#this took me only four days my wrists are killing me

[goonbank]

It's a corn

[hanjisick]

Orders.

genre. mafia au. bodyguard!lee know x fem!reader

desc. your father is an elite, high ranking official in a mafia family. after your first kidnapping, a bodyguard was hired to ensure your safety.

warnings. nsfw. fingering & sex. torture. kidnapping. murder. violence.

wc. 10k

✉️ : this is my first writing after a 9 month hiatus. i apologize for the unannounced break and i will be answering and writing again shortly. enjoy! :)

You sit in a wooden chair, wheezing and thrashing from days of sleep deprivation and torment. Your body aches, wrists bruised and bloody from the ropes, and you almost feel like giving in and spilling Daddy’s secrets— allowing them to kill you and the family.

But you knew better than that. You knew that you'd be saved.

The gunshots and cries for help weren't unexpected from above the dark bunker.

With an ear-piercing creak, the door swings open and the shadow of a man emerges through the doorstep, shoes squeaking with fresh blood underneath.

He doesn’t let out a single word as he kneels to grab your face and examine it. Your attention follows the ring on his finger. An insignia that he is part of the family. You can depend on him.

But still, you wince, sharply inhaling as his fingers aggravate your wounds.

“Don’t get their blood in my wounds, I don’t know what kind of freaks they are,” You grumble, voice husky from days of screaming.

You let him turn your head, retaining eye contact with the floor as you grit your teeth.

“Relax,” he mumbles, “I don’t bite.”

He leans closer to examine your wounds. “You took a lot of hits. How many people are here?”

He draws back as you reply, “Can’t tell you exactly.”

“About four of them grabbed me while I was leaving the house— stupid on their part, no wonder you were here so shortly,” You trail off before catching yourself back on topic.

“But I’ve only seen three different men since I’ve been here. Only to beat me and interrogate me. Don’t worry, I didn’t say anything to put Daddy at risk.”

“I heard two other unrecognizable voices. That would make nine people in the building that I know of. Of course, there could always be more. How many did you shoot?”

“Six,” he responds before looking down at your scrapes and wounds again.

You feel him caress your cheek once more, his cold skin sending shivers down your spine.

“You’re in bad shape.”

“If there’s more here, we need to get out as soon as possible. We can worry about my wounds as soon as these people aren’t on our ass.”

You struggle in your bounds, the ropes burning your already bloody wrists, “Could you untie me, first?”

“Don’t move.”

You obey his command, halting as he unties the ropes, uncovering the painful burn marks and blisters.

“That fucking hurt,” you rotate your wrists, “I could’ve gotten out without your help eventually, though.” Your voice is rough, breath coming out in harsh, sharp drags.

“Sure, you would’ve.”

You stumble to your feet as he pulls you into him for safety. He reeks of gunpowder and high-dollar cologne— presumably something that Daddy has made sure that he has the money for.

“Stay close to me, when we get to the front, you go out first and then I’ll leave right after.”

You follow the unfamiliar man out of the maze, almost slipping on the floor blanketed in blood.

You adjust to the bright sunlight— and it feels gentle against your damaged skin. It seems like time has stood still while you were captured. “Did Daddy order you a car?”

“Yes,” he answers, “Some men are waiting out front to take us to the closest hospital— which isn’t too far.”

“I’m being hospitalized?” You follow him into the backseat, finally slacking for a moment ontop of the fresh leather.

“It’s not my choice to have you taken to the hospital, it’s the orders.”

“Do I have a statement to tell the nurse?” You look at him in concern.

“Am I supposed to say, ‘Oh, I was kidnapped by Daddy’s enemies! By the way, he’s in the mafia! Who wants to arrest Daddy?’”

“Tell them you fell down the stairs.” His flat tone contrasts your own, remaining unfazed.

“How would that cover up my wrists' burn marks?” You hold up the bloody and bruised dents, “Nobody gets these from falling down the stairs. There's way too much blood— and some of it isn’t even mine.”

He raises an eyebrow, looking over to the burn marks on your wrist and then back to you.

“Then tell them you accidentally burnt yourself while cooking.”

“Are you even listening to me? Are you stupid?”

He doesn’t respond for a moment, not seeming to care about the situation.

“It’s not hard to pay them to be silent.”

“How about I tell them that I was heavily bullied at school and a couple of classmates did this to me? I think that could work.”

You two arrive at the front entrance of the emergency room, he follows behind you, strolling through the automatic door.

“I’m fine, really, I was just beaten by classmates,” You lie through your teeth to the front desk, “My boyfriend took me here to get it checked out.”

He raises an eyebrow.

You comply with the nurses as they check your weight and interview you.

“I don’t have any stab wounds, at least I don’t think so— I don’t remember what they did to me. I was held captive for a few,” Your voice trails off as you wince at a sudden pang.

You glance down at your bleeding side and are unexpectedly whacked with all of the distress that you had been repressing at once.

Your vision starts to fade, face pale as a ghost.

The man rushes over as they carry you to a bed, and he kneels beside you to review your condition. Your body is pale and cold, breathing jagged and rapid.

You hear the whispers of the staff panicking. One nurse checks your pulse, and another elevates your legs.

“I need my blood sugar up,” the first words that come out of your mouth sound weak and painful.

You look over at the man beside you.

You need to lie. But you don’t even know his name.

“Boyfriend,” you determine, “please get me a sugary drink from the vending machine.”

A subtle smirk forms upon his lips, but it vanishes as soon as it appears.

“Fine,” he rises to his feet.

You hiss as the nurses sterilize your wounds, shrieking and thrashing on the mattress at the sting. You try to stay still, but the pain is intolerable.

Footsteps echo and you find the man returning with a chocolate bar, which he holds out to you. He brings it close to your lips and holds the chocolate against your mouth for you to take a bite, “Slowly.”

“I told you to get me a drink,” You disregard his command, biting the chocolate quickly, almost aggressively.

His lips turn up, amused by your action.

The nurses finish stitching up your deep gashes and bandaging your wounds, recommending that you stay the night.

“Pay for the bill with Daddy’s cash and let’s get out of here,” you state coldly, “I need to shower and get all of this blood out of my hair. I don’t want to stay here.”

“As long as you can walk by yourself, we can leave right away.” He replies. The man takes out a wad of bills quickly counts the money and pays for the bill.

You stay speechless until entering the car.

“Who are you?”

“I’m your bodyguard. Your father hired me to look out for you after the kidnapping.”

You nod in acknowledgment. “Will you be staying at the estate with me? Or is it a ‘only when I leave the house’ kind of deal?”

“My primary duty is to protect you from anyone or anything that could harm you, whether that be outside or inside the house. I could go wherever you wish me to follow you, and I will be there.”

“You won’t sleep in bed with me though, right?”

He stays silent for a moment.

“You are correct, I am here to protect, nothing more. I will not sleep next to you. I am merely your bodyguard and take your orders.”

“Good boy,” you grin, “I bet Daddy will pay you very nicely. Why else would you take this job? How much does he give you? Either way, I’m sure you have enough to buy a mansion.”

The bodyguard holds back an eye roll. “I will have more than enough money. Not only that but he also provides me with a home.” He adds with a smirk.

“Good.” You reply.

You fall silent, allowing him to drive, taking in the past few days.

You were never worried about surviving, You understood that Daddy would handle it. But you didn’t expect to be as hurt as you were.

He could’ve saved you sooner.

“When we get home, order the chef to make me something sweet, I deserve a treat,” you state, “I’m going to shower and you are not allowed to enter my bathroom under any circumstance. Even if I’m dying.”

“You would die before letting me enter your bathroom? I get it.” He retorts.

Once you both arrive at the estate, you stumble out of the car. You don’t linger for him.

You’re welcomed by a handful of workers as you enter the home, but ignore them as you make a beeline up the stairs and towards the bedroom.

The door locks behind you and the room is silent. You feel the weariness creep on as your wounds sting. You lean against the door, sliding down.

After a moment of peace, you head towards the shower to comb the dried blood out of your hair.

You scrub your face carefully, avoiding the stitches above your eyebrows.

You wash your body entirely, removing the blood stains with soap, water, and a wash rag. Then you comb out the dried blood.

Once you finish, you dry yourself off and dress in a plain, silk nightdress.

Leaving your bedroom, you turn to look for your guard. He is at the doorway of your room when you walk out. His eyes roam around your body for a brief moment, examining the nightgown.

“Do you require assistance?”

“Did you place an order for something sweet, like I asked?” You peer at his suit, moving in to adjust his tie.

He follows your hand as it moves, eyeing you for a few moments before he utters, “I did, the chef will be bringing it to your room once it’s prepared.”

“Good boy.”

You look up at his face once you are pleased with the positioning. You grimace at his sharp, cold face. The blood was dried, brown, and unpleasing. The man’s hand relaxes on the gun holstered on his hip.

“I order you to come into my bedroom.”

His eyebrows crease. He understands his role as your bodyguard— nonetheless, he doesn’t get a kick out of being ordered around in this tone.

He takes a deep breath. “Your wish is my command.”

The room is massive, a silk-covered canopy bed sits in the center of it. He pays no mind to looking around, concentrating on the job at hand.

“Sit down on my bed,” you demand, steering towards the bathroom and pushing open the double doors.

He obeys your orders without question, crossing his legs, and keeping his hand resting beside his gun.

The bodyguard keeps a close, attentive eye on the doors, supervising the way that you soak a washrag with warm water, squeezing out the excess.

You sit beside him, grabbing his chin and leaning into his face. He tenses.

“Relax, I don’t bite,” you smirk, reiterating his first words from the moment he met you back to him, massaging the dried blood off of his face, “No guard of mine will have a messy appearance.”

You can tell that he feels uneasy, but he can’t reject you. If you wish for him to relax, he will make an effort to relax.

You can’t help but notice his complexion when he isn’t scowling. The apathy melts away as you wipe the dried blood, giving you a new perspective on his appearance.

“You’re handsome,” you state bluntly, “Especially without blood covering your face.”

You toss the rag into the laundry basket carelessly, waiting for a maid to take care of it.

“Thank you.”

“What is your name? You never told me.”

His eyebrows arch slightly at the question.“It’s Minho.”

“I am Y/N,” You reply, holding out your hand to shake his own. His grip is firm and warm.

He keeps a stoic face as he glances at your face and back at your hand, as if he is searching for an ulterior motive behind this handshake.

The food.

The bell rings and the sound of it shatters the stillness of the room. Minho’s head jolts towards the door, hand back on his gun.

He rises instantly, opening it to reveal the maid with a tray of sweet snacks.

He takes it from her. “I will bring it in.”

“What a good boy, Minho,” you praise, clapping your hands together as he sets the tray on your lap.

“I don’t take you for a man who enjoys sweet food much. Do you like sweets?”

“Sometimes.”

You unwrap a piece of high-dollar chocolate, “I command you to open your mouth.”

Minho can’t deny you, it would be disobeying your orders.

He opens his mouth as the chocolate is positioned between his lips.

You relish in the chocolates with Minho and once finished, you set the tray on the floor for a maid to pick up at sunrise.

“I don’t think I mind you being around all that much, Daddy makes good decisions.” You lay down on the mattress.

“Your father does make good decisions.”

His gaze wavered on your face until you drifted off to sleep. Only then did they slowly trail down to your body.

The way your body was built captivated him. Minho was glued to your sleeping form.

He stayed in the room, taking a seat on a chair in the corner to watch you.

He didn’t know how long it had been since you had dozed off, but by the way that the room was now pitch black and noiseless aside from your figure rising and falling, he would imagine that it had been a couple of hours.

“How long are you going to sit there?” Your sleep-filled voice questions him, causing him to snap out of his daze, hand reaching for his gun out of instinct.

“Do you sleep? Are you allowed to sleep?”

“I will only remain in the room as long as you order me to. I do sleep,” He replies, “Now is there anything else you need my assistance with? Or can I return to my duties?”

“So you’re only staying in the room because I ordered you two hours ago?” There’s a tinge of dismay in your voice, but it was masked by sleep, “You can leave if you want, I don’t mind.”

Minho felt a sudden pit in his stomach. You sounded disappointed by his statement.

Your words are perplexing him, and he can’t conclude what you want from him. To stay or to go?

“Should I stay for a bit longer?”

You were already asleep again once he had responded.

You and Minho both wake to a maid opening the blinds and ringing a bell. You groan, stretching your body.

“Miss, let’s get you dressed for today.”

She pulls your nightgown up above your head as Minho’s eyes wander toward your laced underwear.

“What’s on my schedule for today?”

He quickly forces his gaze to look away and stares back at the maid.

“We want you to heal from your injuries, miss,” she answers, “we will start with a nutritious breakfast to encourage recovery, and attend to your injuries, and then you will speak with Daddy about your incident.”

The maid buttons your fitted dress, glancing in Minho’s direction, “Your bodyguard will need to be there for your conversation with Daddy.”

“He will?”

“He needs to tell Daddy what he witnessed from the facility.”

You nod, following her lead down the stairs and towards the breakfast table.

Minho follows suit, remaining at your side the entire time and he watches you eat, staying observant and cautious.

“Are you hungry?”

This question catches Minho off guard.

“No.” He adds in a dull tone— but in actuality, he is starving. He was entrusted to watch over you. He shouldn’t eat on the clock.

“Maid, go order,” You look Minho up and down, “A side of crepes. Blueberry crepes. And two cups of coffee.”

The maid hurries to the kitchen to place the order, and it is brought out a couple of minutes later.

He stares at the crepes being placed on the table, and his belly grumbles. “Thank you.”

The maid carries the mugs of coffee to the table. But it doesn’t take Minho long to catch sight of her cunning smile and the perplexing liquid that the maid slipped into the mugs of coffee.

He stares quietly, calculating his next action.

“Don’t drink it.”

“Why not?”

Minho’s sight narrows as you bring the cup of coffee to your lips.

This time, his tone is warning and direct. “It’s better that you don’t.”

You halt your sip at his harsh command.

The maid pulls out a handgun swiftly after realizing that she has been caught, aiming it at you.

A switch swiftly flips inside of him.

He lunges forward, grabbing the woman’s wrist and twisting the gun to the right, snapping a couple of fingers in the process.

It’s a rapid movement, and he had little time to think before shooting her in the head, watching the life leave her body. His face is apathetic and almost casual.

The maid’s blood spilled onto the floor as the others ran to clean it up.

“He passed the test, we can keep him. A promising guard so far,” Daddy compliments from behind you, “Urgently acting to protect. He knew that she was mindless and weak. He comprehends crises well.”

The older man slips a wad of cash into the breast pocket of Minho’s suit. “Good on protecting her. That was a setup with a stupid maid who was just aching to betray us. You will have the same fate if you are wavered by another team.”

“I think he’s a good boy. He won’t betray me.”

“Y/N, meet me at my office. Guard, follow her.” He swiftly turns away to lead the two of you as you eye Minho.

“You can relax now. No more tests.”

He nods in understanding, heeding silently towards the office.

“Tell me about what you saw at the facility.”

You nod. “Four men had taken me from our garden entrance and used Chloroform to knock me unconscious. I woke up in their van, where my hands and legs were tied. I heard them talking about what they planned to get out of me. They had intentions of murdering me if they got to a week of no answers.”

Minho listens to your explanation with hawk-like eyes, paying close attention to all the details and descriptions.

You clear your throat, running your fingers across your bruised wrist, “I was tied to a chair in their questioning room, and they used forms of torture for me to open up.”

“I was deprived of sleep and beaten if they caught me closing my eyes— trying to get my lack of sleep to cause me to open up about your activities.”

Daddy nodded solemnly, leaning into his chair.

“Waterboarding was their favorite method, but they enjoyed beating me. I assume that was mainly for fun.”

You continued, “Minho appeared and killed a couple of them and saved me, but most are still alive.”

“Still alive? You didn’t find and kill them, bodyguard, why?” Daddy’s intense eyes moved toward Minho, who appeared unbothered.

The fact that he missed a few guys is enough to drive him crazy.

“I had to get her to safety as soon as possible.”

Daddy merely nods. “I will send my men after them. Y/N, did you get any names?”

“They wouldn’t tell me anything about themselves, but I saw a couple of signs of their rival gang.”

“Guard,” he veered towards Minho, “Describe the faces that you saw. I need as much information as possible.”

“They look to be between the ages of 20 to 30, their faces covered in scars. One man had dark skin, and his facial scars were faded. His most notable feature was a slit across his brow. He wore a dark suit. I left him alive but with a bullet in his arm. The other man had a lighter skin tone and his scars were similar to knife wounds. He had gotten away.”

The boss nods.

“Good. I can work with that. Never let my little girl get into trouble like that again, alright?”

The second the words ‘my little girl’ leave his mouth, Minho can’t help but gaze at you. He observes your reactions and motions.

His heart beats by hearing his boss call you that, and his attention is now focused on every single twitch that you make.

“The nurses will be waiting in her bedroom shortly. Be good and do as they say.” He adds, snapping Minho back to him.

“Guard, do not let her go against any of the nurses' rules. She can be convincing. Do not give into it.”

“Yes Sir.”

You roll your eyes, turning away to leave the room.

“Stay safe.” That is the last utterance of the boss before you drag Minho out of the room and towards the bedroom.

“Sit on the bed,” a nurse commands you, and you quickly obey.

She dabs at your abdomen stitches with antiseptic soap and your eyebrows furrow.

“You can’t move around much, got it? No exercising for three weeks until we get these stitches out.”

You agree as she moves on to your wrists, rubbing cream into them, “You’re going to visit us twice a day for six days until the healing is almost complete.”

She yanks a bandage off of your face, causing you to groan in pain. She rubs another ointment on it before substituting it with fresh dressing.

Minho supervises each step that the nurse takes, noticing how she takes care of your body as if it’s her most precious gift.

She turns to Minho, “I need you to make sure that she’s well rested, drinking enough water, and not doing many straining activities. Take her back here once again in the evening, and then we will see her again this time tomorrow morning, got it?”

“Yes, I will take care of her.”

“What about him, nurse?” You eye the small cuts across his face and hands.

She smiles and leans over to you. “He is well trained. Trust me, he’ll survive a few scratches.”

Your eyes narrow. “I order you to treat his wounds to the best of your abilities.”

She sighs. “Yes ma’am.”

She moves towards Minho and checks his wounds, patching the ones that were newly caused. She brushes his face softly with an ointment.

“I don’t like it when my guards don’t keep up a good appearance,” you try to explain away your worry for him, “and being injured will only slow you down when protecting me.”

The man stares straight ahead, listening carefully. “I’m fine. I’ll recover just fine. I don’t need much care as you do.”

“Let her rest now,” the nurse tells Minho, “order the maids to bring her a glass of water and have her sip on it until lunchtime.”

Once she leaves, Minho turns towards you, “I’ll make sure the maids bring you water. You need to stay hydrated”

Once water is on your table, your gaze returns to Minho

“Now, I order you to sit down on my bed with me.”

He examines you with a neutral expression and waits for you to say what you mean, not wishing to assume or take anything wrongly.

“Sit down with me,” you demand again, patting the spot beside you, waiting for him to follow suit.

As soon as you ask him to, Minho does not waver. He sits down beside you, body brushing your own.

You turn to meet his cold expression with intensity. “Do you like your job so far?

Minho is taken off guard by your switch of topic. He stays where he is sitting, but turns his body as well and faces you.

“I enjoy my duties.”

“Good. Because I’m fond of you. You’re handsome, and you are good at your job.”

He stares at you with slight surprise. “Thank you.”

Your hands grab for his, playing with the ring on his finger.

Then, you reach your hands higher, tugging his sleeve up to reveal a cluster of scars littered across his forearm.

“How long have you been in the business?”

“Since I was fourteen. I was trained from a very young age.”

“Have you always been in Daddy’s family?”

“I was loyal to your Daddy from the moment I knew what this life was like. I haven’t had a moment of doubt.”

“Good. That means you won’t leave us, right?”

“I will serve your family until my last breath. You have nothing to fear about that.”

“What a good boy,” you reach to ruffle his hair, landing a swift kiss on his sliced cheek. “That’s exactly what I like to hear.”

Minho stiffens.

“I order you to take off your jacket. I want to see your body. To see if you’re strong enough to be a good guard.”

Your words are sharp as a knife and they cut deep through his defense system. His jaw clamps and his breathing accelerates.

Minho swallows his breath, nodding his head. His movements are rigid, starting to cautiously peel off his jacket. It takes him a moment to unbutton it, but once his jacket is off, he stays there, waiting.

You slide his jacket to the floor, touching the muscles of his bicep through his button-down. “You’re fit. That’s good.”

Minho yearns for you to keep feeling him. To keep praising him. He swallows. Your words sound like a honey trap to him, and it’s working as intended.

“I order you to take off your tie.”

“Yes.”

That is all that he says, slowly slipping his tie from underneath his collar and tossing it aside.

Unexpectedly, you’re climbing on top of his body. “Take off your button-down.”

He unbuttons his shirt as your eyes sear into his chest. He is now only wearing a black undershirt.

“So many clothes,” you sigh out, groping his bare arms. You run your hands across his biceps, listening to him shudder underneath the touch.

“Take off your undershirt now. I want to see your chest.”

You can feel the heat radiating off him as he shivers. His body is now sensitive, and your hands are making it worse for him.

Your orders are evident, and he hastily lifts off his undershirt, waiting for what is next.

You can see his whole chest with all of its blemishes, with every muscle covered in sweat, exposed for you.

Your hands travel down his chest and abdomen, feeling each ragged scar with your bruised fingers. The delicate contact causes his breath to catch and a soft groan leaves him, fighting to not show that he relishes in your touch.

“Let me kiss you.”

He stares at you for a moment before his eyebrows slightly shift— his way of showing you that he approves of that request.

Minho leans in slightly and closes his eyes, gently placing a timid kiss on your lips.

You smirk against him, pushing him to lie against the bed frame and deepening the kiss. Your hands reach for his dark hair, clasping a handful in your grip.

He kisses you deeply and wraps his arms around you to pull you in closer, offering full control to you. His breath speeds up.

You pull away after a moment, lips brushing against his as you catch your breath, but only for an instant before moving towards his jaw, sucking marks onto his skin.

Minho quivers at your touch, his breathing speeding up once more as you leave red and purple blemishes on his skin. He bites his lip to stop himself from groaning.

Your mouth moves from his jaw to his neck, leaving kisses and hickeys all across him, making sure that he is covered in them.

Your hips grind against him, breathing heavily with anticipation as you make your way to his chest.

Your hands and mouth are touching all of him, and each sensation triggers a reaction that he tries to conceal.

Your lips hover back to his lips, staring at him longingly. “Do I have to command you for you to do anything to me? You don’t have to ask. You have my permission. Do whatever you want.”

You can see his gaze shifting from your eyes to your mouth, to your neck, and then towards your chest.

You swiftly lift yourself off of him to let him remove your dress, leaving your body as bare as his own.

You grasp onto his neck, bringing him in for another deep kiss. Minho remains silent as he kisses you, allowing you to leave him as many marks as you desire.

“What are you thinking, Minho? Speak to me.”

He takes a moment, letting out an unstable breath. “I’m thinking of what you are doing to me. I,” he stammers, “I want to make you feel good.”

“Then do it. Please.”

“I don’t want to harm you,” he breathes out, “you’re injured.”

“The nurses said to not do,” Minho presses his eyes shut as you bring your hips up to meet his, “fuck, anything straining.”

“Remember what Daddy said? I can be convincing.” You sneer as your bodyguard fails to keep his cool composure, but the aching cock pressing into you is giving his true desires away.

You eye his internal struggle between following your orders and his cravings, or the nurse and his boss.

“I don’t want to hurt you. I can go relieve myself in the bathroom.”

“I like being hurt.”

You notice his lip twitch at the comment, and you decide to provoke him further, grinding into him, and set a steady rhythm with your hips.

He groans as his head drops back, tugging onto your hair and trying desperately to control his breath, “Please, Y/N, I just want to take care of you.”

“You can take care of me in another way.”

“I need to follow orders.”

“Then I order you to fuck me.”

His eyes pinch shut as he tries to clear his head and reason with himself.

Perhaps if he were gentle, it would be alright.

But how long could he remain gentle when you were splayed out in front of him, willing to take anything that he gave to you?

He made his decision, gripping your shoulders gently and flipping you, pinning you to the bed, and surveying your face for any discomfort.

When he finds none, he impatiently unclasps his belt, throwing it to the floor along with his dress pants, leaving him in just his boxers.

You hold yourself up by your elbows, thighs pressed together and mouth watering at the man in front of you.

His hands were delicate, although they could easily snap you in half, as he unclasped your bra, leaving your top half bare.

Minho stopped to take in the view for a moment before grabbing at one of your breasts, his mouth attaching to the other.

Your whines were like music to him— something that he wanted to hear more of.

Your back arched in pleasure as he moved one hand down to your thigh, caressing it for a moment before slowly slipping his hand into your panties.

“Try to stay quiet, darling, I don’t want any staff checking on us,” He hushed you with his lips attaching to your own once again, feeling your wetness all over his calloused hands.

His thumb brushed against your clit and you whimpered into his mouth, clenching around nothing.

Minho then plunged two fingers deep inside of you and curled them. He was becoming lost in pleasing you, overlooking his own ache between his legs.

Your thighs shook beneath him, feeling him brush against your g-spot brutally. “Minho please, please just fuck me. I want you inside of me so bad.”

At your request, he slipped his fingers out, feeling your cries against his lips from the loss of friction.

“Yes ma’am.” He pulled away from your lips, replacing them with his now dripping fingers, lapping it up with his tongue.

Next, your ruined panties were yanked off of you, with his boxers soon to come after.

One hand gently relaxes on your hips, cautious to avoid aggravating your injuries as he uses the other to guide himself inside of you, a deep groan followed by your whines.

He gives you a moment to handle the stretch, but you hardly need it, already begging for him to move.

Minho cautiously thrusts, taking in a deep breath and furrowing his eyebrows in concentration. 
This is the ultimate test of patience for him. He needs to be as gentle as possible with you.

Ultimately, he sets a slow pace, hands locating themselves on either side of you, letting out uneven breaths as he tries to control himself from how good you feel around him.

“You really do care, don’t you?” Your hand reaches to cup his face, gazing into his eyes that are hazy with pleasure.

He keeps his response short, too concentrated on the waves of bliss through each thrust, “I do care.”

“Is it because you’re my bodyguard or something more?”

You study him, watching his adam’s apple move as he swallows deeply, inhaling sharply. He halts his thrusts for a brief instant.

“Both, maybe. I can’t tell.”

That was enough for you to continue, grabbing another handful of his hair and bringing him in for another hungry, deep kiss.

With each deep thrust, Minho’s mind got hazier and hazier, losing himself to pleasure bit by bit. You could feel it by the way his rhythm became rough and desperate, and his pace picked up.

One of his hands left your side, creeping towards your throbbing clit, causing you to let out sobs, all of which he ate up with his mouth against your own.

“Are you gonna cum for me?” He coos, knowing that you’re too lost in bliss to respond.

He takes your whines as a ‘yes’, his thumb rubbing circles faster, coaxing your orgasm out of you.

Your walls fluttered around him, squeezing your eyes closed and letting out a lengthy, drawn-out moan as his pace picked up even further.

“Just like that. You’re so good for me, so, so good, fuck,” he talked you through your orgasm between his thrusts, chasing his own high.

His brows crease, hips stuttering at how good it felt to have you gripping so tightly onto his cock. Finally, he let go, his load spilling inside of you and seeping out.

Both of you took an instant to catch your breath, coming down from your highs.

His hands slowly traced your curves in contentment, paying attention to the way your chest rose and fell.

Finally, he has a justification to gape at your body up close.

From your jawline to your hickey-covered chest, down to your bruised sides and stitches near your abdomen, and— Oh fuck.

Your wounds.

Minho slowly pulls away, feeling a sense of post-nut clarity and fright.

His hand slides away from your body, staring at you with concern.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, your own anxiety suddenly displayed on your face, “Do you regret it?”

“No! No,” He panics, “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?“

Back in reality now, your wounds ache and your head pounds with exhaustion and overexertion.

His mind calculates the solutions to the situation— ways to explain to the nurses, to fix you, to help you feel better.

It was his shortcoming, after all. He let his urges get to him.

“Let’s run you a bath.” He pulls himself up, tugging on his boxers and heading towards the bathroom.

You hear the tap turn on, lying in bed trying to catch your breath. Your breath is harsh from both adrenaline and pain, but you can’t help but feel as though the latter is more of the cause.

You had slept with a small handful of men, primarily Daddy’s men, but none of them were quite like Minho.

He was tough but breakable. He was still kindhearted at his core— something that wasn’t all that common in the business.

You could tell from the way that he ran the bath, bare muscles glistening from sweat, running his hand through the water to make sure that it was the ideal temperature. How concerned he was about your protection, even through his pleasure.

Not many other men that you’ve met throughout your life have been the same way.

You’re quite fond of the man that you have just met.

You hear the water shut off and footsteps coming towards the room. He holds a faint smile as his steps come towards the bed. Your gaze slowly wanders to his physique.

“It’s ready for you.” He says in a slight whisper.

“I order you to pick me up and bring me to the bath.”

He nods at your order, hooking his arms underneath your thighs and back, his strong grip securing you.

You inhale the powerful stench of gunpowder stuck to his skin, finding comfort in your bodyguard’s presence.

“Will you wash my hair?”

Studying his expression, it’s hard to read, but you let him carry you and place you into the water.

‘I do care,’ you recall his words.

‘Is it because you’re my bodyguard or something more?’ ‘Both, maybe. I can’t tell.’

Perhaps you had feelings for the man, especially while he massaged shampoo into your scalp with tough hands, making sure to rub your temples.

“Have you ever been a bodyguard before?”

When Minho hears your question, he hums while he proceeds to wash you, working on scrubbing the areas where he touched you earlier. “No, you’re the first one I’ve been a bodyguard for.”

“I did things for your father before this. Not as a bodyguard, a more, I guess, dangerous role,” he dismisses the question.

“Is that so?” You fall to silence as he continues to wash you, taking his time and guaranteeing that he gets every part. He hesitates when he washes around your injuries— every stroke and movement of his hands is smooth and temperate.

“Let me relax for a minute alone,” you murmur, “You should put your clothes back on, the maids should be here any moment to take my order for lunch. They won’t find it suspicious that I’m bathing, but they will question why you’re with me.”

Minho nods and pulls away from your body.

He stands up and his feet splash on the wet floor. He takes a double take at your closed eyes.

The way your body floats in the bath is something that catches his attention. You look very pleasing in such a vulnerable position.

He leaves the room, cracking the door to make sure that you are safe.

Minho buttons up his wrinkled shirt, pulling the jacket over it and smoothing it out to ensure that nobody suspects anything.

Minho’s eyes turn to the maid who enters the room with the ring of a bell.

His demeanor is unfazed, a hand on the gun in his pocket once more. He holds eye contact, his stare intense.

He would make sure that there wasn’t another incident.

“Where is Miss Y/N?”

“She is bathing at the moment.”

She nods, walking towards the bathroom and knocking on the door.

You hum, allowing her to enter.

“What would you like for lunch, ma’am?”

“I don’t know, surprise me.”

A few seconds go by as you immerse yourself entirely in the water before rising back to the surface.

“Minho,” you call out, “What would you like?”

You hear the faint sigh that Minho gives as a response back to your question.

“I’ll just have a sandwich or something, whatever you have is fine.” He replies to both you and the maid as she exits the bathroom, fulfilling her duty of reporting your lunch choice.

The bedroom door shuts behind her.

“Minho!” You call out once again, “I order you to take me out of the bath.”

A few seconds pass before you hear Minho’s footsteps come near the bathroom once again. He grabs a towel as you stand, body bare and dripping with water.

His eyes have an intense focus as he reaches out his hand.

Minho pulls you up from the bath wraps the towel around you, making sure to cover all of you, and begins to dry off your hair.

“Minho,” you begin, “Daddy can’t know about what happened. He’d shoot you dead on the spot.”

Minho pauses for a moment, his eyes darting across the floor.

He is silent for a moment. “I won’t reveal anything to him.”

“Good boy,” you cling to the towel covering your body, “Go fetch a maid to dress me. While she does so, I want you to change out of that suit and shower before lunch.”

“Then I’ll go shower now. I’ll be back.”

You hum in agreement, stepping towards your bedroom as a maid rings the bell.

You drop your towel, letting her sift through your drawers to find decent clothing.

She eyes a hickey on your breast, along with the other injuries across your body from the kidnapping.

“Your injuries look agitated, Miss Y/N, are you sure that a bath was the best idea for you?”

“Don’t question me,” you grumble, “I took a bath because I wanted to.”

“Yes, miss.” She pulls the dress above your head smoothes it out, and clasps a necklace behind your neck.

“You’re all set for lunch.”

The moment that you come out of your room, you can feel his presence. He is leaning against the front door of the room with an unreadable expression.

He has another suit on, a fresh one. Minho’s previously muskier, dark scent has been replaced by a new, sweeter fragrance.

“First shower at the estate?” You question, “Our soaps are quite lovely and mild on the skin. You smell wonderful.”

Minho’s lips curl at the compliment, looking you up and down, “Seems that we both are putting our best foot forward.”

You look around to see if anyone is watching before leaning to ruffle his damp hair and leave a kiss on his cheek, taking the man by complete surprise. He makes an effort to regain his composure, but you can see that his cheeks are blushed from the touch.

As soon as you lean in to lock arms, you feel him lean over to you to whisper something.

“I would love to do that with you again.”

You froze in your spot, heat rushing to your thighs.

You must regain your composure, caught off guard by his blunt words, something unlike the ordinary nature of Minho.

He takes a seat across from you, watching every move that the maid makes to be sure that she doesn’t try anything— he has learned his lesson.

“Pressed Italian Picnic Sandwiches and tea,” The maid states, setting the plates on the table.

You scrunch my nose up. “What’s in it?”

“Artisanal prosciutto, aged provolone, and sun-dried tomatoes inside of a crusty ciabatta,” She doesn’t hesitate to list the ingredients, “and a fragrant blend of rare loose-leaf teas with fresh cream and sugar cubes.”

She sets the teapot and cups out, along with a carton of cream and a bowl of sugar cubes.

Minho’s hand rests on his gun, waiting for her to leave before taking a sip of tea.

You follow his action, dumping a couple of cubes into your tea and bringing it to your lips.

I finish my lunch with Minho.

“Let’s go back to my room now. I'm exhausted.”

Minho nods his head and you both finish up the meals quickly.

You both leave the dining area and stroll back to your bedroom.

As soon as you get back into the room, you feel Minho close the door behind you.

You don’t hesitate to climb into bed and lie down.

The guard looks over at you, observing the way that your chest rises and falls as you breathe. He notices every movement that your body is making.

“I command you to lay down with me.” You lean back against the bed, your body still and eyes focused on his unmoving body.

He slips off his shoes silently, slipping into the canopy bed.

You grin, curling at his side, pressing against his body.

His breathing is deep and steady as he struggles to get into a more comfortable position.

Your mind began racing with questions about the mysterious man that you were slowly falling for, burying yourself further into the sheets.

“Minho,” you start slowly, “How did you become tangled with our family?”

Minho stays silent for a few moments and you feel his body shift a little against yours.

“I didn’t have a lot of money or family growing up,” he kept his answer short and simply, “the moment that this job came my way, I took it. The people connected to this business have always stayed on the down low, so this is an easy job to keep."

“Daddy seems to like you,” you grit your teeth.

Minho turns to you on the bed and sits up a little. He looks at you from top to bottom, reading the worry on your face with ease.

“You don’t have to worry about me.”

“He will kill you on the spot if he finds out. He’s done that to almost every man who has flirted or slept with me.”

You pause for a moment. “God forbid the one he hired as my bodyguard.”

“I am not so easily killed.” The words leave his mouth with a tinge of arrogance.

“I trust you.”

“Good.”

There is stillness between you both for a time, but he breaks it by grabbing your chin and leaning in to kiss you. You soothe into his touch, smiling against his lips briefly before he pulls away.

“I order you to stay here. Like this.”

It’s not difficult for you to drift off to sleep beside him, and as always, Minho pursues your request, keeping a close eye on you. You relax, your breathing slow, and he notes all of the occasional twitches and movements that you make in your sleep.

A couple of hours later, the door is knocked on by a maid.

“Dinner order?”

Minho jolts awake from the knock on the door, a hand swiftly placed on your shoulder to protect you from any threats before turning his head towards the noise.

His voice is full of sleep. “Repeat that?”

As she opens the door, there is a look of inquiry on her face, one that she won’t ask to ensure her job and health.

“Is she asleep?” She questions instead, glancing over at your peaceful figure.

He turns his head towards you to double-check, observing your napping body.

“Yes.”

“Alright. I’ll advise the chef to prepare her dinner later tonight.”

She gives a sharp nod to the guard and scurries out of the room, quietly shutting the door to not disturb the girl.

Minho’s eyes rest on the door for a moment, fully alert now with a hand resting on his gun.

Eventually, he turns over to you. He has his eyes on you for a few seconds before leaning down to kiss you on the forehead, letting out a small sigh.

You stir at the warm touch, scrunching your face up and stretching your body.

“What time is it?” You ask groggily before burying your head into his neck.

“Dinner is in about half an hour. You hungry?”

“Not really,” you pull yourself up and rub your sleep-filled eyes.

He notices your body shiver as you pull yourself up. Minho lets out a short exhale.

“Did you sleep?”

“A bit.” He doesn’t look away or turn his head as he admires the way you stand and stretch your body, smoothing your dress of its wrinkles.

You walk towards your vanity mirror, plopping down in the chair to readjust your necklace to the center. A few marks on your collarbone catch your eye.

“The nurses will be in shortly.” You grit your teeth. “I hope they don’t notice.”

“They won’t notice.”

His figure can be seen from behind you in the reflection of the mirror. His lips are turned upwards as he watches you fix your appearance.

You pull out a couple of foundations and concealers, working on concealing the marks left from earlier.

“The maids wouldn’t, but the nurses will tell the difference between a hickey and a bruise. Especially since these are fresh.”

Even though you are busy with your makeup and covering up the bruises, Minho’s eyes are never off of you. It is a feeling that you will have to get used to— always having a watchful eye on you.

Once you were satisfied with the coverage, you rose from your seat quickly.

“Get up, we’re going to dinner.”

“So bossy.” He retorts. “What will you have?”

“I want to go out, let’s go somewhere fancy. Daddy will pay.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You want to go out when you have had a beating just two days ago?”

He asks it like he thinks it’s an absurd idea, almost condescendingly, yet his tone of voice is soft and full of concern for you, causing your stomach to flip inside out.

“I’m tired of staying inside already. This estate is suffocating,” you pull on your slip-on shoes.

“That’s how I got myself into this mess in the first place. I left the house and got kidnapped. That won’t happen with you here.”

“I guess you’re right. We’ll go somewhere nice.”

“Good. I’ll go tell Daddy.” You leave the door open for Minho to come after but don’t wait for him, yet you can tell that he follows behind silently, attending to the way your body moves in the dress as you make your way down the halls.

The door is slightly ajar, so when you knock, it pushes open with a creak, revealing your father inside.

Minho stands behind you like a shadow, his lips pressed into a straight line, gaze locked on your father, keeping his distance from the both of you.

“Come inside,” the older man invites both of them with a welcoming grin, “sit.”

You can sense that your father has something on his mind, which is never a good sign.

“I was going to call you to my office shortly, anyway.” Instantly you assume the worst.

You sit down, taking a seat in front of him. Minho is still standing in the back, his priority on you and your father.

The man looks over at Minho. Their eyes lock for a moment. “Guard, go lock the door. There is a conversation that needs to be had.”

Minho nods and he turns his head, locking the door behind him.

He turns his attention back to you, who is frozen in your seat, breath hitching.

The elite man fiddles with a pen at his desk, clicking it to drown out the tense silence.

The silence in the room seems so heavy that you wonder how neither you nor Minho is feeling sick. Judging by the thick atmosphere between the three of you, it is easy to tell that he isn’t pleased right now.

He fidgets with the pen and you wait for him to finally speak.

“Do you find my daughter to be precious, Guard?” He addresses Minho with a stern voice, finally setting the pen down at his wooden desk with a smack.

“Yes sir,” Minho replies flatly.

“Are you willing to protect her at all costs, even at your life?”

After moments of silence, he answers back confidently. “Yes sir. I am.”

A hand comes to rest at his side, toying loudly with a handgun, which he eventually pulls out of his pocket.

Tears begin to well up in your eyes, yet Minho stays concentrated. There isn’t a single sign of fear on his face. He is unshaken, calm, and collected as if he had been foreseeing this exact scenario.

“Do you know why you were assigned to guard my daughter, Minho?”

“I know the reasons.”

“There was a leak to the rivals from a previous staff member that I had a precious daughter in my life,” He turns towards you, “the one that I had climbed to the top of my career to protect and assure her safety and security.”

He cleared his throat before darting back to Minho, “It took less than a day for her to be taken from my hands and placed in the hands of one of my greatest enemies.”

Minho pays attention to every word that he speaks and clears his throat, waiting for your father to continue.

“I care for my daughter more than anything in the world. Which is why I had appointed the most valuable, honest, and competent man in the family to ensure her protection.”

Minho nods.

“Please don’t kill him, Daddy.”

The boss meets you with cold eyes, disregarding your words to proceed with his lecture. “You are my most prized possession. I would hurt anyone or anything to make sure that not a single person touches you. The men who kidnapped you are all taken care of, wiped out by my command.”

He continues. “I know everything that goes on in your life. Every meal, every kiss, every injury, the staff must report every minor thing that occurs in your day. I have eyes on you at all times, and you’re more than aware of that.”

Your shoulders stiffen. He knew.

“Minho,” his stare is burning into the other man, “I’ll get to the point. Did you sleep with my daughter?”

He doesn’t blink. His body tenses up and his voice remains neutral.

“Yes.”

The boss turns the safety off of his firearm and you dig your head into your hands, unable to observe the scene that is about to unfold.

The gunshot is fired, but the man deliberately aims to the left of Minho, grazing his cheek with the bullet before standing up instantly from his seat. The guard doesn’t react with more than a blink as the blood pools at the cut.

“I trust you, Minho. You are a good man. If there is a single person who I would choose to give my daughter to, it would be you.”

Finally, Minho takes this as a sign to let his guard down for a moment as his shoulders drop, lip quivering slightly. It was evident that there was more emotion that the guard was holding back, especially when he took a moment to look away.

“You have my approval.”

Your eyes widen.

“Take care of my daughter. If you break her heart, I’ll feed your own heart to her for supper.”

“Understood.”

“Take her to dinner,” a wad of cash is pulled out from one of the drawers, “buy her flowers and anything else that she asks for.”

“Yes sir.” He responds, “I’ll make sure that she gets the treatment that she deserves.”

You run to embrace your father, to which he places an arm around you, rubbing your back before pulling away.

“Get yourself dressed more sufficiently, I will have a car ready for you soon.”

Minho follows you out of his office, letting out a breath that he had been holding in once the door was closed.

“Did you hear that?” Do you know what this means?” You beam at the man before grabbing at his cheeks and pulling him in for a kiss.

He lets out a surprised noise, hesitantly wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing back.

When you break the kiss, he stares back at you with the first big smile that you’ve seen from him displayed on his face.

“Let’s get you ready.”

[thepencilnerd]

take a slice

Summary: No one could imagine a more cunning or manipulative player than Shuntaro Chishiya—until he meets you. complete fic on my ao3 here <3 Word Count: 3.8k Contains: Depictions of violence, unresolved sexual tension, emotional constipation

A/N: because I binge-watched Alice In Borderland in the span of two days and I am very late to the party (but never too late for self-indulgent fan service)

Chishiya spots you across the same floor, your black silhouette nearly lost in the shadows of the night. It’s only your movement that catches his attention, the dark outerwear a sharp contrast to his bright white jacket. You and he are the only players scouting from this vantage point, watching from above while the chaos brews below.

The night is eerily quiet—the calm before the storm, as they say. Your gaze locks onto his, and for a moment, time seems to freeze. Chishiya feels his heartbeat falter, a fleeting hitch he quickly tamps down.

Before he can fully process it, you’ve already vanished around a corner, just as a rain of bullets peppers the area behind you.

A boy’s voice echoes from below, frantic. "The only way to clear this game is to work together!"

Bullshit , you think.

There must be a reason behind the attacker's anchoring position, Chishiya muses.

Of course.

When you finally make your way to the safe room, you’re welcomed by four unfamiliar figures: the spree-killing horse, the brunette boy from earlier, a girl with a bob, and the blonde. 

Chishiya strikes swiftly, the crackle of his taser breaking the stillness. The masked attacker crumples to the floor, their face hitting the ground with a muffled thud. You waste no time, stomping down hard on their wrist, sending the gun skittering from their hand. Before they can recover, you grab the weapon and fire a single round into the crown of their skull. 

When you glance up, you catch the faintest trace of a smirk ghosting across the blonde’s face, but it’s gone just as quickly.

In the seconds that follow, the two other players in the room hastily slam their hands on the red buttons lining the walls.

GAME COMPLETE. CONGRATULATIONS WINNERS. 

Turning around, a pair of wide eyes greets you. 

“Thank you,” the boy finally speaks, addressing you and the blonde in a shaky voice. 

You respond with a nod, glancing over at the girl and seeing her return the acknowledgement. 

“Don’t mention it.” The blonde’s condescending tone from behind you is paralleled only by his burning gaze, locking onto you immediately. He almost misses seeing you slip something from the dead body into your pocket. 

You feel his focus linger on you as you leave the room. 

The night air is thick with tension, the distant cries from nearby arenas only amplifying the silence with each footstep behind you. You don’t bother turning around; you already know who it is.

Chishiya steps into your peripheral vision, his pace unhurried, like a cat stalking in the shadows. The forest buzzes with the threat of unseen dangers, but all his attention is locked on you.

"You didn’t have to kill him," he says, his voice casual, almost amused, as though discussing the weather.

You don’t stop walking. "You didn’t stop me."

A quiet chuckle escapes him, barely more than a breath. "True." His tone remains light, but there’s an edge beneath it, like he’s testing you, challenging you. "Still, you’ve got a certain efficiency. Impressive."

Your expression stays neutral. And yet, Chishiya’s presence beside you stirs something strange—a shared awareness, as if you’re both circling an invisible boundary neither of you are quite ready to cross—yet.

"You took something," he says, breaking the silence again, his voice calm but probing. His gaze stays forward, unreadable. "From the body."

You glance at him briefly, just enough to meet his eyes, which glint with curiosity under the moonlight. He’s trying to figure you out.

"And what if I did?" There’s a challenge in your voice now.

Chishiya’s smirk returns, faint but unmistakable. "Nothing. For now."

The tension between you tightens, pulling you closer in the silence. The game isn’t over. Not between the two of you.

As you continue walking, he trails behind, but soon loses sight of you in the dense trees. Shadows shift, swallowing you whole. He barely has time to catch his breath before a sudden force slams him to the ground, knocking the wind from his lungs. The disturbed soil and decaying leaves soften his fall, but his back still hits the earth with a solid thud.

Your knee digs sharply into his sternum, pinning him down. One hand tightens around his throat, not enough to choke him but enough to strain his breath. The cold, unforgiving edge of a blade presses against his cheek—a silent threat.

Chishiya’s indifferent expression makes your skin crawl, yet his stoic, unflinching gaze cuts through the moment like a dagger—piercing both hot and cold at once. Neither of you speak. It’s a game of cat and cat, both of you testing the other's resolve in this tense, silent standoff.

For a fleeting moment, he wonders if you can read each other’s thoughts.

You feel him gulp beneath your hand, his pulse quickening under your fingers. Both of his hands remain raised in surrender by his ears, calm, unwavering, and empty of any weapon or defense. His eyes flicker to the deep scar on your neck, lingering there for just a moment.

The air between you thickens. What feels like minutes pass in the span of heartbeats.

Without warning, you spring up and disappear into the night.

Chishiya stays on the ground for a moment, catching his breath. He sits up slowly, eyes tracing the path you took into the darkness. His chest rises and falls unevenly, the phantom cold of the blade still lingering on his skin. Silence wraps around him like a fog, but his pulse betrays him—racing, driven by more than just adrenaline.

For the first time in longer than he can remember, he feels something—a strange tug deep in his core, like something vital slipped away the moment you left. A curiosity stirs, mingling with the remnants of tension, a silent acknowledgment that this game isn’t over.

It’s only just begun.

Chishiya’s lips twitch into a faint smirk. Your piercing gaze and the scar on your neck are seared into his mind. He knows he’ll see you again. And next time, he won’t be caught off guard.

“You look like you have something on your mind.”

Kuina sits down across from Chishiya, her curiosity piqued as she watches him stare off into the distance. The evening air is still, a rare calmness settling over the Beach after a chaotic night.

Chishiya leans back, crossing his arms, a faint hum escaping his lips. “Just an interesting game tonight,” he replies casually, but there’s a lingering spark in his gaze that betrays more.

Kuina raises an eyebrow. “Must’ve been some game, then.”

“Perhaps,” Chishiya says, his voice smooth and unhurried. The rush of endorphins from the near-death experience still thrums faintly through his veins. 

The cause? A player whose actions were as cunning and unpredictable as his own. The thrill of narrowing down their motivations felt like a puzzle finally worth solving.

His mind drifts back to the game, replaying each moment like scenes in a movie. The chaos, the desperate shouts, and the blaring alarms all felt distant—mere background noise compared to the razor-sharp focus he'd found himself drawn to. That focus was centered on one person.

You had been an anomaly from the start. There was a precision in the way you moved, calculated and unfazed by the panic unraveling around you. It was as if you thrived on the chaos, embraced it even, letting it fuel each step you took. While the other players were scrambling to find shelter or allies, you seemed to anticipate every move, predicting the patterns before they even unfolded.

And then, the moment that had truly hooked him: the kill. Cold, efficient, and executed without a trace of hesitation. You weren’t just surviving; you were playing the game in its purest form—adapting, evolving, always a step ahead. There was no hesitation in your actions, no unnecessary flourish—just the unyielding will to end a threat. It wasn’t just about self-preservation; it was about winning. And that’s what made you different.

Chishiya’s curiosity flared the instant your eyes met his in the aftermath. For the briefest moment, he’d seen a flicker of something—recognition, maybe even a hint of challenge. Like you were silently asking him if he had what it took to keep up.

It was absurd, really, to feel anything in the Borderlands beyond the mechanical urge to survive. But something had shifted tonight. For the first time in what felt like forever, the game had become more than a series of calculated risks and rewards: it had become interesting.

Chishiya’s gaze shifts back to the window where lights scatter the sky. His fingers tap idly on the armrest of his chair, a rhythm betraying the restlessness he tries to mask. He’s always prided himself on being detached, keeping emotions and sentiment far from his calculations. Yet here he is, preoccupied with thoughts that don't have a place in his carefully constructed logic.

"You're quiet," Kuina observes, her tone carrying a hint of amusement. "More than usual, I mean."

Chishiya’s smirk is faint, barely there. “Am I?”

She shrugs, leaning back in her seat. “You’ve been lost in your own head since you got back.” 

Chishiya’s expression doesn’t falter, but there’s a slight shift in his demeanor—a barely perceptible sign of vulnerability, quickly smoothed over. “Maybe I’m just considering... possibilities,” he replies, the words coming slower than usual, as if he’s testing how they sound. 

Kuina’s eyes narrow thoughtfully. “Possibilities, huh?” She tilts her head, studying him. “That’s one way of putting it. Or maybe… a person?”

Chishiya’s silence is uncharacteristic. He feels the pull to dismiss the notion immediately, to scoff at the idea of being distracted by a person, much less affected by them. But instead, he pauses. It’s enough for Kuina to catch on, her curiosity piqued.

“Interesting,” she murmurs, a teasing smile curling on her lips. “You’re actually thinking about someone, aren’t you?” When he doesn’t respond, she presses further. “It’s a girl, right? Did she do something to catch your eye?”

Chishiya finally meets her gaze, his own guarded but not entirely dismissive. “She’s... unusual,” he admits, the words coming out almost reluctantly. “Not like the others.”

Kuina arches an eyebrow. “Unusual how? Smart? Dangerous?”

“Both,” he replies without hesitation. “Efficient, focused. But there’s something else.” He uncrosses his arms, feeling oddly exposed, as though admitting to these thoughts makes them more real, more tangible. “It’s like she’s not playing the same game as the rest of them.”

Kuina studies him for a moment, then lets out a soft laugh. “You’ve got it bad,” she says, shaking her head. “I never thought I’d see the day you’d be drawn to someone for more than their utility.”

He scoffs, a ghost of his usual arrogance returning. “Don’t get carried away. I’m only interested because she might be useful.”

“Sure,” Kuina says with a knowing grin. “Keep telling yourself that.”

Chishiya falls silent again, but the truth gnaws at him. He knows it’s more than just her utility in the grand scheme of escaping this hellhole. It’s the way she challenges him—forces him to reevaluate his strategies and makes him wonder if there’s more to this game than just surviving.

He hates how that thought clings to him, even as he tries to push it away.

Chishiya shifts in his chair, feeling a dull ache radiate from his chest. He’s been operating on a different level since encountering you, and the physical reminder feels almost like an anchor to what he’s been trying to navigate.

He glances at Kuina, who’s still watching him with an amused expression, still probing. “You look like you’re plotting something.”

“Just considering my next move,” he replies, a hint of a smirk returning to his lips. “The game is full of variables, and I need to prepare for them.”

“Variables, huh? Is that what you call her now?” Kuina teases, leaning forward, her elbows resting on the table.

“Focus,” he snaps lightly, but there’s no real heat in his voice. Instead, his mind races ahead to the next game, and how he can draw you in, maybe even observe you more closely. He’s already picturing the scenarios—the players, the setting, the stakes.

What he really wants is a way to see you again. To understand the force that pulls him toward you, the complexity that makes you more than just another player. The anticipation churns within him, exciting yet unnerving.

“What if I made a move to recruit her?” he muses aloud, considering the prospect. “She could be an asset. If she operates outside the norm, that could change the dynamics of our strategies.”

“Or it could blow up in your face,” Kuina counters, her tone light but her gaze serious. “You’re not exactly known for your emotionality, Chishiya. What if she doesn’t want to play?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he replies, brushing off her concern. “I’ll figure it out. I always do.”

But the truth is, he knows that this isn’t merely about the game anymore. It’s about the way you make him feel—like a player in a game he thought he understood, now suddenly complex and exhilarating. Chishiya can’t shake the thought that if he wants to unlock the potential you represent, he’ll have to make a move soon.

He allows himself a moment of vulnerability, resting his chin on his hand as he reflects. “What if I want to see her again, Kuina? What if it’s not just about strategy anymore?”

Kuina’s eyes widen, clearly surprised by his admission. “Wow. You’re actually admitting you care.”

Chishiya rolls his eyes but can’t help the smirk tugging at his lips. “Don’t get carried away.”

“Sure,” she says, leaning back with a satisfied grin. “Just remember, sometimes the best strategies are the ones that come from the heart.”

With that, Chishiya’s mind drifts again, calculating and assessing. He’ll be ready for the next game. He’ll be prepared to take any risk to find you again, to unravel the mystery of what you truly are: a partner, a rival, or perhaps something more. As the night draws to a close, the shadows deepen, but a flicker of determination ignites within him.

He will see you again.

A few days have passed since the last game, but the adrenaline still courses through your veins, lingering like a ghost. You survived, but the victory feels hollow, overshadowed by the memory of the indifferent blonde boy who’s drawn you in more than you care to admit.

Your thoughts drift back to that game—its intensity still vivid in your mind. It was like no other you’d experienced, where survival felt more like a dance with death than a struggle against it. And he was at the center of it, moving through the chaos with a calculated grace that caught your attention long before you understood why.

It wasn’t just that he was calm under pressure. Plenty of players had nerves of steel. It was his indifference, the way he seemed detached from the dangers around him, as though nothing could touch him. Where others flinched or panicked, he merely observed, as if the unfolding chaos was a puzzle to solve rather than a life-or-death situation. That kind of control was rare in the Borderlands, and in some strange way, it felt like a dare, an unspoken challenge that made you want to test him, to see if there was anything that could shatter that composure.

You remember the moment you locked eyes across the chaos, the way the world seemed to fade into the background. It was brief, but in that instant, it felt like a silent conversation—an understanding that went beyond words. There was something sharp in his gaze, a spark of curiosity that mirrored your own. It was as if he was evaluating you, sizing you up just as you were doing to him. For a fleeting moment, you wondered if you were seeing a part of yourself reflected back in those cold, calculating eyes.

But it wasn’t just his composure or his gaze that drew you in. It was the way he acted in those crucial seconds when lives hung in the balance. While others scrambled to save themselves, he made moves that seemed almost playful, like he was toying with the danger rather than simply evading it. There was a thrill in watching him maneuver through the madness with an ease that bordered on arrogance, as though he was always three steps ahead of everyone else—including you.

And then there was the moment when the game ended. You had both survived, of course, but there was something in the way he looked at you afterward, something that lingered, a faint smirk that hinted he had seen more than you’d intended to reveal. It wasn’t pity; it was as if he recognized a kindred spirit, someone who understood the game on a different level. For the first time in what felt like ages, you felt truly seen. 

That feeling unsettles you even now, as you sit by the fire, staring into the flames. It’s not that you seek validation in the Borderlands; you’ve learned long ago that the only approval that matters is your own. But there’s something about his quiet confidence, the way he seemed to acknowledge you without saying a word, that’s hard to shake. It makes you wonder if he was as unaffected as he appeared or if there was more beneath the surface, something hidden behind that cool exterior.

You clench your jaw, frustrated with yourself for even thinking about him this much. He was just another player—albeit a skilled one—and you’ve dealt with plenty of them before. But there’s a part of you that can’t ignore the way his presence lingers, like a splinter in your mind, a question that refuses to be answered.

Why did he make such an impression on you? Was it his composure, his intelligence, or the quiet thrill of crossing paths with someone who didn’t play by the same rules as everyone else? Or was it the way he seemed to see you in return, as if you were more than just a piece on the board?

You realize that you don’t know the answers—and perhaps that’s what’s most intriguing of all. There’s an unfinished quality to your last encounter, a feeling that your story with him isn’t over yet. It’s as if the game itself has drawn a line between you, daring you to cross it again.

You shake your head, trying to dismiss the thoughts that have become stubborn visitors in your mind. Why does he occupy your thoughts so much? Is it his calm indifference, the way he moved with calculated grace? Or is it something more that stirs a curiosity you can’t quite define?

Pushing the thoughts aside, you focus on your routine, an independent existence in the Borderlands, where survival means mastering skills few have the patience to learn. You've carved out a small camp nestled within the trees, camouflaged by foliage, a sanctuary of sorts amidst the chaos.

Every morning, you rise before dawn, the cool air biting at your skin as you check your traps. The gentle sounds of the forest waking around you are a familiar symphony, one you find solace in. You harvest small game—rabbits, birds, whatever you can catch—and meticulously prepare them, savoring the simple act of cooking over a small fire.

Hunting and foraging have become second nature. You collect wild herbs and edible plants, storing them in makeshift pouches crafted from scavenged materials. Each successful hunt reminds you of your resilience and strength. 

But even as you focus on these tasks, your mind drifts back to him—the blonde boy from the game. The way his piercing gaze seemed to see right through you, as if he was calculating your every move. It’s unsettling yet exhilarating, a contradiction you can’t wrap your head around.

The sun climbs higher, and you take a break from your chores to wash your hands in a nearby stream, the water refreshing against your skin. As you splash your face, you catch your reflection in the rippling surface, a mix of determination and uncertainty staring back at you.

You spend the afternoon working on camp, reinforcing the makeshift walls and clearing away debris that threatens your space. But even as you work to distract yourself, you can almost feel his presence lurking at the edge of your thoughts, his smirk dancing on your mind like a memory that refuses to fade.

Eventually, you settle on a log outside your camp, a piece of driftwood you dragged from the riverbank. Pulling out your small notebook, you begin to sketch the maps of the Borderlands, noting down resources and potential hideouts. It’s practical, a way to keep your mind sharp, but each mark on the page feels like a tether to the games, to the players who dance around you like shadows.

You reach into your pocket and pull out the small, crumpled piece of paper you took from the body during the game. You’ve looked at it countless times since then, trying to make sense of the chaotic scribbles. It’s a series of numbers and symbols—coordinates, perhaps, or some kind of code. Whatever it is, it’s not immediately clear, and that only deepens your curiosity.

You flatten the paper against the rough surface of the log, comparing it with your sketches. Could it be a location in the Borderlands? A clue to something hidden or an upcoming game? The patterns don’t align with any familiar maps, but something about the markings feels deliberate, as though there’s a message buried within them. You trace the lines with your finger, committing them to memory, trying to see what the original owner had seen. What was so important that they’d die with it?

Your mind drifts back to the moment you took it. The blonde boy’s eyes had flickered towards you—just for a heartbeat—when you pocketed the paper. Did he know what it meant, or had he noticed the same curiosity in you that you now feel?

As you draw, memories of the game resurface: his calculated moves, his indifferent demeanor, and the strange thrill of standing against him. There’s something magnetic about his presence, something that both fascinates and frustrates you.

In the fading light of dusk, you close your eyes for a moment, letting the sounds of the forest wash over you. The call of distant birds, the rustle of branches—each note a reminder that you’re alive, that you’re here, navigating a world filled with peril and unpredictability. But still, the thought lingers. Will your paths cross in the next game, or will you remain a ghost in his memory?

With a sigh, you shake your head and return to your sketches, determination settling in your chest. It doesn’t matter. Yet, in the depths of your mind, a part of you yearns for that inevitable meeting, that chance to unravel the enigma that is the blonde boy.

As darkness settles over the forest, you tuck your notebook away, the images of your maps a promise of the journey ahead. Tomorrow will bring new challenges, new games to navigate. And if fate has its way, perhaps it will also bring him back into your orbit once more.

[miniwheat77]

Blood. (141 x Reader.)

!sexual assault, groping, violence, blood, THIS IS SENSITIVE MATERIAL YOU’VE BEEN WARNED!

The first time it happened, you brushed it off like it was an accident.

He’d finished talking to you, sent you on your way and where he was standing. His hand brushing over your backside.

In your gut it felt wrong, but you brushed it off.

The second time. It was much different.

He was scolding you for something stupid, a new recruit had messed something up under your watch and he’d reached out, groping you through your shirt. You shoved his hand away, mortified. But he only moved closer. “It’s okay. You’ll learn to be good.”

Just as you were getting ready to bolt away, he gripped your wrist and forced you closer. His lips right near your ear. “If you tell anyone about this, I’ll have your job. And you don’t want that right? Be a good girl.” He breathes. Breathing in the scent of your hair. You trembled as you left his office that day.

The commander was hungry to be higher than everyone else, and why it was you he chose to harass you’d never understand.

You were making your way out of his office. Trembling. Tears pooling at your waterline. You made your way to your friends car. She told you she’d take you off base for the day. When you asked for the day off, you payed the price. Just as you reached her car, your phone rang. You lifted it up, seeing his name flash across the screen. You took a deep breath, answering it. “I’ve got a gift for you when you come back tonight darling. Don’t be afraid when you come into your room.”

You hang up the phone. Resting your arm on the top of the car. Burying your face into your elbow and letting out a sob. Your friend looks at you sympathetically. “Y/N..” she breathes. She’s the only other person who knows. She’s tried to convince you to tell others plenty of times, but you won’t budge. Scared of what he could do. Knowing what he’s capable of. “Hey, everything alright?” You hear Gaz’s voice. But keep your face buried in your arm. You hear her sigh. “No. No nothing is alright.” She answers for you. “What’s going on?”

Gaz and Soap had just gotten off of watch. “It’s the commander.” She crosses her arms. You wipe your eyes, looking up at her. “Just.. don’t. It doesn’t matter.”

Soap moves closer. Seeing just how distraught you are. “He.. he’s been…” she freezes.

Gaz looks up. “Is he touching you?” He looks at you.

You drop your head again. Gaz and Soap exchange glances. Soaps jawline hardens as he grits his teeth. “For a couple months now.” She answers for you. “Take her off base. We’ve got it.” Soap pats the top of the car. “Wait- what are you going to do?” She asks. “Don’t worry, he won’t do anything anymore.” He’s answers. “Just.. take her out.” He nods.

The both of you get into the car.

“What do you think they’re going to do?” She looks at you. You turn your head to the window.

“Don’t know. Hopefully kill him.”

“What are we going to do?” Gaz asks Soap. “We’re going to get Ghost and Price first.” He opens up the door to Captain Price’s office, thankful when Ghost is sitting there. “Boys?” Captain Price raises an eyebrow. “Commander Mason has been assaulting Y/N.”

Soap crosses his arms. Price’s face hardens immediately. “What?”

“We seen her out in the parking lot. Fucking distraught.” Gaz answers. “Are you sure?”

“About positive sir. Said it’s been going on a couple months now. Assuming he’s been threatening her rank.” Price nods his head. “Alright. Come on.” He stands up from his chair, and the four of them walk down the hallway together. Price goes in first and the others wait outside.

He knocks at the door. “Come in!” He calls. Price steps inside, being sure to leave the door open. “Ah, Captain. What brings you in here?”

“I’ve just been informed that you’ve been inappropriately touching people on my base.”

Price can see him stiffen up immediately. “What?”

“Y/N is lying.” The words leave his lips before John can answer. “Weird… I didn’t say who told me, did I?”

His eyes are wide. He’s just sold himself out and he knows it. “This has nothing to do with you, Price. I suggest you stay out of this. This discussion is over.” He goes to walk out the door, but Soap steps into the doorway, leaning up against the frame.

He’s got a knife in his hand and he’s moving it back and fourth. “Don’t think you’re going anywhere, buddy.” Soap smiles. “Tell the truth.” John crosses his arms, leaning up against the desk. “I.. I don’t know what she told you but it’s not true.” He backs up into the wall behind him. “See… that’s where you’ve got it wrong. Because she didn’t tell us anything. Someone else did. But since you jumped to conclusions, you’ve just incriminated yourself so much more.” Gaz shakes his head. “You’re supposed to be someone girls can trust. How many women have you done this to hm?” Soap has moved and the other two men have walked in, Ghost still blocking the door. “You’ve got it all wrong. Look.. we can call Y/N in and she’ll clear this whole thing up.”

John shakes his head. “No. She’s… out. And.. you’re never gonna see her again. Not ever.”

“Yes I will.”

“No. You won’t.” John draws his gun. Seeing the panic flare in his eyes. “Let’s take a walk.”

———

When you got back to base, you got out of her car and made your way back inside, dread in your chest. He probably talked them down. Probably told them you were lying and they believed him. So he’ll be waiting for you in your room, like usual. He’s probably going to hurt you this time.

You open up your door, but it’s quiet. You take a deep breath.

“Y/N.”

You spin around, seeing Captain Price standing there. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. Come with me?” He asks. You nod your head. Following him. You follow right along side him. “Why didn’t you come to me sooner, darling?”

You look at your feet as you walk. “I was scared.”

He nods his head. “I’ll always believe you, you know that?” He sighs. “I want you to know that I’ve got your back and I’d NEVER let anyone do that to you. None of us would.” You follow him outside, it’s starting to get dark. The sun has disappeared behind the mountains around you. He leads you out to the garage, where he opens the door of the Humvee for you.

“Where are we going?”

“I’m going to show you something.”

He reaches across the center of the Humvee, slowly resting his hand on your thigh. He’s trying to soothe you. “I’m sorry about what he’s done to you. And I want you to know it’s not going to happen anymore.” You rest your hand on top of his. Squeezing it slightly. You’re not scared of him. He never scared you. He’d never do anything to hurt you. Nobody in this task force would.

He pulls up to pretty much the middle of nowhere. Getting out and moving around the other side to open your door for you. You follow him up to what looks like disturbed ground.

“What is this?”

“It’s a promise I’m making you.” He turns to look at you. “What?”

“Nobody is going to hurt you ever again, not as long I’m around. No matter what they say to you, they can’t hurt you. They can’t fire you. Can’t get you into trouble, if something happens, you come straight to me.” He looks at you. You nod your head. “Do you understand me?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good. Because if they do.” He turns to look at the ground.

“They’ll end up here.”

Your eyes widen when you realize what he means.

“Thank you Captain Price.” You breathe. “I’m just.. so glad that it’s over.” You sigh.

“Us too. Now let’s get back. I’m going to help you move your room. I know you’ve got some bad memories in the last.”

“How do you know that?”

“He told us everything.” He turns away from you. Bile growing at the back of his throat.

“You’re safe now, and that’s what matters.”

[ja3hwa]

♡ 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟖: 𝐓𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐬 - 𝐉.𝐘𝐇 ♡

Planet 3564AB

【Synopsis】 : You're a Mercenary, searching for your next job in the galaxy. Little did you know, being stuck on a wateland planet was about to gift you more than just galactic credits.

『Word count』 : 1.51k

-> Genre: Sci-Fi. Smut. Poly.

Paring: Alien!Yunho x Mercenary!Reader

[Warnings] : Making out. Neck kisses. Unprotected sex. Anal. Lots of tentacle penetration. Multiple orgasms. Lots of bodily fluids. Dirty talk. Mention of Seonghwa and…laying eggs… I’m sorry, hehe. Hints of a poly relationship. Swearing.

Thank you, My Darling, @yourfatherlucifer, for requesting Yunho for this day. I hope you like it. ♡♡

Note: This is inspired by the amazing @sanjoongie and her absolutely filthy Alien fics she writes. I haven't written much along the lines of Alien/Sci-Fi aus, so her fics definitely helped in navigating the way of writing. (I think i still have a lot of learning with writing smut for aliens, ahah). She's such a kind person and a stunning writer, so please go check her stuff out. ♡

Masterlist | Navigation | Kinktober List

Stuck on a rogue planet, you had decided to explore some of the caves nearby for any type of supplies but you were at no luck. Your ship's engine had seemly malfunctioned from a strange goop from the waste landed planet's surface. But other than the odd glowing goo dripping from your ship, you didn’t see any on the floor or tailing anywhere. but you soon brushed it off, blaming it could be from the atmosphere, a small life form maybe? Or even something you could have picked up along the way and it’s only affected the machine now.

Either way, you looked around the planet and through an unsuccessful scavenge you found nothing of use to help you. You had called one of your teammates from the same clan as you, San. He said he and Wooyoung would come over from Planet Gem which is just under a day's trip, so it meant you’d been staying the night on this shit-forsaken wasteland. Watching the two bright pink suns slowly begin to set, you had made a border, or a guard of some sort to help protect yourself and most importantly your ship while you were asleep. You had no idea what might be lurking on this seemingly empty planet.

You shifted in and out of consciousness, trying to sleep but something felt off, like something was watching you. That you weren’t alone. You had decided the only way you were going to sleep was to do one more quick sweep of the ship even though you had done a sweep over four times already before going to bed. But one more time, you kept repeating to yourself. And by the time you came to your cock pit the last part of the ship you had still found nothing. the doors were locked and nothing seemed to be inside the ship. Yes maybe something could be wandering outside but you were safe… right?

You go to leave to pilot room but when you open the sliding door you're met with a large body running into you. Everything was happening so quickly that you couldn’t even see what had grabbed you. A wet lanky object wrapped around your ankle, holding you against your captain's chair while another smooth, long object held your wrists locking them above your head. You thrashed, trying to push the creature off you, fearing it might be here to kill you but as another lanky object glided over your navel, you knew what it wanted.

“G-Get off me!!” You try to throw the beast but it only chuckled, with a deep velvet voice. His blue-ish skin was caught in your view its dark eyes caught your attention. It was a man, well mostly. Soft and fair freatures of a handsome man stared at you for a moment, his sharp teethed smile making you shiver. His body was board and a slip-like opening was painting the middle of his chest. It was opened slightly, letting yet another Tentacle spill out making it grab your other ankle, now successfully holding you open for the creature to shift himself between your spread legs. His large hands took a handful of fabric from your sleep shirt, ripping it off without a thought. You gasp, feeling your bare chest being tickled by the cold air. Your nipples were achingly hard, his face dipped down latching onto your buds sucking in harshly while a socked tentacle wrapped around your other one pinching it. “Fuck!”

Your body was burning, slipping under the control of the creature. Your mind became so foggy all you could do was whimper, no longer fighting him. He seemed to notice kissing up your neck until he found your lips, locking his with your plump ones. His very long tongue explored your mouth, making you gag slightly as the wet appendage almost went down your throat. His fingers hooked under your sleep short ripping them apart along with your underwear. Tears swelled up on the corners of your eye, feeling his tentacles spread your ass cheeks while another one poked at your tight asshole. He pulled away letting you breathe, coughing out while your saliva dripped from your chin.

 “I’m gonna fill you up. Breed you, my mate…hmm you smell so good.” The alien rambles repeating the words along the line of ‘breed,’ mate’, ‘fuck’. you weren't really paying attention, mind melting from the feeling of his appendages playing with your holes. His tentacle slipped inside your ass making you cry, having not prepped you properly. But the burn was so pleasurable you couldn’t complain. He fucked you fast, making you feel like you were going to tip over the edge. Your hazy eyes watching him sit up slightly, watching his tentacle fuck you. He was groaning at the sensation of your tight ass wrapped around him. Another wet limb slipped out of the gap in his chest moving down to snake around his cock. Pumping him in time with him fucking your ass. His fingers pinched your clit while the other free one squeezed your breast. The feeling was enough to send you over the edge, coming around nothing. While squirting on him. He bit his lip coming also all over your tummy and chest while his tentacle empty his load in your ass as well. You were covered in his seed, while he was soaked in your juices. But that didnt stop him. He needed more.

“I’m gonna breed you now, my mate.” He moaned, placing his hands on either side of your hips, lifting you up so your back laid awkwardly on the large chair and your feet dangled on either side of his huge body. His cock inches inside you in one clean motion while his tentacle had stayed still deep in your other tight hole, holding your ass cheeks apart. He thrust in a quick snap, making you gasp for air. His cock was just what your body needed. He watched you intensely, your mouth agape and mind gone. Your body was his to use as he pleased. All of his wet limbs could have their fun, filling all the holes they could find. Two in your ass, one slipping into your mouth making you lazily suck to and another two slipping slowly into your soaked cunt beside his cock filling you more than you’d ever been before.

“Fuck, Fgmnng mnnyu…” You rambled against his long wet appendage, making the alien grin. You were so full of him and he was living for every moment.

“You gonna cum baby? Hmm? Come on, make a mess on my cock.” the snap of the creature's hips sent your body into overdrive, making you squeeze his cock, coming down fast from your high. Your cunt clenched milking him for every drop he had, as he also came inside your ass and mouth, successfully filling you in every hole. His grip loosened, and all his limbs left you, making you feel empty. His tentacles unbound themselves from your wrists and ankles, letting your aching body sit upright on the defiled captain's chair. You rubbed your wrists while catching your breath, watching all the alien's tentacles slip back into the opening in his chest before he seals shut. You clicked your tongue, leaning back.

“What have I told you about stowing away on my ship,” you said sternly in between pants, but in truth, you were to mad at him.

“Seonghwa got to lay his eggs with you just before you left and I didn’t have time to tell you about the mating season. So I thought the logical to just come with you…” He spoke rather fast, “To be fair I didn’t know how long you were going to be and I didn’t want to spend it with Mingi again…” There was nothing wrong with Mingi, in fact, he loved the Altean but he needed his mate. You sighed, knowing the journeys you take sometimes last longer than anticipated but still, he didn’t need to hide away and goop your ship engine up just to fuck you.

“Okay…But just so you know, San and Wooyoung will be here from first light to bring supplies to fix what you damaged…” you crossed your arms over your bare chest feeling the stickiness of his seed. God, you needed a shower.

“Well then, let's shower and fucks some more before they arrive I’m sure once they smell my scent on you they’ll want a parting gift before they go back to base..” like he had read your mind, he wiggled his eyebrows, picking you up so your legs would wrap around his hips.

“You’re going back with them you realize. I’m warning you.” you groaned at him, resting your head on his chest as he walked to the shower bay. He kisses the top of your head before chuckling;

“I like to see you try.”

[tinyundercover]

pepper & felix

part five

Pepper doesn't know how to handle his emotions.

MASTERPOST word count: 4.4k

Pepper stood behind the toaster, peeking around to examine the kitchen. It was late morning, and the sun was beginning to shine in through the window. Felix wasn’t up yet. Good.

He stepped out and craned his neck to examine the cabinet above him. One of the doors was cracked open by an inch, as usual, and he vaguely wondered if Felix had been leaving it open on purpose. It left a strange feeling in his chest as he tossed his hook up.

It had been four days since he had accepted the salad from Felix, but Pepper hadn’t felt comfortable enough to approach Felix again. He wasn’t sure if he even wanted to. He was still a borrower, after all, and even if Felix seemed kind, it was hard for Pepper to entirely trust him. Besides, what would he even say to him? Hey, Felix, I think you might actually be my soulmate. Yeah, I know I’m the size of your pinky and you could kill me with the flick of a wrist. Wanna hang out?

He huffed as he clambered up into the cabinet, scooping up his hook and thread with him. Containers and jars loomed over him, and he began to ease his way between them.

When his soulmate had contacted him a week ago to tell him that he had found a tiny man living in his walls, Pepper had panicked. There was no way his human soulmate had actually caught a borrower at the same moment Pepper had been caught… unless…?

That realization is what led him down a path of watching Felix from the walls, anxiety nibbling at his chest. It had to be a coincidence that Felix liked to sing, too… or that his soulmate had caught a borrower the same night Felix had caught Pepper… or that his voice had sounded so familiar.

He hadn’t left the walls for three days straight. Even if Felix had been nice enough to let him go, it didn’t mean that Pepper wasn’t slightly traumatized from the whole ordeal. And he just couldn’t face the fact that Felix might actually be his soulmate.

When he had realized that he was running short on food and he just needed to run out and grab something, he finally decided to reveal himself to Felix. Running entirely on adrenaline, he had lingered by the bookshelf, ready to bolt just in case Felix decided to change his mind and grab him up anyways.

But… Felix had apologized. He had offered Pepper fresh vegetables, which was very hard to come by for a borrower. And he didn’t even try to touch him once.

Pepper held his breath as he wrangled with an open packet of crackers, hoping he wasn’t making too much noise to wake Felix up yet. He paused briefly to listen for footsteps before yanking out a round salted cracker, twice the length of his arm.

It only took a minute to break it into four pieces and cram it into his bag. He still had a bit of space left inside, so he began to search around for something else he could fill his bag with.

Just as he was examining the label on a box of tea, he was alerted to the sound of footsteps entering the room. Felix usually didn’t open this cabinet before he left, but Pepper ducked behind a jar of peanut butter, just in case.

He listened cautiously to the sound of Felix moving around the kitchen, and his shoulders tensed. It was astounding just how big one person could be. Pepper wasn’t going to forget soon just how easily Felix had trapped him in a fist.

Pepper shifted uncomfortably. If Felix really was his soulmate (and what more evidence did he need, really?) then what was he supposed to do about it? He had lived his entire life as a borrower, avoiding humans. He couldn’t imagine trying to… to date a human. Or even befriend one, for that matter. It wasn’t his fault that the universe had forced him to have this telepathic connection with a human.

And Felix wasn’t even supposed to know that borrowers existed! Pepper didn’t want a human to even talk to him again, let alone touch him. Soulmate or not, Felix was a human, and Pepper could not trust him.

He caught his face turning red and he shook his head, running his hands through his black hair. The last week had been filled with nothing but confusion and stress. All he wanted to do was sink into his hammock and sleep for five days, but no, he had to go on his stupid borrowing trip so he didn’t starve.

Pepper rolled his eyes and, listening carefully to the sound of Felix’s footsteps, he snuck through the cabinet once more. He approached an open box of green tea, thankful that the sound of the kettle outside would cover up the small noises he made as he pried open the box and tugged out a packet.

As if the universe was against him, he was alerted too late to the sound of the cabinet door swinging open. Shit. Cursing under his breath, he ducked behind the peanut butter jar again, but not before the light from outside caught on his small form.

There was a distinct pause in Felix’s movements, and Pepper’s heart pounded. Then—

“Is that you?”

Pepper’s eyes darted around the cabinet, as if Felix could possibly be talking to someone else. 

Would it be impolite to ignore Felix, especially after all the human has done for him so far?

Stomach twisting with anxiety, he peeked around the jar, stiffening under the curious gaze of blue eyes outside the cabinet. “…Sorry. Didn’t think you’d notice me.”

Pepper had almost forgotten just how massive Felix really was. The human took up the entirety of his vision outside the cabinet, and from this close, Pepper could see all of the little details on his face. Being at his eye level did help to calm the borrower’s nerves, because at least he didn’t feel completely helpless from up here.

Felix’s hand was still lingering on the cupboard handle, as if he was afraid to move it. His lips twitched into a soft smile, and Pepper’s gaze lingered on them for a moment. “You’re okay. Um— what are you doing up there?”

Pepper clutched the tea bag closer to his chest, and Felix’s gaze danced to it. “Oh,” the human said. “You—”

“I can put it back,” Pepper said hurriedly, his heart racing. He had totally forgotten that what he did was typically considered stealing by human standards. 

Felix’s eyebrows shot up, and he glanced at the open box of tea. There were four boxes in total, with dozens of tea bags inside. “Oh— it’s okay, I don’t care at all. Take as many as you want, honestly.” His features softened, and he reached in to pick out a teabag between his forefinger and thumb. “And— listen— you don’t have to hide. From me. I don’t mind if you hang around here.”

Pepper’s stomach had dropped at the sight of Felix pinching up a teabag; he had instinctively thought the human had been reaching for him. Once the human’s hand had retreated, and Pepper’s heart rate went back to normal, he actually processed what Felix had said.

“Oh.” He peered closer at those wide blue eyes. “That’s… good to know.”

Felix suddenly seemed unsure about something, chewing his lip. His large hand lifted to the cupboard handle, and Pepper secretly hoped he would just close it and walk away. “Are you gonna stick around up there?” Felix asked, a bit awkwardly. “I need to leave for class in a second, but if you need a hand, I could— um, I could help you down.”

The borrower immediately stiffened, alarm bells filling his mind. He briefly remembered the feeling of being held tight in a fist, and he found himself backing away into the wooden cabinet wall behind him. “I’m— I’m gonna stay up here, yeah. No help necessary.” His voice wobbled.

Felix wasn’t blind, and he immediately understood that he had overstepped a boundary with Pepper. He flushed, taking a step back. “Right, no worries.”

The human left the cabinet door open as he finished preparing for class, brewing his teabag in his thermos and answering a few quick texts. Once his bag was on his shoulder, ready to go, he approached the cabinet again, where Pepper had barely moved aside from shoving his tea packet into his bag.

“Okay, I’m heading out.” Felix’s large hand rested on the cabinet door. “Do you want me to leave this cracked open?”

“…Yeah. Thanks.” It was strange, to have a human openly consider Pepper’s needs.

Felix bid him a quick farewell and closed the cabinet door, leaving it hanging open with more than enough space for a borrower to get out of. Only once Pepper was alerted to the sound of the front door shutting did he feel comfortable enough to approach the cabinet door and latch his hook onto the edge.

His mind was still racing, an hour later, as he entered his room under the floorboards with a bag packed full of crackers and tea. What would have happened if he had accepted Felix’s proposal of picking him up? He’s sure the human would have just safely deposited him on the counter in a matter of seconds, but a darker part of his mind whispered thoughts of being shoved in a pocket or dangled in the air. 

Felix would never do that, Pepper scolded himself… but twenty-two years of human horror stories were difficult for the borrower to forget.

As Pepper made a beeline for his pantry (a small divot in the wall covered by a handmade curtain), he froze, ears pricking towards the sound of soft breathing. His stomach chilled, and he spun to his left, staring at his hammock.

A tan arm dangled from the side of the hammock, and a bushy head of black hair could barely be seen amongst the pillows and blankets. Pepper’s heart immediately swelled, and he couldn’t help but exclaim, “Basil!”

“Wha…” A pair of brown eyes appeared, blinking sleepily down at him. It only took a second for Basil to process what she was seeing.

“Oh! Pepper!”

By the time she swung herself over the edge, Pepper had already raced forward, throwing his arms around his older sister in a tight hug the moment her feet hit the floor. 

She was a bit shorter than him, but just barely. Her arms were strong as she held him tight, and Pepper was comforted by the thought that she must be eating well.

“What are you— what are you doing here?” Pepper grabbed her shoulders to look at her, eyes shining. “God, it’s been so long.”

With no way to communicate with other borrowers, Pepper hadn’t been able to talk to Basil in almost a year. 

“I wanted to visit!” Basil explained excitedly. “I just got here an hour ago, and man, when I saw that your place was empty I got so scared that you died— but I realized your pantry had fresh food in it so you must still be around.” Her eyebrows raised approvingly. “Where the hell did you get all those vegetables? You must have improved your borrowing skills since I last saw you!”

Pepper laughed as she gently punched his shoulder. He suddenly felt the need to change the subject. “So, you just decided to take a nap in my bed?”

“Hey, it took me four days to get here, I deserve a nap.” She sent him a grin before peering at the bag on his shoulder. “What’d you get?”

When Pepper showed her the contents of his bag, she laughed. “Dude, you drink tea now?”

“It’s good for you,” he said defensively, although he was smiling. “And it’s got caffeine. Here, let me make you some.”

As Pepper expertly cut open the tea bag, Basil rambled to him about how the last ten months had been for her. She, coincidentally, had also picked up sewing clothes as a hobby. Her dark green pants, reminiscent of human cargo pants, were apparently her “greatest accomplishment” so far.

A family of borrowers had also moved into the house she was living in, after having been kicked out of their old home due to pest control. Basil had some sweet stories about how she had helped to babysit the kids from time to time. Pepper smiled as she talked, his heart warm at the thought that his sister had been happy and thriving.

He handed her a small cup, made out of aluminum foil. The tea inside was cold, obviously, but that was something that didn’t bother most borrowers.

Basil sent Pepper a suspicious but playful look as she took a long sip of her tea. She pondered for a moment. “Meh.”

“You don’t like it?” Pepper laughed after taking a sip of his own tea.

“It’s fine, but I wouldn’t waste space in my bag for it,” Basil said thoughtfully. “I’d rather grab some chocolate or something. That has caffeine, too, I think, and it tastes a thousand times better.”

Pepper blinked as a fond memory resurfaced in his mind. “Aw— remember when we were kids, and we still lived by the bakery? And you nabbed that brownie? I miss that.”

Basil lit up instantly. “Oh my god, yeah! I was, what— thirteen? I was so proud of myself.” She grinned. “Does the human here have any chocolate?”

Pepper hesitated. “Oh, uh— he actually eats super healthy, honestly. I’m not sure if… he’d have that.”

“Ohhh. Is that why you have cucumber in your pantry?” Basil teased. Pepper rolled his eyes in amusement.

“Yeah, actually.”

Basil had already stood up, tossing her aluminum cup aside. (Pepper noticed fondly that she had drank all of her tea.) “Anyways, let’s go borrowing. I’m sure we’ll find something cool. And if we don’t, I can just make fun of your lame climbing skills.”

“Wha—! I’m a great climber!”

“Let’s test that,” Basil snickered. 

—

After a long trek through the walls with lots of complaints from Pepper (“I literally just got back from a borrowing trip!”) and interjections from Basil (“Womp, womp.”) the pair of them finally emerged onto the counter, peeking around the toaster.

“He’s definitely not here, right?” Basil prompted. Pepper nodded.

“Yeah, he has class until four, and then he’s got some friend thing. He won’t be home all day.”

Basil side-eyed him. “How do you know that?

Her brother blinked rapidly. “I overheard him on the phone yesterday,” he lied, knowing full well that Felix had told him all of that telepathically. Basil nodded in understanding, although her brown eyes remained curious.

Pepper allowed her to take the lead as they trekked across the counter, approaching a fruit bowl. He hadn’t mentioned his soulmate situation to her yet. He wouldn’t even be sure how to begin, honestly.

Would she think of him differently, if she knew? 

He watched her warily, as if she might start shouting at him. Basil, like every other borrower, was not very fond of humans. If she knew that Pepper had such a strong connection to a human, would she be upset with him? Scared, even, that he might put her in danger?

His stomach squirmed as Basil tossed her hook up to the edge of the fruit bowl. “Have you heard of soulmates?” He asked suddenly, trying to sound casual. Basil climbed up into the bowl first, and Pepper followed. 

Basil shot him a glance from where she was examining a grape. “What, like, the hands-clasped-over-your-chest thing? The mind connection?”

Pepper blinked in surprise. “Yeah, actually.”

She nodded, yanking a round green grape off of its stem. “Yeah, I actually used to talk to my soulmate, when I was twenty-one. It didn’t last long, though.”

Pepper stared, dumbfounded. “Wha— seriously? Wait— what happened? You never told me this!”

“It just wasn’t a big deal,” Basil said offhandedly, shoving the grape into her bag. “I mean, we talked for a few weeks, and it was nice. But she lives halfway across the country, and… I don’t know, once we realized we would never actually see each other, we kind of just… moved on.”

Pepper’s heart sunk. “I’m so sorry.”

Basil shrugged. “Like I said, it’s no biggie. That’s just how life works. Soulmates aren’t for everyone.” She suddenly straightened up, brown eyes wide. “Wait— don’t tell me— are you talking to your soulmate?”

Pepper flushed, busying himself by picking up a grape as well. “Yeah, actually. For two or three weeks now.”

“Holy shit.” Basil grinned, punching his shoulder. “That’s awesome, man. Don’t get too attached though— do you know where they live?”

Pepper’s mouth opened, then closed. Basil was still staring at him expectantly, but before he could answer, the front door opened.

Shit. On instinct, the two of them lunged over the edge of the fruit bowl, scrambling to hide behind it. Basil sucked in a quick breath at the sound of human footsteps, leaning closer to Pepper, and he held her arm protectively.

“I thought you said he wasn’t gonna be home all day,” Basil hissed under her breath, brown eyes peeking around the fruit bowl. Pepper’s stomach turned.

“He was supposed to,” Pepper explained anxiously, peeking around the bowl as well. He craned his neck to observe Felix as the human hung his coat up on the opposite wall. “He must have come home early.”

“You think?”

Pepper’s stomach was doing cartwheels. He wasn’t particularly afraid of Felix— at least, not in the same way Basil was— but he did not want Felix finding him right now.

The human hummed quietly as he set his thermos down, only a few feet away from the fruit bowl. Basil’s grip on Pepper’s arm tightened.

Felix briefly glanced in their direction, and it was that moment in which all three of them realized a fishhook was still dangling innocently on the edge of the fruit bowl.

“Motherfucker,” Pepper said under his breath.

Basil was also mumbling a string of curse words, inching closer to Pepper as Felix squinted, leaning closer to the bowl. His next words made both borrowers freeze.

“Pepper? Are you around?”

Slowly, ever so slowly, Basil turned her head to stare at Pepper.

Pepper’s throat went tight, panic suddenly seeping into his veins. He watched as Basil pulled her hand away from him, taking a step back, intense brown eyes flickering around the room as if she was searching for an explanation, or perhaps an escape route. He swallowed hard, sucking in a sharp breath.

“Please, don’t panic,” he said quickly. Overhead, Felix spoke again, voice gentle but curious.

“You forgot your hook.”

Basil was frozen, speechless. Pepper’s heart was sinking into the floor below. “Basil, please, just… stay here. Please.”

Hands shaking, Pepper sent Basil one last miserable look before stepping out from behind the fruit bowl. He vaguely heard Basil’s small, shocked gasp as Felix’s gaze landed on Pepper.

“Oh, there you are.” Felix relaxed microscopically now that he knew where Pepper was. He had been a bit anxious that Pepper had gotten hurt or lost somehow, indicated by his abandoned hook. 

“…Hey,” Pepper said stiffly, reaching towards the thread of Basil’s hook. It took a moment for his shaky hands to unlatch the hook and tuck it under his arm. “Sorry, I… I forgot this.”

“It’s fine,” Felix assured, blinking at Pepper’s uncomfortable behavior. He hoped Pepper still wasn’t uneasy about his offer to pick him up this morning. “It seems important to you, so I just… wanted to make sure you didn’t lose it.” 

“Ah,” Pepper said hollowly. It was difficult not to turn and look at Basil, as he felt her intense gaze bearing into him. He would never reveal another borrower to a human, no matter the circumstances. “Well. Thanks.”

Felix hesitated, fighting the urge to peer closer at the shaking small man. “Are you… alright?” 

Pepper was trying to figure out what to do, heart racing. “I, um… yeah, I…” Pepper spared a glance to the side, and his stomach turned to ice.

Basil was gone.

Fuck. “Sorry, I— I have to go.” Spinning on his heel, Pepper rushed towards the toaster. He sensed Felix’s surprise as the human spoke.

“Oh— ah, okay, then—?”

Pepper had already squeezed his way through the crack in the wall and was now staring around, heart pounding. Where did Basil go? How did she just sneak off like that? How was he supposed to explain this to her?

“Basil!” He called out helplessly, hoping Felix wouldn’t be able to hear him through the walls. “Basil, I can explain! Where are you?”

He caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and there— hidden in the shadows of the walls, was Basil.

A needle was gripped firmly in her hand, pointed at Pepper. Brown eyes narrowed, dark and fiery. “What the fuck was that.”

“Listen, it’s okay,” Pepper said hurriedly, stepping towards her. Her grip on her needle tightened.

“You’re— friends with that human?!” Basil demanded, aghast. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Why didn’t you tell me that?”

“We’re not friends, exactly, he–”

“He’s probably looking for us right now!”

“No–!”

“What, are you his pet, or something–?”

“He’s my soulmate.”

Basil stilled, her needle wobbling. “He…” Her gaze flicked to the wall, as if she could see Felix through the wood. “He’s your soulmate?”

Pepper’s heart pounded against his chest. His throat was tight as he miserably said, “Yeah. But… but he doesn’t know.”

At Basil’s bewildered expression, Pepper hurriedly began to explain everything; how his rocky relationship with Felix began by being caught and trapped, only to be released with an apology. How he realized quickly that Felix and his soulmate were actually the same person, and had since then struggled with his own feelings, terrified of Felix but subconsciously being drawn to him as well.

Basil didn’t speak throughout his entire story. Her eyes remained dark and focused, her grip on her needle unrelenting. Once Pepper finished with the reassurance that he hadn’t told Felix anything about her, she spoke up, voice cautious.

“Why don’t you leave?” Her brow furrowed. “He knows you live here.”

“I know those are the rules, but–”

“This isn’t about the rules,” Basil interjected, making Pepper jump. “You need to leave so you can't talk to him again. This… this isn’t normal.” Her features hardened even further, brown eyes narrow, glistening slits. “I’m not mad at you, Pepper, I understand that this is fucked up, and it’s not your fault. But– just because he’s your soulmate doesn’t mean you have to put yourself in danger just to talk to him.”

Pepper hesitated, stomach doing backflips. “Felix isn’t dangerous.”

Basil choked on her breath. “Pepper. Are you even hearing yourself right now?”

Silence stretched between them for a moment. Pepper hesitated, trembling, while Basil stared. Finally, his older sister muttered, “I’m sorry, Pepper, but I can’t stay here.”

He blinked, alarmed. “What– you can’t go back home now! It’s too far, you just got here–”

“I’m not going home,” Basil corrected. “I don’t know where I’m gonna go, yet. But I can’t stay in this apartment with… him.” She held her other hand out expectantly, although it shook. “Give me my hook.”

Pepper couldn’t speak. Silently, numbly, he stepped forward, setting the hook gently into his older sister’s hand. She relaxed microscopically, sending one last glance at the wall before backing up. “I just… I just need time to think about this. I’m sorry.”

He nodded mutely, standing rigid. 

“Please stay safe. I care about you.” Her lips tightened. “I’ll– I’ll see you around.”

She backed away, sending him one last hollow stare before spinning on her heel and vanishing into the darkness after a matter of seconds. Her light footsteps faded quickly. Pepper swayed on his feet, mouth dry, mind racing. 

Misery sank into his bones, cold and heavy. Thoughts of his frightened sister floated around his mind, followed by memories of Felix’s kind demeanor, a terrifying human that had all the power over Pepper and chose not to use it. 

Basil was wrong.

His feet moved before he could think about, making a beeline for the crack in the wall, stumbling out past the toaster. “Felix!”

The human jumped, his mug clattering in surprise. He had just dropped a tea packet into the hot water. “Pepper– you scared me–!”

Pepper barely processed the fact that the human was towering over him, as he craned his neck to meet those startled blue eyes. “I trust you,” he insisted suddenly, eyes wide. 

Felix stiffened, blinking down at him. “Wha–”

“I can’t believe I’m actually telling this to a human but— you’ve been so kind, and considerate, and— and you don’t treat me like a pet, and you— you—“ Pepper’s words came out in a rush, heart pounding. Felix was frozen. “This is hard for me, talking with you— but I know that you’re trying to make it easier for me, and— and I appreciate that.”

Pepper suddenly found himself walking towards Felix’s hand, which was still resting on the handle of his mug. Pepper’s stomach twisted unexpectedly, but he fought through it, approaching the massive fingers that outmatched him in size. “Pepper,” Felix said in a hush. “What—”

Fueled by adrenaline, Pepper placed his tiny hand onto Felix’s finger, meeting the human’s gaze. 

Felix’s eyes were wide, shocked. His shoulders were rigid, as if he was scared to even move a muscle. 

The skin underneath Pepper’s hand was warm. The borrower sucked in a breath, but kept his hand still. This was the closest proximity he had shared with Felix’s hand since he had been snatched up a week ago.

“I just need you to know that,” Pepper confessed, the realization of what he had just impulsively done creeping up onto his face as a blush. His heart pounded. 

Felix blinked rapidly, unable to tear his gaze away from the tiny palm resting delicately on his finger. Pepper was visibly nervous, willingly touching Felix for the first time since the human had held him against his will.

“I…” Felix was terrified to even breathe wrong, lest he frighten the borrower and ruin the moment. “I don’t know what to say.” Appreciation filled his hesitant voice, laced by surprise and worry. 

Pepper was still blushing, hard. He tentatively pulled his hand back, acutely aware that he had just touched a giant and survived. “It’s okay. I’ve just had a weird fucking day.” He dragged his hand down his face, shoulders shuddering. After a moment, he asked quietly, “Is it alright if I… hang out with you, for a bit? I don’t want to be alone right now.”

Felix’s blue eyes were soft, kind. “Yeah. Of course.”

----

EEEEEEEEEEEE I AM SO EXCITED ABOUT THIS CHAPTER!! Pepper is finally starting to feel comfortable with Felix, but poor Basil is terrified that her brother is so close to a human </3

TAGLIST: @smallsday @compact-katrina

[strawberri-elixir]

Sleepless nights

╰⇢ 17. Back pains

Warning: none 😋

note: little longer that usual ☝️tomorrow will probably be the last update for the next few days (I have the first part of my final exam on thursday so i’m cramming 🌝)

i’ll be gone forever the rest of the day to study 😔

"Okay! I guess it's just the three of us." You pushed through your front door, mentally cursing Maki for not being able to join you in your last minute cram sessions. Yes, she had good reason, but she also was the reason you felt a familiar heat creep up your face whenever you looked at your best friend.

Yuta heads straight for your room, flopping down onto your bed, letting out a big sigh into the mattress. “I’m not excited for this upcoming week.” He was obviously referring to your final exams.

“Me neither.” You took the opportunity to jump on top of him, a small groan coming out of the boy. “But I know we’ll do fine.”

“You’re going to actually break my back.” The dark haired boy shifted his head to look at you from the corner of his eye.

You weren’t given time to react when you felt a weight slump on top of you. Toge had made himself comfortable on top of you, and on top of Yuta. “This is actually kind of comfortable.” He mumbled.

“You two are heavy.” Yuta started shifting side to side, hoping to get at least one of you off of him.

“You love us anyways.” You let out a small laugh, latching yourself onto the boy under you, snaking your arms under him and holding him in place with your legs. “Toge hold on! He can’t get rid of us if we’re holding on!”

Following your command, you felt a pair of hands brush past your waist and cover your hands, holding onto Yuta. All you could hear was the soft chuckle coming from above you, and the loud groans from below you.

Soon enough, you felt yourself tilting to one side before eventually tipping over. Yuta had managed to successfully push himself up enough to topple the two of you off of him.

“Oof.” Toge let go and turned onto his back.

“Okay, study time.” Yuta pulled both of you up, leaving the room to carry all your backpacks to the kitchen. “Up you go.”

You let out a dramatic sigh of defeat, pushing yourself up and dragging your feet down the hall.

“I’m bored. And tired.” You groaned, throwing your head back. The three of you had been studying for god who knows how long, your backs were killing you, your wrists were cramping, and your vision was failing you. “You’re staying over right?” You look up in front of you where the two boys were looking at their screens.

“Yeah.” Yuta mumbled his response.

It was clear that all of you were done with studying, you have been revising non-stop since four in the afternoon. One glance at the clock and you could easily see you had passed the nine hour mark. The fact that all of you were able to remain focused was a mystery to you.

The only break you got was a short trip to the convenience store for more snacks and dinner on the way, but other than that, you were running on straight caffeine and the desire to get a good grade and shove it in your teachers face.

You let out a small yawn, staring at the course material in front of you, all the letters and numbers blurring together to make a big blob. It wasn’t much longer before your eyelids felt heavy and you decided to give them a break. Resting your head in your arms on the table, closing your eyes and letting the darkness consume you.

“Y/n’s asleep.” Toge nudged the boy next to him, nodding in your direction.

“I got it.” Yuta finally shut his laptop, removing his glasses before walking over to your side of the table, gently moving you into an easy position where he can pick you up. “Do you mind getting the bed ready?”

The platinum haired boy nodded, walking down the hallway towards your room where a bunch of things were messily scattered around your bed. He made quick work of everything (he just pushed most of it towards your closet), before fixing up your pillows as Yuta walked in with you on his back.

“We’ll both take the mattress.” He carefully lowered you onto your bed, tucking you in and making sure you were cozy.

“Mhm.” Toge nodded in agreement before taking his spot on the bed.

Yuta quickly followed, turning off the lights and settling down next to Toge, both of them silently looking up at the ceiling. “You’re a streamer right?” The dark haired boy spoke under his breath. “Toginu to be more specific. Correct?”

Toge snapped his head to the left, staring at the boy in disbelief. How did he find out? He’s never mentioned it before. “Are you one of those crazy stalkers?” Was the first thing that came to mind.

“Nah, just a casual fan I guess.” Yuta chuckled. “Y/n is a huge fan, but I’m sure you knew that.”

“Yeah…” He turned to look back up. “How’d you find out?”

The boy looked at him with a smirk. “It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. But don’t worry, nobody else knows.”

“Good…” Toge sighed. “That actually saves me the trouble of having to tell you, I promise you, I was going to. But I also felt like I owe it to Y/n. But you know, with my feelings, I couldn’t do it.”

“I get it, it’s fine.”

It felt like a weight was lifted off of his shoulders. Toge let out a sigh of relief, thankful he no longer had to worry about anything around his friend.

“Welp, I’m off to bed, night.” Yuta casually turned over, pulling the blanket over his shoulders.

“Night…” The boy responded. It wasn’t long before sleep consumed the both of them, feeling better than they did when they first stepped into your house.

Masterlist | Next

fun facts:

— you’re a HEAVY sleeper. once you’re out, there’s no hope to wake you up for the next few hours

— yuta found out that toge was a streamer by accident (toge left his phone to go to the washroom and got a twitter notification)

— yuta unironically gets back pains from his terrible sitting posture and the heavy ass backpack he carries from one end of the school to the other every day

taglist:

@sur-i-ki @aespaforlifersyall @camilo-uwu @butterflyqueen234 @shinsukeee @tanchosanke @meguemii @lees-chaotic-brain @you-always-made-me-blush @jayathelostdragon @chilichopsticks @polarbvnny

@instantmusico @sad-darksoul @hellyyy06 @rosieandthethorns @zellwa @iluv-ace @h3xi2g0n3 @morgyyyyyyy @bellaabee082 @koiir @g0rep1ty @k4romis @beaniedoodz @seventhcinema @macimcnaron @pumpkin6969 @wowowwin @neigee @someonethatisnobody @vndl-1 @yoyo-yui

@blehtotheblehtothebleh @c4ttheart @blogforblorboscreaming @creative1writings @tiredjxnna @mint129106 @mentallyunstablemanlover @anianurst @milesmorals @sleepytoges @azulsmermaidprincess @toges-cough-syrup @liveincans @jals-stuff @yievieslxt @yell-lemonade @inupibaldspot @hyssoplampflickers @lilysaltwater @ayxnxr @lovley212 @delightfuldragoncollection @strxkbylightning @saesofficialwife @izanaslvr-444 @defnotriri

Bold means i can’t tag you for some reason :[

[aidulusion]

FLOWER GARDEN

pairing : Sukuna x Reader

note : This takes place in the heian era!

proofread? : maybe

It was a perfectly normal day, you were taking care of your very cherished garden whilst humming peacefully. Hovering your delicate hand over the bundle of alluring flowers that had bloomed today, you then looked up at the sky. It was around evening or so, the red and orange covered the horizon to create a charming sight.

Some time had passed, the sky was getting darker but you did not feel like going inside just yet. The smell of wet soil from the rain earlier was lingering in your nostrils triggering an oddly peaceful feeling, accompanied by the slow chirps of birds, making you feel like you could fall asleep there. You did not expect any commotions to bother you but something felt quite odd, like somebody was watching you from afar.

You lifted your head to the slightest only to be met with the menacing sight of an obnoxiously tall humanoid creature watching you from a nearby hill, but before you could move even a single muscle, he was now in front of you and behind your sweet garden. 

“I wasn’t expecting to find a beauty like you tonight.”

You were too stunned to process anything, how did he move so quickly? Why is he so tall? All these questions just came flooding to your mind. But once you took a good look at him, he wasn’t quite monstrous after all. The ‘creature’ had four arms, one pair folded together and the other resting on his torso, and he didn’t really bother to wear a shirt out in public. You hadn’t even noticed the mouth on his abdomen yet. 

The man brought you back to reality by snapping two fingers in front of your face, you quickly jolted upwards and looked at his face. He had four eyes, but a part of his face was covered by some sort of wooden mask that had openings for his two distorted eyes. Despite that, your subconscious mind found this strange man quite good-looking. His gaze was absolutely menacing, you felt like you could crumble any second, but it softened once he looked at your lips. 

“W..Who are you?” Your soft voice reached his ears, expressions relaxing the tiniest bit. He let out a dark chuckle, and seated himself beside you. You glanced upon him once again, observing his now relaxing features more closely. He met your gaze unexpectedly whilst the corners of his mouth stretched to form a smirk. 

“I could just kill you right now if I wanted to, you know that?” He chimed in nonchalantly, and if you weren’t scared before you definitely were now. He did look like he could kill someone with a swing of a finger, but why was he interacting with you like you were some good friends? This strange behavior just messes with your mind even more, if he can just kill you, why won’t he do it?

“Why won’t you kill me?” You asked, your voice laced with fear and a slight hint of curiosity. The pink haired man smiled again and looked in front, more specifically, at your garden. He blinked a few times before glancing back upon you, taking in your figure before standing up and walking towards your most prized possession. You were just begging the gods to not let him destroy your years of work.

The man crouched down before it, taking a good look at the delicate flowers before his hand slowly reached one of the flowers which had bloomed today. You could hear yourself screaming in your mind and telling him to not pluck it, unfortunately, he could not hear your inside voice. 

“Wait, don’t!”

You were too late. The flower which was slowly withering nestled itself in his large hands as you felt your whole body stinging. He looked at you with a smug grin, he could practically feel how angry you were with him right now, and it anticipated him. A beautiful woman with a pout on her face right in front of him, he’d never admit how adorable you looked right now. 

“Come with me, I have a better garden at my place.”

And with that, he swiftly grabbed your wrist and started dragging you out of your garden. The few people in the village who managed to be outside of their houses at this time of the day were left shocked with the sight of you and a monstrous being leaving the village in a hurry. You wouldn’t deny the fact that blood rushed to your cheeks when he grabbed your wrist suddenly. You knew this wasn’t going to end well, but the excitement in you obliged.

“The name’s Ryomen Sukuna, by the way.”

"ill try to post something this week" deadass 💀💁‍♀️

[jinkicake]

Jealousy, Jealousy. 

Scaramouche has to process betrayal all over again. 

A/N: I decided to combine the two scara jealousy posts into one big post so it can be read all together >:-)! I had to write desperate (pathetic) scara, i truly am sorry. im tots excited to pull for him, i have 150 wishes for him!   

WC - 2.3k

TW // hints at noncon,, pyscho scara,, verbal abuse,, crazy scara,, yandere scara 

~~~

Scaramouche didn’t notice it at first.

He didn’t predict that one of the guards he personally hand-picked to protect you would end up being soft for you as well. There were clear instructions for none of the four personnel to speak with you, no matter if you spoke to them. Their jobs were clearly stated as to watch you and guard you.

Anything else that you needed was something Scaramouche himself could personally deal with.

How couldn’t he have noticed it before? The lingering stares, the fact that as of late on multiple occasions the guard would return later than the rest. Scaramouche feels his entire body melt into molten lava, he’s fuming inside as he cracks a dent in his wooden desk.

He’ll make you both pay for this affair, the guard will die and you will suffer until you’re begging him to take you back.

The first part had already been dealt with, the guard was long gone in a dark cell the second Scaramouche had even begun to be suspicious. He remembers the fear in the bright eyes of his subordinate, he took pleasure in torturing him until his body could no longer take it.

No matter how much the man denied the allegations of the affair, Scaramouche didn’t believe it.

“Wake up, wench,” Scaramouche is not light with his anger as he swings open the door to your bedroom. The room disgusts him and he remembers how he gave in to your begs for a private space. He was a fool back then, he won’t ever make that mistake again. How many times was that guard in here? How many times had he laid in your bed?

Scaramouche takes pride in how you jolt out of your sleep, flinching against the blankets. Your startled appearance is tinted with the effects of heavy slumber and it takes a few blinks for you to notice the man in the room. The pungent irony smell grabs your attention before Scaramouche’s bloody appearance.

You know for a fact that the blood isn’t his.

“W-What’s wrong?” You try to keep your voice quiet and level, seeing that he is as active as an open minefield. Navigating Scaramouche in such an angered state is the most dangerous thing you have ever done.

“I’m fine.” He replies, eerily calm but the slight twitch in his eye gives his unhinged state away. “You should be asking your little boyfriend what is wrong,” The way he spits out the word boyfriend, lacing the world with venom, makes you flinch.

“My boyfriend?” You parrot back, tilting your head slightly in confusion. The way you feign innocence is enough to push Scaramouche over the edge as he grabs your wrists tightly in his hands.

“Your beloved guard, you filthy whore,” He grins at the thought of the man now being thrown into a prison where he will never see the light of day. His initial plan to kill the other man was stuffed deep into his draw when he thought about how he could make him suffer every single day, death would be too kind.

Your eyes widen in realization, heart dropping at his threat.

“What did you do to Ivano?” You make the mistake to glare up at him, anger now fueling your entire body. “Whatever you think you know, it’s wrong.”

His hand lets go of your wrists, rising high and you’re sure that he is going to slap you until his hands fist in your hair and he presses his face mere inches away from yours.

“I know that you’re a slut, a whore, unloyal to me and this marriage.” The loud boom of his voice only serves to make you angrier and you kick your limbs to try to get him off of you. If you had been in a clearer state of mind then perhaps you would have seen the tears in his lashline or the way his body was shaking with betrayal.

“Are you implying that I have cheated on you? I have done no such thing!” You yell back into his face, hands now roughly pushing at his shoulders.

“Don’t lie to me,"

“You believe that I cheated on you with Ivano?! The one who is married to Tonia, my friend? You’re a fucking fool!”

Scaramouche doesn’t listen to your reasons, he refuses to as he pushes your thighs widely apart and settles in between your legs.

“Your pathetic words mean nothing to me. I will teach you to be loyal, I’ll fuck it into your brain until it is the only thing you know. You will enjoy this.”

Scaramouche’s anger is something you’ve always been able to handle well. At times when he explodes in his expressive manner, you’re there to help ground him. Never before have you been the target of his anger, a mere pinpoint for him to release all of his frustrations on. 

He never gets angry with you, not like this. 

Even in your frozen state with your fear-clouded mind, you can still feel how his hands tremble with uncertainty. Each time the Harbinger had touched you before in the past, he did it with no regard for your wellbeing. He took and took until he was tired, ripping clothes and holding you down with his sheer strength. This time, your softest of movements cause him to falter in his steps. 

“You love me. Say that you love me.” His eerily leveled voice is hinted with desperation, clipping the ends of his words as he stares expectedly at you. Scaramouche waits for your answer while gripping your thighs painfully tight, pushing the muscles apart. “Tell me!” His voice roars throughout the empty room, bouncing off the walls and causing the room to shake. He needs to hear it, has to hear it. 

“I know that you love me, unloyal whore.” Scaramouche murmurs this more to himself as his voice drops to a more quiet tone, now to a whisper. “You love me, love me, love me,” His chest rises and falls with each breath, the sound of his erratic breathing is the only noises being produced in the room. 

There’s not a single noise outside because all of the guards are down. Each one is beaten and lying on the floor against the wall from where the Harbinger threw them. You’re all alone with him. 

The more Scaramouche touches you, the more you start to squirm. You ache and kick your legs as he begins to kiss your neck but your strength is nothing compared to his (even when weakened). He pins your wrists to your sides and continues his ministrations, thin lips creating harsh marks on your skin. His touch is bruising and nothing about this is delicate. 

“Dear, please listen,” You try to explain yourself, you swallow your pity and bite your tongue to avoid telling him off but the Harbinger ignores you. It seems that no amount of pet names or your kindness can get through to him just yet. He growls and nips at your skin in an effort to get you to shut up. “you must understand, I was merely helping Ivano-”

“I know exactly what you were doing with him, you were spreading your legs and letting him dirty you up.” Scaramouche pulls away to glare down at you, grimacing at his own words. It’s almost as if your touch has started to burn him with how he winces under each flex of your limbs. “None of that matters now, it will be fine.” 

There’s no attempt for you to grasp the situation as it slips between your fingers, there is nothing you can do to try and fix this. He doesn’t let you even as he is falling apart.

You know everything about him is off despite how hard Scaramouche is trying to appear normal. It is seen in the way his lips press together to avoid trembling, and how his eyes nearly shake under the stress of the weight he is feeling. Never did you imagine that you could affect him like this.

You’re causing him to break. 

“I know what to do,” Scaramouche’s chest rises and falls with each heavy breath, he’s almost panting as he moves to settle between your legs. The wave of your betrayal drowns him the more he touches you and Scaramouche tries to remind himself that fucking you is nothing new. He struggles to remove your panties and fumbles with the material against his thins fingertips. His eyes dart between your underwear and the sheets, he looks everywhere but your face. 

“Nothing happened between me and-” You want to clear this up, you have to clear this miscommunication. Scaramouche has other plans and digs his nails so harshly into your thighs that the crescent shape will be left there for days, bruised and bloody. 

“Say his name again and I will bite your tongue off.” He doesn’t look at you when he utters his threat, instead, he keeps his eyes low and his vision hidden behind his lashes. “Stay still and quiet, whore.” 

Listening to exactly as he demands would be a lot easier if his voice wasn’t so weak and if his conviction wasn’t so frail. 

Scaramouche fists your panties within his hand and tears the material off of your body, letting it snap against your skin to finally get rid of it. The more he forces himself, the harder it becomes for him. At the sight of you splayed out for him, at his mercy, bottom bare and (unwillingly) submissive to his touch, Scaramouche finally begins to tremble all over. 

His shoulders shake with his overwhelming nerves and his eyes drop to the sheets, darting all over the place except for you and your body. 

“I hate you,” He murmurs weakly. Slowly, he presses his forehead to the sheets on the other side of your thigh, his hands fist tightly as he pounds them against the bed. “I HATE YOU.” The anger from before has come back stronger than ever as he moves in a flash to hover over top of you again. His finger is pressed into your chest, accusing you of your infidelities as he screams in your face. “You’ve ruined me.”

Despite your current dislike for the man, despite all the insults he has thrown in your face and all the harm he has inflicted on you, you have no choice but to hold him together. You don’t want to hate him. 

You gently wrap your arms around his shoulders and hug the sixth Harbinger. Scaramouche tries to fight you, he thrashes under your touch but ultimately gives in and falls into your chest. 

He doesn’t deserve your kindness, he doesn’t deserve your pity but, you can’t help but give it to him. There is a part of you that wants to ease his hurt, to soothe his ache even if he doesn’t deserve it. 

“I took an oath on our wedding day,” You quietly tell him and softly run your fingers along his shaking back. “to be honest and faithful to you for the rest of my days.” Scaramouche’s fingers twitch against your bicep, bluntly digging into your arm as he awaits your next words. “I wouldn’t do this to you, no matter how much you must want me to.” 

Scaramouche pushes against you again, this time placing his palms flat against either side of your head before moving to look you in the eyes. 

“Why would I want something like that?” He snarls at you, lips curling in anger but you can see the red tinting his eyes and the streaks on his cheeks. “You’re an idiot, a good for nothing partner who can’t stay loyal to me.” You gingerly lift your hand to his face to cup his cheek. 

“Why would I cheat on you?” Your calm voice makes his eyes widen and the honesty in your eyes slowly puts his broken heart back together. “Tonia’s birthday was two days ago, my dear. As her friend, I helped pick out a gift.” There is a method to your words and how you purposely avoided the guard’s name so as to not upset your husband any further. 

Scaramouche’s face transforms from anger to something of disbelief, it’s as if he’s grimacing with the way his face scrunches together. He dips his head and allows his hair to cover his face entirely. 

“Is that all?” He whispers and waits for your reply. Scaramouche presses his lips together to stop himself from trying to poke holes in your excuse because, for once, he wants to believe you. The Harbinger waits and pretends that your answer won’t have a catastrophic effect on the rest of his life. 

“It is true.” You quietly murmur back as your thumb starts to stroke his cheekbone. The tenderness of the action causes your husband to freeze above you, eyes widening in shock at how gentle you are being with him. He watches as your face morphs from that of tenderness to a frown. The purse of your lips makes his breath hitch. “Do you really hate me?”

It’s Scaramouche’s turn to frown now. He mulls over his words, eyes staring holes into your sheets as he thinks and thinks. 

He hates how weak you make him. 

He hates how dependent he is on you. 

He hates your stupid smile and your explosive hair and your pathetic laughter. 

He hates how much he loves you. 

His hands find your hips again and gently squeeze against your sides. Scaramouche is a prideful figure and he’s not sure he could ever confess his love to you verbally after the embarrassing hurt he just suffered (at the fault of his own hand). But, he can show you. 

“After this, you’ll never ask such a ridiculous question ever again.”

The two of you will be alright, you’re sure, as alright as you could ever be. 

taglist - @ilumination @etherisy @eliciana @lumid0rk

[bitethedevil]

Living with The Devil You Know (Raphael x Tav): Chapter 11

Chapter: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen

Read this fic on AO3 (Link)

Fic Summary: Tav broke their agreement by handing the Crown of Karsus to Mystra instead of Raphael. Not only that, but she also robbed his house and killed his incubus. Raphael is patient and he is determined to get his revenge.

…Tav isn't too bothered. She will figure something out eventually. Until then she just has to find a way to live peacefully with a devil.

Chapter Summary: Tav is having a hard time adjusting to freedom. Her mind is haunted with a certain devil, and she remembers a situation with him that happened before she was released from her imprisonment.

AN: This is not the final chapter. I know what I said, but I wanted to torture Tav some more. After thinking about it, I'm not sure how many chapters are left at this point, but I'll try to give an estimate as I come closer. After getting more time on my hands, I thought a bit more about this fic and got a bit more inspired again. I think I was getting a too stressed out with real life stuff and became too eager to end it due to that. I just know that I don't want to stress or rush it, because I have grown stupid attached to these two. On the other hand, I also don't want to draw it out for too long either (I'm thinking 15 chapters would be my limit). What can I say? My creative process is a mess lol.

TRIGGER WARNING: Gore and Blood

Tav isolated herself for days after she had been freed. She did not feel like talking to anyone. All she felt like was being alone, and gods, did she feel alone. It did not matter how many days went past, she still expected to wake up in Raphael’s bed and that it had all been a dream. She was waiting for the hammer to fall.

Though, the hammer had already fallen, so to speak. She was free. There were no longer infernal chains around her wrists, so why did she still feel so trapped then? She was trapped in her head, replaying every interaction again and again.

One in particular took up a lot of space in her mind. It was two nights before she had been freed.

When she went to bed that night, Raphael was still not home. She began to worry. Not for him, of course, Tav had told herself. It was more the fact that if something had happened to him, then what would happen to her and Hope?

She managed to fall asleep but about an hour later she was woken by the sounds of things crashing to the ground. She flicked her wrist and lit some of the candles in the boudoir to figure out what was going on.

She saw the silhouette of a winged and horned person. Someone who she hoped was Raphael, though he had never arrived home in that manner. Her heart started racing.

“Raphael?” she asked quietly.

She saw the head of the silhouette turn towards her and two orange eyes looked at her, though they quickly squeezed shut and she heard what sounded like a groan of pain. She recognized the groan, and it was Raphael.

“Go to sleep,” he ordered through gritted teeth and grabbed something from a drawer.

She squinted at him. It was difficult to see what was going on in the darkness. She did not like that harsh tone of his or the fact that he sounded like he was in pain.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

She heard more sounds of stumbling about, which prompted her to get out of bed and investigate. She casted Dancing Lights and walked closer to him. His back was turned to her, and she saw blood on the floor.

“Did I not tell you to go to sleep?” he hissed. “Leave me.”

“What happened to you?” Tav asked confused and stared at the blood on the floor.

Raphael started walking out of the boudoir and away from her. She noticed that he was slightly limping.

“Where are you going? You’re injured. Get in the pool!” Tav said and followed him.

“Tav, I will not tell you agai—” he interrupted himself with a yelp of pain and dragged himself to the nearest chair and sat down.

Tav finally got a look of what was wrong with him. The whole left side of his body was wet with dark blood, and he was holding a hand over the left side of his face. There were green shards of what looked like shattered glass, impaling the whole left side of his body. Some of the shards were tiny, while others were the length of her forearm. He was breathing hard.

It suddenly made sense why the restoration pool would not do. The shards would need to be pulled out before anything could heal.

“Go…” he said, this time sounding more defeated than angry, avoiding her eyes with the one that wasn’t covered by his hand.

He was not playing with her for once. She could hear it in his voice. He sounded like he was in genuine pain. It tugged at her heartstrings despite herself, and she cursed the feeling internally. How could she feel sympathy for a monster like him?

“Fuck…” she cursed under her breath and the façade she had so carefully held up the last few days fell, as she saw Raphael’s do the same.

She saw how tense he looked and the way he was hiding his face from her. He reminded her of a wounded animal that was protecting itself in a moment of weakness.

“Let me help,” she said.

“I do not need or want your help,” he growled stubbornly. “Go to bed.”

“I don’t care, you’ll get it regardless,” she said quietly. “Sit still.”

She heard a groan of annoyance, but he did not move. His one exposed eye followed her around as she gathered supplies around the house. Raphael had already brought a pair of tongs from the drawer in the boudoir, so she went to get a rag, a plate for the shards, and two bowls of water: one with normal water, the other with water from the restoration pool.

She returned to him with the supplies and put them on the small table beside the chair he was sitting in. He watched her every move.

She grabbed the wrist that he was holding over the left part of his face and tried to pull it away. She did not manage to move it as much as an inch as he held it there.

“Raphael,” she said sternly. “I need to see your face. You have blood dripping down your neck. Let me see.”

“I will do it myself,” he said stubbornly, though it was clear that he was in a lot of pain.

Tav became frustrated with him.

“If it’s vanity, I really could not care less,” she said and pointed to the burn scars on her own face. “I cleaned and took care of my own scars when I got these and trust me it was not a pretty sight either. Move your hand.”

He was scowling at her, but he slowly removed his hand. Tav winced and inhaled sharply when she saw his injuries, which made him quickly move his hand back over his face and roll his eyes.

“I told you,” he said. “I’m aware it’s a grim sight and I will take care of it myself.”

“To the Hells with how it looks,” Tav said frustratedly. “It looks painful. It was a reaction out of sympathy, not disgust. Move your hand.”

Raphael’s eye twitched in annoyance, but he moved his hand away so she could get a proper look. One of the shards had almost sliced a piece of his cheek off, and the piece of skin was loosely dangling. Another larger piece had just missed his eye and was lodged into his cheek right below it, which had made the area around his eye bruise and swell up.

She moved her hand to his face and gently turned it. Her hand hovered above the shard that was under his eye. She looked into his eyes before doing anything.

“Do you need anything to bite down on?” she asked. “This is going to hurt.”

“Please,” he said and brushed the idea away with a hand gesture as if she was ridiculous for asking.

“Now is not the time to play brave,” she said frustratedly. “If you move while I do this, you might lose an eye. I can knock you out with a spell if you want. It will make it easier for me.”

“No,” he said. “Proceed.”

She sighed.

“You need to be completely still,” she said. “I’m not strong enough to keep your head from moving.”

She put her hand on his opposite cheek to hold his head steady as she could. She carefully tightened her grip around the shard and started slowly pulling it out. Raphael winced and groaned in pain.

She hated hearing those sounds of genuine pain from him, and it stressed her out.

“Shhh. It’s almost out, it’s almost out, it’s almost out,” she said and pulled.

They were both breathing faster before she finally got it out. Her reaction to his pain annoyed her to no end. She tried to crush those feelings of sympathy in her mind. He was not worth her pity, she reminded herself.

She looked at the shard once it was out and then at Raphael’s face.

“That was the worst of it…” she said. “Now it’s just the smaller bits and then I can clean it.”

Raphael closed his eyes for a moment.

“Your commentary is highly unnecessary,” Raphael said. “You are not a healer, so I would rather not know. Just get it over with.”

“I’ll have you know I studied medicine during my apprenticeship as a wizard,” Tav said quietly, and plucked another smaller shard out of his face.

He winced slightly.

“Did you now? Why would an evocation wizard be taught medicine?” Raphael asked skeptically.

“Alright, ‘studied’ might be an overstatement,” Tav admitted. “The medicine books were the only ones I had not read in my teacher’s library, and when I got bored of my own studies, I sort of sifted through them.”

“How reassuring…” Raphael drawled.

Tav let another shard drop onto the plate with the others.

“What is this stuff anyway?” she asked. “Is it just glass?”

“It is a type of glass, yes,” Raphael said. “It was either enchanted or laced with some kind of poison. Hence the p—” Raphael groaned as a shard that had dug deeper was pulled out of him. “Pain…”

Though Tav took no pleasure in seeing his pain, it was nice to hear him talk without all the theatrics and mind-games for once. It was all just him. They both had an unspoken truce from the game they usually played.

“Can I ask what happened?” Tav asked.

Raphael sighed tiredly at the question.

“You make a lot of enemies in my line of work and especially with my status in the Hells…let’s keep it at that.”

“Do you mean people who are jealous or…?” Tav asked.

A smile tugged on his lips.

“In a way, but not quite,” Raphael said. “Though I have to admit it is somewhat flattering that you would think that is the case…”

“It wasn’t really my intention to stroke your ego,” she said. “It’s just an observation that you seem pretty well off. What is it then?”

Raphael opened his eyes and looked up at her while she cleaned his face.

“You know what I am…” he said.

“You’re a devil…” she answered while dabbing his wounds with a wet cloth. “And, well…if you want to be technical about it, you’re a cambion. Though I always thought you would incinerate me if I pointed that out, so I never did.”

“Clever girl,” he purred. “Why do you think that is?”

She did have her theories. She clearly remembered his little fit back when they met him at Sharess’s Caress about him ‘not being a mortal’.

She wrung the bloody cloth into the bowl of normal water before dipping it into the water from the restoration pool.

“Do you want an honest answer to that?” she asked before dabbing the water unto his face. His wounds quickly healed.

“I only ever want honest answers, mouse,” he said.

Tav paused her movements for a second and looked him in the eye. She wondered just how honest he actually wanted her to be. Then again, she had avoided his wrath for this long, so what the hell? She was not going to pass up the opportunity to give him a piece of her mind.

“I think you like to posture as more than you are,” she said. “You create your own little world where you are the highest and most important person, and you pull other people in, such as myself, to fulfill that perfect image in your head…Do you want me to continue or is that growing expression on your face my cue to shut up?”

Raphael looked slightly offended at her bluntness but gestured for her to continue.

“I think that we mortals buy into it, but I am not so sure about the other devils of the Hells,” she said. “I would also add something about your seeming issues with your father, but I am not quite feeling suicidal yet, so I won’t. Was that honest enough for you?”

Raphael still looked somewhat miffed, but he could not help but smile at her candidness.

“There is some truth to it, of course…” he said. “Mortals hate me because they fear me, and devils hate me because they foolishly see me as below them. It was a devil who did this to me. Someone who saw me as an easy target for their anger. They were wrong.”

It was sad, in a way. He was unwanted everywhere he went. Though with all the things he had done, it was still hard to truly feel bad for him.

“Hm,” Tav hummed. “And yet you cling to the devil part, don’t you? I know I’m pushing my luck with how much it takes for you to finally snap at me, but have you considered that you might have more luck with at least the mortals if you weren’t such a cruel asshole?”

Raphael chuckled.

“There is nothing for cambions on the Material Plane,” he explained. “Nothing but a life in hiding from the world, if they are lucky enough to even survive, that is. In both places, one thing is true for those like myself: you either make others fear you or you will have to live a life of fear yourself, always looking over your shoulder.”

“What a depressing way to see things…” she mumbled as she worked on removing the shards from his shoulder and upper torso.

“Perhaps,” Raphael said with a shrug, looking down at her hands as she worked. “But I would not have lived for as long as I have, did I not see my circumstances for what they were.”

She looked up and met his eyes briefly before she went back to working on his shoulder.

Cruel circumstances did not excuse cruel actions. Tav knew this, and yet she found herself once again annoyingly sympathetic to what he was saying. Had it not been the exact same thing that drove her to kill her father when she was younger? She was done being afraid and it drove her to kill him and unfortunately her mother too.

It was not the same as torturing souls or keeping an innocent cleric locked in one’s basement, obviously. And yet. Perhaps she really was no better than him, when it came down to it. She had done awful things. She killed her parents, ignored Hope’s pleas to be released…Hells, had it not been because of her companions’ opinions on the matter, she had almost sided with the Absolute and killed the entirety of the Druids Grove back then.

She was not a good person. She never had been. She had seen it as practicality. She had to kill her father, or it would never stop. She had to leave Hope behind, because it was not worth the possible risks that she had so carefully calculated in her mind. She was not practical, she was cold, and it was a survival mechanism, much like Raphael’s, that she learned the day she burned her childhood home down: Fear or be feared.

She finished pulling shards from his upper body and sat on the floor to start on his leg. Raphael noticed her quietness as she was deep in her self-loathing thoughts.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Hm?” she looked up at him briefly. “Nothing. Just concentrating.”

“You are being awfully quiet.”

“Mm. You should try it sometime,” she said and immediately bit her lip. It just flew out of her mouth, and she realized that she was getting way too comfortable and uncensored with him.

He simply laughed.

“I have told you before, but I will gladly tell you again…I much prefer you like this,” Raphael noted. “When you are not pretending to be something that you are not.”

She looked up at him with a tired look. He seemed genuine.

“Then stop forcing me to pretend,” she said and went back to pulling pieces out of his leg.

“I’ve never forced you,” Raphael said. “And yet you insist to play a game that you cannot hope to win. I can’t say I haven’t enjoyed it…However, if you keep at it, you will one day find it difficult to find where the pretending ends and where you start, little mouse.”

“So, I’m just supposed to roll over and take it?” she asked with a huff.

“If you knew what was good for you, yes,” Raphael said smoothly and looked down at her. “Though I’m rather enjoying seeing you cling to the idea that you could win.”

She rolled her eyes and continued to work in silence. He was infuriating, but at least he was being honest. She could see out of the corner of her eye that he was studying her face while she worked.

“I want to ask you something, if you would indulge me,” Raphael drawled. “Despite all your resistance, did you ever find yourself falling for it?”

Her brow furrowed and she glanced up at him for a short moment.

“Did I ever fall for you, you mean?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“I hate your guts, if you should ever be confused about that,” she said coldly.

She heard a short chuckle from him.

“Hate does not necessarily exclude love and you avoided answering my question,” Raphael pointed out. “Which is an answer in itself, is it not?”

“I would be more careful with what I say if I was in your position right now,” she said through gritted teeth while trying to pry a large piece of glass out of his leg. “My hand might just slip with the with the next piece I’m pulling out.”

Raphael winced slightly as the piece was pulled out.

“And you?”

“What about me?” he asked.

“Did you ever fall for me?” she asked, still focused on his leg.

He was quiet for just a short moment too long.

“I have told you before,” he purred. “Love is no more than a pointless distraction, and one that I cannot afford with who I am.”

She looked up at him while dabbing water on his leg.

“I can’t help but notice you didn’t say yes or no,” she said and then mimicked his voice and repeated his words: “’Which is an answer in itself, is it not?’”

“Careful, Tav,” Raphael warned with a smile. “You would be wise not to mistake my leniency with you for weakness.”

She had mostly just said it to be annoying, so she was surprised when he did not argue with her point. It was a part of his game, she had concluded, nothing more.

Once she was done with his leg, she poured the remainder of the water from the restoration pool over it, and it healed quickly. She got to her feet and used her hand to gently feel up and down his side.

“Any pain?” she asked. “Did I miss any pieces?”

Raphael shook his head.

“You can stop fussing, dear,” he said with a smile.

“I’m not fussing,” she said stubbornly. “I’m just not sure anyone would know how to get me out of this hellhole if you should suddenly decide to die.”

“If you say so,” Raphael said.

Tav recalled that they had almost the exact same conversation back when he almost killed her in his sleep, and he took care of her to make sure she survived.

“Well…” she said with a sigh. “If that’s all, I’ll go back to bed.”

Raphael got up slowly from the chair. It was clear that he was still slightly dizzy from the blood-loss, but other than that, he looked a lot better than when he arrived home.

She gave him a kiss on the cheek to signal that the truce was over. He wrapped his arm around her waist.

“Goodnight,” she said, looking up at him with one of her fake smiles.

“Goodnight, dearest,” he said quietly with an amused smile that showed he knew what she was doing. He placed a kiss on her forehead.

She was laying on her sofa, slightly drunk on wine, as the same pieces of conversation kept playing in her mind. She felt so trapped. She missed him, but if she admitted that to herself, all she would feel was self-loathing.

He had kidnapped her, trapped her in the Hells, fucked with her mind at every given opportunity. He still was, even now that she was free. It was easier to hate him, as she should, and she truly did, despite all her confusing feelings. She heard his voice in her head:

‘Hate does not necessarily exclude love…’

“Shut up…” she mumbled to herself and closed her eyes.

‘Love is no more than a pointless distraction, and one that I cannot afford with who I am.’

‘I do not wish for you to be under my roof anymore. You have been a distraction for too long.’

“Shut up, shut up,” she mumbled, and she felt tears starting to form in her eyes again. “Shut up.”

Her brain sent her back to the conversation the two of them had one evening about love. It was when Raphael revealed that he had once made the ‘mistake’ of falling in love.

‘I thought devils didn’t—' she had said.

‘They don’t,’ he had interrupted her and smiled. ‘Not in any way you would understand at least. Our definition of love is quite different from what you mortals would find ideal or even healthy.’

“I don’t care,” she mumbled tearfully to her own brain who was torturing her.

‘She was a mortal woman. A human…like yourself.’

She mournfully remembered how the wording of that statement had given her butterflies in her stomach, and then emptied her glass of wine with shaking hands.

[djljpanda]

Hey I’m new here! And I find it amazing about your writings! Here’s my request, it’s about Wally Darling being the king of hearts, the au it’s from Neonross, so far what I know the AU (cuz it’s in process) it’s about kingdom that it’s divided from hearts, cloves and diamonds kingdom. But it’s unknown about the spade kingdom. (Possibly disappear or extinct by the others kingdoms)

I have been imagine a lot what if… or how about… Wally Darling! King of Hearts! X Y/N! Last descendant of spade kingdom? Where the reader is an undercover last royal lineage of the spade kingdom and it’s planning a revenge towards the king of hearts… but somehow it’s turning the otherwise as they fall in love with Wally.

@neonross On Tumblr

I apologize if I didn't do Wally's personality well. But I tried my best I hope you like it.

You were the youngest sibling, really just one year younger. But your older sibling was to be the rightful heir of the spade kingdom. You were fine with the fact you didn't have to do any boring royal duties. Everything was good until you had to leave for some position items that are found outside of the kingdom.

The Spade kingdom is the only kingdom that is far from everyone. It's a kingdom that was taught in positions and is very much fit for war, said to always have competitive or insane rulers.

You may say you fit that rope but you didn't care. You know what the three kingdoms did to your family and all you really want is some revenge. Took you awhile but you are ready to put your plan in motion.

When you were younger you had heard your parents mention one of the late Queen Ambrosia friends, the sorceress Poppy and how yet she is too trusting for her own good. So you decide to start with Poppy, you have seen her walk around the market but as you try to walk up to her you see a child hungrily looking at the red apples. So you gave him an apple only for the owner to hold on to your wrist where you told the child to run. The owner kept you there as you both made a scene. That was until Poppy came forward and stopped the commotion by telling the owner that she will take off the issue. You had walked with Poppy where she thanked you for your kindness to the young child, "Well we should never let our future generation to be hungry as for what they will do for us" "What a kind one you are. I haven't seen you around here before...Where do you come from?" "Ah sorry I'm Y/n-no last name from some farming land more south in the hearts kingdom" "That explains why you would want all your family's apples to go to everyone I expect".

You were taken back to Poppy's place where she had offered you tea which you expected. You say there explaining how you want to live a better life not wanting to be stuck in the farm lands forever. Poppy felt very bad and after thinking it over she spoke up, "Well I guess our majesty King Wally had been needing someone new to take care of the rose bushes and the apple trees. Are you up for the offer?" "Yes that would be my great break", you said not helping but smile as Poppy laughed at your antics.

The next few days you started to maintain the garden as you thought how to get close and kill the king. As you were lost in thought while picking apples you heard a charming voice which made you look down to see the king. "I heard you are my new gardener, would you mind if you would give me an apple" "Oh well here you go your majesty", you said coming down to give the king his apple. "Oh please call my Wally" "Well my name is Y/n", you said holding out your hand which Wally took. From that day forward the king will visit you. He would even help you with the apples and roses. Would even listen to your suggestion about the garden, "Cause if we have blue flowers the red ones will pop more. Same goes for the green and yellow apples the red ones will pop" "I see". Would even bring along the queen of clubs Julie and the king of diamonds Frank. You loved the fact all the four kingdoms are all in one place but they don't know that.

You started to hate yourself because why are the royals still alive. You would break everything in your room as your guilt started to hit. So one night you thought to just get it over with but you heard Wally yelling so you wanted to check out now. But when you got there you saw an assassin and Wally pushing him off. The assassin looked at you and not wanting someone else to kill Wally you thought this would be a good way to get your frustrations out.

Wally watched you get rid of his assassin. His eyes were stuck on you as you finished with the assassin and came up to him. You rubbed his cheek asking him if he is alright. Wally said he was and he was amazed by your strength on how you can be deadly but so sweet. When he is with you he feels more safe. He trusted you more and from that night all those feelings became love.

You enjoyed the fact that Wally was getting close with you. If you kill the king of hearts it would send a message to every other Kingdom. The perfect time to kill him was the heart kingdom banquet that was coming up. A banquet where all the royals and their courts come together and just hang out. Before the banquet you had used some undetected poison in the king's drink. But once you were done Wally himself came up to you. "Are you going to the banquet?" "Oh well I'm not really part of your court" "But you are my close friend" "Friend?" "Definitely. I love your skills, your intelligence, I'm happy to have met you". The conversation was short but you didn't pound on it too much.

At the banquet you stood as everyone else sat and talked. You had never been more disgusted in your laugh, just watching them laugh and having a good time just made your blood boil. That was until Wally made a speech about his late mother. The words he spoke of her felt genuine and even Poppy had started to tear up. Hearing his speech made you think of your family and why you are doing this all in the first place but in a small moment you had a change of heart. You knew which drink had poison, it may be undetected but how can you be a good poison maker without knowing your poison.

After the toast you thought about what could happen. If they did kill your family why be like them when you can be the bigger person. So many thoughts ran through your head as you swallowed the drink. Your knees began to become weak as your life flashed before your eyes. The last thing you heard was Poppy asking you if you are okay.

You woke up as you sat up looking around the room. You felt stupid that the poison wouldn't have worked next time you would use something else. But you stopped when someone came into your room. "Oh my goodness you are alright I was growing more worried", you looked down as you didn't want to see the king's face. As he walked up to you but there he had some roses. "You did my request?" "Well yes they do make the red ones shine". You look at the colorful roses, "Why save me when I'm just a gardener" " Because why would I let someone like you die. I know you are here for a reason as from what Poppy told me. You big break just started why would you let it go to waste. Also you had saved my life the second time around so I might need you there for the third?", Wally kept talking as you just sat there and listened.

You were stuck in bed due to the poison messing up your legs. Many have visited you but the one who surprisingly visited the most was no other than the king. He would come and tell you about his day, to bring you food, tell you all sorts of stories. You had still wanted to hate Wally but it was getting harder to do so. Maybe instead of killing Wally first you find out why he along with the other kingdoms kill your family. But while you were stuck in bed you felt yourself becoming sick again, love sick. You didn't think killing a king would be this hard, he is the king of hearts after all but you will find a way you promised yourself that.

[writing-until-i-drop]

Wildflowers For A Hangman Ch. 10

Summary:

Daisy, a career novelist, moves in with her college best friend Phoenix who has been permanently assigned to Top Gun with Dagger Squad. She finds herself instantly connected with a cocky pilot who's soft only for her and Jake can't help but want to know everything about her. When the past comes knocking at both of their doors, will they stand together or fall apart?

Or: The Dagger Squad can't cook and Jake falls in love with a woman who makes a mean lasagna while they work their personal trauma.

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x writer!femOC | 18+ (eventually) minors dni. Fluff, smut (eventual), idiots in love, past trauma.

A/N: Daisy makes a deal with the devil, Jake and Natasha worry.

AO3 Link

Previous Chapter

Maverick had agreed to let Jake have the day off so that he could go with me to the prison. His hands were shaking more than mine but he was doing a good job at playing the stoic guard dog, holding my hand, and glaring at the swarm of FBI agents who were briefing me on what was going to go down. Rudolph Lance would be chained at his waist, wrists, and ankles, there would be an armed guard standing outside of the room, and I would be going in alone. 

Jake didn’t like the alone part one bit but there wasn’t another option. I on the other hand was perfectly numb, nodding through the briefings and thinking about what I was going to have for dinner. I wasn’t going to make this a big deal, that would just give Rudolph Lance a weird kind of power over the situation. 

“Are you ready, ma’am?” I nodded, still numb.

“Hold on,” Jake grabbed my hand, looking at the agents and guards around us. “Can I get a minute alone with her?” One of the agents, which I had forgotten the name of, nodded.

“Just a minute, son.” They cleared the room and Jake fixed me with a hard stare, analyzing me. I just stared back at him, my face blank. 

“Just say the word and I’ll take you home right now.” I shook my head, “Just making sure, baby.” He reached around his neck and pulled over his tags, “I can’t go with you but I’m right here.” The tags were heavy around my neck, the warmth of the metal seeping into my chest as I tucked them under my shirt. 

“I’m here with you,” Four words that meant three words, I hoped he heard them all the same. “I’ll see you on the other side, pretty boy.” 

“I’ll be right here, Wildflower.” Agents and guards refilled the room, sweeping me away. Inmates shouted as I passed their cells, pounding on the doors. The guards kept me moving, one of them placing a hand at the small of my back. Jake’s dog tags hung over my heart, I focused on the feeling of the metal against my skin to keep myself calm. The numb feeling I had been relying on wavering the closer we got to the end of the hall where the agents had said Lance would be. 

“Okay, Ms. Prentiss.” One of the agents stood between me and the door, it wasn’t a cell, it was more like an interview room where prisoners on death row could speak with their lawyers. “The cameras will be recording the conversation, all you have to do is sit and talk until he gives up the names.” 

“And if all of this is bullshit?” I asked, knowing that all of this could be for nothing. The agent patted my shoulder,

“Then he still gets a needle.” That was good enough for me. I exhaled, shaking out my shoulders,

“Okay, then let’s do this.” 

I paused at the mouth of the room. Wearing an orange jumpsuit, chained to the table and the floor, was Rudolph Lance. He was older than I remembered, his dark hair streaked with gray, a scraggly beard reaching his chest, and a few crude tattoos now adorned his arms. He turned to look at me and suddenly, I felt like a twelve year old girl once again.

“Well, well, well, if it ain’t the kid.” The voice that had haunted my nightmare was unchanged. I took a deep breath, steadying myself, and took a seat. The door closed and locked behind me,leaving me alone with the monster that killed my parents. “Little Daisy Prentiss.”

“Rudolph Lance,” I glared at him. “They said you wanted to talk.” The man stared me down for a few minutes, saying absolutely nothing and then he smiled, chilling me to the bone.

“No need to rush, kid. We’ve got all day,” The bastard wanted to draw this out as long as possible. The FBI analysts had been right, he wanted to torture me. “You go to college?” 

“I did,” I nodded, biting the inside of my cheek. Lance shifted in his chair, giving me a go on look that I ignored.

“Come on, Daisy. I’ve got information that put you on a flight from wherever you ran to when mommy and daddy died,” I dug my nails into my thighs to keep from screaming. “So, you answer my questions and then I’ll give you the information you came for.” 

“Fine,” I gritted out. “I graduated with honors from Embry-Riddle with a degree in English literature.” He barked out a laugh,

“A useless degree,”

“I’m a published author.” He made a noise of interest so I continued. “I write crime novels where my detectives always catch the bad guy.” Lance nodded, 

“Got anyone special in your life?” I debated whether to tell him the truth or not.

“I push people away. Apparently I have abandonment issues and a whole heap of trauma.” I glared at him while he laughed, “Doesn’t really give much of a chance for someone special.” 

“No, I suppose not. What about your brother?” I bit my cheek so hard I tasted blood, eyes squeezing shut.

“Ask me about anything else,” Tears burned my eyes, “You don’t get to ask about him.” 

“‘’Fraid that’s what I want to hear about. How’s Harvey?” What did I do? Did I walk out, refuse to say another word, and ask Jake to take me home? Leave all those families without their answers? Or did I make a deal with the devil? I sighed, placing a hand on my chest, feeling Jake’s tags, begging that they would give me strength for what I had to do.

“He’s got a wife and kids, he doesn’t remember a single second of that night.” 

“He know you’re here?” I shook my head, keeping my eyes trained on the table. “You’re a good sister.”

“Fuck you,” I spat. “You don’t get to say that to me.” He laughed again and I smacked my hands against the table. I stared down the monster and all of the numbness that had been in my mind slipping away. “Tell me the names, admit to what you did to them, to my fucking parents,” I hit the table again. “Or I walk out of here and I’ll throw a party when they put that needle in your arm.” He stared me down but I didn’t flinch, even if I was shaking like a leaf in the wind. “So what’s it going to be?” 

“You’ve got stones, kid.” I didn’t enjoy the tone he was taking, like he was proud of me for losing control. “You FBI sons of bitches got your pens ready?” He called out, looking at the cameras. He began listing names that meant nothing to me, taking his time to make a comment disparaging each of them in some way and then he set his eyes on me. “And last but not least. Jill and George Prentiss.” My parents. I thought there would be a movie moment, where I instantly felt better than I had in years, but that didn’t happen. 

The guards escorted me from the room and brought me to Jake, who wrapped me tightly in his arms.

“I’m right here,” He whispered, kissing my forehead. I didn’t say anything, I couldn’t think of the words, any words, to say. 

X

Daisy slept the whole flight home, her hand in mine. She hadn’t said a word since she came back from speaking with Lance, just giving me nods and shrugs. I had texted Phoenix in warning and sent Mav one asking for a second day off, which he had responded to just before take off.

Mav: Already approved it, you need more just ask

Hangman: Thank you

When we got back to the apartment, Phoenix had pepperoni pizza and beer waiting, but Daisy pushed right past her and headed to her room.

“Should I call Harvey?” She asked, running a hand down her face. She looked tired, dark bags under her eyes, “I don’t know what to do.” I hesitantly pulled her in for a hug, surprised when Phoenix returned it, squeezing me tight. “She’s going to be okay, right?” 

“She’s going to be fine, Phoenix. She’s got us,” I rubbed circles between her shoulder blades. “We’ve just got to be patient with her.” 

“Thank you, Jake.” She whispered, “For being here for her.” I sighed, resting my chin on top of her head.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I promised her. “I’m going to take her some dinner and that’s where we’ll start with figuring this whole mess out.” Phoenix nodded, pulling back and wiping her eyes. 

When I got upstairs Daisy was in the shower, so I put dinner on the desk and sat on the bed to wait for her. It didn’t take long for her to finish and she reappeared in an oversized shirt with her wet hair brushed behind her ears.

“Bob keeps sending me dog pictures and I’ve never been much of a dog person but they’re really cute.” I couldn’t help it, I burst out laughing, crossing the room to kiss her soundly on the lips. She smiled into the kiss, wrapping her arms around me. “We should get a dog.” We. I kissed her quick, three more times on the lips.

“I’ll get you a whole litter of puppies if it’ll make you happy, Wildflower.” Daisy slipped her hands under my shirt, resting on my bare back.

“You’re here with me, right?” 

“For as long as you want me, baby.”

Next Chapter

Taglist: @dizzybee03 @littlezee80 @cinderellasmissingshoes @carolina-on-my-mind03 @mizzzpink @beltzboys2015-blog @writtingrose

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

The Tragedy of Love, Death and Maggots

I wanted to wait until it had a name before posting this, and I finally came up with something sort of worthy. So here it is: Part 1 of TTLDM!

********

The corpse dangled limply, swinging in the wind. Chains attached to its wrists jangled like chimes, creating a melody more off-tune than haunting.

The corpse was beautiful, once, with long eyelashes and a gleaming smile, gorgeous enough to charm sirens. But no amount of smiling could hide the stick-thin limbs, encrusted with bodily fluids, or the gaping sockets where a pair of eyeballs once rested.

The corpse died of starvation, that much was obvious. It had struggled long and hard to be free, judging from the livid marks along its wrists. Every bone was prominent under its bruised and raw skin. Dried blood stained the rags it wore, barely enough to cover what little dignity it had.

Its ribs were opened up like a butterfly, baring shrivelled organs and guts. I could only hope that it had been post-mortem. Maggots haf infested themselves in its cavities, worming and squirming with glee, a veritable mass of white amidst the red. The sight was enough to make any man heave.

“What's the verdict, doc?” Athena was cheerful as ever, either not caring or pretending not to care about the gore before us. “Who dunnit to this poor fella?”

I shook my head. My guts curdled at the way she prodded a chunk of squirming flesh fearlessly. “Someone starved him to death, then chopped him up like that. He must have been left in a cell until he died, or else he wouldn't be stained all over. This entire scene's at least a day old, too, or else maggots wouldn't have shown up like that,” I explained. “Damn, but I just can't think of a monster that would've done this.”

“It wasn't a monster,” Mrin replied, her voice harsh. “No monster would be that wasteful. A human had to have locked him up, guarded the cell so no monster would eat him, then maimed him afterwards.” Her one good eye narrowed.

Athena grimaced. “Cultists,” she concluded. 

“Yep.” I folded my arms. “They're back at it. I could have sworn we'd driven them away the first four times.”

She shrugged. “They're worse than maggots. Let one live, and soon you'll have twenty swarming your home and setting you on fire for their rituals.” She broke into a grin. “Guess we've got to break out the weapons and go cultist-hunting again, eh?”

“No,” Mrin said suddenly. She had been examining the corpse's wrists. “This isn't a cultist issue. Come here and see.”

“How'd you figure?” I came closer and took a good long look at where she pointed. “I don't see anything.”

“Doc, Who the hell cares?” Athena stood behind me, crowding us in. “The cultists are probably back by now. Let's go kill them some more.”

"Hunting, killing, hunting. Is that all you ever think of doing?” I rounded on her. Call me immature, but that flippancy of hers was wearing on me. “There's a dead man there. Whether or not it is the cultists, we need to investigate and avenge him. And that means properly working out what's going on. Isn't that what you'd want someone to do for you?”

“If I'm dead, I wouldn't care what you did. Eat me, string me up by the innards, fuck my dead corpse, it's all the same to me.” She paused, and a shimmer of old anger, so unlike her, passed her features. “But cultist hunting is always a good idea.”

“You're like an animal, you know that? Oh, so the cultists hurt you. Boo-fucking-hoo. You can't spend the rest of your life mindlessly chasing vengeance. You're right. The cultists will always be there. So stop worrying about them, and start worrying about this new threat, because we can get rid of that. Or are you too desperate to meet your old friends again?”

Athena froze, and I saw rage flash across her features. It was dangerous to provoke her, to rip her mask off and reveal the ugly wounds that festered within. I did it anyway, because it was the only way to get her to listen. “Shut up, Doc,” she hissed, earlier cheer evaporated. “You're no angel of empathy yourself. Or do you think mocking-” Her voice hitched at the memory of things too bad to mention. "-what happened to me was an empathetic thing to do?"

Taglist:

@coffeeangelinabox, @dorky-pals, @calliecwrites, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @shukei-jiwa

@thewingedbaron, @pluppsauthor, @cowboybrunch, @wylloblr, @possiblyeldritch @ramwritblr, @urnumber1star, @tragedycoded, @bigwipscholar, @ratedn

@vampirelover890, @possiblylisle, @illarian-rambling, @the-ellia-west

@finicky-felix, @evilgabe29, @glitched-dawn, @rivenantiqnerd, @dragonhoardesfandoms

@drchenquill, @everythingismadeofchaos, @owldwagitoutofyou, @dimitrakies, @beloveddawn-blog

@riveriafalll, @the-golden-comet, @rascaronii, @trippingpossum, @real-fragments

@xenascribbles, @unrepentantcheeseaddict, @the-inkwell-variable

(Anyone else who wants to get added can tell me in the comments, pm me, or send me an ask about it!)

[theherosvillain]

Teach you a lesson (Angel arc part 1)

(Try Not To) Kill All Your Friends masterpost - Next: Part 2

Contains: kidnapping, captivity, torture, broken bones, restraints, forced to watch

The whole thing was absolutely ridiculous. If Ryker and his men didn’t come soon, Vale was going to kill all of them. They shouldn’t have even let this happen—they were professionals, for God’s sake. Vale couldn’t fathom how he and Phantom had been captured in the first place.

“Are you making any progress?” Vale asked, for what felt like the umpteenth time. He hated to repeat himself, but Phantom hadn’t updated him in a while.

Phantom made a face, staring up at the ceiling as he focused on the ropes restraining his hands. “Um, sort of,” he said. Vale sighed, and Phantom muttered, defensively, “Let’s see you untie knots with your mind.”

“Phantom.” Vale could really do without the attitude at the moment. It was bad enough that he’d been kidnapped, sitting on the floor of some concrete cell God knows where, but it was even worse that he had to rely on Phantom to get them out. The boy was talented, certainly, but Vale preferred not to put his skills to the test when both of their lives were potentially at risk. “Why don’t you untie me first?”

“Because I’m halfway done with mine already,” he retorted, hands shifting behind his back.

“Well, hurry up,” Vale snapped. Phantom fell silent, getting that teenagery, exasperated look on his face that said, Yeah, yeah, I’m on it already. Vale took a deep breath, flexing his wrists, already feeling the ache in his muscles. “I’m impressed,” he admitted, “that you’ve managed to stay calm during this.”

Phantom’s eyebrows flicked up, and he shrugged. “Well, this isn’t my first kidnapping.” He frowned, eyes roaming the ceiling as he thought. “Actually, it might be the … fourth?”

Vale frowned back at him. “Fourth?”

“Yeah, there was Amoret, and then … you,” he said, “and then that time with Oliveri, and now this. That makes four.”

“Ah.”

After a minute, Phantom spoke again. “Did you forget that you kidnapped me?”

The boy had always had a smart mouth; the question shouldn’t have surprised Vale. He sighed impatiently. “Phantom, this is hardly the time.”

“I’m just wondering,” Phantom said, “because how else would you lose track of something like—” He cut himself off, head swiveling toward the door. “Someone’s coming.”

Vale struggled to his feet and moved away from the door, watching it warily. Phantom joined him. Vale hoped whoever came in wouldn’t check the restraints.

The door opened, and a woman stepped through. She was wearing fitted combat fatigues with platform boots, her hair in loose curls around her shoulders, and her makeup was just slightly too gaudy to be tasteful. A handful of others spilled into the room after her, but they were all dressed in the same sort of plain black attire that Vale’s own men wore, which indicated that they were lackeys, not the ones in command.

The woman’s pink lips split into a slow grin as her eyes roved over Vale and Phantom. “Well, well, look at this,” she said. “The great Axton Vale, finally brought down low. How does it feel, hmm? I just want to get a baseline before I drag you down lower.”

Vale schooled his expression into one of annoyance and disdain, which wasn’t far from how he was actually feeling. “Who are you, and what do you want?” he asked flatly.

The woman cocked her head, resting a manicured fingernail on her chin. “You don’t remember me? Well, I can’t say I’m surprised. It was the worst day of my life, but for you—I’m sure that was just an average Tuesday for you, wasn’t it?”

Vale tried again. “Who are you working for?”

Her laugh was so high-pitched it would’ve made a dog whimper. “Oh, that’s rich,” she said, a broad grin spread across her face. “My name’s Danielle Angel, and I happen to be the one in charge here, honey.”

Oh, just perfect. Vale had not only been kidnapped, but kidnapped by some kind of living Barbie doll. He took a measured breath. “And what is it that you want with me?”

Her unnervingly white smile never wavered. “Weren’t you paying attention? I want to kick you off your high horse, Axton.”

He felt a twinge of irritation at the disrespect, but he managed not to show it. “Really?” he asked indignantly.

“Oh, absolutely,” said Angel. “And I think I’m going to start with …” She pointed a shiny pink nail to Vale’s right. “You!”

Phantom bristled, taking a step back, which put him right up against the wall. “I don’t think that’s—” Before he could finish, two of Angel’s men marched forward and grabbed him. The last man pulled Vale back by his shoulders.

Vale stumbled, struggling to keep his footing as he was dragged away from Phantom. “Leave him alone,” he said, keeping his voice steady.

“Sorry, Axton,” said Angel, “but you’re not the boss around here—you don’t get to make demands. Now, if you asked me nicely, I might consider leaving him alone, but otherwise …” She snapped her fingers, and one of her men drove his fist into Phantom’s stomach.

Phantom doubled over, wheezing. Vale surged forward, only for the henchman to yank him back, one hand on his shoulder, the other on his tied wrists. It shouldn’t have been enough to keep him restrained, but he just couldn’t get any damn leverage. “I said, leave him alone,” Vale snapped. The henchmen were twice Phantom’s size. With his hands tied like that, he didn’t stand a chance.

“You’re not a very good listener, are you, Axton?” Angel stood back with her hands clasped in front of her, watching her men rain punches down on Phantom. Vale set his jaw and watched.

Phantom put up a good fight, all things considered; Vale was proud of him for that. Each time he went down, he got back up, trying to ram the men with his shoulders. He tried to use his powers on them; that became clear when one of the men winced in pain, grabbing at his leg. Then the man struck Phantom across the head, dazing him. There was only so much Phantom could do with his powers when he couldn’t focus, and each injury was just another distraction.

Finally, Phantom collapsed on his knees, blood dripping from his nose. Vale watched him intently. Get up. Don’t just quit. Get back up. Phantom began to rise, but one of the men shoved him down by the shoulder, and he winced as his knees hit the floor. Angel laughed, flicking her gaze over to Vale. “He’s a fighter, isn’t he?” Then she sighed and tilted her head at her men. “I can’t help but feel, though, like you guys are going too easy on him.” Phantom’s shoulders stiffened. His eyes were glassy with barely-restrained tears. A single one traced down his cheek. “I think you should break his arm,” Angel said.

“No.” The word slipped out unbidden, barely a whisper. Vale pressed his lips shut.

It was too late. Angel’s head swiveled toward him, her ridiculous hair bouncing. “What was that, Axton?” she asked sweetly. He glared at her, refusing to give her the satisfaction. It didn’t matter; regardless, she wasn’t going to stop.

She watched Vale for a moment, then shrugged, turning her attention back to her men. “Well, go on, then,” she said, motioning them into action. “You can even untie his hands; won’t that be nice?”

The men yanked Phantom to his feet, and one of them pulled out a switchblade to saw away his restraints. Phantom winced as the ropes fell and blood trickled down his wrist. His face went white as two large hands gripped his forearm. “Please, don’t,” he breathed. His gaze flickered over to Vale, and then landed on Angel. “You’re—you’re trying to get at him, right? He doesn’t care. I promise, he—”

Angel sauntered forward and grabbed Phantom by the chin, her long nails digging into his jaw. She locked eyes with Vale. “That’s an interesting theory,” she said. “Let’s put it to the test, hmm?”

Vale wasn’t going to react. All Angel wanted was a reaction. She stepped back and signaled to her men. Phantom’s arm cracked down over the henchman’s knee.

“Stop!” Vale lurched forward, but a pair of hands held him back, fingers digging into his shoulders. Phantom’s knees buckled, and the henchmen held him up, one pair of hands under his armpits and the other still on his arm, hanging at an unnatural angle. The hand on his forearm squeezed. Phantom let out a choked noise that barely sounded human. “Stop, please!”

The room went quiet. Slowly, Angel turned to Vale, her face lit with a predatory grin. “Oh, that was delicious.” She stalked over to him, snapping her fingers, and Vale stumbled as the henchman released him. When he righted himself, he found Angel standing too close for comfort. He tilted his chin to look her in the eye. “All I wanted was for you to ask nicely,” she said, pouting. “Can you do that for me, sweetie?”

Vale clenched his jaw. For a moment, the room was quiet. The silence was broken by a single, strangled sob. Vale’s hands curled into fists. “Please, stop.”

“Oh, come on.” Angel’s finger traced down his jaw. His muscles rippled with involuntary repulsion. “You can do better than that. Get on your knees.”

Vale swallowed. From behind Angel, he heard a flinching sort of noise, anticipating pain. Slowly, Vale sank down.

As he looked up at Angel, he imagined himself plunging a knife into her chest, slitting her throat, carving that smug grin off her face. But the thoughts didn’t change his reality. She gently tilted his chin up. “Now ask nicely,” she whispered.

“Please. Stop hurting him.”

For a long moment, Angel gazed down at him, drinking in the sight. This wasn’t going to help. She wasn’t going to stop.

Then, suddenly, she ruffled Vale’s hair and straightened up. “Was that so hard?” She snapped her fingers, and her men stepped away from Phantom. “I think that’s enough for now. Let’s leave them alone for a little while.” Vale stared, open-mouthed, as Angel sashayed out of the room with her men, locking the door behind her.

-

“I can try to untie you, if you want.”

It was the first time Phantom had spoken in hours. Vale looked up to see him slumped against the wall on the other side of the cell, right where he’d collapsed when Angel left. There were bruises on his face, a crust of blood beneath his nose, and his arm was arranged carefully in his lap. “Your arm is broken,” Vale said, feeling as though it was a redundant observation.

Phantom shrugged one shoulder, his face expressionless. His cheeks were tacky with dried tears. “My other arm isn’t.”

Vale wasn’t sure it would stay that way if Angel found out about this, but his hands had gone numb a while ago, and he suspected they would both be better off if Vale had his hands free. He crossed the cell and sat with his back to Phantom. He exhaled slowly as the boy started tugging at the ropes.

They didn’t need to talk. Vale had always preferred silence. But for some reason the quiet was poking at him now, like an errant feather out of a down pillow. “I could have ended it sooner.”

Phantom’s fingers went still. “What?”

 “All she wanted was …” Vale took a deep breath, forcing away the memory of his knees hitting the ground, of her nails under his chin. “I could have given it to her. I just …” Didn’t think it would help. Didn’t want to give in. Thought that you could handle it.

This was exactly the type of situation Phantom had been trained for. He’d been through the same interrogation and captivity trainings that all of Vale’s men went through. This wasn’t even the worst he’d been injured in recent memory; he had collected more than his fair share of scars. But this was the first time that Vale might have prevented it. There was no reason he should have wanted to, given Phantom’s role. Some people had taken to calling him Vale’s guard dog. Vale thought it was a crass moniker, but he had to admit it was fitting. A guard dog did the protecting; it didn’t need to be protected.

“Is this your way of apologizing?”

Vale bit back the instinct to chide Phantom’s tone. “I suppose so,” he said slowly.

Phantom silently picked at the knot. “It’s not your fault,” he said. “It was a power play. You couldn’t have known she’d actually stop.”

Vale’s shoulders relaxed as much as the restraints allowed. “That was my thought, yes.”

Phantom paused. After a long time, he spoke in a quiet voice. “Now that you know, though …” He left the sentence unfinished.

“We’re going to get out of here before that happens again.”

“Right.”

There was a world of uncertainty in that single word. Vale decided that silence was best.

-

Title credits: Just One Yesterday - Fall Out Boy

Tag list: @toyybox

[acefiree]

𝗯𝗮𝘆! 𝗿𝗮𝗽𝗵𝗮𝗲𝗹 | bestfriends

Raphael ✷ x reader ( pining like idiots ) MASTERLIST

ᕦ(๏益๏)ᕥ: after a bad day at school, you hang out in the lair in hopes of forgetting about the events that took place, only to get into an argument with the hothead in red.

WARNINGS: tension, potty mouth characters, angst, argument, mentioning of assault

NOTE: this was a request from my wattpad ooffff

      "GIVE IT BACK!" I shouted as I chased Mikey across the common area of the lair, the orange-clad turtle cackling manically as he jumped the back of the sofa and somersaulting with ease, which honestly left me a little baffled for a moment with how simple he made it look.

It always amazed me how easy the guys made stunts like those seem, the years of ninjutsu training being a constant reminder of how amazing the four Terrapin brothers were. Though, right now, Mikey was on my shit list and was honestly about to be my least favorite Ninja Turtle.

"Come on, Sweetcakes!" He shouted with a silly grin, pausing only for a second so he could dangle my phone teasingly between his fingers, the device twisting as he winked at me, "You gotta be faster than that, Babes, see ya!" And with that, Michelangelo took his skateboard and zoomed off, my phone still in his possession.

I'm going to kill him! I was too busy staring up, eyes following the retreating terrapin, to notice when a certain hothead stepped out of the weight room. I was also too busy to notice just how close said hothead was.

"Dammit Michelangelo, if you don't give it back, I'm gonna—oof," I grunted, falling onto my back starfish as I ran into what I thought was a wall. A groan left my mouth, a harsh throb coming from my nose. I raised my hand and rubbed it, my eyes watering. "Oh man, that fucking hurt." I whined to myself.

After eating shit and promptly taking the world's biggest L – I laid there on the dirty floor of the lair, contemplating my life, when a pair of calloused hands suddenly grab onto me and I was pulled upward into a sitting position. Tears clouded my vision, blinking a few times as I tried to make out the red blob sitting to my right.

"Shit, Doll. Are you okay?" A moderately rough voice asked, sounding underlining concerned.

"Jesus? Is that you? I think I knocked myself stupid—fucking wall came out of nowhere."

There was a deep chuckle that came from Raphael, his hands aiding me as I tried to stand. I wiped away the tears in my eyes. I felt something wet above my lip, so I wiped it, only to cringe when I looked at my fingers and saw blood.

I blinked at it, face blank. "I think my nose is bleeding."

The terrapin placed a finger under my chin, turning my head upward so he could see, rough palm cupping my jaw lightly to keep my head in place. His eyes rounded, green gaze filling with concern. He sucked his teeth, his scarred lip shifting into a deep frown at what he saw.

"Ya feelin' okay? You wanna go see Don?"

Only when I pull back does my mouth curve into a soft smile, cheeks warming from the display of concern, and dare I say affection from my best friend. There was pain in my nose, but other than that, I knew I'd be fine. I should have been watching where I was going. This was the second time today I had gotten myself hurt.

I knew my expression dropped when I thought about what happened at school today, and my hand went to my sleeve-covered wrist, subconsciously rubbing the bruise hiding beneath the fabric. Raphael didn't seem to notice my change in mood, more focused on the blood smeared under my nose.

I cleared my throat, "Can you help me clean this blood?" I questioned, pushing my thoughts aside. I could worry about my arm later, right now, my focus was the fresh blood on my face.

Raphael didn't hesitate to nod, "Yeah,"

Now, all I expected him to do was find a paper towel or something and help me clean the blood. What I didn't expect was for him to pick me up, large arms scooping me up like a damn princess, into his broad plastron chest as he took me into his room quickly, obviously still concerned.

I shot him a surprised look, "I can walk."

He tilted his head toward me, "Nah, I gotcha."

This wasn't the first time Raph had acted like my Prince Charming and swooped me off my feet. Any time I got hurt, or he thought he could move me faster, here he came. Thick muscled arms ready to hold me close and take me anywhere I wanted go, like my own personal Turtle Uber.

Another soft smile slinked to my lips as he placed me on the edge of his bed, turning his shell to me as he stepped away to grab the First Aid kit he had stashed in his room. I knew I was practically mooning up at him, but I couldn't help it, I really loved this side of the burly turtle. He liked to play tough, but moments like right now proved how soft and caring he could be. As he turned back to face me, the Raph paused, noting the smile on my face.

He raised a non-existing brow. "What?"

"Thank you," I said instead of saying what I was really thinking.

He huffed a chuckle, shaking his head. "Don't worry about it, now c'mere."

I scooted closer to the edge of the bed, tipping my chin up to give him access to my face. He paused before he took a step closer, noting the fact he was practically towering over me now and it was about to be hell for him to reach my nose to clean it. With a deep sigh, and a roll of his eyes, the hothead sat the Aid kit down.

What's with the attitude? It's not my fault I'm so damn short. Maybe he shouldn't be so tall. Has he ever thought of that? Like I'm a woman—

Before I could even question Raph, I was suddenly lifted off the bed like a damn child and placed on the desk resting in the corner of the room. My hands snapped out, fingers slipped over the dibs and rough texture of his scaled skin, trying to steady my self as I locked eyes on green. I was now face to face with Raphael, and I swear, for a moment my heart seemed to pause in its steady beat. I felt a sudden awkwardness at our close proximity, and I did the only thing that any reasonable person would do in a situation like this with their best friend.

I booped him.

With precise and agile movements, my hand lifted with my finger pointed, poking him directly on the end of his snout. Raphael jerked his head back a little, eyes widening a smidge from not expecting that, and mouth popping open to say something, though no words came out.

So, with him shocked and me slightly amused, we slowly locked eyes. I watched with a suppressed grin as his piercing gaze went from mine then to the finger that was still pressed on his nose. He looked baffled I did that, and when I began to giggle, a look of something grew in the depth of his gaze.

"I'm sorry, Red! I couldn't resist – I've always wanted to do that!" My shoulders shook as I laughed, removing my finger to place my hand over my stomach. "Your reaction was so cute!"

Raphael was watching me with an unknown look, but as soon as the word cute left my mouth, his face shifted as if I had just offended his dead grandmother.

"I'm not fuckin' cute—wait—Ya think I'm cute?"

That's what I said? Right? I give him a look, calming myself so I'd stop laughing enough for him to actually clean my face. Raphael's face looked as if it were turning a shade darker and I wonder if that was a turtle's version of a blush.

"Well, yeah, I did."

He looked rather stunned, "Uh, oh...let's just get your face cleaned up, Doll." He brushed off my words as he grabbed the First Aid kit. My face fell. This wasn't the first time he brushed off one of my comments. And if I'm being honest, it hurt my feelings, making me feel stupid for even trying with him.

When was he going to see that I loved his stupid face?

"K," It was a clipped and short reply, one that he caught onto instantly.

He didn't comment on it though. Good. Because I didn't want him asking. Cause then I'd have to explain his aloofness hurt my feelings, and that I was trying to flirt with him. God, why are men so stupid sometimes? Especially hotheads like him.

I closed my eyes, so I don't have to look at him, breathing in through my nose to keep my mouth closed. I felt him gently grasp the bottom of my chin, a damp rag softly wiping under my nose to clean the blood. His gentle grip almost made me squirm. How could he not see the effect he had on me? I mean, everyone else could see it.

Maybe he did, and he knew. Maybe that's why he always brushed it off. Because he didn't feel the same, and he didn't want to reject me and ruin our friendship.

When he was done, I waited for him to remove his hand, but it never moved, his grip only tightened before I felt my arm get snatched into his grasp. Shocked and slightly caught off guard, I furrow my brows and quickly open my eyes. I nearly fall out by the look he was giving me now, and I almost pull my arm away from him when I see where he is looking.

"What happened to your wrist?"

It wasn't a question, and the low tone in his voice made me want to shrink back and hide. His face was taught into that miffed expression I've only ever seen him wear when arguing with Leo, or when he had a bad patrol. Then, when he looked at me, his expression changed, and I had to blink slowly to process it. His pupils dilated in the most alluring way possible.

I swallowed thickly, wondering if I should tell him what happened, or if I should take my chance and give into the urge to kiss my best friend right now, who looked so pissed and worried about why my wrist had a handprint bruised on it.

"Nothing," I quickly lied, trying to pull my arm away, but to no avail.

Raph's eyes snapped back to the purple and yellow fingerprints on my smaller arm, his hand practically swallowing limb, a quick reminder of just how much bigger he was than me. His gaze slowly lifted back to match my own and the breath in my lungs felt as if it was ripped from my body. Oh. Oh. He was pissed.

"Who did this?" He all but growled now and I had to stop myself from shying away. I didn't like when he got like this, but for some odd reason, I couldn't pull away. His gaze had me locked in with a vice grip, and all I could do was frown up at him.

Might as well tell him. He's my best friend. He deserves to know. "Some guy at school – we got into a small disagreement—"

"Who?" This time, his voice was a lot lower, and a dark look flashed in his eyes.

Against my better judgment, I told him. "J-Jason." I said before quickly adding, "It's okay though, I delt with it—"

Raphael frowned, "Were ya' goin' to tell me?" He asked, looking a bit hurt at the fact I was trying to hide it from him, "I don't want you seeing him anymore."

Not that I was planning on hanging around that asshole anymore, but the fact Raphael sounded so possessive when he said that made me frown and open my mouth to argue back. Though, when his hand that was still holding my chin shifted and slipped to cup my jaw, any words I had planned to say left me and all I could do was stare up at my best friend, my mouth slightly parted.

Raphael still looked rather upset, but with our proximity, his gaze trailed over every inch of my face. I couldn't tell what he was thinking, but by the way his expression was slowly softening the longer we had a small stare off, the more I could guess he was feeling the same thing I was. And boy, was my heart hammering now.

My whole body went stiff as he leaned forward and I don't know what possessed me, I really don't, but I moved an inch closer to him and his grip on my wrist tighten only slightly as his other hand shifted, his thumb falling to the pulse on my neck and pressing in lightly. My heart paused when I noticed his gaze fall to my lips.

There was thick tension between us and all I wanted to do was kiss him, so he'd shut up and stop being so pissy. His possessive nature pissed me off and I wanted to show him he couldn't tell me what to do. And so, I did. My eyes fluttered shut as he moved closer and kissed me, the feeling of his lips making my head spin as I reached up with my free hand and cupped his cheek.

At my touch, he froze, seeming to wake up from whatever little daydream he was living in. Raph quickly pulled away and I instantly opened my eyes confused.

Why'd he stop?

The look on his face hit me hard.

Regret. Anger. Fear.

"R-Red?"

He put a foot of distance between us, his green eyes unable to look at me. He was breathing hard, shoulders tense. Is he mad? Why is he so upset? He was the one who kissed me. Well, we both did, but that's besides the point.

"T-that was a mistake," He groused out, unable to meet my gaze.

What? My heart felt it shattered into a million of pieces as what he said registered in my head. A mistake? Kissing him? It didn't feel like a mistake. I quickly hopped off the desk and stepped closer to the tense turtle, unsure on how to approach as I hid my wrist again.

"Red, what do you—"

"We can't do this," His voice rose, causing me to jump from how loud and unexpected it was. "You should go,"

What in the hell is wrong with him? What did I do wrong? Was the kiss really that bad? Was he really that mad because I hid a bruise? And he's never raised his voice at me before...There was tears in my eyes now and I knew if I spoke my voice would give it away. But right now, I didn't care if he knew I was crying.

Fucking asshole.

"It's just a bruise, and that kiss wasn't a mistake to me..." My voice wavered and sounded full of raw emotion.

His eyes snapped to me like autopilot, surprise written all over his expression with the underlying of frustration. But when he saw the tears streaming down my face, and the pure look of heart break in my eyes, his whole demeanor shifted and I could tell he wanted to say something. I save him from having to choose. My eyes dropped as I lower my head so my hair could shield my face from his view.

Without uttering another word, I rushed from his room, ignoring the soft whisper of my name from his lips. Fuck him. Fuck this. Fuck everything.

"Hey Babes, you still want your—whoa why are you crying?!" Mikey said, sounding rather alarmed. His little outburst grabbed the attention of his brothers and I mentally curse myself.

"Dear, are you okay?"

Damn, now Splinter was concerned. I was blocked by Mikey, Leo, and Donnie as Master Splinter stood on his little meditation podium in front of the water slide. Upon hearing all the commotion, I heard movement from the direction of Raph's room and I knew he stepped out. It didn't help I could sense his stare, his gaze always having that effect on me.

Not to make anything obvious, I wipe my eyes.

"I-Im okay guys, April called, and we got into a little argument – I have to go home. It's just a silly fight between friends."

My excuse was an obvious lie, because like, me and April were pretty close and rarely got into scuffles, plus Mikey still had my phone. though the phone he had was just my old back up, and never worked...but, I knew the guys and Splinter didn't believe the utter bullshit that just spewed from my mouth.

Mikey stepped closer, his usual happy demeanor gone and filled with concern. I had to blink a few times to register the look. He never looked like that, he was always goofy and smiling. But now he was looking at me like I just stole the last of his orange soda crush, and I didn't like that, not one bit.

"You promise, Sweetcakes?"

Oh god. Why did he have to ask that. Promises was one thing I took very seriously. And even though Raph just ripped my heart out like it was nothing, that didn't mean I wanted to throw him under the bus and embarrass him in front of his family—it's not his fault he doesn't like me in a romantic way. You can't help how you feel for someone. It's something that comes naturally, and he didn't love me.

I just have to get over it and accept it.

Plus, the fact I was hiding a bruise from him probably didn't help the situation. I knew how protective Raphael could be, which is why I didn't want him knowing about it in the first place. But the cat's outta the bag now, and I couldn't tell if he was mad about the bruise or the kiss.

I made the mistake of looking over to my right. Raphael stood there, eyes set on my face as an intense emotion danced in the pools of his gaze. In this moment, I couldn't read him. It was as if I were staring at a complete stranger. I quickly looked away, but I knew everyone noticed, yet acted like they didn't.

"I-I promise, Mike—I'll see you guys later..." I felt instant guilt as I promised the youngest. He was gonna be so upset when he figured out my promise was a lie. But I'll face that bridge when I have to cross it. For now, I just wanted to go home and forget this day completely.

Leo and Donnie quickly shared a look, while Mikey's face shifted into a look of disappointment. Splinter assessed me carefully, his paw coming up to rub his whiskered beard. I saw him glance in Raphael's direction, but he said nothing.

He looks back at me, "My child, If that is what you say happened, then we will respect it—you may leave if you wish, but Flower?—"

I hummed, letting him know I was listening.

He gave me the softest look I had ever seen from him, his obsidian gaze sending me a message I couldn't understand. "You are always welcome here—don't ever feel like you don't have a place within this family. We all love you, my sweet flower."

His words prompted tears to begin to fall from my eyes again and a hiccup left my mouth. Embarrassing. So fucking embarrassing. This was the first time in a long time anyone has seen me cry, and now I had a full audience. Everything that had happened to me today came back at full force and I couldn't help the tears.

"Wh-I-" I cleared my throat, wiping my eyes again as I looked at every one, even Raph. "I love you all, thank you...I'll remember that. Goodbye."

They all watch in silence as all but rush out the lair, little did I know, they heard mine and Raphael's argument.

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

THIRD PERSON POV

It was silent as they all watched the young girl practically run from the lair, as if she had a fire lit under her feet.

All eyes shift to the hothead across the lair, and he instantly went stiff under their gaze. He knew there was a possibility they had heard the little squabble. But at their stares. It only confirmed it for him. His heart was pounding, emotions battling in his consciousness at all the events that just occurred.

That was the first time he had seen her so hurt, so upset. She had never, in the time he'd known her, cried – and that is a pretty long time now.

Raphael felt his chest tighten as the image of her hurt expression flashed in his head, and regret began to web it's way around his drumming heart. He hadn't meant to hurt her the way he did. The thought of someone else – especially a human male – hurting her didn't sit right with him, and especially since she felt the need to hide it. Did she not trust him? The thought alone just reminded him of the deepest fear he had about their friendship. His biological make-up being the key to most of his anger.

Then there was the kiss.

He felt as though she didn't share mutual feelings with him. He had kissed her without asking – he thought he had fucked up the only friendship he cherished. When he yelled at her, he wasn't upset with her per-se, he was pissed at himself.

But like always, he fucked up. And like always, his big damn mouth had to go and make things worse.

"What did you do, Raph?"

Raphael's eyes snapped to his older brother, taking in the accusing tone as Leo asked the question. There was also a firmness behind it. The leader knew damn well what took place, he just wanted Raph to admit it.

The hothead shot him a smoldering glare, "I didn't do shit, Fearless!"

"Don't lie Raphael – don't act like we didn't hear everything." Now it was Donnie that had spoken.

It shocked Raph at how upset he sounded. Felling a bit defensive, he let out a grunt. "Back off. I-I didn't mean to hurt her. I didn't—she—I thought—" He struggled to get out a proper sentence, not knowing what to tell his siblings that were all looking at him as if he committed murder.

Splinter watched his son with a thoughtful look, he stepped down from his podium and walked towards the dojo. "My son, come."

Raph quickly looked in his father direction, his hard expression slowly dropping as fear twinged in his heart. He knew whatever punishment Splinter had, he would take it. He honestly deserved as much. Without looking at his brothers, he made his way into the room with his father.

Mikey turned to the others, his expression sullen. "Guys, I'm going to go check and make sure she made it home..." He was running out the lair before Leo could say anything.

Not like he was. He and Donnie were both shocked by their younger brother. The look on his face was so alien, they knew Mikey was deeply concerned for his friend. So, neither of them said a thing, allowing the orange clad turtle to go check on the girl. They knew he could help her better than they could...

...Raphael paused in the threshold of the door, his shoulders tense as he watched his father take a seat in a kneeling pose on the floor. Splinter motioned with a paw for him to come over, and waited patiently as the larger turtle did. Once he was seated, he began to speak.

"My son, what you said tonight must never happen again – do you understand?"

"Hai Sensei,"

The old rat noticed Raph wouldn't meet his eyes, and he could see there was an internal battle going on his head.

"Raphael, what troubles you?"

He was silent for a moment before slowly looking up, "Sensei—dad I fucked up."

"Explain."

Raphael took a deep breath in through his nose, "With her—she—I kissed her without asking. I-I thought I ruined everything. I felt ashamed. I told her to leave because I felt like an ass, and then she was hiding something—I didn't know..."

Now it made sense. Raphael had always been the most in touch of his emotions, much like Michelangelo. While Mikey channeled his emotions through kindness and compassion, Raphael expressed his emotions through anger and retaliation. It took the old rat master years to understand the anger his second oldest harbored, so he knew Raph honestly didn't mean to hurt the girl the way he did.

"You love her."

It wasn't a question. Raph just nodded.

"Then why are you telling me? You should tell her."

Raph was shocked, his eyes blinking. "B-but she hates me now—dad you didn't see the way she looked at me..."

Splinter shook his head, "No. but I saw the way she looked at you when she proclaimed her love for us—those words weren't meant for us, my son. Sometimes you can be so blind to the people in front of you."

Raphael didn't know what to say. He swallowed and looked down once again, his father's word resonating with him.

Splinter placed a gentle paw on his shoulder. "Give her time, she will be back. You can fix things then. But for now, give her space. You both are experiencing heightened emotions—talk when you are both calm and have thought over your words carefully."

He was right. Raphael thought. With a nod and a thanks to his father, he left the dojo, heading to the only place he knew he could channel his emotions.

The weight room.

MASTERLIST

[dontmindme-imjustfangirlin]

it's MY turn to share my ratgrinders theory

this has been stewing in my head for weeks and it has little to no support from what we've seen thus far but it speaks to me and may not be coherent but here it is. this got suuuper long so everything is under the cut.

what if the ratgrinders aren't evil or manipulative, what if they're just traumatized and in way over their heads and scared?

i just keep picturing them running in parallel to the bad kids' freshman year. just another group of six kids with powers and abilities they can't wait to learn to harness, to use; to make the world better and to help. arthur aguefort stands in front of them on the first day and tells them an adventurer is a violent wanderer. he romanticizes the adventure, the glory, the prestige. they go to their first classes, and kipperlilly sits two seats behind a goblin her height with a briefcase trying to hand out business cards with his phone number on them; hakinvar, oisin sits a row away from abernant, adaine in material components; ruben ducks his chin down to avoid his brotherdaduncle? henry and completely misses the tiefling girl stomping past the bard class door; mary ann boredly watches on as a half-orc three times her size sings at her barbarian instructor; ivy rolling her eyes when a braggart of a child cold-cocks a fellow freshman; lucy sits beside a redheaded girl who, in the rush of first-day jitters and habitually shielding her little brothers from her parents' vitriol, forgot to bring a pencil to class. of course lucy has one to spare.

i wonder how they met. who found whom first. if kipperlily, type-a and organized, presented everyone she met with a perfect four-year plan. day one to graduation laid out in color-coded sections, the school years broken down by quarter. maybe she found mary ann first, and mary ann went along with her because no one else had bothered to approach. ruben was two feet tall at best and could barely see over the crowd; he kept getting his feet stepped on until a frost genasi gently caught his wrist and healed his bruises with a soft burst of chilly, bracing wind. oisin's horns caught on ivy's bow as they passed by, and he apologized so profusely and earnestly she could only laugh. maybe kipperlily and ivy went to the same middle school, and kipperlily was so excited to see a familiar face she marched right up to her and oisin. maybe lucy noticed the strawberry plush keychain swinging from mary ann's backpack and approached to tell her how much she loved it. she had a matching watermelon, you see. they laughed, hopeful, right there on the sunny turf of the bloodrush field. they decided to call themselves the high-five heroes.

they were so excited to take on the world. they thought they were ready. and then the screaming started.

they'd been at school for less than a day, and the cafeteria was destroyed. the half-orc mary ann watched disinterestedly had been killed. the redheaded cleric lucy gave that pencil had died, too, blood staining the wood of the no.2. the lunch lady who smiled at ivy despite the grimace on her face had been killed. the counselor who said "welcome to aguefort" to oisin with a calming smile had been killed - murdered - by their principal, who immediately took his own life as well in order to bring the two students back.

an adventurer is a violent wanderer. but death and violence found them without warning, and without much wandering at all. the world was a vast and dangerous place. kids died on the tiled floor where they ate lunch. girls were going missing; the most recent one to go missing, penny luckstone, bore a terrifying resemblance to kipperlily.

the far haven woods were not very far at all, but they were safe. they were close to home. they stomped on rats and small elementals and this was not the glory they dreamed of, the rush of adventure or the thrill of wandering this vast world. this was not making the world better. but then even home was not safe anymore. the coach of the bloodrush team pulled half his athletes into a cult and tried to kill their fellow classmates. their assistant principal ended up being an evil dragon and defeated by the aptly named bad kids.

the bad kids, who for their part spent their freshman year murdering people in car chases, doing sick kickflips in abandoned mithral mines, releasing devils from gemstones, tearing up arcades, getting themselves arrested, and saving the missing girls and the world. as sophomore year rolled around, maybe the high-five heroes looked at each other and thought, surely we can do that. they thought they were ready.

their path hadn't been a glorious one, but they grew stronger nevertheless. mary ann never grew taller, but whenever she flew into a rage, she was scrappy and fierce and relentless. ivy's arrows always flew true. oisin bolstered their numbers with fey, elementals, constructs, once even the faded visage of one of his draconic ancestors. kipperlily ducked and wove between rats and put them down with quick slices, so rapid and humane they never felt them. ruben tuned his guitar to folksy ballads and inspired them to imagine they could be more than rat exterminators in the forest behind the school. and dear, sweet lucy, their glue, who kept them safe and healed their wounds.

sophomore year included a project worth a whopping sixty percent of their grade. this did not surprised the high-five heroes like it did the bad kids. preparations for this were baked into kipperlily's plans from the first day of school. ideas for projects were tacked up on her bulletin board and home and in sticky notes in all her binders. i wonder if the high-five heroes really cared what they did, just so long as it was something more that indiscriminately killing rats in the woods. lucy was a cleric; surely she heard whispers of the forgotten one, the god of giants whose name was stricken from the giants' records. maybe the name was hidden so well she had no idea why this god was one best left forgotten. maybe she thought even gods of rage deserved redemption, kindness, a second chance.

sophomore year flew by in a blaze of research and magic. oisin and kipperlily spent long nights in the library and on a rotating series of floors reading tomes of religious history. lucy prayed and communed with her goddess for information, snuck ancient giant texts out of the library and translated them for all to read. ivy and ruben weren't scholars, but their suggestions were occam's razor slicing through thousands of dusty pages of arcane theory and religious treatise. the simplest explanation is likely the right one. mary ann was as quiet as ever, but after long nights of reading, the high-five heroes would awake under soft, fluffy blankets, a plush nestled right up beside them.

when did things start to go wrong? when did ruben's lyrics take a turn to the dark and angry, the romanticizing of self-harm? when did kipperlily go cold and controlling, her thin-lipped smile an iron veneer over anything beneath? when did ivy's attitude turn disinterested and condescending? when did mary ann go into a rage and sneer, all teeth and claws? when did lucy realize they had passed a point of no return and return to the woods to revive the rats they killed, a small penance only she could offer?

what happened that night in the forest? the night lucy died? was it a ritual gone wrong, the culmination of a year of research trying to contact a dead god? was it a channeling or communion turned possession? something dark and evil came to the far haven woods that night. it took their dearest friend from them. was it a rage, this god possessing lucy and forcing the rest of the high-five heroes' hands? was it a gambit, the giant god of rage returning to snatch lucy's soul from her body as collateral?

learn my name, the god whispered that dark night. bring me back, and i will bring her back. you need my name to get her back.

they thought they were ready. they were so, so wrong.

what else could they do? where could they go? they could hardly tell anyone they killed their cleric trying to contact a dead god. arthur aguefort may have helped, but he is gone, running amok across time with his daughter. principal grix would disintegrate them all if he knew what they were doing.

maybe this, too, is where the ratgrinders' (or at least kipperlily's) disdain for the bad kids comes from. when two of their number died, arthur aguefort killed both a teacher and himself to bring them back. he stopped time for half a day to let them rest and defeat the dragon kalvaxus. he smoothed everything over after the bad kids broke out of jail. he risked war with a neighboring country - the second in as many years - because one of his students was detained illegally. the ratgrinders had none of the bad kids' chances or resources or connections. for the long, dark summer of no sun, that resentment festered. they needed a plan to get her back. kipperlily likes to make plans, and she has friends - angry, traumatized, terrified friends - ready to do whatever it took to get lucy back.

maybe the ratgrinders weren't ready before, but for lucy, they would do anything.

i just. do you see my vision?