at the back of the restaurant.

You locked yourself in a stall, wiping away your fake tears as you pulled up the stream of the archery finals for the night. Ah, what a disappointing loss for your favored archer, but you were sure that he was still having a better time than what your date was having as he sat in the dining room now, certainly insisting that he has never called you fat a day in your life.

The walk back from the restaurant was quiet. He seemed tired even as you followed him back into his apartment and flopped down onto his couch. The archery finals for the night blazed to life across his TV screen.

“I’m sorry we missed the finals tonight.” You apologized with your sweetest tone.

He sighed. “It’s okay, baby, let’s just see what happens.”

You scooted closer to him on the couch, a hand coming down to squeeze his thigh. He looked at you with a surprised expression, eyes widening behind dark lashes as you flipped yourself onto his lap. You loosened his tie as you popped the buttons on his shirt open down to his belt, nails trailing down the expanse of his stomach as he shuddered. 

You kissed him, and he keened into your lips, hand coming to knot into your hair as you tugged his bottom lip between your teeth. You wiggled your hips against his lap, savoring the way his hand flexed against the meat of your thigh.

“What’s wrong, is somebody a wittle pent up?”

The baby talk took him by surprise, not really something he found to be attractive but if you were gonna shove your tongue into his mouth the way you just did and pull his hair well—some things could be overlooked in favor of others.

You broke from his lips, kissing down the side of his neck and to his clavicle, teeth nipping at his pale and tender skin. You were a vixen in your own right as you slid from his lap to your knees, a trail of kisses pressed from his sternum to his belt where your fingers deftly pulled the buckle loose. 

“Poor wittle Haru~,” you cooed as you rested your cheek against his thigh and stared up at him from under your lashes, toying with his zipper. His body tensed as you palmed him through his pants, his hand curling into your hair as his breathing became labored. 

“Does our little pwincess wanna come out and play~?”

You blinked in surprise at how quickly you were on your feet, his hands bracing your arms. His cheeks were dusted a hearty pink, the flush carried to his ears and the heady way his eyes dilated. He swallowed thickly.

“Please don’t do that.”

You cocked your head to the side dumbly. “Do what?”

You could practically see the internal war raging in his mind as he let out a shaky breath. There was no reasonable way he could explain it and not sound fucking insane.

“Please do not name my, uh,” he cleared his throat as he broke eye contact, “unmentionables.”

On the inside you were dying with laughter, struggling to keep your face straight as he fumbled around. So you pouted instead.

“Are you mad at me?”

His head hung in defeat. “No, I’m not mad at you.”

He was scrambling for an out, lost somewhere between hot and bothered and terribly disturbed by the tragic way events unfolded.

 “Ohh would you look at the time,” he said glancing momentarily at the watch that wasn’t on his wrist before quickly snapping his hand back to his side. “You should really head home for the night, can’t have you wandering the streets too late. Someone might try to snatch you up or something.”

Was it bad that he momentarily thought it might not be all bad if you got kidnapped? They would definitely return you within an hour, just long enough for the casual and flirty you to vanish like a werewolf morphing under the moonlight into whatever you were now. 

“I guess so…” your tone was mournful as he ushered you to the door and made sure you had all of your belongings. 

You stood in the hallway outside his door, he still looked like a flushed mess as he leaned against the doorframe. 

“Goodnight then, Haru.”

“Goodnight, (y/n). Get home safely.”

Day Five - Make Him Your “Cool Boy”

He desperately wanted to call it quits, throw in the towel and run away from you as fast as his legs could carry him. Did you have a split personality or did you just fall and hit your head and not receive medical attention sometime after you two first met? It was a toss up in his mind, but every day that he walked back into the office and saw the smirking expression of Tsukishiro as she asked, “How’s your girlfriend?” his pride would rear its ugly head and will him to continue. 

It hadn’t even been a full week, he could handle a few more days. Then he made the mistake of answering his phone. 

“Goodmorning Haru-waru~.”

Jesus Christ, maybe he was wrong. He was pretty sure his eyes rolled into the back of his skull as he pinched the bridge of his nose that was still bandaged from the movie date. You on the other hand had to mute your end of the call for the roar of laughter that came from Zhu Yuan who sat in your office listening in to your psychological torture fest. 

He met Tsukishiro’s eye from across the room, a forced smile coming to his face as he waved and stood up to take his call in the hallway. 

“Goodmorning, baby.” It sounded forced and he had to bite his tongue to make his tone sound more pleasant. “What’s up?”

“Oh you know, I was just thinking about you and how I got these tickets from a friend.” You baited, the tickets pinched between your fingers tapping against the smooth top of your desk. “The seats aren’t as good as the ones from the other night, but I thought you might wanna join me?”

He was torn, but relented, praying he wasn’t making a horrible mistake. 

“What time?”

You were beaming as you waved at him. You were like a toxic fume disguised a breath of fresh air, hair and makeup done cutely. For a moment he willed himself to think the original you was back from the coy way you spoke, how you curled a lock of your hair around your finger as you walked arm-in-arm.

His reminder of your wicked nature came five minutes into the Astra Yao concert he now stood in the middle of, the base from the speakers rattling his bones as the crowd roared alongside the music.

You looked thrilled, bouncing beside him as you sang along to every song. It really was a treat for you to get to see her after all, and you wouldn’t disclose how much you spent to secure your tickets but it didn’t matter. 

You were radiant under the purple and white stadium lights, your lip gloss shining as it caught the light. Your eyes were closed behind the ridiculous purple heart-shaped sunglasses some other girl in the crowd had handed you, an invisible microphone in your hand as you lived like no one was watching for just a moment. Maybe you seemed crazy, but did that really matter? He wouldn’t be hanging around much longer anyways. You could see the threads of his sanity snapping away with each passing day.

But today he was quiet as he watched you with a reverence your eyes wouldn’t see, the concert nothing shy of background noise compared to the beating of his heart in his ears and the slightly off-key sound of your voice as you sang and grew more hoarse by the minute. It was like wearing a pair of rose colored glasses, your previous infractions melting out of his mind as a glimpse of the real you shined through.

His ears were ringing as he followed you out of the venue at the end of the concert, a ridiculously glittery Astra Yao t-shirt now layered over his original shirt to match the one you donned. Your palm was warm clasped in his own as you pulled him through the crowd. 

He forgot all about the archery finals till the patrons filtered out of the Reverb Arena onto the shared street, excitedly chattering about the winning shot.

Your head whipped over your shoulder as you smiled at him, sunglasses now perched on your head. “Wasn’t that fun?”

He didn’t have a chance to answer before you cut him off.

“Let’s make sure to play some of her songs at our wedding!”

And just like that those rose colored glasses shattered with frightening speed.

Day Six - Sabotage His Reputation at Work

His mind was a muddled mess as he sat listlessly at his desk the next day. Your unpredictability had not only shaken him to the core but disturbed him so deeply he was now in a constant state of unsteadiness, torn between wanting to chase that sliver of you that made his heart race and wanting to run from the other part that made him want to tear out his hair in frustration. 

He pondered texting you, calling you even, but he didn’t know why. He sighed loudly, throwing his phone onto his desk as his head flopped over the back of his chair.

“Everything alright, Asaba?”

He glanced up at Yanagi, a cup of coffee waving temptingly in her hand as she placed it on his desk. “You look tired.”

“You have no idea.” He thanked her for the coffee, pulling the lid off as he took a sip. It was hot and bitter against his tongue, a soothing taste sure to inspire a short burst of vitality to his morning.

He didn’t bother to glance up as the door to the Section 6 suite hissed open.

“Goodmorning, Haru~.”

He sputtered and choked as he sucked coffee down his windpipe, quickly putting the cup down as he practically jumped from his seat. 

“(y/n)!” He chimed back in a poor attempt to match your excitement as he hissed through his teeth. “What are you doing here?”

It was a shame you looked as cute as you did today, a perfect black plaid patterned skirt suit hugging your body just right as you practically bounced to his desk, pushing a stack of papers to the side as you perched on his desk with a smile.

“I just wanted to see you, silly!” 

Oh. How lucky. 

Everyone in the office was fully tuned into your conversation now, some (ahem, Soukaku and Miyabi) more obviously than others. 

“I brought you a present by the way.” You reached into the large tote bag that you had brought along with you, producing a black plaid shirt that matched your own outfit. 

“Here! Put it on!”

There was no getting out of it, you had practically dragged him closer as you tossed the shirt over his shoulders and forcefully helped him drag his arms through the sleeves as you buttoned it all the way up to his neck.

“My, Asaba, you’re certainly a vision in plaid.”

He glared at Tsukishiro over your shoulder, his eyes rolling fiercely at her jab before you drew his attention back to yourself. 

“We are gonna make such a cute family of four.” You squealed.

“Family of four?”

You nodded as you reached into your bag once more, drawing out the long orange body of a medium haired cat in a little black plaid vest. A golden tag dangled off its collar, its name carved into the metal in a curling script.

Princess.

He felt his stomach drop. 

“I got one for the other cat too so we can all match for family photos!”

“Family photos!” Soukaku squealed from her desk. 

He gripped your shoulders with a forced smile. “Can we talk outside? It would be bad if we interrupted office workflow after all.” 

“Oh, no need, I’ve gotta run back to work. Duty calls!” You giggled as you placed Princess in his arms, reaching up to press a kiss to his cheek, your lipstick staining his cheek a pretty shade of rose. 

“Watch our baby girl for me! Toodles!”

You pranced out of the office with a giggle, the door sliding shut behind you before it quickly reopened.

“Hold on, (y/n)!” 

You paused in your step, glancing at his disheveled state with the warmest smile you could muster. 

“Yes, Haru?”

“I won’t be able to hang out tomorrow afternoon,” he said, Princess struggling in his arms for a moment as he readjusted his grip on her. “Some of my old friends from PubSec wanted to get together and have a game night, you don’t mind do you?”

“Of course not!” You said with a smile. “You boys have fun.”

He looked relieved as you turned away to leave, flipping your hair over your shoulder. The stupid smile on your face faded so quickly you felt like a true psychopath for a fleeting moment. 

Day Seven - Become the Psycho Girlfriend of his Nightmares

“I don’t know what this guy’s problem is,” you bemoaned, popping another cheeseball into your mouth. 

The roof of your apartment building was a pleasant place to be on a day off, lounging on the deck chairs as the sun warmed your skin.

Zhu Yuan laid beside you in her own chair, her eyes closed behind her sunglasses as she shrugged. “Maybe he’s a little mental?”

“There is no history of mental health conditions in his medical file.” Chimed Qingyi from your other side where she sat crossed legged. 

You frowned. “No need to violate HIPAA for the sake of this conversation, Qingyi.” 

She shrugged.

“But seriously, I’m not making things even remotely easy and he still hasn’t called it quits. I’ve been clingy, ruined the archery finals multiple times, accused him of calling me fat in public, been overly emotional. Damn, he even got his nose busted over a date with me.” You huffed irritably, crunching another cheeseball between your teeth.

“I just don’t get it, what else am I supposed to do?”

“When do you see him again?” Zhu Yuan asked, her head rolling in your direction as she held out a hand. You shook a few cheeseballs into her waiting palm.

“Tomorrow.”

“Not tonight?”

You shook your head. “No, he’s got a boy’s night planned.”

Zhu Yuan practically launched herself upward, flipping her glasses onto her head. “Boy’s night, surely you don’t intend to let him off that easy.”

You pursed your lips before a wicked smile morphed onto your face. “You’re right, what would he be without me?”

There were eighteen missed calls on his answering machine when he returned home, four playing through as he fed the cats that rubbed incessantly against his legs begging for his attention. It was fortunate that Princess had an agreeable nature, it would have been a shame to rehome her if she had clashed with his own cat.

“Haru, are you home?”

“I miss you~”

“Pick up the phone, Haru!”

“I just wanna know how your day was my handsome boy~”

He paused the message playback as a knock sounded at his door. Seemed like the first of his guests had arrived, a perfect excuse to forget your incessant tone.

Everything seemed to be going quite well, conversation flowing easily over the passing of cards and bets placed in poor, alcohol-addled states of mind. He refrained once more, sipping on another bitter seltzer as he fanned out his cards. A good hand, he was feeling lucky.

Or he did before his front door swung open. 

“Hi boys!” You chirped. 

He folded his hand immediately, an expression of fear flashing through his eyes as he gritted his teeth. You waltzed right in, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. 

“Heyy, (y/n). I thought we weren’t seeing each other tonight—,”

“Oh, we weren’t, but then I was just thinking you might need some snacks for game night!”

You practically stared daggers into the befuddled faces of some of your very own N.E.P.S officers that sat around the table. They will definitely think you are a nutcase after tonight, but internal PR was a small price to pay.

You pranced to the kitchen, your tone cheery as you babytalked to the cats that prowled after you. You could hear the muted conversation from the kitchen where you fished through his cabinets for a plate and serving utensils.

“She’s something alright.” 

“If something means psycho then…”

“Easy now, she’s not that bad.” You were surprised to hear him defending you, albeit poorly.

“C’mon man, don’t kid yourself.”

You came out of the kitchen just in time to see Harumasa’s shoulders sag as he nodded, hands rising to rub his face.

“She might be a little…”

“A little what?” You hissed from where you stood, plate of cookies in your hand. You looked like a disgruntled housewife, the kind that poisons her husband and buries him beneath the roses in the backyard.

“Asaba Harumasa,” your tone sent shivers down his spine, venom dripping from your tongue as you stared him down, slowly approaching the table like a predatory cat. 

“It’s okay sweetie, you can tell me. Go ahead, say you think I’m some kind of psycho bitch!” Your pitch rose to a yell as you flipped the plate in your hand for good measure, cookies scattering everywhere as each man at the table recoiled. 

The waterworks came next as the plate clattered to the floor, your hands rising to hide your face as you willed tears to your eyes. 

“I have tried so hard to be a good, attentive girlfriend but you just think I’m crazy.” You sobbed, catching a glimpse of the silly fern in the pink pot you had left in his care days ago. Its leaves were wilted.

“Did you ever want this relationship to work?” You accused, angrily wiping your ‘tears’ as you pointed at the plant. “You even let our love fern die, how can I trust you to take this relationship seriously?”

He was stirred into a panic now, rising from his seat. “It was an accident, I got busy with work and forgot to water it is all.”

“I told you a relationship takes tender love and care. Care does not mean forgetting to water it!” 

You wiped your tears and stifled your sniffles, raising your head proudly. “Consider us, over.”

You stormed out the door and down the hall, and as soon as the elevator shut behind you you laughed like a maniac. Oh the sweet taste of release. You deserved an award for your performance.

Meanwhile he stood in the carnage of your departure, mentally counting the days in his head. Seven. He was still several days shy of his bet with Tsukishiro.

“Lucky, she saw herself out, wait—you’re not thinking of stopping her, right?”

“I just need three more days,” he whipped around as he grabbed his friend by the shoulders, “what do girls like to hear at times like this?”

You felt liberated as you stepped onto the street. Finally you had shaken yourself free of the burden you had placed upon yourself. There was almost a skip in your step as you turned to walk home.

“(Y/n), wait!”

Your stomach plummeted. You didn’t even want to turn around, didn’t intend to until his hand circled your wrist with a gentle grasp.

“I am so sorry, I would do anything to make it up to you.” 

You rolled your eyes as you shook your head, wrenching your wrist free. “It’s too late for that, Asaba.”

Ouch, back to last name basis. This was worse than he thought.

“Why don’t we go to couple’s therapy?” 

The very words felt bitter on his tongue, quietly instilling both of you with profound dread.

You turned over your shoulder, voice teary. “You would do that for me?”

He nodded.

Shit. Guess both of you were still stuck. 

Day Eight - Couples Therapy

His stomach felt sick all night and he couldn’t sleep, a shared sentiment occurring in your own bed several streets away as you tossed and turned. 

He’s unshakeable, and you needed to find an out. 

That’s why you stood in front of a sterile door in your well pressed skirt suit, Harumasa anxiously stirring at your side. “Thank you for suggesting this,” you murmured as you knocked on the door. “It makes me feel like you actually care.”

The door opened as you bit your tongue to suppress the grin that threatened to crease your cheeks. 

Qingyi stood in the doorway, a pair of comically large glasses perched on her nose and her hair pulled tightly back. She looked more like some sort of cult member than a therapist with the unique oversized smock she wore. 

Harumasa’s brow furrowed. “Are you the doctor..?”

Qingyi nodded, “Yes, now come in, we have a lot to discuss.”

The conversation devolved rapidly once you actually sat down. You poured out a dramatized version of the truth, tears streaming down your cheeks as your mascara smeared. He was lost somewhere between fighting for his life defending his actions and trying to comfort you. 

Qingyi was playing her role beautifully, hell she even opened the door for you to accuse him of trying to flirt with her before she turned up the heat and began to put pressure on him.

“He’s just so distant, he won’t even tell me about the things he likes!” You cried, blowing your nose dramatically into another one of half the tissue box you had already gone through.

“Fine! Fine, I’ll take you out and show you. Just please stop crying.”

Your tears dried immediately, casting a glance at Qingyi who simply nodded.

“A couples weekend to grow closer, I think it’s an excellent idea.”

You cursed her a little internally as you walked out the door. 

Day Nine - Doing Things He Enjoys..?

The scent of seawater met your nose as you stepped out of the car, the wind off the ocean tugging at your meticulously fixed hair as you watched the boats at the dock bob over the waves.

When he told you he would take you to do things he enjoyed you weren’t anticipating to end up here, but there was a palpable shift in his attitude as he pulled the camera from the backseat and raised it to peer through the viewfinder, the shutter clicking loudly as he took a picture of the sun rising over the distant horizon.

The tiny smile on his lips painted his features with a serene expression, the sun painting his cheeks in a shade of gold that could rival the saturation of his eyes as the sea breeze ruffled his already unruly hair.

You watched him silently. It felt like an intrusion for you to be standing here with him, a feeling that never left even as he turned his warm expression in your direction, beckoning you to follow him as he walked towards the dock.

You half expected him to walk down the actual dock, not for him to pause at the edge of the railing to kick his shoes off before climbing over it in favor of the thin band of sand lining the rocky outcropping that the lighthouse sat upon.

“Don’t wanna get your shoes wet,” he stated simply as he offered you a hand over the rail to follow him. 

The water lapped past the rocks and onto the sand, the gritty substance soft and soggy under your bare feet as you picked along the nondescript beach until it turned into a bank of slippery black rocks.

You paused just shy of the terminus of the rocks, watching him look thoughtfully over the water as he raised his camera again. 

You wondered what went through his mind. Photography was never your strong suit, you lacked a discerning eye for beauty like that captured in a still life. Your eyes danced over the waterline, willing yourself to see some deeper artistic vision like whatever had caught his fancy.

The camera shuttered again, and you turned to look at him only to be met with the shiny black lens of his camera as he brought it down from his eye. 

“I like that one.” He mused, clicking back through the saved photos as he turned the screen to show you the pensive image of yourself, hair wild in the wind, face bathed in gold contrasting the harsh black of the rocky bank you stood on. He turned it back to himself, dropping the camera to hang around his neck. 

“It looks like you.”

For a moment it crossed your mind that he had found you out, exposing some chink in your carefully fabricated armor to protect your heart in the little game you had subjected him to. You swallowed thickly, avoiding his gaze.

“Of course it looks like me.” You muttered as if it was an obvious observation. 

You stayed at the Port till the afternoon sun blazed high overhead, your skin sandy and fingertips greasy from the basket of fries you shared with him as you dangled your feet off the edge of the dock. You had long given up on your looks, the wind from the top of the lighthouse where he took you having ruffled your hair in a way so attractive that you thought it safer to knot it upon your head with a hair tie than let it hang free a moment longer.

When he told you he had another place to take you afterwards it took you by surprise. Had he actually taken that ridiculous therapy session seriously? Ah, you were starting to feel guilty again.

The cityscape gave way to a lush road lined with trees before you pulled over again in a gravel parking lot. It was largely empty, the chirping of crickets meeting your ears as the trees rustled in the gentle wind. A rusted sign stood by the road announcing it as a shooting range. 

“You ever shot a bow?” He called to you. 

“Can’t say I have.” 

You heard the car door shut, eyes catching on the longbow resting in his hand as he walked to your side, looking down at you with a grin that actually met his eyes. 

“Well, do you want to?”

The target stood a reasonable way down the green from where you stood. His weapon of choice felt heavier in your hands than you expected, the grips worn and a variety of scuffs decorating the metallic surface. You had watched plenty of archery matches, but actually doing it was a little more daunting than you imagined, less “pull and shoot” than you were expecting. 

“You okay over there?” He asked from the sidelines. You could feel his eyes burning holes in your back. No pressure.

You nodded as you lifted the bow, arrow already nocked as you drew back the string. You could feel the flexure of your muscles all the way to your shoulders, a quiver rattling through your forearm at the strain. You didn’t know how many pounds it was, but it was enough that your lack of practice with such an instrument showed rather evidently. You were ready to drop your aim before his hands steadied your grip, circling you from either side.

You turned your head slightly, bumping into his chest before you felt your heart race, his arms warm where they brushed your own. 

“You’re almost there.” He hummed in your ear, fingers hooking just above yours on the string. The weight suddenly vanished as he easily drew the string taut, his other hand anchoring it still.

“Now just look down the sight and aim where you please.”

You swallowed thickly, nodding as you followed his instructions, the colorful rings of the target appearing under your gaze as you gently redirected the position of the arrow.

“Just say the word.” He added, watching the concentrated look on your face with a fond look. 

“Now.” You breathed, fingers releasing from the bowstring in tandem with his own as the arrow whistled down the green. 

“That’ll be a two.” He observed aloud, the orange tail of the practice arrow you shot seated just shy of the black margin line. His free hand subconsciously rested against your arm, thumb brushing your skin.

“Not bad for a beginner?” You asked hopefully as you peered up at him.

“Not bad at all.”

You spent the rest of the day at the range, the sun sinking below the horizon line as you drove back into the city. Some part of you was disappointed to see the day end, it had been a breath of fresh air to experience an easy day alongside him. 

You would hate to admit that when he put the car in park as asked you if you wanted to take a walk with him that you were actually excited.

It was against everything you had promised to yourself and Zhu Yuan when you accepted her challenge, but the taste of your strawberry soda was sweeter against your tongue when you sat under the lowlight of the playground by the water, legs dangling off the side of a broken down one-Denny ride with him perched at your side. 

“Thanks for joining me,” he murmured as he pressed his own bottle to his lips. 

“And thank you for letting me tag along today,” came your reply, buttery smooth as you mimicked his actions. “It was…nice.”

You actually meant it, a warm feeling bubbling in your gut as the admission met the wind. 

“It was nice being around you, the real you, for the day.” He picked at the label on his drink as you stared at him owlishly. “Don’t act so surprised, it’s not hard to realize you’ve been masking a lot of things once you open up. You're a little too honest when you aren’t faking it.” 

You opened your mouth to retort but he beat you to it.

“You’re cuter when you aren’t pretending to be someone else.”

Your head hung a bit lower as you downed the last sip of your drink, discarding the bottle by your feet as if it were liquid courage and not a sweet, syrupy concoction. 

“Do you really mean it?” You asked weakly, shivering as you felt his warm fingertips graze your skin as he tucked a stray hair behind your ear. His fingertips trailed down the curve of your ear to your jawline, drawing your chin up to face him.

He was closer than you thought he was, his thumb brushing your lower lip, breath warm as it fanned your cheeks. He didn’t answer you directly as he leaned into your lips, hands warm as they cupped your cheeks tenderly.

You were sure you would melt into a puddle, filtering through his fingers like the pile of rotten mush you were  for how poorly you had treated him in the last few days. Surely you didn’t deserve the tender way he kissed you, the breathy sigh that parted your lips dousing his own in the strawberry-tinted taste of your surrender as you kissed him back with the same gentleness he offered you. 

For him to claim a dislike for sweet things his kiss was anything but bitter in your mind, while his own simply pondered the fact that syrupy sweet had never been more tolerable than when it dripped off your lips and teased his tongue.

You were regretful when you parted, lips still tingling as you caught your breath. 

“I should take you home.” He whispered into the air between you.

The ride to your place was silent, but you didn’t regret what transpired at the park as you chewed your lip thoughtfully. 

You still didn’t have any regrets when you hesitated to get out, inviting him upstairs with a spark of hope burning inside your chest that you wished he would douse once and for all by denying your request. 

You didn’t regret holding his hand as you guided him to your bathroom, when you let him slide your t-shirt over your head as you helped him out of his own, when you kissed him like you meant it as you backed him into the warm spray of your shower, the tickling scent of sweat and seawater intensified before it washed away under the hardwater. 

You wouldn’t regret a single moment of letting him ravish you with an affection you’d never experienced, one laced with longing and appreciation for each inch of your body that passed under calloused fingertips, one that surpassed anything spoken that could be retracted with a breath.

You would only regret any creeping memory of the distressed looks you had cast onto his gentle features in the past, painting over them with a glaze of the love and pleasure stricken expressions that pinched his brow as you indulged in each other at the most carnal of levels. Whispers of adoration pressed to your skin that made your toes curl and made the sickly knot of pleasure in your gut twist all the tighter as you sought a release that only he could provide you as you drowned in the intense wave of his silent affections.  

Day Ten - Break his Heart

Every coin has a flip side, like how every story has an opposing view. Maybe he was simply your mirror in that, or that was what you willed yourself to think as you stared down the hurt that burned in his golden eyes. You were sure you looked none the better if the hot anger that surged in your veins had anything to say about it. 

This wasn’t at all how you imagined it going, but maybe you had just been lying to yourself the whole time just as he had done.

Zhu Yuan’s expression looked stricken, Tsukishiro’s cool if not a little surprised as she shook her head.

“Pardon the interruption.” The pink haired deputy Chief said as she swiftly dismissed herself from the scene, Zhu Yuan shuffling away in a similar apologetic fashion. 

You wished your own feet would carry you far away from here, to turn tail and run like the coward you were when it came to confrontations you couldn’t control. If you ran would it change anything? Would it soothe the ache of guilt and the harsh throb of heartbreak? You knew the answer to that well enough as your fingers tightened around your purse strap, convincing yourself that their accidental revelation was for the better despite the despicable feeling that welled up in your chest. 

“So.”

“So.” He parroted with a similarly bitter tone, lips drawn into a thin line. 

“Was it worth it?” 

He scoffed. “You’re gonna ask me that? Last time I checked intentionally being insane as a dig back at mankind as a whole is a little worse than a stupid deal for some time off.”

Your pride wouldn’t allow you to back down even if his words rang soundly in your ears. “But that was the point wasn’t it? You were no more innocent than every other asshole who strung me along and ditched me like an old toy when something better came along.” You seethed. 

“Coming after me for the sake of a bet with a timeline like that proves it enough for me. So let’s just cut the crap and get this over with.”

Your expression was icy as you met his eyes, steeling yourself. 

“It meant nothing to me, and I never want to see you again.”

Something crumpled in his chest, but he didn’t show it, simply nodding. “Fine. Do us both a favor and lose my number.” 

And nine days of intimate torment died on the gritty sidewalk like a tortured animal, both of you turning away without looking back.

You would save yourself the dignity to do so later in the silence of your own home, to let the guilt of your actions bubble over the waterline of your lashes as your heart broke all over again in the same foolish way you swore not to allow this time as quiet pleas for his forgiveness pressed past your lips.

You wouldn’t know of the numb way he sat on his couch when he finally arrived home, the lithe body of Princess rubbing against his shin as the feline begged for an affection he couldn’t muster.

There was a meticulously crafted wall around his heart, or there had been before you managed to breach it, one placed with the intent to deflect anything meaningful so he wouldn’t have to die with any regrets should his state of being decline rapidly. With it now in tatters his chest felt heavier than ever as he curled into himself, face buried into his hands as he forced himself to breath deeply and will away any thought of the softness of your touch or how treacherously you had warmed his heart in the exact way he had tried to prevent each time he felt a relationship teetering near anything past a casually physical state.

Day Eleven

Work felt like a chore, your eyes dry, tired and puffy as you stared blankly at your computer screen. Anything laborious would have to take a backburner this time, as your brain was still too addled from crying yourself to sleep like a real slob to handle anything too intensive when it came to thought. 

Sure others had noticed, but they didn’t ask questions, opting to give you space instead of intruding upon your foul mood. It left your day rather silent, a breeding ground for getting lost in your own thoughts which was exactly what you didn't want right now.

Your secretary shuffled into the room hesitantly. 

“Commander, you have a visitor.”

“Tell them to come back another day.” You replied flatly, clicking aimlessly on your screen.

“I did but it’s an officer from the HSO. Says it’s urgent.” 

Your stomach flipped unpleasantly. You had a crawling notion of who it might be.

“Let them in.” 

The secretary nodded, disappearing from your sight before your guest entered silently.

“Commander.” 

“What business do you have here, Asaba?” Your tone was icy and sharp, not bothering to look in his direction as you busied yourself with the same menial task that had plagued you for the past hour.

“Not looking at me is a new low, even for you.” 

You frowned, shooting a glare in his direction as you turned to face him fully. He looked messy, but when did he not? Eyebags weren’t even unfamiliar for him, but the spiderwebs of tired veins that snakes across his sclera were even if you were sitting too far to see the bloodshot nature.

“If it isn’t urgent then we have no business to discuss, and you need to leave.”

“It is important,” he interjected as he pulled something from his pocket, a thin photo that he flipped in your direction.

It was the picture of you that he took at Port Elpis.

“I’m calling you on your shit,” he declared firmly as he approached your desk, dropping the picture right in front of you as he planted his palms on the flat surface, staring you down.

“False pretenses or not, the past ten days weren’t meaningless to you.” He pressed, eyes not wavering from where they locked with your own. “I refuse to believe it’s left you unaffected, because I’ve been sick over you every hour since then.”

A shaky breath sucked between his teeth, his eyes darting to your lips that quivered despite your best efforts. 

“I just don’t think it’s possible that you’ve charmed me as one-sidedly as you’re trying to let on.”

You couldn’t escape his gaze if you wanted to, as staring down at your neatly folded hands only brought the hazy gold kissed image of you by the ocean he had taken, a picture taken under the same eye you had admired for its ability to scrutinize and capture beauty in its most raw and unfiltered state. A lens that had snatched your moment of contemplation in a clutch of unabashed appreciation, a diamond picked from the rough of days of undue torture.

So you didn’t run from it anymore, turning your chin up from where it had sunk as you met his gaze head on, a rueful smile gracing your lips.

“Am I that bad of a liar?”

His mouth felt dry, heart racing in his ears as he studied your resigned expression. You looked serene as your gaze cast back down to your fingers, toying with your cuticles. 

“You made me break my one rule for my little experiment. Don’t fall in love.” Your tone was still laced in bitterness, a hand raising to dab at the corner of your eyes at the admission. 

“I assure you, I’ll be slower to forgive myself for hurting you than you would be. You’re a good person, Asaba. You deserve only the best the world has to offer you, and I’m sorry that couldn’t be me.” Your eyes were the clearest he had ever seen as you looked up at him, a warmth still radiating from the depths of your irises as you smiled sadly. 

“Don’t call me that.” His voice was hushed and gentle like the finger that brushed your cheek, a stray tear smearing across your cheek. “I don’t want you to be distant anymore, I think we are past that now.”

Your lips pursed as you drew a shaky breath, the warmth of his hand still lingering on your skin. “Haru, I am so sorry for hurting you.”

His apology came whispered against your skin as he cupped your cheeks in his palms, warm kisses pressed against your forehead, your cheek, the tip of your nose before his forehead came to rest against your own.

“I’ll beg for your forgiveness too,” he murmured against your lips. “Because I don’t think I can let you go that easily.”

A silence fell between you cut only by the soft sounds of your mingled breathing, his skin still warm against your own as you leaned fully into his touch, eyes fluttering shut as you pressed a kiss to the side of his fingers. 

“Then let’s start fresh.” You offered. “Single?”

A toothy smile cracked his lips, his pointed canines as pronounced as ever. 

“Currently.”

“Interested?”

“Definitely.”

“Want to kiss me?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Rey 2025

[yandere--stuck]

Imagine confessing to Joker that, sometimes, you do feel a bit crazy. He'd been wheedling it out of you for hours now, continuously and obviously guiding you to the idea that there had to be something special about you to catch his eye. Something about you that stuck out like a sore thumb, and not just to him. Something innate about you that drew him toward you.

“There has to be something, my dear,” Joker had said. “I don't exactly attract the most normal company.”

You tried noncommittal answers at first. Really, the only person who'd know why he'd fallen for you (so he claimed) would be him. And hadn't he claimed to know everything about you already? God only knew how he'd gotten your information, but it didn't surprise you considering the man holding you captive. Even still, The Joker kept pestering you for your thoughts. Your mind was just so fascinating to him. 

So, you relented, even if just to appease him. You watched his grin widen, and the smile reached his eyes as they crinkled in delight. The clown hanging onto every word. 

Sometimes, you did feel crazy. Like the world didn't really make sense. Everyone else had a set of instructions on how to navigate the world that you never got. How did everybody else know how to start a conversation without a shock of anxiety washing over them? How did others have the ability to get up out of bed when you couldn't find the strength to? How did anybody find consistent meaning and purpose in their lives.

Even when you tried to pretend to be like them, it fell apart so quickly. It was so hard to keep on top of things. So hard to stay organized and stable and motivated. And you were so aware of the act you were putting on. So was everybody else, you were sure of it. You were sure they could tell, as if they thought of you as something not quite human and just something pretending to be. Something to tolerate until it crawled back to where it came from, another failed attempt to infiltrate their ranks.

You didn't even know what made you stand out to The Joker of all people - especially for anything outside of a murder attempt. You purposefully tried not to stand out. It made it harder to detect how different you were so long as you kept your emotions and thoughts close to your chest. No chance for embarrassment if no one ever got close enough to embarrass you again. 

Joker raised a hand to stop you, resting his hand on your shoulder. The green of his eyes held surprising softness before flashing with mischief.

“How about we give those fools something to really be scared of?” The Clown flashed a grin, raising a small contraption in his hands.

“What the Hell is that?” You blurted out.

The metal thing was the same size and shape of a small ball, painted an acidic green and electric purple. Wiring covered the thing, either wrapped around the outside or sprouting up like weeds from within. A small LED display screen was centered in the middle, left blank.

“A bomb,” Joker grinned. “I figured it'd be thematically appropriate.”

“Get that thing away from me!”

“Oh, come now, it's not even armed.”

As if to prove his point, Joker tossed the bomb aside, letting it roll across the floor. He paused for a ment, raising a hand to his chin in thought. Then, he seemed to light up, snapping his fingers. 

“Oh, of course, you'd want to deal with ‘em up close and personal!” Then, with a flourish, Joker pulled a gun from seemingly out of nowhere. He threw his head back as a chorus of laughter erupted from within. 

“Stop!” You spluttered, backing away. “I don't want to hurt anyone!”

Joker stayed put and simply blinked, brows furrowing. He tilted his head. “Why?”

“Because- because you can't just hurt people! It's wrong.”

“No, it's what they told you is wrong,” The Clown's hands balled into fists. “They force you to play by their rules, then punish you for losing at a game you're not designed to win. They wear you down to the bone and know you won't fight back, so they get to walk all over you."

“That's not true.”

“Don't lie to yourself, Darling. I'm saying this all to help you. I want to help you finally fight back. Everything you've gone through has all been leading to this moment.”

“I can't,” You held your ground. “I won't.”

The Clown stared you down. His eyes held an emotion you couldn't quote register. He wasn't frowning exactly, but he certainly wasn't smiling.

You nearly jumped when Joker suddenly crossed the room. The sound of his footsteps mirrored the thundering of your own heartbeat. It muffled all thoughts as electric panic ripped through your veins and left you petrified in place. Not like you could escape, anyway.

You tried to calm your breathing, but hot, panting breaths kept escaping you, chest rising and falling erratically. You could hardly keep yourself composed enough to look him in the eye. And when you did, somehow it was worse than expected. The expression on his face and look in his eyes wasn't one of murderous intent. Not one of rage. Hell, he didn't even look disappointed.

No. His expression was one of pity.

He swept you into an embrace. One arm curled around your back, hand still holding his pistol. You could feel the cold of the metal pressing against the small of your back. Another hand came up to push your head closer to his chest. 

Joker lamented. “Oh, my poor little maniac. It's so sad to see what they've done to you. If only I had saved you sooner.”

You didn't respond, hoping the excuse of being smothered into his jacket would be enough for him to not demand a reply. You felt the slow rise of Joker's chest pressing against you, then sank back as he exhaled a sigh. A gloved hand petted at your head soothingly.

“You're just like Bats, you know,” he said. “These barriers you put up for yourselves are so small, but you give them so much power. And I just don't understand why.”

You paused, giving yourself time to think before mumbling into the fabric of his jacket, “Because it's the right thing to do.”

When you glanced up at him, the look of condescension on the Clown's face was nearly enough to forgo any ideas of self-preservation or pacifism. Nearly. The last thing you'd want to do is prove him right.

“They're never going to see you as normal, you know that, right?” He pressed. “You'll never really be one of them. Like a square peg trying to squeeze itself into a round hole. I don't see why you're so caught up in silly things like morality when it clearly hasn't helped you yet. It certainly doesn't seem like a concern for any of them.”

You didn't want to talk about this anymore. You didn't want to think anymore. You just wanted to find some cold comfort in the embrace of another. 

A pair of lips pressed against the crown of your head. You flinched in his hold, burying yourself further into his grasp. Maybe you could just disappear. 

“It's so sad to see you sabotage your own potential like this,” The Joker continued, voice taking on a lighter tone. “But it's okay. I'm here to take care of you. And I'll keep taking care of you until you can become who you were always meant to be. Because I love you, I really do.”

Yeah, right.

Still, you wished he made it harder to believe otherwise.

[spiderfunkz]

THE ART OF LOVE

pairings. cho hyun-ju x f!reader

cw. no games au, all fluff, reader is an artist, established relationship, the use of 'y/n' like once.

author's note: hehehe, requests for hyun-ju are still open! please send me some more ideas for her, fluff and headcanons have been doing really well so maybe more of that. and p.s. i write for other squid game characters!! keep in mind to the read the guidelines before sending an ask.

you've always enjoyed art. to be creating intricate pieces that are just so full of love and passion, it's everything you've ever known. you've held it deeply in your heart ever since you were little. it's more than a hobby to you, more than just a form of expression— it had caused such a spark of creativity within you, you were able to create pictures that were straight from the soul.

everything you've ever molded, drew, or painted, they were all so greatly appreciated by your peers and you took pride in it. every single work you've made has held a story you weren't able to say aloud, your portraits spoke the sentences you could've never thought straight.

but you knew the struggles with pursuing an art career. though, you fully believe it'll all be worth it.

however during one rainy night, you were officially rejected from the last exhibition you proposed to. the subway ride back to your apartment was deafening, disappointment lingered in the air, your thoughts suffocated with the stress of the next step you should take.

that's where you first met hyun-ju. she was sitting just right in front of you, her head focused on her boots. you couldn't see her at first, still, you knew she had to be beautiful. her hair is well-kept, bangs neat, she seemed like such a lovely person to be around. your gaze sparked as she tilted her head up, revealing her unreal beauty.

you still had three more stops until yours, so like you always do, you grab your sketchbook to pass the time. you drew, traced lines, perfected the shapes, made sure you got all the right details. you sketched the woman in front of you.

she too had a curious eye on you. you seemed interesting, visually ambitious and passionate. she wondered what you were drawing, she wished she had the courage to speak to you.

she was fooled when you gave the picture of her. your voice was shy, but it held a very warm and welcoming tone, you're friendly, hyun-ju took note.

your stop was coincidentally the same as hyun-ju's, which obviously led to an awkward first conversation. you shared very vague stories of how you started art, you don't want to be vulnerable just yet, that's where your paintings take part.

and that all led to you today.

it was cold, the snow had calmed down a bit since the past weeks. you were sipping onto your last cup of warm hot chocolate. hyun-ju sat close next to you, her head slowly leaning on yours. there was multiple blank canvas' in the corner of the room, it all just came yesterday morning.

"y/n?"

"hm?" you hummed,

"can i ask you a question? or more or so, a request?" hyun-ju asked, you nodded. "could you teach me how to paint? i see you doing it a lot, and i'm very intrigued. you look so professional and i just wonder how you're just so talented.."

you smile, the hot chocolate left a foam mustache on your face. hyun-ju laughs, "please?"

"anything for my muse. come on. i'll teach you."

the rest of your day was spent guiding hyun-ju's hands as she painted the bouquet of flowers placed on a wooden table. it is simple yet a reminder of a memory you two spent. she was a natural. she sat near your lap, your hands held her waist as she began to paint the strokes herself.

"looks beautiful, hyun." your cheek squished hers, you cupped her face like a proud mother. "you think so?" hyun-ju questions, "i know so, when it dries, i'll hang it up in the living room." you place a kiss on her forehead before skipping away in excitement.

[feltit-wroteit]

Spoiled and Loved

Art Donaldson x Fem!Reader

In every way, you were the person that made the college experience that much better for Art. You, on the other end, were still struggling to find your place at Uni.

Watnings: inscure reader, lost reader, small angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, reader has rich parents, one s3x joke

There he was. In your usual spot in the cafeteria eating a lunch that his athletic nutritionist must've assigned him to eat. God was your boyfriend beautiful... "Baby?" He called you out of your trance and you smiled at him. "Come?" He motioned for the chair in front of him with his head. You walked toward it and sat down with your lunch that was healthy but certainly not planned. "Hey!" You said. You started eating and asking how his morning practice was and he smiled throught it all. After finishing his lunch and while explaining his morning, he drew mindless doodles on your left hand with a pencil. One was a tennis racket the other a heart and another a paint brush. Once he was done, silence had fallen and Art looked up at you, stopping his drawing. "Y/N?" Art asked while looking for your gaze. "Hmm?" You answered still looking at your left hand. "Look at me." He asked and lifted your head up with the help of his palm on your jaw. You looked at him and smiled. "How was your day so far, baby?" He then asked with certainty. You sighed and went to look down again, only to feel your boyfriend rubbing your jaw and hearing him hum no. When you met his gaze again you felt it.

The need to tell him the truth.

"Art?" He nodded at your interpellation, waiting for you to continue. "I don't think I belong here." You had felt like this for a while, but your boyfriend's joy at being here made that feeling simmer down a little.

That was until yesterday.

"That's Donaldson's girlfriend, right?" A girl said behind you during your history of the arts lecture. You normally tuned these type of conversations out, but today your ears decided that it was a mighty fine time to do as they wanted. "She play any sports?" The girl, Jenny from what you heard her friend call her earlier, proceeded to ask her friend, Luna. "Not that anybody knows of. Not to his level at least." The other girl answered with a certain turn in her voice. It wasn't a nice one at that. ""But she must do something else around campus for her to be with him, right?" Jenny continued her interrogations. "The only place other than her lectures that people see her at are Donaldson's games. She just does those two things that includes school life. People have said and know that she doesn't even have a major yet. She just does classes until she finally finds something that makes her spark. It's pathetic really." Luna said and chuckled with her friend who fired back : "Why would he want to be with her? If I were Art Donaldson-" And you never heard the last of her life hacks, because your ears decided you had been tortured enough as it was. The notes you had started taking were the only ones you took for the rest of the 3 hour lecture. Well, what was one more exam failed?

You would stay in this godforsaken place until you found a stupid major to work in life with.... Why bother studying right now? Your parents paid for your acceptance at Stanford. Your life was as corrupted as that.

"What do you mean Y/n/n?" Art asked with a concerned look and rubbed his tumb over your jaw. "I don't know what I mean by that. But that's also a problem, I never know..." you tried to explain but it was still unclear to him. He only wanted to comfort you and make you feel at ease at all times, but right now he couldn't understand you. That made him mad at himself. "I don't know what I am going to major in, I don't know why I went to college in the first place and I don't know what you find in me. Before you start to argue that point, I have to tell you that I don't doubt your love, I doubt my ability of being loved right now. I am a mess Art... I can't do it anymore! The only thing I do know, is that I'm going to end up like I always feared..." You continued to elaborate on your feelings while he was listening. "Baby... I love you for who you are. I'm sure what you feared for your future isn't even that bad-" you cut him off on that and laughed while letting some tears flow. "Oh yeah, it is. I will end up as every other rich kid who doesn't amount to nothing and will live off my family's money for my whole life." You said and removed his hand from your face. You didn't feel deserving of his touch right now. "Stop." He said sternly. How could he have left this go this far? How couldn't he have seen you were feeling like this? How bad of a boyfriend was he? "Y/n, you are not messed up. You are beautiful and intelligent and you are worth more than your family's wealth. You are important. Not only to me but to a lot of people. Listen, college isn't for everyone, baby. I know it 's easier listening than believing, but please don't pull away from me." He had tears brimming his eyes now.

What did you do to deserve him?

"I love you, Art. I'm sorry for upsetting you..." You explained and held his hand that had been squeezing the edge of the table. "Don't, baby. You do not have to appologize. I should appologize for not seeing how you had been feeling. Please... talk to me about these things. I want to be there for you like you are for me." He took your hand back in his to play with it lightly. "Okay." You said and smiled softly at him. "Okay?" He asked smiling softly too while looking into your eyes. "Yeah. I'll talk to you more about my feelings, baby." You nodded and affirmed.

As you both walked to your last class of the day that you shared, the girls of your history of the arts lecture passed you. They were looking at you and art with sadness. It was then you realized what they had been doing. Only wallowing in their jealousy because:

Art had chose you. Not them.

His heart was set on you and that made them mad. Some part of you felt like you could see them. Maybe you were loved by someone like they wanted to be, but you were also envious of how these girls would be graduating in Teaching in less than two months likw you wanted to be graduating.

Everybody was jealous of somebody in this world.

"Art?" You asked while going closer to his side. "Hmm?" He had answered when wrapping his arm around your shoulder to pull you in even closer. "I think I'm jealous of you." You confirmed while giggling. "Oh yeah? How come, y/n?" He smiled at your randomness. "You have a massive dick. I want that." You said in the most serious tone you could master in that instance. Art burst out laughing and admitted that he was jealous of you too. "How come, Art?" You copied his sentence. "Imagine being as pretty as the one and only Y/n Y/l/n under sun rays. I'll pray for that to happen one day." You looked up into his eyes and stopped walking for a second. You smiled at him and went up to kiss him on his lips. The kiss was slow and full of love, just how you prefered then to be.

"I love you, baby. Even if you are a spoiled little brat sometimes." He said and tried to cover his head before you shoved his head to the side playfully.

[cheollipop]

heists and celebrations

navi | taglist

pairing: jung wooyoung x fem!reader x choi san

w.c.: 3.9k

tags: smut, they're all criminals/partners in crime, criminal behaviour (theft), mentioned boxer!san and his manager!wooyoung, some reckless driving

with the stolen necklace secured around your neck, wooyoung slumped back in his seat, fingers gripping the steering wheel while his eyes remained focused on the overhead mirror, watching his two partners celebrate another successful heist in the back of his van.

warnings: semi-public sex, van sex, really fucking filthy sex (genuinely disgusting), dom!woosan, sub!reader, some jealousy, reader is wearing red lipstick and it gets everywhere, unprotected sex (👎), creampie, oral (m receiving), deepthroating, cum swallowing, cum sharing, spit kink, praise, degradation (reader is called a slut once), a cute little breeding kink, a sprinkle of breath play (barely any), some begging, overstimulation, nicknames (sannie; youngie; baby, darling, sweetheart, love, good girl, pretty girl), wooyoung watches them fuck the whole time, and teases san because he's cute when riled up

A/N: I've had this fic idea in my notes since the very first woosan teaser dropped so I'm really glad I was finally able to write it out! ( ´∀ `) though challenging fsr, I really enjoyed writing the smut for this one. happy reading! ^^

nsfw under the cut—minors dni!! 🔞

Walking past the metal detectors, you raised your phone to peek at your reflection, making sure the glitter on your eyelids and the red painting your lips were intact, smacking them together once before walking further into exhibit.

Your footsteps slowed as you passed the broad, arched doorway and entered a wider gallery with accessories from numerous eras lining the walls, people crowding in front of the displays. Your eyes trailed over the diamonds and gold encased within the glass boxes, the overhead lights reflecting the luxury accessories. In any other heist, your eyes would remain forward, playing the role of a mere passerby minding their own business. But today, you were just another visitor in this exhibit, ogling at the jewellery on display. A quick, discrete scan of the room was enough to find you your target – standing near the wall to your left, the blonde head of hair displacing him in the monochrome room.

Just as you were about to move towards the tall figure, your gaze unintentionally flitted to the right, colliding with feline eyes staring right back at you from the other side of the room – the man standing idly in a uniform too big for him, bruises from last night’s match tainting his angular features. You twisted your body in the other direction, heeled boots clacking over the polished tile with confident strides, your eyes meeting the blonde man’s and dragging his attention off the rowdy school kids in the far corner. You waited until his gaze fell on you to dig the tip of your tongue into the corner of your mouth, blinking innocently as you approached him, your eyes moving down to read the ID card hanging off his neck.

Security Guard Song Mingi

Stepping into his personal space, your hand flew to his shoulder and you drew your eyebrows together in feigned distress. “Oh, thank God! Sir, could you please help me?”

Mingi’s head lowered to eye the hand resting delicately over his chest, looking back up to meet your anxious eyes. “S-sure, yes, of course," he stuttered when your fingers tightened around his lapel. "What can I help you with?"

You twisted your body and walked backwards until you hit the wall behind him, slumping against it and exhaling deeply. “My friend,” you paused, looking up at him now that he’d turned his back to the rest of the room. You blinked faux tears into your eyes, quivering your bottom lip ever so slightly while you spoke, “I’ve been looking for her for hours. Could you please help me find her, Sir?”

You watched Mingi’s ears shift hues, his head turning to the side as he coughed awkwardly. The bright red blurred in your peripheral as you stared ahead, nodding discretely at the idle figure across the room and watching it slip past the restricted ribbon closing off a section of the exhibit, looking back at Mingi when broad shoulders disappeared behind the corner.

“She said she’d meet me at the Tiffany and Co. section, but she never showed up. She won’t even answer her phone,” you leaned forward to wrap your fingers around his forearm, looking up at him with wide eyes, glassy with simulated concern. “I’m really worried about her, Sir. Please help me?”

--

Nimble fingers worked over the display case’s lock, occasionally looking back at the doorless entrance to confirm he was still in the clear. Moving his attention back to the small keyhole, he worked the pick and wrench inside with steady hands, the flashlight held between his lips reflecting off the glass. A whispered curse vibrated around the flashlight when his jacket sleeve slid down his arm, covering the hand holding the pick – along with the bloody scrapes and bruises colouring his knuckles – but he was too far in to back out now, working the lock with the fabric draped over it. After a few more tries, a muted click sounded and the glass door swung open.

Cat-like eyes raised off the picked lock to examine the diamond necklace hanging off the jewellery stand, studying the angle at which the light bounced off the large stones. Reaching forward, he carefully lifted the necklace with his index and thumb around the clasp, securing it in the felt bag he’d pulled out of his blazer before tucking it back inside. Digging his hand into his back pocket, he pulled out an identical replica – cheap moissanite bedazzling the silver – and intricately placed it inside the case, adjusting it over the stand before closing the glass door and listening for the soft click of its automatic lock.

Pulling the flashlight out of his mouth, he switched it off and patted his breast pocket once before walking back towards the entryway. A quick peek into the short hallway outside to ensure it was empty followed by quick steps past the red ribbon sealing off the section he had been in, San squinted at the bright overhead lights as he made it back into the main gallery, rooting himself in his previous position just in time for five suited men to make their way into the big room. Their conversation continued as they walked past San, nodding in acknowledgement before making their way over the restriction ribbon and through the short hallway, grease from the sandwiches they’d had for lunch coating their moving lips.

The familiar sonance of your laugh drew his attention to the wide entrance, his eyes finding yours over the blonde security guard’s shoulder before trailing down to study the arm draped over your waist. The plan was for you to guide him away from this gallery and into another, but there you were, barely an inch separating you and the tall man. San’s eyebrow twitched at the proximity, but more so at the dumb smile splitting his face in half while his other arm points towards where your ‘friend’ was supposedly waiting for you. Meeting your gaze once again, he gave you a firm nod before solemnly staring ahead.

With a flirty smile and a few bats of your eyelashes, you slipped a fake number into Mingi’s phone and walked away, the guard barely noticing you walking in the opposite direction of which he pointed you in.

San’s eyes flitted to the antique clock hung up on the wall across from him, turning around just in time to watch a man with a sharp nose and jet-black hair approach him. Quickly glancing at his ID card, San bowed slightly and began walking away as his ‘shift’ came to an end.

“Wait,” the deep baritone halted San’s movements, twisting his torso to look back at the guard. “Let me see your ID,” he reached a hand out, palm up and expecting.

San blinked once, twice, before pulling the lanyard off his neck and handing it to the man in front of him, turning his body to face him fully. The grim man examined the card, flipping it over a few times before sliding it back into San’s hand.

“Good work today, Yunho,” he gave him a tight smile which San reciprocated with a small bow before he moved away to stand where San had been all evening.

Stepping out of the stuffy exhibit and into the chilly night, San inhaled deeply, walking down the small steps and reaching into his blazer for the felt bag, swiftly stuffing it into his slacks before shrugging off the loose uniform and slinging it over his shoulder. He strutted down the block, his lips pursed as he whistled mindlessly, his soiled tank top sticking to his body with the night breeze blowing over his skin.

A few minutes of walking led him to a familiar convenience store, the lights flickering weakly and the table set out the front swaying with the light wind. Casually peeking over his shoulder, he made sure no one was following him before turning a corner, your familiar figure – resting against the graffitied wall – waiting for him in the damp alleyway. You pushed yourself off the grimy concrete, a smile stretching your lips when your eyes zeroed in on the felt bag pinched between two of his fingers.

Grabbing onto the thin material of his tank top, you pushed San backwards until his body crashed into the wall, the red on your lips transferring to his when you pressed your mouths together, the metallic taste of blood seeping into your taste buds as you licked over the corner of his lip. San’s fingers wrapped around your nape, inhaling deeply before parting his lips and running his tongue over your bottom teeth. Cold fingers tickled the sides of your neck, a heavy weight falling over your collarbones while San’s tongue pressed against yours. One of your hands untangled from the material of his top, running over your decolletage until your fingers made contact with the cool silver and curved over the slope of the large diamonds. The felt bag – now empty and worthless – fell into the puddle by your feet, the malodor of sewage masked by the hunger in San’s eyes, his hands wandering over your body while he devoured you.

A loud honk from the van parked down the alley cut your fit of passion short. You giggled at San’s irritated griping as you made your way to the vehicle, the metal surface littered with dents of various sizes and the colourful lettering chipping off the white paint. You walked past San as he pulled at the back handles, skipping your way to the front and watching the door fly open, sliding into the passenger seat as Wooyoung retreated back into his.

“Welcome back,” he flicked the tip of your nose, his eyes fixed on the glimmering stones hanging off your neck. “I’m guessing we can skip the debrief?” A lopsided smile pulled at the corner of his mouth.

Looping two fingers around the silver band, he tugged you towards him, the clasp digging into the back of your neck as some of the lipstick still painting your lips smeared over Wooyoung’s, his tongue gliding over yours to flatten over the roof of your mouth.

The curtain behind you slid open, San’s deep grumble obscured by your heavy breathing. “Ya! I worked my ass off to get that. If you wanna pull that hard, just buy her a leash,” he propped his forearm on the back of the seat, resting his chin over it to study the red smudged over Wooyoung’s lips.

“Worked our asses off,” you complained.

“No, I worked my ass off while you were busy flirting with that prick.”

You could see Wooyoung’s eyebrow quirk, his questioning gaze lasting only a second before he parted from you with a final kiss, letting go of the necklace and slumping back in his seat to turn the engine on. “Leave her alone, Sannie. If you wanted to be praised for doing your job right, you should’ve just said so,” he pressed his foot down on the pedal, reversing out of the alleyway before digging his palm into the steering wheel and turning it twice to move onto the empty road.

The pout on your lips faded when your eyes met San’s, angling his chin to point at Wooyoung, the silent communication bringing a shared smile to your lips.

“Youngie,” you tugged on his sleeve, leaning over the console to get closer to him.

“Yeah, baby?” his eyes remained trained on the road, a few cars driving alongside him on the dark highway.

San chuckled breathily, “I think our pretty girl wants to thank you for the ride. We couldn’t have pulled this off without you. Right, sweetheart?”

You nodded eagerly, gliding your palm up his thigh and inwards to tease at his clothed crotch. He glanced over at you, his teeth peeking through his parting lips, the corners curled upwards.

“Oh really? Is there anything else you want to thank me for?”

“Thank you for getting rid of that Yunho guy, we would’ve been in trouble if he had been there,” your fingers trailed over the zipper, circling his button before popping it open.

“Mm, that’s right. Come on now, sweet girl, thank me properly,” Wooyoung slumped further down in his seat, widening his legs and dropping one hand off the steering wheel to give you space.

Just as you freed his half-hard length from the confines of his boxers, San’s hand cupped the back of your head and pushed you down. Your torso bent over the console, the gear stick digging into your waist by the time San let go of you.

You pulled away slightly, fingers wrapped around his base and tongue rolled out to place kitten licks over his cockhead. Wooyoung peeked down at you to follow the line of drool dripping off your tongue to lubricate his cock, snapping his eyes back up to the road with a guttural groan squeezed your fist around him. You pressed your lips to his tip, placing your hands over his upper thighs and moving back to admire the painted outline of your lips – the last of your lipstick colouring it red.

When you deemed him hard enough, your lips closed around his leaking head, giving him a gentle suck to feel his thighs contract before taking him further into your mouth. You nuzzled your nose into the hair around his base and relaxed your throat, flattening your tongue over the underside of his cock and reveling in the tight grunts it elicited from above.

A loud horn blared from the lane beside yours, Wooyoung’s vision unblurring and his palm hurriedly gliding over the steering wheel to adjust the swerving van. San snickered behind him, partly at your muffled coughs around the younger man’s cock as the rough steering jerked your body around. You pull away to breathe once the vehicle settled, inhaling deeply and clearing your throat, the bitter taste of precum on your tongue.

“I don’t think she’s thanking you hard enough, Youngie,” San tsked behind you, palming over his clothed cock as he took in your red eyes and sniffling nose.

“Mm, I think you’re right,” the arm resting idly over the console raised, fingers tangling in the hair at your nape and pushing your head downwards until the warmth of your mouth engulfed him once again, soft groans escaping through gritted teeth as your throat constricted around his tip. With the hand in your hair, he began moving you over his cock, bobbing your head and noting the weight of the necklace adoring your neck falling over his thigh every time his tip brushed against your uvula. “Fuuuuck, that’s my good girl.”

The outline of his vein slid over your tongue, pulsing as you took him down your throat. You could hear the slick movement of San’s hand over his cock, his eyes moving between your stretched lips and Wooyoung’s parted ones, soft, breathy moans muffled under the wind rushing through the open window. You felt him twitch inside your mouth, the familiar clench of his abdomen egging you on, taking him all the way and hollowing your cheeks. The van veered to the left again, Wooyoung’s eyes barely open as pleasure rushed through his veins with every squeeze around his cockhead. You swallowed around him once, twice, before gagging around the hot ribbons of white shooting down your throat. The limp fingers in your hair regained their strength, pushing your head down while he rolled his hips into your mouth, your jaw going slack as he used you to milk out the last of his cum.

San’s eyes fluttered shut to take in the melodies playing through Wooyoung’s parted lips – rough grunts paired with airy moans while he fucked the last of his load into your mouth, pulling you off him to wipe the tip of his cock over your face, a line of cum smeared over your cheek. A few seconds of muted shuffling passed before saltiness consumed San’s tastebuds, your mouth roughly pressing against his, tongue breaching his lips to share some of Wooyoung’s release. His Adam’s apple bobbed, eagerly swallowing down the tangy liquid before diving in for more, pushing you further into him with a hand to the back of your head. A throaty moan vibrated against your lips, San’s cock lurching in his limp fist as he sucked the last of Wooyoung’s load off your tongue. Pulling away, you grabbed San’s jaw firmly and moved your head closer to spit into his open mouth, a mixture of your spit and his marbled with milky white reflecting the passing streetlights before disappearing down his throat.

“Wooyoung, fuck,” he spoke, words slurred from the tight grip you have on his jaw, rolling his wrist around his leaking cockhead. “Pull over. I need her right fucking now.”

--

The van jumped over a speedbump, the driver too distracted to slow down, eyes trained on the overhead mirror instead of the road as two bodies moved steadily in the reflection. Two fingers twisted the volume knob to the left, silencing the music to revel in the harmony of moans surging from the back of the van.

The worn-down mattress was anything but comfortable, your dripping pussy adding to the stains decorating it. Looking over to the side, your eyes settled on the discarded boxing gloves from the night before, splotches of maroon flaking off the faux leather. One of San’s hands cupped the back of your head, pushing your face down while he pounded into you from the back, his other pulling at the necklace around your neck, the diamonds pressing into your skin to form thin crescents.

Wooyoung scoffed at the sight – red spreading from the soiled collar of San’s tank top and up to his neck, beads of sweat rolling down his skin and sinking into the cheap cotton. “What happened to all your hard work, hm?” his eyes rolled down to San’s white knuckles, wrapped tightly around the accessory restricting your airflow.

“Shut up,” he spat, his hips slamming into the backs of your thighs as he pumped his cock between your fluttering walls. The hand covering the back of your head slid down your spine to squeeze at your waist, his blunt nails stabbing into your heated flesh while husky grunts vibrated through his throat.

Wooyoung’s eyes shifted to your face, concealed as you looked over to the side, your lips parted with drool pooling under your head. “Aw, I think Sannie got a little jealous earlier. Right, sweetheart?”

The words reduced to mere sounds in your head, the syllables meshing as San’s cockhead pistoned into your g-spot, barely registering the rough fingers tangling into the hair at your crown before sharp pain seared through your scalp, your chest lifting off the tattered mattress and neck craning as San angled your face upwards. You sucked in deep breaths now that the silver band wasn't digging into your neck, choking around broken cries of pleasure. Hooded eyes studied your face in the small mirror – pupils dilated, tears and glitter eyeshow staining your heated cheeks with saliva trickling down your chin, body jerking forward every time San’s hips slammed into yours, his cock stretching you open around his girth.

“'Don’t think she can answer,” San rasped, his eyes dropping to watch the flesh of your ass ripple every time he drove into your clenching cunt. “Ah- So fucking tight for me.”

Wooyoung’s fingers squeezed around the steering wheel, “is he fucking you good, baby?” The corners of his lips twitched with a concealed smirk, “or is my pretty slut still thinking about that man’s cock?”

Your brain short-circuited, shots of burning pleasure soaring through your veins and forcing your eyes shut. “it’s good, s-so good,” your speech was barely coherent, moans spilling out of you as San continued to fuck you through Wooyoung’s interrogation.

“What about my second question?” San’s eyes flew towards the mirror to meet Wooyoung’s, clenching his jaw so tight it bordered on painful, the younger man smiling to himself over how easy it was to rile San up.

San rammed his cock inside you, holding it deep within your cunt while he bent at the waist to whisper in your ear, the deep baritone of his voice nearly masked under your pathetic moaning, “be a good girl and answer Youngie’s question, or have I already fucked you dumb?"

“I-I’m not! ‘Love Sannie’s cock so much- hnngh!” your upper body flopped onto the mattress, your scalp burning under the palm San had flattened over your head, fingers rubbing soothing lines over your roots while he ground his cock into your heat.

“That’s right,” he pressed his lips to your slick shoulder and gave you a harsh thrust, rolling his hips once, twice before pulling off you. His hands slid down your body to grab at your hips, dragging you back over his length with a grip tight enough to promise bruises. One of his knees nudged against your inner thigh to spread your legs even further, giving you a few seconds to breathe before he began hammering his cock into you. “Love my cock so much you’ll let me breed this tight pussy, won’t you, darling?

“Nghh- fuck! Sannie, please-”

“Give it to me, love, ‘wanna feel you cream all over my cock,” the tautness of his voice, strained as he chased his orgasm with sloppy thrusts, was enough to send you over the edge.

Your vision went black as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, thighs shaking while you your orgasm rushed through you. A succession of curses and San’s name rolled off your tongue, followed by desperate pleas for him to come as he frantically humped your overstimulated cunt. Your body jolted as pain mixed with pleasure, your vision blurring with tears while San used you like a cocksleeve, leaning over you to whisper in your ear, whimpered praise falling off his tongue – a melody of ‘just a little more’ and ‘you can take it’ sending shivers down your spine.

You felt him split you open thrice before a familiar warmth spread through your lower belly, his cock twitching between your fluttering walls as he unloaded his seed inside you. His arms wrapped around your middle, holding your body flush against his shuddering chest while he grinded into your used cunt, draining himself of every last drop. Delicate hands smoothed over your sides at the pained whimper you released into the dungy mattress, San’s softening cock slipping out of you and making way for a stream of his cum to trickle out of your gaping hole. He took a few seconds to moon over the mess he'd created before pursing his lips and adding to it, dropping a wad of spit onto your drenched pussy, your hips jolting when a calloused thumb ran through the fluids painting your folds.

You barely noticed the van making a sharp turn, the engine going silent half a minute later and drawing your attention to the front, a rest stop sign shining through the windshield. Wooyoung’s head poked through the gap between the seats, his eyes glazed over as he took in the sweaty bodies sprawled out in their own mess. He lifted his arm to hurl a roll of cash at San, his eyes remaining fixed on your twitching form as he imagined the steady stream of cum making its way down your thighs.

“Sannie, go grab some food and water. I think I need to be thanked a little more.”

reblogs/feedback are greatly appreciated!! ^^ apply for my tag list here (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

[dreaming-of-lu]

A thought that I shared with a couple of mutuals, cause I cannot shut up about Stardew Valley right now. Imma mix mash my favs together and make y'all spiral with me.

You, the only beloved grandchild of your grandfather, was given a letter by your grandfather who was on his last leg, filled with information regarding his left behind farm and cottage in your name. He told you when the day comes that when you've grown tired of the city and yearn for a life free from the shackles of the ever growing demand of corporates and nonstop hustle bustle. The farm and cottage will be waiting until you are ready. Years passed and of course, you become tired, exactly what your grandfather told you would. With no thoughts to spare to the city you left behind and little clothes on your back. Quitting your job, you head towards Pelican Town.

The mayor was friendly, save for the carpenter that definitely made you laugh until she made a jab at your grandfather's cottage. While you could agree, since it's honestly not much, yet you'll make do with what you got for now and add things on later. However, the slight pang went through your heart at the disrespect she gave to him. Before the mayor could set off, he highly encouraged you to introduce yourself to the entire town. He then goes over with you about the shipping container, what to put in there while handing you a sack filled with parsnip seeds. He also gestures to the tools he was able to get you that were sitting on the porch, with a wordless pat of good luck, he sets off down the road back to the town.

MEET OUR BACHELORS

First: Single (Bachelor)

Meeting First was quite quick since the man was known to be busy and quite on the run to get things done before heading back to the adventurer's guild that his great uncle runs. He was short in his greetings to you and apologized swiftly that he had to be somewhere.

It may not seem like it, but this man is definitely a poet with words. Chivalrous, that had his great uncle playfully rolling his eyes at his nephew.

Yet there's something underlying mysterious about him that drew you in to him. Perhaps you should gift him things and get to know him a little more better!

Sky: Single (Bachelor)

The eldest son of the carpenter! He lives down southeast of Lon Lon Ranch. He's the absolute sweetest person you've ever met in your entire life. The bright smile on his sleepy face had you mentally cooing at him.

He carves, paints, builds little bird houses just like what his mother use to do. He definitely decorates his home each time the season changes, it's so damn adorable.

He's single due to a breakup that did not end on good terms unfortunately. While he still respect her, however, there are things that were said that ended up hurting the other.

Four: Single (Bachelor)

The grandson of the blacksmith. He was working behind the counter when your fresh face entered the shop. Obviously, a little put off since not many people tend to flock to Pelican Town. He's a bit shy yet he makes small talk just to get to know you better. Until his grandfather emerged and the look on his face had him laughing.

Yeah, he ain't laughing anymore when his grandfather told him 'that's the kid you used to play with all the time when you were younger.'

He takes the tools you got and upgrades them or process the geodes that you tend to bring in.

Time: Single (Bachelor)

The working left hand man of Lon Lon Ranch. This man scared the absolute shit out of you when he showed up on your front porch that morning. To open a door to a towering, one eye, scarred man was not on your bingo card of shit you witness while living here.

He was straight to the point of who to come to when buying animals whenever you get your barn and coop up n going.

He's someone you want to be careful around, an anger you do not want aimed towards you. That mask you saw sitting on his belt felt ominous. He's hard to get warm up to.

Twilight: Single (Bachelor)

You were just planting the parsnip seeds when you heard a bark come from behind you and yelling from someone telling to 'Come back!' A black and white dog ran up on your porch with its tail wagging a mile a minute. A cute dirty blonde haired male came jogging up with an exasperated look before realizing you were the new farmer there.

He was embarrassed yet quickly introduced himself. The adopted son of Uli and Rusl's, the older brother to Colin and his soon to be born little sister. He also works at Lon Lon Ranch.

He's hiding something.

Hyrule: Single (Bachelor)

The doctor of the town. A shy sweetheart that introduced himself to you after you came in due to an already early incident on the farm. He scolds you gently for doing something stupid and rash.

May or may not have told you one day that he wasn't getting enough patients which affected his pay heavily.

Man has unprocessed trauma.

Wild: Single (Bachelor)

He runs the saloon, all by himself, save for his friend Flora does tend to come help him to keep things smooth and sailing when it gets packed. He was friendly enough to introduce himself to you when seeing you pass him on your way to Ravio's General Store.

He def encouraged you to take a load off once and awhile to relax in his Saloon.

He doesn't remember his old life, it seems like he doesn't want to either way.

Warriors: Single (Bachelor)

The older brother to Wind and Aryll. House is on the beach and he's dramatic as hell yet he comes in later on year 2 of your life on the farm. He introduced himself first thing in the morning and he's a bit stiff about it.

He's the only soldier(?) in Pelican Town and ties to the city, he seems so tired and run down honestly.

He's doing his absolute best to raise Wind and Aryll after the funeral of their grandmother.

Legend: Single (Bachelor)

The lone wizard that "summoned" you to his tower to gift you the language of the Junimos. Just to be able to easily translate the language and to fix up the community center.

His sassy attitude def threw you off yet he's standoffish. Only asking you of things he needed from the mines.

He seems to be mourning something.

Ravio: Single???

The owner of Ravio's General Store. The sight of his bunny ear hat sat upon his head was the first thing that caught your eyes. His eagerness to greet you while showing you the package of seeds he was given, showing off the wares he gotten.

The sight of his broken heart made yours clench when one of the workers of Joja mart came in and declared loudly that things were on sale for 50% off. He's trying his best, but the income is needed.

Is finding ways to take down Joja Mart

-TO BACHELORETTES (To be added at some point-

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

*NSFW* Breathe (Yandere!Monster x AFAB!Reader)

CW: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, bed bug inspired monster, minor character death, Non-Con, traumatic insemination, blood, physical torture, mental torture, impregnation, necrophilia

(Reader) breathed deeply, bouncing side to side in the back of the armored vehicle. The men and women by their side held equally grim expressions, not knowing what they were about to face. Three days ago an outpost went radio silent, the group of military scientists sent out an SOS before cutting communications. (Reader) had no idea what the scientists were studying, nor why they needed military protection in the middle of nowhere, but it wasn't their place to know. That's what they continuously told themselves as they practiced their deep breathing, secretly unnerved by how little their team was informed about this mission, and by how uneasy their teammates were.

The van rattled as it parked, and everyone exited the vehicle, guns pointed and night vision on, patrolling their designated routes throughout the empty land. (Reader) was followed by Davis and Jones, surveying the backside of one of the buildings, and praying for someone to be found alive. It was a bit dramatic, assuming that everyone was dead, but with how everyone seemed to keep this mission "hush hush", keeping important info from the men and women entering the "possibly dangerous" area, with the goal of "information retrieval" being considered a higher priority over extraction of survivors, it didn't sound like even their superiors were hopeful.

Everything was suspicious, and made everyone on edge. That worry became a very real fear when (Reader) entered the building through the back door and found the floor painted in blood. A body was mere inches from the exit, and the back of his head was torn open, exposing a cracked skull.

"Jesus Christ.." Davis covered his mouth.

(Reader) bent down, turning the body over to observe the face, comparing it to the portfolios of the personal working at the outpost they had memorized on the drive. They clicked on their walkie, speaking low. "This is (Reader), we've discovered a body, appears to be Dr. Romero."

Rodriguez's voice crackled quietly in their ears. "Copy that, this is Rodriguez, I've got two more bodies over here."

"What the hell happened to him?" Jones whispered.

(Reader) couldn't answer. There were scratches on the skull, and the skin was red and puffy surrounding it. The face was purple from the pooling blood. It didn't look like a gun shot, but (Reader) couldn't imagine what it could have been otherwise. "Let's continue on." The three left the body behind, creeping down a hall in procession.

"Movement." Behind (Reader), Davis urgently hissed, motioning towards what looked like a rec room. The formation changed, following Davis as he entered the room, focused on a couch. As they drew closer, a quiet gurgling could be heard, along with something wet dripping onto the tile flooring.

What looked like a man, naked and hunched over, was cradling a corpse, rocking back and forth. In the odd lighting of the goggles, they couldn't tell that there was something wrong with him until it was too late.

"Turn around, and put your hands up." Davis commanded, frightened and ready to shoot. The head of the corpse lulled back, revealing it's neck was completely devoured. In the second it took to blink, the creature had lunged at Davis, tackling him to the ground. (Reader) and Jones opened fire, but the bullets seemed to bounce off his back in the dark. Seeing a slight difference in texture between his back and neck, (Reader) took a chance, aiming at his neck.

The creature screamed, holding his neck and jumping to his feet, taking a moment to reveal his almost human face to (Reader), before crawling up the wall, and through a trap door in the ceiling.

"Davis!" Jones picked up his brother, patting his armor.

"I'm fine! I'm fine!" Davis panicked, grasping at Jones to ground himself. "I think he was trying to bite me, but- but couldn't get past my mask."

(Reader) got on the radio again. "This is (Reader), we've just been attacked. No injuries, but.. but I can't explain what just attacked us. It looked like a naked man, but it crawled up the ceiling like a bug."

"Not funny, (Reader)."

"That wasn't a joke, Rodriguez. I unloaded a clip into it, and it didn't die. It went into the attic, do I follow?"

"We're on our way, wait for backup."

Davis looked horrified. "I don't want to go up there!"

"C'mon, man-"

"No, Jones. You didn't see that thing's mouth!"

Everyone went silent as something scraped against the floor boards above them, clenching their weapons in suspense.

The front door was kicked in, Rodriguez and her crew entered the rec room, lowering their guns. "Alright, what happened here?"

"Something Humanoid was in the center of the room, eating.. whoever the hell that once was. Davis told him to put up his hands, when it knocked him to the ground, trying to bite him. Jones and I shot his back, but it didn't seem to affect him. I hit it's neck, but that only got him off of Davis, then he climbed up the wall and went through that door." (Reader) pointed at the attic door.

Rodriguez narrowed her eyes in disbelief, glaring up at the ceiling. "Let's find another way up. If there's nothing up there, we'll go back to the van, check your body cams."

Davis raised his voice defensively. "You think we're lying about this?"

"I think, it fucking reeks in here. It doesn't smell like a gas leak, but I don't believe in monsters. I'm not ruling out a hallucinogen of some kind. (Reader)-" She then nodded to (Reader), signaling to get a move on.

They searched the rooms before finding a ladder, and no other doors leading up. (Reader) sighed. "Good enough."

Davis held the ladder as (Reader) climbed up, followed by Rodriguez, then another soldier, Alistair. Inside the attic the smell was worse, like rotten fruit. It was so bad that Alistair gagged a little, trying not to throw up. "Fuck me, what is that?"

(Reader) flinched, seeing something curled up in the fetal position. "Rodriguez."

The three approached the figure carefully, the smell worsening as they approached, then, (Reader) was close enough to see that the creature wasn't breathing. They kicked it, putting a hole straight through it's stomach.

"Oh God!" Rodriguez recoiled.

However, (Reader) almost threw up, not because of the stench, but from the overwhelming fear that suddenly pulverized their spirit. "It's a shell."

"What?"

Rodriguez bent down, gingerly pulling (Reader's) foot out and examining the body, finding it to be a combination of hard shell and molted skin. "I can see why you couldn't kill it. It's back is like a bug's exoskeleton. Looks like the front is a more... human.. texture."

"But doesn't that mean it's still here somewhere?" Alistair nervously asked, glancing around in the dark.

"We need to get back to the van, call this in to our superiors." Rodriguez commanded before picking up the walkie, calling out the the other three person team. "Jackson, return to the van."

Silence.

"Jackson, you there? I said get to the van."

A barrage of shots fired from outside, echoing through the encampment. Everyone raised their weapons and fell into formation, rushing outside quietly while scoping the area. A scream from one of the newer lieutenants pierced the silent air, before choking loudly, and then returning the outpost to silence once more.

The team splintered apart, separating back into their three man groups, covering more ground in hopes of finding the last three members of their team. (Reader) smelled that fruity stench again, and motioned to their men to follow them in the smell's direction. They entered a tent covering what looked like an excavation site, a deep hole roped off with caution tape. A uniformed body laid headless in the dirt next to the entrance. In the bright green view of (Reader's) goggles, they could read Jackson's name on the vest.

Further down the large tent, a disgusting squelching noise was rhythmically slapping, along with animalistic grunts. (Reader) stepped as soundlessly as possible, stepping over torn clothing; a military vest with Adams' name, her jacket, her tank top, and even her bra, torn to shreds and strewn about, leading to the noise.

Behind a metal desk, seconds clicked by like minutes, the adrenaline forcing (Reader) to take in every detail of the horrific scene. The monster, now much larger than it was before, had Adams' corpse in it's arms, her nude upper body violently shaking as it ground it's pelvis into her abdomen, splattering blood around them. As the scene came together, (Reader) began firing, aiming at the side of his head, hoping to hit a soft spot.

The creature angrily stood up, Adams' body sliding off of what appeared to be a curved spike protruding from it's groin. It screamed, rushing (Reader) and ramming into them, knocking them off balance which sent them tumbling down into the hole.

(Reader) heard their team cry out for them, and gunfire, but they kept falling, bouncing off the walls of the hole before landing hard at the bottom, snapping their arm at the bottom.

The shouts of terror didn't last long above ground, ending with sounds of bones cracking and bodies falling. (Reader) struggled onto their feet, feeling discomfort in their rapidly swelling ankles. There didn't seem to be any rope or ladders to get back out, and they didn't know if it was safe to call for help on the radio.

Spinning around, something moved in the dark, scaring (Reader) onto their ass and fumbling for their gun. In the dark, another naked monster, smaller than the previous one, crawled over on all fours towards (Reader), chest heaving like he was sniffing the air. He approached (Reader) who still couldn't find their gun, and cautiously tapped on their goggles, searching their masked face with deep, sunken eyes. His mouth was split open, showing off his jagged, saw like teeth. This monster was about the size of the first one before it molted.

It continued open mouth sniffing (Reader's) head, almost making them vomit by it's rotting body odor, when suddenly it flinched, whipping his head up to see the bigger creature climbing down head first into the pit. The younger looking monster grabbed (Reader's) face tightly, pressing his hands against their mouth and squeezing, forcing them to hold their breath.

Sweat felt like lice as out dripped down the fine hairs on (Reader's) neck. They hadn't prepared to be holding in their air, so they were already beginning to feel light headed. The larger monster paused halfway down, sniffing hard into their air before screeching at the smaller creature. He howled in response, still keeping his hands in place on (Reader's) face. (Reader) understood that the two were communicating, and that it seemed like the smaller monster was on their side, because soon the killer turned around and retreated back up, more than likely to kill more of (Readers) brothers and last remaining sister.

After a painful amount of time, he removed his hands, and (Reader) wasted no time grabbing their walkie. "Hello? Does anyone read me?" They whispered frantically.

"(Reader), we found more bodies-"

"Jackson and Adams are dead, possibly Davis and Jones as well."

"Jesus.."

"We found the monster in a large tent covering what looks to be a dig site. I was thrown into a hole, broke my left arm, lost my gun, and possibly sprained both ankles." (Reader) swallowed their rising bile, watching the monster mimic their movements. "Don't breathe. If you hear rustling, don't breathe. The monsters can see, but I think they find their victims through their breath or something."

"What? Wait, did you just say monsters?"

"There's a smaller one here in the hole with me. I think he saved my life. The one from the attic is much bigger now, this other one is still small. He made me hold my breath and it made the bigger one leave me alone."

"Jesus, alright. That sounds crazy. But.. look, just stay there, we'll be there soon. Can you see a way out?"

"No. No ropes or ladders down here."

"'Kay. Stay quiet, call back if that thing down there tries to attack you. Even if we can't get you out, I can at least throw you down a weapon."

"Thanks. Stay safe up there."

(Reader) leaned back, the pain settling in as the fight or fight response cooled down. They groaned in pain. The monster hopped up, crawling back over to inspect (Reader).

"Curious little monkey, aren't ya?" (Reader) panted, becoming nervous at how he sniffed the air excitedly as they did so. He crept back over, becoming far too close again, and starting touching their mask and goggles, confused. Long sharp claws reached under the mask and pulled it down, startling himself. He retreated to the other side of the pit while whimpering.

"Hey, that was just my mask." (Reader) tried to console him. They didn't know if it was because he saved them, or if because he acted like a scared child, but they weren't nearly as scared of him as they were the other one. Seeing that it was just a piece of fabric, and not (Reader's) face accidentally being ripped off, he shuffled back over, rubbing his dirty fingers across their lips.

He tapped his nails across their teeth, pulling open their lips carefully, feeling their jaw and chin, running his hands over every little bump and scrape. Learning that the bottom half of (Reader's) face had been covered by a mask emboldened him to tug on the goggles, coaxing (Reader) into removing them, leaving them completely blind in the dark. His breath tickled their face as he shuddered, purring deep in the back of his throat as he placed his nose on (Reader's) forehead, pressing into them in an almost cat-like manner, smelling them and rubbing his oily skin over (Reader's) entire face.

Uncomfortable by their lack of vision, (Reader) replaced their goggles, much to the monster's dismay. "I need these. Protection." They put back on the mask as well, ignoring his whines of disapproval.

Dirt fell onto (Reader) as Rodriguez stepped near the opening. "You still alive?" She stage whispered down into the chasm.

"Yeah. Can we get out of here?"

"Yeah. I think with the footage we got, and the documents, they'll understand if we don't take any bodies back with us." Her words were harsh, but (Reader) knew she was just as distraught as they were. "Your gun's up here, want me to throw it down?"

"No. I'm guessing you didn't find a ladder?"

"No."

"Then I'll try to climb out."

"Didn't you say your arm was broken?"

"Unless you killed that other creature, it's too dangerous to hang around here." (Reader) readied themselves to climb, immediately hissing as they grabbed into the dirt. The monster panicked, growling at (Reader). But they didn't stop, kicking a foot in, creating a hold, and pulling up. White hot pain flashed through their body.

An arm grabbed them around their waist, and swung (Reader) around; the monster had picked them up like a sack over his shoulder, and began climbing the wall with one arm.

"Jesus Christ." Rodriguez grabbed at (Reader) as soon as they were within reach, yanking them away from the monster. He snarled in response, trying to cover (Reader) with his body, but (Reader) wearily pat him on the head, trying to show that they were fine. He calmed down, but still glared at Rodriguez suspiciously. "What the hell are you?"

"Where's the rest of us?" (Reader) questioned, only now seeing that Rodriguez was alone.

"Only one other guy made it, Davis. He was fucked up when we found him, I got him in the van."

"I'm sorry.."

"It wasn't your fault. Let's go." Rodriguez helped (Reader) to their feet, handing them their gun, and the three left the tent.

Bodies of (Reader's) mates were in pieces, littering the ground with organs. Everyone was wrinkled. Whatever blood hadn't spilled on the ground while being murdered appeared to have been siphoned from their bodies, the chunks nearly mummified. The two soldiers watched their new companion as they snuck back through the outpost, using him like a blood hound to sense if his more dangerous relative was near. There were moments when he would pause, a frightened look crossing his face as he clung to (Reader), and both humans would hold their breath, desperately clinging to the faith that this monster was actually trying to save them.

The sun was still hours away from rising, and horror movie plots drifted through (Reader's) mind, pondering what kind of creature was clinging to their arm at that moment, and what could possibly kill it. (Reader) sped up their pace, rushing to the driver's side door as Rodriguez pulled the unwilling monster into the back with her, wrestling him as he tried to follow (Reader).

Each team leader had a spare key for the truck, so it didn't matter who drove it back, but Rodriguez did have more hands on experience with first aid, so it made sense for her to be in the back with the barely conscious Davis during the ride, just in case his health took a turn for the worse.

The van started up, worryingly loud in the silent town. (Reader) pulled off their goggles and flipped on the lights, flooring the gas as they took off, knowing it was no use trying to be quiet at that point. From the back of the van, the monster started crying.

"Hey, something's wrong with this thing!" Rodriguez called out to (Reader), before the entire van shook under the weight of something dropping onto the roof. "Shit!"

Without thinking, (Reader) spun the wheel to the left, throwing the bloody monster off their vehicle and sending him tumbling into the road. He was able to shake off the fall, standing upright and staring at (Reader) from the road. Now without the night vision, (Reader) saw him clearly in the headlights, the difference between his brown armored shell pieces, and the mammal like skin, almost paper thin in the light, pulsated with the blood of (Reader's) teammates and the doctors they were sent to find. The skin was stretched tight over how swollen he was, growing to almost twice its natural size.

"Hold on!" (Reader) barked, speeding towards the man in the road.

His head snapped forward as his chest connected with the grill, bouncing off the hood as (Reader) drug him back towards the buildings, driving him towards the house with the rec room. (Reader) kept on full speed until they crashed into the wall. Blood splashed across the wall and van as the monster popped under the force of the collision.

"Shit! Are we good?"

The body twitched a few times, choking on it's stolen blood as it feebly clawed at the metal crushing it before falling still, finally dying. "Yeah. We're good."

Back at the base, it was a horrifying shock for the troops awaiting their return, guns raised and pointed at the young monster they brought with them, however, they didn't shoot, as he held onto (Reader) tightly, making no move to attack anyone. They uploaded their body cam footage, corroborating their testimonies of what they saw, save for Davis, who was rushed back to the hospital wing for emergency surgery. (Reader) and Rodriguez were also eventually treated for their injuries, Rodriguez only needing a couple of stitches and getting diagnosed with a concussion, while (Reader) had their arm placed in a cast, and both ankles had to be wrapped up for compression to fight the mild puffiness.

The two sat next to each other, finally alone after the military dragged their monstrous savior away. "God, I need a shower." The dark haired woman complained, sniffing her hair that had been let down. Her face scrunched up in disgust. "I smell like those things."

"Ha. Yeah, like rotting fruit."

"Rotting raspberries. So gross." Rodriguez's forced smile melted, incapable of pretending to feel relief. "Why do you think he saved you?"

Clashing with the smell of the sanitized hospital and the saline aftertaste from the IV drip, (Reader) could still smell the pungent scent of the monster on their body, just as Rodriguez pointed out. "I don't know."

"What do you think those things are? Vampires?"

The image of Adam's limp body sliding off of a thin spike resurfaced in (Reader's) mind, making them nauseous. "I don't think so." They leaned forward, scooting closer towards Rodriguez. "I didn't see your body cam video.. did you see mine?"

"No. Why?"

"Did any of the bodies- I mean, this is going to sound.." they sighed, licking their lips and trying again. "When I entered that tent, with the hole, I found the monster with Adams. It had.. torn off her clothes, and it looked like he was.. stabbing her abdomen, with a claw out of his pelvis."

Except for the normal hospital beeping, (Reader's) words left the atmosphere feeling far too silent. "Are you saying it raped her?"

"I don't know.. maybe. Did you see any other naked bodies?"

"..no." They both laid back, exhausted, and frightened. "But if you're thinking that it could tell she was a woman, why weren't we attacked? I mean, I know you're not a woman, but if those things went by smell or pheromones.. I don't even know what I'm saying." She drug her dirty hands over her face.

"Maybe because our's is a kid. I mean, he's the size of that first monster before it molted, so maybe he isn't.. sexually mature?"

Before Rodriguez could think of a response to that a doctor came in, asking to see her out in the hallway. "I'll be right back." She promised, patting (Reader's) shoulder as she left the room.

(Reader) nestled back into the thin pillow and accidentally fell asleep while waiting for their friend to return, the awful rotting smell never fading.

It wasn't until a banshee worthy scream echoed throughout the hospital that (Reader) woke up, looking up at the clock on the wall and seeing that it was 19:31, revealing that they had slept through an entire day, and that Rodriguez was not in the room with them. Something down the hall shattered, followed by another terrified shout. Unarmed and now incapacitated, the only course of action their adrenaline flooded mind could think up on the fly was to hide, ripping out their IV and sliding under the cot, hidden from view by the crossing metal bars and plastic barrier.

Footsteps passed by (Reader's) door. They took a deep breath, holding their face to keep in their air. The door opened and whoever it was entered the room. (Reader) was only capable of seeing the bare feet painted in blood as they stepped closer to the bed. The bloody individual leaned on the mattress above (Reader), pressing their weight into it, before stepping away, touching other things around the room. Blood dripped onto the tiles from the drenched body. (Reader) began shaking, trying not to take a breath as they waited for the thing to leave, tearing up at the possibility of it being the creature they willingly brought back with them. The feet disappeared from view, then they heard the door close. Still, just to be safe, (Reader) kept their hands to their mouth for a few more seconds, unable to hear if he left because of the blood rushing through their ears. Quietly, they released the lungful of air and slowly sucked new air back in.

A hand grabbed one of their swollen ankles and pulled (Reader) out from under the bed. In the dim light of the flashing buttons, (Reader) saw the freshly molted monster, smiling down at them with blood coating their face and dribbling from their lips.

"No!" A casted fist attempted to punch him, but he caught it, rubbing the puffy fingers against his face affectionately. He leaned down, rubbing his nose across their face like he had done back when he had first saved them, sniffing loudly. (Reader) began sobbing, knowing what would happen to them after Adams. The thin hospital gown was easily ripped off, pleasing the monster who made that purr-like rumble in the back of his throat, still smiling.

A long, thinly tipped aedeagus unfurled itself, curved and sharp, just like (Reader) remembered it looking.

"Please don't.. please.. I don't want to die!"

Their words weren't understood by the monster, too busy rubbing (Reader's) side. He laid down beside them, hugging (Reader) tightly as he positioned himself, still sniffing their neck as he did so. Between (Reader's) pleas a stinging pain entered their side as he pushed his hypodermic penis into their midsection.

The sound of pain (Reader) made was unlike anything they had ever made, or heard, before. Incapable of jerking away because of his hold on them, he continued making noises of pleasure, rolling his hips as he pressed deeper, splurting blood as he wiggled back and forth inside of them, trying not to puncture anything important until he could get deep enough to what he needed.

His prick pierced (Reader's) uterus, the burning torture as they felt something inside getting stabbed was hell. Their eyes rolled back as his hips rubbed sensually against their side, unable to hold on as they began to pass out. He screeched horrifically, scratching (Reader) as his grip constricted happily, cumming straight into (Reader's) uterus. Even after they fell limp in his arms, his fluids continued pouring out, overfilling the poor organ; his elastic liquid solidifying near the hole like a polyp.

Contrary to what (Reader) thought, the monster who caressed their body was intelligent. He was far smarter than his brother, who had been so desperate to implant his seed he fucked that poor woman to death, not taking into account that human females hadn't evolved to handle the method of reproduction that their species used. Even their own could die if they mated multiple times, so he really should have been more careful. He held onto (Reader) dreamily, using their gown to stop the bleeding as he pulled out. He took the time to ensure nothing was damaged inside his wonderful little mate, so the only bleeding he had to worry about was the skin. Some of his sperm clung to the tip of his needle like cock, so he rubbed it across (Reader's) face as they laid unconscious, just so that if another male of his species did somehow follow them, the could smell that (Reader) had already been claimed.

When he was searching the hospital for (Reader) he had seen stitching, and learned what it was for by watching a doctor from afar before killing him and the patient. It wasn't too difficult to figure out.

(Reader) would live. It would hurt, but imagine how happy they'll be when they awake to find themselves pregnant! It made him purr with joy, wondering how many children he'd have with his beautiful human.

After all, unlike humans, his species only needed to fuck once and their sperm would survive inside the host body for years, creating a kind of sac to plug up the hole in the uterus and protect the sperm from the forming infants, releasing sperm whenever there is a vacancy in the uterus to immediately impregnate the host again.

His mate shifted under the needle in their sleep as he fixed them up. It brought him such pride, imagining that he could almost see them becoming pregnant at that very moment. He knew from the second he smelled (Reader) down in the dirt he was unburied from that he was born to be their mate~

[writingoddess1125]

'Unique' Kinks

Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Buggy, Shanks, Mihawk X GNReader

⚠️ Warnings ⚠️ Sex- All types. Yeah-

MUST 18+ TO READ! 🚫

Support me on Ko-Fi! ;3

Luffy-

Biting {aka Odaxelagnia}/Food Play

• Everyone knows Luffy loves to eat, It's one of the pillars of his personality afterall

• However the extent of this is also in the bedroom. He loves to bite his significant other

- You couldn't help but blush as Luffy looked over your naked form. His eyes gleaming in a primal joy youd never seen in his gaze before. Smiling brightly and grabbing the chocolate sauce he had snagged from the kitchen he began to pour it over you.

"C-Cold!" You whimper out, But Luffy giggled at this. Leaning down were he had placed the syrup, aka your thighs and began to livk the gentle skin. Earning a embarrassed moan from you as the man continued to livk the chocolate syrup from your skin- His eyes gleamed at this as he smirked.

Giving a surprised yelp and jump suddently as Luffy bit down on the tender flesh slowly but deeply, pulling away to give a delicate kiss over the bruised skin.

"Delicious~"

• You leave every morning with new bites and bruises on your body- Especially on your thighs and throat.

• Don't dare cover then either! He wants everyone to see them and if you do will put them in places were you can't cover them.

Sanji-

Orgasm control/Begging

• This man- While he seems like a gentleman is a bastard in bed.

• He loves to tease you and make you a sobbing mess for him- Getting off by simply watching you and hearing your cries.

- It had been hours already- His fingers carefully between your legs as he forced another near orgasm from you. Tears rolling down your cheeks as you gasp in total desperation.

"P-Please Sanji!" You all but sob out, your hips bucking up to his as your legs shake from the rising build of your orgasm. Shallow gasp leaving you as you were seconds away from cumming- Before the evil man pulled his fingers away.

"Please! No no!!" You beg loudly in need.

"Aww~" He purred out, earning a desperate whimper from you as he licked his fingers clean.

"Not Yet~"

• Will let you cum- Sometimes. Depending on his mood that day.. or week

• Sometimes will make sure you don't cum for days before randomly giving you the biggest orgasm you can imagine- Savoring every moment of your blissed out state

Zoro-

Impact play/DomSub

• Zoro had a fascination when it came to you- mainly the way your skin would bounce and move when his hands slapped it.

• Your thighs being his favorite part about you.

- You grip onto the edge of the bed tightly, panting hard as the toy deep inside of you kept you from thinking straight.

"What number was that (Y/N)?" You heard Zoros voice, the feeling of his hand rubbing against the sore skin of your thighs as he inspected the reddness- His fingers working to nestle the toy back aa deeply into as possible.

"I-I lost count" You admit, your voice shaking as you hear Zoros sigh in disappointment- the thin leather of the belt rubbing across your skin.

"Guess we will have to start over" He hummed, before a quick snap of the leather across your skin drew a yelp from you- The sting paired with the arousal making you burn, a whimpering 'o-one' leaving your voice making Zoro chuckle.

"Count them out Clearly Pet~"

• Will soothe you afterwards with soft words and gentle rubs- His massive hands massaging away at the red skin

• You have to play off why it hurts to much to sit the next morning- Zoro just smirking into his drink

Buggy-

Exhibitionism/Humiliation

• This shouldn't be a surprise- Buggy loves the spotlight afterall.

• As his favorite toy he brings you everywhere with him naked as the day you were born.

- "I want the prop more to the left-" Buggy called out, Waving his hand at some crew members as they moved the massive painted prop. You however holding onto the Captian for dear life-

He'd had you seated on his cock for well over an hour now on his lap and facing him, your face delicately tucked into his shoulder- he was hitting every bundle of nerves inside you and just not moving. His fingers rubbing invisible patterns on your naked back.

You rock your hips for a second, but feel him grab your hips suddently.

"Don't be a total slut, did I tell you to move?" He growled in your ear, clearly amused by your attempt as you whimper into his shoulder.

"So Dirty~"

• Will of course fuck your brains out once you've cum a few times from just sitting on his lap or his fingers working their way between your legs lazily.

Shanks-

Wax play/Sensory Dep

• Most would expect Shanks to use something with his Haki- But no. He loves the warmth and Intimacy of wax play, for himself or his partners.

• Having a warm light basking over the both of your forms as gentle wax washes over his form

- Darkness and warmth- That's all you felt. You had been blindfolded by your partner earlier in the night. Deprived of sight and laying on your stomach in bed, feeling his hand rub oil on your skin as he said he had a special surprise. You waited in anticipation as you heard him shuffle around you-

'Drip'

A surprised gasp left you as the first few drops fell onto your skin, Warmth beading on your sensitive skin as more drops fell over your body and eventually hardening on the tender flesh.

Wax-

Feeling Shanks paint your skin in a erotic artwork of wax, how each splash and drop lit you up like fireworks. Especially since you couldn't feel were they were coming from-

"F-Fuck~"

You moan out as you feel the hot wax run down your back, pooling at the base of your back as the sensation of warmth coated your skin. Shanks chuckling at this as you felt him kiss your shoulder softly-

"A Masterpiece~"

• The best however is afterwards- He loves the sweet Intimacy of working his oiled hand over your body and taking off the wax which often tickles-

• Raveshes you in sweet embraces as you giggled from the cooled wax leaving your body.

Mihawk-

Shibari

• Mihawk likes careful control- That applies with sex as well.

• He will buy the most expensive rope he can to decorate your skin, maybe some toys also to add to his design.

- "Don't Move Little One" Mihawk purred out in your ear, His hands running over your body with firmness and confidence. The soft purple rope he had purchased in his hands as he carefully tightened it over your wrist- Warmth flooding your face as you can give only a pathetic noise.

Clearly pleased with this he tightened it further. Securing your wrist behind your head with your elbows pointed at the ceiling leaving you open and vulnerable.

"That's it~ Very good" He praised, Securing the rope around your torso and decorating it with a series of knots that made you unable to move or fuss- Long fingers working over your ass as he knotted tour legs in a bent state, forcing you to remain spread open for him to enjoy and watch.

"Last step" He hummed, His fingers brushing teasingly at your arousal- chuckling at hearing you wimper. With ease he hooked the excess rope up to the pull above and began to pull you up suspending you perfectly in the air as he walked around you- admiring your form.

"Beautiful"

• Will admire his work and take a sip of wine as he stares at your suspended form, Walking around you like you're a fine peice of art work for his gaze only.

• Will tease your body as you're left at his mercy to enjoy.

Bonus!!

Crocodile-

Voyeurism/BDSM

• To put it simply- He likes to watch..

• You are his favorite toy, his favorite thing to gaze upon like a sunset on the sea-

- You blush and whimper out a moan as you bounce on the rather large dildo under you, you'd already cum twice in 30 minutes but you couldn't let up now- especially with how excited he looked..

Crocodile Sat in a chair a few feet infront of you, a cigar to his lips as he watched your closely- The way your body jiggled and moved with each bounce of the toy, the redness of your skin- and especially the chain clasp tightned around your abused nipples. It was perfect.

"S-Sir" You whimper out, he smirks at your choice of word. Sitting forward as his fingers reached out and grabbed the chains on your chest, tugging on them.

"Faster" He commanded, a broken moan leaving you at his grasp on the clasp as you begin to bounce faster. Your cries getting louder before you sink down fully and cum- Shivering in pleasure as you look up at him teary eyed and too sensitive-

"One more go around~"

• Crocodile won't touch you, Not for a while anyway- Maybe using his sand to caress parts of your exposed form

• But eventually it will get too much for him and he will sleep with you. Rough and hard- Often breaking whatever furniture you happen to be lying on.

[yandere-sins]

Prisoner #006

a/n: A spin on the usual yandere situation, but this story has been sitting in my drafts for a while, I think it's time to release it ^^

Fandom: Genshin Impact Characters: Yandere!Prisoner!GN!Reader x Prisoner!Kaveh Warnings: Yandere, Violence (Reader is being psycho, lost of mentioning of murder and death, Reader stabs someone... a few times, Scratching, Intimidation, Threats, Cornering and intruding on personal space), Long Post

[Prison Project Introduction | Pinterest Moodboard]

Kaveh should have been afraid.

Deep down, he believed he wasn't as stupid and gullible as everyone made him out to be, and yet, he sat still as you drew meaningless little patterns into his skin. The stolen pen scratched over his arm, leaving the area next to the ink red and agitated, but he didn't have it in him to tell you to stop.

You've been a depressed mess since you came to prison, not your typical murderer behind bars. He'd been dealing with a lot of them, and if they weren't the psychotic type, they were haughty and always up for cruel jokes.

But not you. You were... peaceful.

Even when you cried and begged him not to hurt you after you've been brought to his cell despite his protests, the air around you was calm. Unlike the storm of personalities outside the bars of your cell, Kaveh actually managed to think in peace when he was around you. He had learned to navigate and time his way around the prison. Still, with the ruckus and disgusting things happening in the shadowy corners, there was never any space for him to let go and relax for a while—until he met you.

The knowledge about your prolific murders should have upset him enough to keep his distance, but you reminded him too much of himself when he first came here. Scared and unable to go anywhere without being harassed by the others. You clung to him desperately when he told you to tag along to the cafeteria on your first night, and you still asked him to go to the washrooms with you for safety. Kaveh couldn't blame you for being scared. It was a scary world, outside and inside of this prison.

So even though he knew about your wrong-doings, he let you scribble your marks on him in ink. You were humming a song he hadn't heard before, your mind in your own world as you left butterfly wings and flower petals on his skin, and Kaveh honestly had no complaints. Coming here, art had become sparse around him, the radio rarely running, the TV filled with sports but never dancing or acting. The paintings on the walls leading to the facilities were, frankly, hideous copies of capitalistic emphasis, and the prison layout was a smack in the face of any architect.

And then there was you. Not a Picasso per definition, but you drew the patterns effortlessly, unbothered by pressure to perform and perfectionism. Every stroke of the ballpoint pen was all you, not a style you worked to learn or something you copied from another artist. It was all and truly just you. Kaveh had no idea how much he could admire someone—even someone as terrible as you. But he did.

"Let's leave from here. Together."

The words slipped from his lips before he could even think about them. Alhaitham's plan of escaping was still fresh, depending on some hacker he met in this prison, and Kaveh should have never talked about it so casually. He couldn't promise it, couldn't say it would actually work. But when you stopped scribbling, he realized his mistake, looking up at you in horror over his own blabbermouth.

Only to be met with tears streaming from your eyes.

"You'd take me with you? After all I've done?" you mumbled, rubbing the back of your hand over your eyes.

"You... you didn't do it to me. We could start over, somewhere new. Somewhere no one knows our faces and just... live. Quietly and unknown. Only if you want to come... with me."

For a long moment, you stared at him. Unblinking, unreadable. Your arms were thrown forward, wrapping around his neck before your whole body jumped into his lap, discarding the pen and leaving it to clatter on the floor. "Yes!" you agreed euphorically, smiling from ear to ear.

Kaveh felt the heat rush into his face, happiness prickling in the corners of his eyes as he hugged you back. It almost felt like you agreed to marry him, rather than just join him on the escape. But he knew then that he'd work hard to become the man you needed in the future. Someone reliable, someone who could provide you with a life that wouldn't need you killing anybody anymore. So that the dream of you two living together in peace could become reality.

«──────── 🗡♡ ︎𓍝 ────────»

Kaveh should have been afraid.

Deep down, he was as stupid and gullible as everyone told him. He believed that you could turn over a new leaf. Running away with you could become a new start, different from the pitiful life you two had. That the two of you could live away from cruelty and bloodshed, in peace and quiet and togetherness.

And yet, he was staring down at the cold-blooded killer he fell in love with. Whose trap had been placed so subtly that Kaveh ran right into it. He didn't even know you had a knife ready on the day of your escape, and there was no one left—alive—aside from you two to turn to. Everyone who had fled had spread into different directions, and now it was only him and you and the dead corpses of the police that had caught up to you.

It was his fault, entirely so. They might have survived this encounter if he hadn't gotten close to you and you hadn't been convinced to run away with him. Had he not gotten himself caught, maybe you wouldn't have turned back to help him and had kept running instead, far, far away. Perhaps you wouldn't have pulled out your blade and killed these innocent men who were only doing their job to keep unruly people away from society. That kept psychos like you away from more victims to massacre.

"[Name]..." Kaveh stammered, not believing his own, wide-open eyes. The hand he was holding out towards you was shaking violently as he watched you slam the knife into the policeman's back again and again, blood spraying all over you and the squelching sound of flesh being stabbed echoing through the forest. Somehow, he had gotten back on his feet after being tackled to the ground. However, now that he had to watch you defend him so violently, Kaveh wished he had stayed face-down in the dirt.

"GET YOUR HAND OFF HIM! HE'S MINE!" you kept yelling at the dead body, and Kaveh couldn't help but feel pity for the guy as you mauled him. "YOU CAN'T HAVE HIM! HE BELONGS TO ME! HE'S MINE! MINE!"

Your voice was a screech in the dark, possessiveness thrumming in every word you screamed. Even if you two had grown closer the last few days, Kaveh couldn't understand your thoughts. Although you had protected him, seeing the blood drip off you in the moonlight only sent shivers down his spine rather than thankfulness. And where he felt a crush bloom in his heart before, there was nothing but terror and disgust left.

"[Name]--" he tried again, this time a little firmer as he grabbed your shoulder.

Instantly, you whirled around, fury and madness in your eyes. The bloody blade swiped up his arms, cutting up the beautifully drawn pattern left by you. Kaveh knew it was just an accident, but he couldn't help but yell, "Ow!" holding his own arm firmly against his chest as he stared at you fearfully. Stumbling back, he tripped over a root, the pain of collapsing to the ground shaking him, but fear forced him to keep watching you. What if he was your next victim? Nothing about you screamed trustworthy, and yet, when you came to your senses, you changed completely.

Suddenly, your body went slack, eyes swelling up with tears as you looked at him. "Kaveh!" you sobbed, the knife falling to the ground as you stumbled to your feet, knees buckling so you collapsed into the dirt before him. You stretched out your arms, but this time, Kaveh managed to jerk away, avoiding your blood-soaked hug.

However, you were just a little faster than him. A little more alert. You managed to grab the wounded arm, your tears stinging as they fell into his wound. Leaning over his limb, you cried bitterly, but Kaveh couldn't help but try and tug his arm from your hands. Immediately, your crying stopped, fingers clawing into your skin as he tried to get you off him—no success.

"You can't leave me!" you sobbed, looking up with tears in your eyes. Manipulative tears, as Kaveh began to realize, the reality starting to dawn on him. "I love you! We'll have a life together! We'll go somewhere no one knows us! I won't kill again, I promise! I just didn't want them to hurt you... I wanted them to leave you alone! I won't do it again, I can be harmless, I promise!"

His gut wrenched, hearing you throw his words back at him. Now knowing how easy it was for you to end someone's life, how much of a crazy person you really were, it felt like he was the one that had been gutted. Maybe everything would be fine this time, but Kaveh couldn't justify it with himself to find out. Your hands were already so bloody; no trying to pretend you were normal was going to wash away your sins. At least he never killed someone. He couldn't imagine someone doing it as easily as you had, not even thinking twice before attacking.

"N-No..." he stammered, unable to put all these feelings into words.

"No?" you repeated, the tears stopping suddenly. "What do you mean 'no'? I saved you, didn't I? Without me, you'd be the dead one!"

Your tone changed so quickly that it scared him to the bone. The fire started back up in your eyes as you glared at him. Kaveh felt your nails dig into his arm, tearing apart layers of skin as your anger turned towards him.

"You won't leave me! You can't leave me!"

With your voice raising back into screeching, Kaveh shuddered, eyeing the knife that laid out of reach. You didn't need it, your nails cutting into his flesh just as painfully. Fear was mangling every muscle in his body, making them tense and tainting his judgment.

"O-okay," he stuttered out, and immediately, the pressure vanished. Your shoulders slacked, and a smile crept back on your lips as you whispered, "Thank god..."

You hunched over his wounded arm, now punctured by your nails and the cut starting to dry up. The next thing Kaveh felt was wetness wiping over his wounds, your tongue lapping off the blood that stained him, whether it was his or the one dripping from you.

"I love you," you mumbled while licking. "I love you, Kaveh. You're so nice, so sweet. You're perfect, and you're mine. All mine. Kaveh, Kaveh, Kaveh..."

Looking down at the unsightly view before him, Kaveh couldn't help but pity himself. Had he known what he got himself into, could he have prevented this? Which version of you had been the real one, and had you pretended to be sweet and shy, tricking him into this all this time? Or was it real? So many questions and so few answers. All he could think of was how he had been scammed yet again as he watched the ink smear from your licking, the beautifully drawn butterflies vanishing alongside those in his belly, all of them dropping dead.

And now, Kaveh was afraid.

[hazbinhazmeinachokehold]

Alastor + apprentice!child!reader

A/n: this is some practice to get a footing in his character. (Also slight practice on husk as well.)

Reader is kinda scary but means well overall

Not proofread

Y/n ever elusive. Alastor would randomly mention your name in conversations. References your rampages and your sweetness in the same breath. But when anyone would try to quiz him on you further he would act like he didn't know what they were talking about. He might try to claim it's for privacy but it's pretty obvious he just likes messing with hotel members.

Charlie was especially sad that she might never get to meet you. If Alastor was to be believed you seemed really sweet! (And easy to rehabilitate *cough* *cough*) Also cool! You seemed to be an absolute powerhouse. After Al mentioned you Charlie got somewhat mopey. Until he mentioned you visiting the hotel, which piqued everyone's interest.

When you finally showed up, people's interest was at an all-time high. But now it was because the fabled y/n was a child. "It's a pleasure to be meeting everyone!" You were looking at Alastor but were speaking to the whole room. "I've heard so much about all of you!"

"They've also heard much about you too, dearie." Alastor bent at the waist down to your level. "You've become quite the hot topic here!"

As if to prove his point Charlie picked you up and spun you around almost hitting Alastor in the face. He glared at her but remained calm. "Welcome, welcome! Do you want to choose a room to stay in?"

"Sorry, but I'm not planning to stay."

"I know but just for the time being." Charlie clarified. To that, you nodded. Husk snapped his head toward The Radio Demon once both you and Charlie had left.

"Did you really stoop low enough to make a deal with a child?" He was just barely containing his anger. While he didn't particularly care for those he didn't know at least somewhat personally, taking a child's soul was a place he drew a thick line.

"Why of course not!" He said sounding offended but clearly, it was to mock Husk. "They are under my guidance purely by choice!" Vaggie and Husk both said some version of 'you're a liar' in unison. Alastor simply tsked as he walked away.

Niffty seemingly appeared out of nowhere. "Was thas thay y/n?"

After the crew (excluding Husk) let out a yelp, Vaggie spoke, "Yep."

Niffty let out a villain-esque laugh, though that was just her usual laugh, "I've been meaning to talk to them since they scared off a group of bad boys~" She flashed her sharp teeth and held a knife. Angel grabbed the knife and her before she could get very far.

Back with you and Charlie Alastor materialized next to you and you waved at him.

"Hello, sir!" You saluted him as a joke.

"Hello to you too! Have you found a room?" You nodded and entered said room. Charlie looked at him, her face painted with a confused yet kind look.

"They're the one who hurt so many people? Are you kidding? They are so nice."

"You've never seen them in danger." Suddenly as if on queue an explosion was heard. You shot up from your surprisingly comfortable bed and ran downstairs. Pushing both Charlie and Alastor out of the way while also throwing a quick ‘sorry’ their way.

Once you got downstairs the bad boys that Niffty mentioned earlier were spouting something about you. Once they looked at you they pulled weapons out. You grew and your arms turned pitch black with a slight claw shape. With your new size, you were just big enough to grab them to the point of almost cracking bones. Almost.

"Leave." You said with a deep booming voice that came with the size. You threw them and they scrambled. Once they were gone you shrunk back down to your normal size. Niffty pouted and stamped her foot.

Once you turned everyone had varying looks of shock on their face except Niffty and of course, Alastor who was instead proud. "Congrats dear! Would you like some jambalaya?" You nodded.

As you were walking with him Husk grabbed your shoulder, "Um good job kid... If he ever offers you a deal, don't take it." He felt obliged to warn you. If Alastor's moral code was against recruiting kids, he probably would have pounced on the opportunity to take your soul once you were an adult.

You smiled, "I know I know. But what could I even gain out of any deal with him?" You laughed and walked back to Alastor. Huh. Well, you certainly were being tutored by Alastor.

A/n: Y/n got kinda of edgy at the end-

[jackactuallywrites]

Purely Professional

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Female Medic Reader

Rating: Mature (nothing too explicit but dick is hinted at)

Warnings: Ghost has a boo boo 😔 (blood, facial injury - split cheek and bruising)

Summary: You are the only medic Ghost trusts to treat him. Also you guys are friends with benefits!

Notes: Yes I do always headcanon Ghost with a broken nose. It’s HOT. Also I’m cleaning out the drafts

Word Count: 1,712

ao3 link

“He’s here.”

You didn’t need to ask to know who the other medic was talking about, nodding thanks to the medic as she left, and you quickly finished up with the young woman you were patching up, “You can take ibuprofen as needed, no more than two pills at a time, and space out the dosage to every four hours.” You wrinkle your nose, “I mean, you know how to take ibuprofen, just basic over-the-counter stuff. But come back if there’s any problems.” She nods, “Thanks, Doc.” You weren’t sure how many times you’d specified the difference between a combat medic and a military doctor, but at this point, it wasn’t worth the air, so you just nodded, gesturing for her to take her leave, “Anytime.” She grabbed the pillbox and made her way out of the room, leaving you to clean up the empty wrappings, tossing them into the nearby bin. You tore off the paper that was covering the bed, binning it as well and then rolling out another cover, making sure everything was fresh and clean. When you were satisfied, you walked out of the room into the waiting room, your eyes immediately landing on the one man who didn’t need to be named.

Ghost.

The intensity of his gaze was intimidating, his dark eyes glowering from underneath the skull mask as though he wanted nothing more than to take down every single person who dared to breathe the same air as him. At this point, the other medics had learned that he wouldn’t accept their help, refusing to utter even a single word until you were free. You leaned against the frame of the door that led into the hallway, beckoning him with a jerk of your head. He rose from his seat, seeming to dwarf everyone else around him as he walked through the room toward you, brushing past you without a word and striding straight into the open examination room, the cold silence seeming to emanate off him like a tangible aura, visibly affecting those around him, the other medics shrinking away from him as he passed.

You followed him into the room, closing the door behind you, “So, what can I help you with today, Lieutenant?” He sat down on the bed in the room, resting one forearm on his thigh, gesturing with the other hand to his face, consistently a man of few words. You stepped closer to him, “You’re going to have to give me a little more than that.” He grunted, reaching up to take off his helmet, setting it on the bed beside him, and then unclipping the skull mask, revealing the balaclava underneath. Finally, he pulled off the balaclava, revealing his clipped blond hair, and then his face, bruised and bloody, his cheek split open, blood already dried to his skin. His eyes, thankfully untouched, the black paint surrounding them unmarred, were on you, boring into your face as he watched you.

You didn’t waste time, reaching out to probe his face, your fingers gently holding onto his chin as you turned his head from side to side, inspecting the damage. It looked worse than it was; facial injuries always bled more, and though he tensed when you gently pressed his cheek, there was no sign of anything broken. After taking a moment just to be sure, you drew back from him, walking to the medical cupboard and taking out an antiseptic wipe, talking as you did, “You won’t need stitches.” He grunted, and you took this as permission to begin wiping the blood away from his face.

“So,” you began, always one to make idle chitchat as you worked, “who did you piss off this time?” Ghost watched you, his face solemn, searching your eyes before he responded, his voice barely more than a whisper, “Couple guys.” You smiled as you brushed the wipe over his split skin, “You know if you want to see me, you only have to ask.”

All the tension in his face seemed to ease then, his eyes softening as he looked up at you, “I know.” You took this as permission, gently nudging his legs open so you could stand in between them, closing the distance between you, allowing him to reach out in his own time, and after a brief moment, he did, his hands reaching out to gently rest on your hips, his fingers hesitant, still unused to the intimacy you shared. You cleaned up the rest of the blood on his cheek, giving him time to get used to your close proximity as you brought out a small plaster to cover his wound. In a moment of impulsivity, you pressed a gentle kiss to his damaged cheek, your reward his sharp intake of breath and the tightening of his fingers on your hips, pulling you closer toward him.

“You know,” you began, letting your hands rest on his shoulders, “the other medics are going to think you’re sweet on me.” Ghost let his face rest in the crook of your neck, his voice low, muffled by your shoulder, “I’m not sweet.” You smiled, letting your fingers trace over from his shoulders to the back of his neck, “No? What would you call this?” “Desperate.”

There was no mistaking the longing in his voice, the yearning, the way his fingers pulled you closer to him until your body was pressed against his. Already, his fingers were pulling at your shirt, just like he’d done so many times before, secretive fumbles in whatever vehicle or armoury was nearest, all beginning with some injury he only allowed you to treat, all ending with you wrapped up in his arms. You smiled, shifting one hand to stop his fingers on their insistent path underneath your shirt, “I think they’ll notice if I spend forty minutes in here with you.” Ghost didn’t seem entirely put off by the idea, his face tilting up as his lips began to move over your neck, gently nipping at the skin, his voice husky, “You love this being our dirty little secret, don’t you?”

It was impossible for you to lie to him; after all, he was special forces; no doubt he could sniff out every last secret of yours if he truly wanted to. His hand was already moving from your hip up to your cheek, forcing you to look at him as he pulled away from your neck, his pale eyes searching yours, “Admit it.” Every part of you seemed desperate to touch and be touched by him, and you held back a groan, “Yes. Which is why we can’t do anything in here.” His lips quirked in a smirk, “We wouldn’t want them to think you give this treatment to everyone.” You smiled, “I am supposed to be a professional, after all.” His thumb reached out to brush your cheek, “Couldn’t we both use a little unprofessionalism right now?”

The idea was tempting. Too tempting. You could feel those eyes of his melting away your resolve, and you shifted your weight from one foot to the other, biting the inside of your cheek, “What exactly did you have in mind?” There was a wicked look in his eyes, luring you into sin, to submit yourself to his will entirely, “What I have in mind would make too much of a mess and needs more time than we have.” You tilted your head to the side, curious, “So what do we do?” He was quiet for a moment, his eyes flicking over every single facet of your face, your eyes, your cheeks, your lips. He leaned into you, his nose bumping against yours, letting you feel that little ridge where it had been broken. His words were a murmur against your skin, softer than he ever seemed capable of, “I’ll be content with a kiss for now.”

It never seemed to make sense that a devil could be so sweet; you knew what he was capable of, you’d patched him up, you’d seen his medical records detailing what he’d been through, yet here he was, asking you for that simplest of intimacies. You obliged his simple request, leaning forward to press your lips against his, feeling the slight stubble on his skin prickle yours, his hand shifting from your cheek to the back of your neck, the one on your hip moving to the small of your back to pull you closer to him, encircling your body, his lips soft against yours, yet insistent, needy. He pulled away before you, leaning his forehead against yours, letting out a strained sigh, his hand moving from your back to his crotch, adjusting his trousers to disguise the growing bulge there. “The things you do to me.” His voice held some frustration, his fingers tightening on the back of your neck but loosening just as quickly, always in complete control of himself.

You could see the Lieutenant return, the way his back straightened, the grim determination returning to his lips. His hands fell away from your body, reaching for the balaclava and mask he’d put to the side, and you knew your time with him was coming to a close. You stepped back from him, tucking in your shirt, allowing him to resume that persona, covering his bruised face with the black balaclava and then finishing with clipping his skull mask back into place, his helmet finishing the transformation. All that remained of him were those soft eyes, out of place, surrounded by blackness. He reached up with one hand to tuck a loose hair back under your beret, his gloved fingers gently stroking against your cheek. “I’ll be seeing you.”

There was no doubt that he would find you to finish what you’d started here, but for now, he was back to business, standing up off the table and straightening out his uniform. You crossed the room to open the door for him, allowing the outside world view into your privacy, not that there was anything for them to see. He stalked past you without a word, yet as he passed, his hand reached out to gently squeeze your arse, sending tingles up your spine as he left you wanting, trying hard not to look like a lovesick dog as you watched him go.

[child0feden]

POKER FACE

fernando alonso x pro poker player! wife! reader

♡ general married headcanons for fernando with a pro poker player partner!

୨୧ just some fluff with nando and no age gap <3 i don’t have anything against age gaps, i just think a lot of older driver works have an age gap and wanted to switch it up! hope you all like it, mwah

♡ related smau available here | view my formula 1 masterlist here

reading music recommendations: poker face by lady gaga - west coast by lana del rey - beautiful, dirty, rich by lady gaga

♡ you guys met in 2006 when him and some of the other drivers were celebrating in a casino after the brazilian grand prix, fernando ecstatic after getting P2

୨୧ you just so happened to be there playing poker with some friends, not professionally at that moment, just for fun

♡ as soon as he laid eyes on you, he knew he just had to have you

୨୧ you were the most attractive person he’d ever had the pleasure of laying his eyes on…

♡ i mean, his jaw literally almost dropped to the floor like a cartoon character, earning him a slap on the back and laughter from jenson and mark who were trying to just get him to go and talk to you already

୨୧ but i mean seriously, he thought you were just… so beautiful… so elegant… but oh so sexy at the same time, you had a fire in your eyes that drew him in like a moth to a light

♡ so he did approach you! he kind of just blurted out how beautiful he thought you were and if you’d like to grab a drink at the bar

“ hello… you’re absolutely beautiful, i’m sorry, can i get you a drink at the bar? or you can pay for it yourself if you want, whatever you want, i don’t mind ” ( he was so uncharacteristically nervous of messing up… he just wanted you to say yes and be comfortable )

୨୧ you thought he was so sweet ( and definitely a looker ) so… why not? and well, you got along like gasoline to a flame, you just couldn’t stop talking to each other! when you eventually parted ways, the casino was closing and his friends had left hours ago, you made sure to trade numbers and promised to call in the morning

♡ and call you did ( well, he called first, he really couldn’t wait to hear your melodic voice again ) you arranged a date at the nearby beach, hoping to grab some ice cream, sit back on a bench and talk some more

୨୧ the date went amazing and you guys were practically inseparable by the end of it, sharing a soft kiss in the car when he drops you off at your hotel <3 it was crazy how much fernando talked to the other drivers about how much he admired this woman he had met just last night in a casino of all places… but they knew this meant you were special

♡ you guys were just an amazing couple

୨୧ you complimented each other so well and the other drivers loved you! they thought you were a perfect match for their nando, someone he needed in his life… when he saw how well you got along with the people he sees as brothers, he knew you were the one…

♡ you got married in 2011 after 5 years of dating, the ceremony being held in the same city you first met

୨୧ your gown was beautiful, handmade just for you, only one in existence…

♡ fernando began tearing up as soon as he saw you walking down the isle, a bright smile painted across his face

୨୧ you reach the alter and he shakily slips the ring, with a gorgeous sapphire on the top instead of a diamond, onto your finger

♡ your first kiss as a married couple isn’t on the lips, but you place it on his hand, calming his nerves almost immediately as he returns the kiss in the same place on your hand before pulling you in by the same hand for a deep kiss on the lips as your family and friends cheer you both on ( the drivers being the loudest, of course )

୨୧ the rest of the ceremony is forever etched into your memory, it was an event full of love and happiness and excitement for the future ( and just a bit of drinking )

♡ when you guys are in your mid 30’s, people start badgering both of you about when you plan to have children because “ your biological clock is ticking ”

୨୧ fernando is pissed and wants nothing more than to find where all of these people live and personally put a brick through all of their windows…

♡ you guys had already decided that for now, neither of you had any desire to have children!

୨୧ you both feel at peace with it just being you both and he absolutely hates how people talk about you like your only purpose as a woman is to bare children…

♡ thankfully, you assure him that these people mean nothing to you, the only opinion you care to listen to is his

୨୧ you guys go on SO many trips and vacations

♡ mainly to the most beautiful beaches a person could ever wish to visit, only the best for nando’s wife

୨୧ he has some boats that he loves to go on with you, the two of you spend hours just sunbathing, eating fruit and drinking champagne, taking in the peace and the sound of waves hitting the side of the boat, gently rocking it

♡ one of your favourite memories on the boat is when you saw two dolphins, beautifully swimming next to each other, just barely poking above the waves…

“ they’re beautiful hm, mi amor? almost as beautiful as you… ” ( the handsome smirk he gave you is still engraved in your brain )

୨୧ something you guys always do when on vacation is visit the little tourist stores, you pick up at least one cute handmade magnet to put on the fridge in your house

♡ the metal of your fridge door isn’t visible anymore and the sides are beginning to fill up too but you both love it, just looking at the magnets causes a rush of only the best memories

୨୧ in the summertime, you guys love to hold barbecues and invite some of the grid over! fernando is especially close to lance which means by extension, you are too! he sees you two as people he can always go to when he just needs to talk or needs advice on something, he spends a lot of time just hanging out with you guys ( and eating a lot of your food )

♡ watching them chat while fernando grills some burgers always brings a smile to your face… but lance is not a fan of the times fernando gets hands and flirty with you… the man has no shame and tells lance to get used to it because it isn’t stopping anytime soon!

“ lance, you’ll understand some day when you marry a beautiful woman and feel this type of love, trust me, so just get used to it because it’ll be you some day, kid! ” ( lance just lets out a soft laugh which is quickly cut off by a yell when he realises that, because fernando was so entranced by you, the burgers are burning… )

୨୧ whenever you’re playing poker, fernando is guaranteed to be seen sitting somewhere close by, drink in hand, admiring the beauty he has the pleasure of calling his wife <3

♡ and whenever you’re in the paddock, fans LOVE it! they love YOU! you’re aptly crowned with the title of “ coolest wag ” which is nothing if not flattering ( fernando agrees and eggs the fans on, he loves how much they love you )

୨୧ i can see you guys eventually getting a dog! a border collie you you name judy

♡ she quickly becomes your BABY, you both love her more than anything, always taking her on vacation with you both and to the paddock whenever you can

୨୧ introducing her to all of the other drivers’ dogs is a trip, an overload of fluff… she gets along best with leo <3

♡ whenever you guys don’t have poker or racing plans and you’re not on vacation, you can usually be found relaxing in your backyard!

୨୧ laid back on the patio next to the pool, toes dipped in, lemonades by your side, fingers intertwined, rings sparkling in the sun

♡ judy is either running around the garden or laying in between you guys, your joint hands resting on her soft coat! fernando sometimes getting up to run around with her and play fetch with a tennis ball, much to your delight as you slightly sit up and pull your sunglasses down the bridge of your nose ( hey, you get to lay back, look hot and watch your gorgeous husband run around in swim shorts with sweat glistening on his chest and a goofy smile on his face… why wouldn’t you admire the view? )

୨୧ he catches you staring at him and sends a cheeky wink your way, a silent declaration of the things to come when the sun sets ;)

♡ and what things they were…

fernandoalonso: judy and mi amour take on the beach and boat ⚓️ 🐟

ynalsonoln ✔️: a beach day with you and judy is my favourite type of day, always will be 🤍 💙

f1lover: judy is the cutest grid dog, fight me

> ferynforever: no one will fight you because they know it’s true 🫢

lancestroll ✔️: was that fourth picture necessary? someone collect their fossil, he’s posting pictures like this on instagram where there are children ( me )

> fernandoalondo ✔️: we’ve talked about this lance, one day… 👌

ferynforever: hottest grid couple and they’re literally like, 20 years older than most of the drivers lol