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pirateprincessblog · 2 months

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Killer Eyes

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫.: when a lowly prisoner's eyes meet the ones of a kind young woman, his heart fills with a will to live again

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: song mingi x fem!reader, ft jeong yunho (not a love interest)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 12.4k

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: smut, angst, prisoner!mingi, prisondoctor!reader, prison theme

𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: masturbation, body worshipping, praising, size kink, possessive kink, marking, v-card loss, fingering, squirting, creampie

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: self h*rming, attempted s*icide, bullying, violence, swearing, r*pe mentions, unprotected sex

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: oh how i love angst and cliffhangers. also, the reader is not actually pictured as someone tiny or small, it's just the way mingi views her because of her kind nature.

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲.

it wasn't fair how slow the sun and the moon chased each other. how slow the shadows of the cold metal bars moved on the dusty floor. perhaps it was on purpose. perhaps it was their way of making fun of him. as if they knew just how long he was going to be a cuffed man, and they decided to make it just a little longer.

song mingi sat on his bed. the mattress was heavy from dust, dead skin cells and sweat. it smelled horrible, and whenever mingi would get the privilege of taking a shower, he would rather sleep on the floor, so he can feel cleaner. the floor was swept regularly, yet the smelly old mattress stayed the same.

mingi stared at a can of coke a fellow prisoner had smuggled him. it was empty, the sweet burning of the beverage running down his throat and getting rid of the summer heat for a while. now, his attention was on the cap. he has removed it, the small item ripping a part of the can and leaving it very sharp and dangerous. he played with it, spinning it between his fingers. little by little, he worked up the courage.

he brought the cap to his wrist, the metal cutting in like a knife in soft butter. he yanks it, ripping his skin apart and dripping red liquid down his hand and into his palm. he shook, watching the beads stain the floor. another one, then another one. tears roll down his cheeks, mixing with sweat and dust.

"fuck!" he yells, standing up and banging his head on the wall.

nobody understood. nobody knew what he knew. everybody held him accountable, but nobody knew why he did what he did. as if it was easy to have his hands stained with someone's blood, to have his sister stare at him with horror, to have his body dragged over the floor all the way to the police car, tears and blood dripping down his face. none of it was easy, but if he found himself in that situation again, he would do the same. it was the only way to save her.

loud thuds echoed in the room, startling the man and making him crawl to the corner. he sat, knees firmly pressed against his chest, and body shaking as he sobbed. the knocking on the door doesn't stop, and neither does the blood pooling on the ground.

"do i really need to come in today? you didn't have enough yesterday?"

at the mention of yesterday, mingi clenched his back. the cuts and bruises are still open, untreated, and probably infected. he spent the night pressed against the cold wall, in hopes to help relieve the pain.

the thumping stops, and mingi hears rattling, multiple keys turning, then finally, a familiar creak of the door opening. freshly polished black boots step into the dusty room. mingi has nightmares about those very same boots.

"stand up."

the man on the floor stills, sobs stopping for a moment. he comes to a realisation. yesterday's torture was going to happen again. and today, it might be the end of him.

"what are you, fucking deaf? stand up!" his voice roars, bouncing off the walls and travelling to mingi's already sensitive ears.

he sits still, vision blurry with upcoming tears. the boots take a few steps towards the man, stopping right before him. the guard sighs, then turns around. just when mingi wanted to sigh in relief, the boots are headed his way again, this time one of them aimed for his face. the pointy part of it hits mingi in the jaw, throwing his head against the wall.

"fucking rapist, murderer, manipulator, playing victim games with me?!" with each word, the guard proceeded to kick, punch and slap the man, taking great satisfaction in seeing blood drip down his face.

he pulls his hair, dragging his body across the dusty floor, until he is near the bed. the guard positions the man on his knees, back turned towards him, and head buried in the mattress.

"stop, stop!" mingi begs, gripping at the bed sheets stained with fresh blood and tears.

the fabric is ripped from mingi's body, exposing his massacred body to the one that massacred it. a finger trails down his spine, then suddenly, goes a different path. a deep scream leaves mingi's throat, his nails and teeth ripping the sheets apart, as the guard's finger dips into his wound, picking at it.

"stop, stop, stop!" he groans, mouth foaming from anger and pain.

"excuse me, what is going on here?"

a gasp, a cracking sound, and a scream later, mingi finally gets a second of peace. his teeth let go of the sheets, face relaxing into the somewhat soft surface.

"oh, doctor, please. don't you worry about it."

"that man needs help!"

"this man has his assigned doctor. besides, a newbie like you cannot handle a psychopath like him. you're better off with thieves."

"help"

his voice comes out raspy, tired and painful. he hoped that the person at the door would show mercy, and do as little as distract the guard for a while.

"i'm calling help, mr barnes."

"you do that and i'll smash your head right between this iron door and this stone wall."

mingi's vision is dark, his body collapsing from weakness. he lets go of the sheets, falling on his back and taking in his surroundings one more time. when his eyes land on the figure whose voice he heard today for the first time in his life, he is glad that you're the last thing he sees.

you're furious. you can't believe what this place has allowed to happen. judging by all of those wounds, this isn't the first time. and something tells you it won't be the last one either.

you are told to not sympathize with prisoners, they'll use you as a way out of this place. but how can you not sympathize, seeing the poor man covered in blood and scars, suffering new ones right in front of you? has anyone cleaned those wounds? washed up the blood from his body? assured him that it won't happen again? then did something to make it not happen again?

"i want a patient change."

"prisoner change, you mean?" the supervisor doesn't lift his eyes from the scattered papers on his desk.

"he's a human before everything, sir."

the man throws the pile of papers on his desk, letting out an exhausted huff. you're amazing at what you do, that he knows. but he also knows just how stubborn you are. and he has no patience to compete with you today.

"him being a human doesn't excuse the reasons why he's here, no?"

"i'm just a doctor–"

"–s assistant, yes." he finishes, giving you a tight smile. he stands up, his hands finding comfort in the pockets of the perfectly ironed suit pants. he stops right before you, looking at you as if you're not close to evaporating from anger right there in front of him. "mind your business, love. otherwise, you'll become a marionette in the hands of those criminals. inhumans."

"i am but just a doc–" you try again. a finger finds its way on your lips, catching you off guard and shutting you down.

"then act like it."

he turns on his heel, and in a short moment, he is back in his seat.

"jeong yunho!" your voice betrays you, and you immediately cover your mouth.

at the mention of his full name, he drops the papers once again. the chair falls back when he stands up again, this time marching towards you with a look that you know means trouble. he has you pressed against the wall, body hovering just a little above the ground. he is shaking, the angry veins on his neck popping and warning you to be quiet.

"sister dear, please, follow my instructions so you don't get yourself killed." he says through his teeth. you cough, your hands desperately trying to move his from your neck. "i don't want you to get involved with that part of this building. understood?"

you struggle to answer, so you opt for head nodding. his grip gets stronger, and you gasp, head falling back in hopes to get some sweet oxygen.

"understood?!"

"yes, yes–"

your body hits the floor, and stays there as you try to breathe normally. you're all red and sweaty, hair sticking to your face and your throat feeling as if you fell on needles with it.

"you," you breathe out, glaring at him from the floor," you absolute asshole."

"no matter the blood relation, i am still your supervisor. you take orders from me, and me only. you don't do reckless things, like playing an empath and falling right into the killers hands."

"i just want to help him heal physically. that's all."

"no need. he deserves everything he gets." he is firm with his decision, truly believing that a prison is a place of suffering, not healing and learning of a better life. "if i hear about you stepping foot into the H section, i will personally chain you up right next to him and make you watch."

"you're–" you start, tears spilling down your cheeks from defeat.

"a monster, yeah. very original. talk to me when you come up with a better one." he finishes for you, then sits at his desk again.

you stand still, hoping he might somehow change his mind. but how hopeful can you be, when he just choked you seconds ago? he looks up at you, making you twitch at the sudden eye-contact.

"dismissed."

days pass awfully slow, with you spending them in your office, buried in papers. you are holding a file. one that you borrowed from jeong yunho himself. the printer finally made a sound, letting you know that it is still alive and capable of the task you gave it.

a few duplicates land on your desk, and you swallow. the soft brown eyes look at you from a small picture, and it takes you back to the day you found him gripping the sheets and screaming in pain. your chest feels tight, and you feel the tears gather in your eyes again.

what could he have possibly done to end up in the H section? isolated from everyone except two guards, his doctor, and yunho. no proper food, no normal conversations, no clean water. just four stone cold walls, a dusty floor, and a probably bedbug infested mattress.

you return the file, making sure to position it right as you found it. you return to your desk, and breathe out. in the mugshot you have printed out, a bigger format than in the file, he has dried blood on his face, lots of bruises, and a cut on his lip and cheekbone.

your fingers brush over his lips, admiring the shape and volume. if only you could brush an alcohol dipped cotton ball over it, to clean his cut and feel him under your fingertips. the people of this building intrigue you. especially those who have done heavy crimes and believe they did the right thing. they have their own twisted belief of what's morally wrong and what is not. but this person is something that is reaching deep parts of your brain. it might be that you're only feeling sorry for the way he is treated, but either way, you want to know more.

your eyes look into his. a deep brown, anger evident in his gaze. in that moment, he also believed he did the right thing. maybe he believed now too, that's why he is being punished the way he is. this man might just be the most gorgeous one in this building, but if the guards and yunho keep it up this way, his pretty face will soon be butchered. you let out a huff, then proceed onto the next paper.

PRISONER INFO

name: mingi song

record id: ##############

nationality: korean

gender: male

citizen: yes

eye colour: brown

hair colour: brown

dob: 09081999

age: 24

height: 183 cm

weight: 75 kg

ARREST & SENTENCING INFO

date: 25122022

charge: kidnapping, assault, voluntary manslaughter, domestic violence

summary: song mingi breaks into the song residence on christmas day, assaulting the partner of his sibling, in the process hurting the sibling and his mother. proceeds to lock himself in a house, threatening to commit suicide and dragging the victim with him. upon hearing the gunshot, the forces run in to find the victim laying with a hole in his chest, and song mingi with a gun in his hand. later on, the mother admits to domestic abuse going on at home, coming from song mingi himself.

you cannot believe your eyes. something smells funny in that paragraph, and you think you have just found yourself a new hobby.

the phone rings, startling you and making you drop the papers into a drawer. you clear your throat, then glance at the clock. it's been two hours since you started your mission, and during that time, you've done a lot of worrying and thinking. lots of it. so much, that you think they'll see the files through the phone. that's why you lock the drawer, before you swallow and pick it up.

"jeong office."

"i'll need you to cover for me today."

"doctor?"

"just do the hospital visits; draw some random check marks, and tell them to rest. do not interact with them more than necessary. i have someone else that needs taken care of."

it's like an early birthday present. to cover her means getting her chip. and to get her chip, means entering the H section. you are smiling, your gaze fixed on the locked drawer.

"hey." her voice is firm. she knows you're up to no good. "no funny business. i very much hate cleaning your messes."

"i grew out of it." you assure, opening the drawer and getting the picture out. you look at his eyes one more time. "nothing funny this time, promise."

"they aren't your level patients, but they're all cuffed, so no worries, doc." the kind guard assures, before opening the door for you.

you are in one of your usual institution uniforms, not the actual doctors one. if anything, your brother had a fashion sense. he demanded colour, and each outfit had to be approved by him before anyone could wear it. your heels click over the freshly mopped marble floor, the hot pink matching with the blouse and the lipstick. your white pants already had a small chocolate stain, which you so cleverly covered up with the silk bow from your new promotion bag. your freedom with outfits makes you feel powerful. as if you're working for a fashion or marketing company, not your brother's prison.

you hold the files tight in your hand, scanning the room in front of you. beds are lined up on each side, every single person cuffed to it. they are all in critical condition; from heart and lung diseases, to broken ribs and sewn faces.

"good morning." you try with a smile, and immediately regret.

they are all loud, trying to stand up and reach out towards you. you're lucky they're in bad shape and have elijah next to you, otherwise, you'd be dead meat by now.

"sit on my face, doc. guaranteed i'll feel better."

"no, sit on mine!"

"i'd rather her sit between my legs."

"i'd rather sit between her legs! ha!"

you're feeling dizzy and sick. they're not like your thieves and fighters from A section. these are real criminals. those who have killed, and will kill again if given the chance. you look back at the doors, making sure the guard is still there. the kind man nods towards you, as a way of assuring you that he will protect you if anything happens.

you do exactly as you were told; draw random check marks, tell them they'll get well soon, and move on. you try to ignore the awful sexual comments directed at you, but each one makes your stomach twist, and you can't wait to get out of here. you are ready to do so, when the guard comes to you.

"come here." he guides you to a door at the end of the room, entering first.

"what is it, elijah?"

the big man turns on the light, and carefully lets you in. your breath stops at the sight.

"he usually gets a detailed checkup, his state isn't the best. i went into his room at least five times today, he hasn't moved an inch. i know, i know, he's dangerous. just... i want to know he's okay."

and with that, he closes the door, leaving you alone in the room with one bed. a man lays there, a man whose face is now familiar in your eyes.

"song mingi." you whisper to yourself.

he is breathing through a mask, thin tubes connecting him to multiple devices. you sit in the chair next to his bed, and pull out a fresh white paper. the clock is ticking loudly on the wall, making it hard for you to focus on not doing anything stupid. he's there, completely exposed and vulnerable to you. and so fucking beautiful. even with the ugly mask on.

"i'm here to do a quick checkup on you instead of dr rachel maslow. i won't stay long, i know i'm disturbing you."

he doesn't move an inch. you gulp, then glance at the tubes connected to his arm. stupidly, you reach out to take his arm in your lap. you notice cuts, old and fresh ones. untreated. your thumb grazes over one, making him jolt and grab your wrist.

"fuck!" you jump, but his grip is strong, and holds your body in place.

you try to squeeze out, nails subconsciously digging into his wounds, trying to defend yourself, but only making it worse.

"let go of me," you beg, "you're hurting me!"

you gasp when he pulls you hard, your body falling over his. you're face to face with him, eyes looking deep into yours.

"imagine how it hurts me."

you gulp. you let go of his arm, hand slowly creeping into your pocket. he doesn't release your wrist, grip so strong it makes your skin lose colour.

"can you make my pain stop, doctor?"

"i'll do my best if you let go, mr song."

"the source of my pain, doctor. please."

your hand stops in your pocket. the injection is in your hand, ready to be used. and he seems clueless, or he knows, he is just used to it.

"you want me to find a way to stop the guard?"

"guard, doctor maslow, jeong yunho, everyone."

you stare in silence, words ringing inside your head. tears have become a regular visitor since you've started working for your brother, but it's always uncomfortable when they announce their arrival. your voice is stuck in your throat, and seeing the man so vulnerable at your fingertips, makes you want to take him into your arms and assure him that you'll protect him. the sun rays fall on him, brown eyes turning into gold pools of honey. he stares at you, eyelids half closed, and grip falling loose. you drop the injection in your pocket, body inching closer to him. an invisible force pulls you, but to tell the truth, you don't fight it. you help it, hand reaching to move the hair out of his eyes.

he exhales, eyes falling shut. you carefully monitor his body language, suddenly aware that you are in the presence of a prisoner after all. you almost choke on your spit, when you see a tear escape his closed eye and roll down his cheek.

"mr song?"

"god, that's the first time i didn't get hit for speaking."

he laughs, tears creating streams down his colorless skin. tears of joy, you guess. he is now staring at the white ceiling, laughing like crazy, an occasional sniff interrupting him. his eyes lock with yours, causing you to twitch at the sudden emotion change. his lip twitches, tears of sadness replacing the ones of joy. your heart breaks at his state, but there's only so much you can do right now, and that is to sit and listen to his side of the story. the justice is in yunho's hands. in wrong hands. maybe better. if it were in yours, you'd set everyone free.

"i forgot what it feels like to be a human. it's been years."

"i'm sorry." you say, aware that yunho has forbidden you to use those words with prisoners.

at this point, you are doing everything that he has forbidden you. talking to patients that do not belong to you, entering places you're not supposed to, physical contact with someone from a restricted section, stealing his files, and whatnot. mingi has taken comfort in keeping your wrist secure in his hand, and is breathing normally again.

"i'm not asking to get out of here. all i ask is to be treated like a human. why is a child molester better treated than someone who just wanted to protect his family?"

"because the world is a rotten place, mr song."

"mingi," he exhales.

"i'm not supposed to-"

"please."

you gulp. one of the rules is also to not get comfortable around them and have them call you by your first name, or call them by their first name. but how can you decline such a polite request?

"okay, mingi."

his name rolls off your tongue like it was made up to fit you. his lips twitch in a weak smile, and his grip on your wrist loosens.

"is there... a chance that i could have you as my doctor?" he asks.

"i don't think so. dr maslow is quite persistent when it comes to, well-"

"dangerous criminals, yeah. i figured."

he exhales, defeated. you want it, you really do. but going against your colleague means going against yunho too, and you do not have the energy for that. not yet.

"but i will do my best to somehow ease the situation for you. maybe move you to another cell?"

"i think the bed bugs will evolve into a new type of dinosaur before i get a new cell. i am fine with it, really. i don't need anything materialistic. only a meal and proper healthcare. that's all i ask."

your heart feels heavy. it really is cruel how child molesters and cold blooded serial killers and rapists are treated better. the place is a sinking hole, and you alone cannot change anything. it is only a matter of time when someone dies from all this cruelty going on. knowing your brother, he could easily cover it up. now that you think about it, it could've already happened, and you know nothing about it. that's how immoral this place is.

"i will do my best to provide that." you assure him, then try freeing your hand from his.

he tenses up, immediately grabbing you back and opening his eyes to look at you, pure fear transforming his face.

"mingi, you will have to let me go."

"just a bit more, please."

"i'm sorry, i can't. if i'm not back in the office in the next fifteen minutes, this might be the last time you see me. just let me do a quick check-up and then you can continue your rest."

the man immediately lets go of your hand, laying still in the bed. you take the time to check his tubes, and write up a quick description of the state he is in.

"lift your shirt up for me, please?"

he does it, wincing in pain as he moves his arms. sore muscles, you conclude. no visible bruises or cuts other than the cuts below his elbow. your eyes scan his torso, and you sigh with disappointment when you examine it closely. he is poorly wrapped up in bandages, blood seeping through it and onto the shirt and thin blanket he was covered with.

you stand up, rolling his shirt up further. his body emits warmth and caresses your fingers as you work on him, making you slightly flushed. even though his state is awful, you cannot help your own feelings. he is a gorgeous man, with the warmest eyes you've ever seen in your life. and right now, you are about to touch his bare skin. it is only normal for the swarm of butterflies to act this way in your stomach.

you start unwrapping his bandage, and he hisses under your touch.

"you'll have to sit up for me. can you do that?"

"i think so." he says, voice raspy from pain.

he sits up, and holds his shirt up so you can work easier on him.

"good job," you say, smiling at him as encouragement.

he smiles back, his eyes forming crescent moons. he almost doesn't feel the pain anymore, his whole focus shifting on the way your hair falls over your eyes as you remove the stained bandages. he can almost feel your kindness wrap him in a big warm hug, and he wishes the feeling stays there forever.

"you're pretty." he blurts out.

"huh?" you say, not sure if you heard him right.

"nothing." he says, cheeks red with embarrassment.

"i thought you said something about me being ugly?" you poke, a playful smile on your lips.

"no, no! you're very pretty, that's what i said." he repeats himself, cheeks so warm he looks feverish.

"thank you, mingi. you're very sweet."

you finally take a good look at his wound. two open lines decorate his torso, remains of dried blood splattered around them.

"oh, god. what is this?"

"that would be a belt." he says, as if it the most normal thing in the world.

"a belt?!"

"a high quality one, too. managed to break my skin. it doesn't do that usually."

"usually," you repeat, scoffing in disbelief.

you are utterly disgusted by everyone at this point. the guards, the doctor, other prisoners, your brother. you are sick and tired. no man deserves this.

"and what about this? does this hurt-?"

"ow!" he jumps in the bed, body running away from your touch.

your fingers retread from his body. the area on his rib cage is slightly deformed and bruised, and judging by the intense reaction made from a light touch, it could mean a broken bone.

"i'll write you down for an x-ray, okay? this doesn't look good."

"x-ray? what could it be?"

"probably a fractured bone. i'll get you fixed, don't worry."

he seems very nervous, eyes big with concern and curiosity as he tries to read what you are scribbling down on your notes. you check the time, and when you realize that you have stayed here longer than you should've, you hurriedly stand up, collecting your things.

"so, uh..." he trails, hands still holding his shirt.

"oh, god, i'm so sorry. right."

your fingers tremble as you search the room for new bandages and wiping alcohol. you are very late, and considering that both yunho and rachel know where you've gone, they could barge here any second now. and mingi will be at fault again. there is no time for you to be as gentle as you wanted to be with him. your heart feels heavy each time you swipe the cotton on his skin and you hear him hiss and flex under your touch. you are nearly done, all that's left is to put fresh bandages on him and check his tubes before taking a few more notes and leaving.

"are you eating properly?"

he chuckles, but not the funny chuckle. the tired, sarcastic chuckle.

"sorry. i forgot that your section is..."

"a shithole, yeah. i eat four to five spoons of lentils, and two cups of water a day. three if i've been good. which is confusing, i always try to be good. he just-" mingi stops, biting his lip.

he has said too much already. he doesn't want to bother you. after all, you are here just to do your own job. not save him.

"just what?" you ask, curiosity overshadowing the fear from your brother.

"nothing."

"you can tell me." you push.

the man stays silent, eyes fixed on the ceiling. he isn't showing any intention of answering your question, or speaking further. he has exposed himself too much, and now you can sense him pulling his walls up.

"mingi..." you start, trying to tell him that you understand and won't push him harder. but he doesn't let you finish.

"i said nothing! get out!" he yells, making you jump from the chair.

his eyes are wide, bloodshot. they are glossy, and you realize that he wants you out of the room before he breaks down. he doesn't want to cry in front of you again.

"i'll be back for that x-ray. i'll also try to get you proper food so you can heal."

you see remorse on his face, but he doesn't say anything. he is overwhelmed with emotions. he feels sadness, anger, and sudden comfort coming from a new person. it is a rollercoaster of emotions, and he doesn't know how to navigate it. it is best to leave him be before he explodes.

"take care." you give him a smile, and finally leave for your office.

a week later, song mingi exits the x-ray room. he is disappointed, his eyes not able to find your face behind the glass among the doctors. maybe you were there, but hid from him. after all, he did yell at you last time he saw you. he couldn't help it. he was scared of anyone and anything at this point, no matter how tough he tried to act. song mingi is just a flower who has surrounded himself with a walnut shell.

the man furrows his eyebrows, seeing that the guards are guiding him to a lower level of the building. then, when he musters up enough courage to ask where they're taking him, the words stop in his throat as his eyes fall on your figure. he smiles, so wide that his cheeks hurt. you smile back, and as you approach him, he is reminded just how beautiful you are.

"good morning, mingi."

he hated his name. it was screamed and drenched in pain and sorrow many times before he ended up here. you saying it, it felt like the name was just given to him. like he had no awful history behind it.

"answer when someone talks to you." the guard hits the back of his head, and the smile disappears off his lips.

"good morn–"

slap.

mingi looks up, terrified. he looks over at the guard who hit him, only to find him holding his cheek and looking down at your shoes.

"do not, ever, and I mean ever, do that again. did I make myself clear?"

the guard nods, gaze still fixed down.

"did I make myself clear?!"

"yes, yes! perfectly clear."

mingi is mesmerized by your sudden surge of confidence. he saw you as an innocent young woman, gentle and quiet. this, however, didn't shut down the growing interest he has for you. in fact, his heart beat just a bit faster when his eyes met yours. the transition from tough to soft gaze when you finally looked at him had him blushing hard.

"you feeling alright?" you tilt your head slightly, trying to properly look at him.

his head still hangs a little low, too afraid to cross a boundary with his staring and overly friendly smiles. he nods, then slightly bows his head as a thank you.

"that's good to hear. I managed to get you a better cell for your recovery. if you continue being a good boy, they'll let you stay."

you say it playfully, but mingi is ashamed by the twitch in his pants once the words leave your mouth.

a good boy.

he'll be the goodest boy ever for you. just to see you proud of him. after all, it is your work reflecting on him. he will help you leave a good impression in this hellhole. and, if he's lucky, he'll keep you as his doctor.

"right, then. I'll come and visit soon, I hope. take care. and take your medications!"

he nods again, suddenly unable to speak. he wanted to say so much. he wanted to drop on his knees and thank you. he wanted to feel your hands on his face again. but he soon realises just how unprofessional that is. he would rather only secretly glance at your figure one more time, before the guards drag him to his new home.

he is thrown on the floor, the humiliated guard landing kicks all over his freshly bandaged torso. blood seeps through them again, staining the new prisoner uniform you have gotten him.

"piece of shit, that's what you are. no fucking dinner for you, you pig."

but mingi did not care. he stayed on the floor, not bothering to check out the new cell he was given. he only stared as the heavy doors shut, listening to multiple locks turning, before he smiled to himself like a crazy man.

you looked stunning in your blouse. purple is your colour, he concludes.

in the morning, mingi finds himself laying on a soft surface. he opens one of his eyes, the light too strong for him to handle. he sits up, rubbing his eyes, before feeling discomfort in his lower body. he looks down, and soon enough discovers why it feels that way. his crotch is a sticky mess, and it feels hot.

he wonders how that happened. he fell asleep from exhaustion and pain last night, on the floor. he knows he didn't jerk off. and he knows for sure he didn't willingly climb on the bed. now, he either came in his sleep on the floor and humiliated himself when someone transferred him, or he came peacefully in the bed after the transfer. either way, his brain works hard to figure out the reason of the relief.

he barely manages to glance around the room, taking in all the sunlight, before the doors open. then, as soon as you walk in, he is reminded how the mess spawned in his underwear and all over his pants.

your sighs against his ear, your skin under his fingertips, your warm walls swallowing his hard cock. that's why he didn't hear the three knocks for breakfast in the morning. and that's why he didn't feel the transfer to the bed. all because he was having wettest dreams about you.

his jaw is slightly hanging, seeing you approach him so cheerfully. you are wearing a dress, past the knees length, with long flowy sleeves. he spends a few seconds memorizing every curve of your body, so he can inappropriately think about you after you leave. you are lovely, kindness embodied, and as pretty as the first cherry blossom in spring. mingi wishes he could keep you in his cell, just so that he can look at you and feel safe.

he lowers his gaze, scared that you might see in his eyes exactly what he is thinking about. but you grab a chair, and sit in front of him. your finger find a spot under his chin, gently guiding him so that he can look at you.

"you're not supposed to-" the guard steps forward, in case mingi tries something.

"shut the hell up."

the man on the bed had to fight the urge to laugh in the guard's face. he loves your fierce side. as long as he doesn't get on it, it's hot. way too soon, your hand leaves mingi's face. you flip through your notebook, scribbling something down.

"that lip cut looks new." you comment.

"uh, yes." he confirms, scratching his neck.

"cole?"

"yes, doctor?" the short male answers.

"you don't happen to know where mr song got that cut, do you?"

"no, doctor." the guard lies easily to your face.

"okay."

mingi doesn't say anything, in fear of you more than the man behind you. but you only give him a sweet smile, before writing into your notebook again. the pen glides so smoothly on the paper, and maybe he was just smitten, but mingi swore that he never saw such pretty handwriting.

"here's your medication."

you hold out a singular blue pill, waiting for him to take it. he does, unsurely popping it into his mouth, and then takes the water bottle that stood untouched on his nightstand. your intense gaze makes him accidentally spill it all over his t-shirt, and before he can start apologizing, you take the bottle and close it for him.

"good job. you'll heal in no time." you encourage, then hand him a towel.

"thank you." he finally says something without mumbling or stuttering.

"no, no. thank you, for being cooperative and not giving me headaches. like some people." you look over at the moody guard.

the young prisoner smiles, knowing that it will probably earn him a kick or two as soon as you leave. you stand up, closing your notebook.

"get him new pants." you casually comment, and mingi immediately feels his ears heat up from embarrasment.

"i'm so sorry-" he apologizes, again and again, until your hand finds its place on his to stop them from flapping around while explaining.

"stop apologizing for everything. and i better see you in the canteen for lunch soon. got it?" you playfully demand.

"canteen?"

"yes. i worked something out and got you access to the canteen. you can't heal from lentils only."

and with another smile, you are gone.

canteen. he hasn't seen that place for years now. he barely remembers the taste of real meat and potatoes. but he vividly remembers the cold silver tables and stools. the very tables where he got thrown on and beat lots of times, by both guards and prisoners. all because he didn't want to share his bread or give away the little earning of the day he had made. eventually, they stopped letting him into the canteen, simply because his presence alone would cause chaos. he was everybody's punching bag, and as much as he cried of hunger at nights, he would rather stay in the safety of the four walls. well, partial safety. one bully is still better than twenty.

the next few weeks, you visit him often. to give him the blue pill, hype him up, and treat to his wounds. he has healed nicely, and you are proud of him. he is mostly silent, except when he thanks you or apologizes to you. he still doesn't have enough courage to leave the cell to get himself food, so he settles for lentils for two more weeks. until you've had enough, and scold him.

"your progress is going awfully slow, and you're making it harder for me. please go eat something."

"okay," he finally agrees.

he doesn't get to know about you much. you are there only for a few minutes a day, but even that is better than nothing. he gets to stare at you as you write into your notebook, and each night when his hand travels down his pants, his image of you is more and more vivid.

with new fresh pants and a t-shirt, song mingi finally walks up to the canteen doors. he sees so many people, ones he has known, and ones he will get to know. the loneliness is slowly vanishing, but the anxiety is just announcing its arrival. mingi is swallowed by fear. he doesn't want to let you down, but what will he do if someone decides to test him? will he have enough self control?

"you're not getting married, you're just getting food. get in." he is pushed through the doors.

the smell of fried chicken and soup fills his nostrils, and his stomach grumbles in anticipation. his legs carry him to the waiting line, hands already grabbing an empty tray. he blends in so easily, like he was here every day. he announces his order to the kind lady that has always liked him and given him the best piece of meat, feeling fully confident in himself. the lady smiles widely at him, and mingi is happy knowing that he has two people caring about him.

he takes a seat in the empty corner by himself, eyeing the warm soup. finally, he dives in. the liquid drips down his chin as he eats like a starved man, the chicken flavour melting on his tongue. he is lost in the joy of eating, he almost doesn't notice a hand grabbing the chocolate muffin off his tray. but he does, dropping the spoon in the already empty bowl.

"well, well. lookie here."

three men surround his table, each sending him smirks and glares. mingi isn't scared of them anymore. he won't give them a reason to be a threat. for you.

"oh, sorry, were you gonna eat that?" the bald one speaks with a stuffed mouth. chocolate bits fall on the table, making mingi grimace in disgust.

"no, you can have it." he simply says, then moves on to his fried chicken.

"oh?" the men look at each other, surprised by how calm he is. three years ago he would've gone feral on all of them, giving the whole canteen a reason to start a chaos. all for a piece of pork.

"did you want my juice too?" the young man holds the little box of apple juice out for one of them to take.

they're all puzzled. just what was happening in section H that made mingi calm down like this? or was this his new strategy? what exactly was in that apple juice?

"cut the shit, asshole. let's relive some memories, shall we?" the taller one grabs mingi by his collar, dragging him up so that he stands.

"i'd rather not. not in the mood. another day maybe?"

"oh, another day? so you're back for a longer period, huh?"

"hope so." he genuinely says, looking around the place.

"aren't you a dove. almost makes me feel sorry for what i'm about to do to that pretty face."

the third man suddenly starts tapping their shoulders, looking behind at the doors opening. mingi is dropped on his stool, all forgotten. the three men don't move away from his table yet, but their attention remains on the people that have just walked in. and when mingi finally sees it too, his mind and heart have a very difficult time.

jeong yunho, dr rachel maslow, and you, walking peacefully to the end of the line, each grabbing a tray.

"i thought they had their own fancy ass canteen?"

"they do. i don't know what the fuck kinda experiment this is, but i'm not liking it."

"i don't know about you, but i'm liking the view of the chick."

"you think if we kill that asshole that we can escape? i mean, he's right there."

"nah, he's invincible. remember that guy who tried to stab him with scissors? the bastard survived even that. i heard he keeps the scissors framed in his office."

mingi eavesdrops further, in hopes of getting information he can forward to you. but his ears pick up something that itched a certain part of his brain. a click, which set his old self free.

"maybe see how useful his sissy is and serve him her head when we're done with her?"

"i'd rather her give me a head."

"i heard she's a virgin."

"aw, i get to be her first and last!"

mingi sees red. his hand grips the empty soup bowl, and his teeth are biting the insides of his cheeks. he looks at you as you get your own food, walking with such elegance that every woman on the planet should envy you. and then, he sees you naked, scared, in the hands of these awful men. he sees your big, scared eyes looking up at him and silently begging for help, while the laughter of the three men rings in his ears.

one thought leads to another, and mingi does exactly what earned him the section H. he loses himself to his overthinking and rage. his hand smashes the bowl on the head of the bald man, his other hand soon grabbing his throat.

"i'll keep her safe," the young prisoner mutters, looking into the man's eyes as he fails to beg for mercy.

mingi's fingers dig into his neck, as if trying to rip his throat out. he feels punches on his shoulders and back, and when the man in his hands finally collapses, he turns around. he lands a punch into one's nose, sending him back a few steps. he turns towards the third one, the one who made a comment about being your first and last.

"i'll keep her safe," he repeats, this time louder. he marches at the man, biting into his throat and ripping out a chunk of meat. red liquid drips down mingi's chin, but he isn't bothered. his fingers dig into the scrunched body, holding it in place so that it doesn't run from the death grip that is song mingi.

"what the fuck?!"

"oh my god!"

"who let him in here?"

"run!"

"get dr rachel!"

his ears are ringing, and his vision blurs. but he still doesn't stop, not until life fades from the men's eyes and they lay on the floor, painting the floor red. he isn't sure how long he stays there kicking their bodies, smashing their limbs and ribs, until a pair of hands grab him by his shoulders.

he kneels down by force, the brand new uniform drenched in the blood he spilled. your face appears in his frame, and he sees that you are kneeling, just like him. you are speaking, but he doesn't hear a thing. only the distant echo of their laugh, and your silent pleas for help. he looks down on the floor, and feels terrible guilt when he sees that your dress is slowly turning red.

"safe..." he whispers.

jeong yunho holds the man in place, while dr rachel fidgets with something in her hands. you send him a confused look, not knowing what the word safe means in this situation. you want to help him, you truly do. but he makes it very difficult.

"i'll keep you safe," he says again, more to himself than you.

"safe from what, mingi?"

"i'll keep you safe."

his body loses strength under yunho, dr rachel already pulling an empty injection from his arm. he is dizzy, but his eyes don't leave yours. he uses his last ounces of strength to smile at you, before collapsing.

"see what he's capable of? you still want to go play good doctor with him?"

dr rachel scoffs, throwing the injection in the trash bin. yunho doesn't speak. he walks around his desk, hands behind his back. he is probably thinking of ways to punish you. but you couldn't care less about what happens to you. you need to know that mingi is alright before everything. then, you need to know what caused the outburst.

"this isn't a fanfiction, you can't change him. he's locked in section H for a reason, and you stay away from those sections for a reason. i do not want you near him again."

"that isn't your call to make." you spit at her, then look over at yunho with anticipation.

"mr jeong?" she searches for support.

but he remains silent.

"so what? you granted him access to the canteen, then brought me there just so i could witness him going feral? you planned it all?"

"shut up."

"you sent those men at him, didn't you? you wanted to create a problem..."

"shut up."

"...so that mingi acts up. and when he does, rachel will prove that i am not capable..."

"shut up."

"...of taking care of such high level criminals, and you'll go back to your bullying ways again uninterrupted. is that what-"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

yunho throws the lamp from his desk right at the wall beside your head.

"fuck!" he kicks the little coffee table in front of his desk, flipping it and spilling the cold coffees all over the carpet. "fuck, fuck, fuck!"

tears stream down your face from fear. each time you see him recently, he has less control. it isn't your brother anymore. it's just mr jeong.

"i will say this one more time, and if you bring me into a situation where i have to repeat myself, i swear to god, i will fry his brains in front of you. you'll see him on that electric chair every time you close your eyes, and you'll hear his screams every time you go to sleep at night. i will make the experience so traumatic and gruesome for you that you will need not two, not three, but ten fucking psychiatrists to heal you! you will stay the fuck away from him, stay the fuck away from my files, my prisoners, my business, and my way of doing things! if i see you, no, if i even hear possible rumors that might not even be true, that you stepped foot - not in the cell, but in the section - i will personally serve you his long suffering and death. and i'll enjoy every second of it. have i made myself clear?"

your jaw hangs low, blood running cold in your veins. pure venom drips from yunho's lips, and it makes your stomach sick. you feel like throwing up. he turns around at your lack of response, marching over to you. you run, squealing. hiding behind the armchair, you shield yourself from the person that possessed your brother.

you nod frantically, trying to swallow the lump of pure fear in your throat.

"i don't want to see your face anymore for today. or tomorrow. get lost."

and you obey, running past him and into the hallway. you struggle to catch your breath as you reach your office, and once you're safe behind the locked doors, you finally let it out. you sob, whimper, fingers reaching into the drawer to pull out his picture. the kind brown eyes look at you from the paper, and it only makes your chest hurt from the upcoming sobs.

"i'm sorry," you say, as if he can hear you.

days turn into weeks, and you are scared to even look at the sign that says section H. dr rachel has her eye on you, and you don't dare disobey. you work with a lifeless expression, mind and heart drained of the will to live. guilt is eating you inside out, and it's killing you that you can't ask anyone about mingi's wellbeing.

you haven't seen yunho since that day. and you don't think you have the strength to. you hate him. you hate what he's done with this place. you hate that a place of rehabilitation has turned into one of torture. and you hate that he's corrupted all the other workers. is it the pay? is it their equally fucked up morals? how can all of them be alright with it?

"doctor?"

you turn around, expecting to be given more news about ill prisoners. the flu is spreading like crazy the past two days. but when you see elijah approaching you, your heart flutters. he is usually unreachable, always roaming the forbidden section.

"how is he?" you ask before thinking.

elijah looks around for you, and when he makes sure that he coast is clear, he lowers his voice.

"not bad, but not good. he is holding on."

"how are his injuries? anything new?"

"barnes is beating the life out of him for every little thing he does. so he decided to go on a strike and just sit in the corner all day and all night. he doesn't eat, barely sleeps, and started harming himself worse than before. he wants to die, doctor."

you feel your heart dropping low in your chest, and it hurts. you wanted to help him, and look what you did.

"don't blame yourself. he did it to himself." as if he knew what you were thinking, elijah interrupts.

"he was talking about... safety? do you have any idea what that might've been?"

"keep you safe, that's what he keeps repeating. apparently, he heard a few guys talk bad about you, planning to do something to you, and he lost it."

"i need to see him."

"no."

"make it happen, please. please, elijah."

"all three of us will lose our heads, doctor."

you feel your cheeks become wet, your vision getting blurry. putting your palms together, you beg. "please. for just a second. and then i'll never ask for him again. never think of him."

elijah exhales. "fine."

at exactly two o'clock in the morning on a sunday, you walk barefoot down the hallways, like a ghost who haunts a castle. successfully avoiding guards, you slip into the H section, scanning elijah's code on the hallway doors and letting yourself in. the heavy door waits for you at the end of the hall, mysterious and inviting. mr barnes is not in his usual position, meaning elijah has found a way to distract him. you had exactly fifteen minutes, and five have already passed.

hurriedly, you scan the code again, then as quiet as possible turn all the locks. your breath stops once you get in, the smell of sweat and blood hitting your nostrils. then, you see him. curled up on the floor, holding his head, knees to his chest. sobbing, fingers pulling his hair, and shivering.

you feel the dusty floor under your bare feet, and wonder if the room ever gets swept. it looks the same as when you first found him. slowly approaching, you try not to startle him. he doesn't know that you are coming, and one wrong move could send you flying into the wall. you saw what he was capable of, like dr rachel said. but you also know he doesn't do it for no reason. treat him like a human, and he will do the same.

"mingi," you call in a whisper.

his sobs quiet down, and shivering stops. he sits up, back still turned towards you. the hallway light poorly illuminates it, open wounds on his skin making your heart sink.

"you shouldn't be here," he says, voice raspy.

"sorry, i- i had to. i had to make sure you're okay."

"well, i'm not."

you don't know how to respond. you can see that he is not, you just don't know how to help. there is no time. so you settle for a simple shoulder touch, which he doesn't reject.

"i know. i'm sorry." silence swallows the room. mingi doesn't move. he doesn't remove your hand from his shoulder either. with a gulp, you continue. "can i see you? please?"

when he doesn't budge, your other hand finds its way on one of his wounds. immediately, you realize your mistake. the man stands up before you get the chance to properly feel his rough skin under your fingertips, grabbing you by your neck and slamming you against the wall. your toes barely touch the ground, and for a split second, you are back in the room with yunho doing the same thing to you. only this time, the man in front of you has a full right to do so. you violated his privacy, and he reacted.

"i'm sorry," you choke out.

you sound pathetic to yourself. apologizing three times under five minutes, and still breaking boundaries.

"i don't want... i don't want to hurt you." his grip softens, and he slowly lets your feet touch the ground. "i want to keep you. i want to- i need to have you."

his voice fades as his gaze falls on your lips. you are unsure what he means, considering that he is still holding your throat, but his gaze is locked on your lips. he gulps, then looks into your eyes intensely, making you subconsciously clench your thighs. you feel a rush in your lower stomach, one that you're not sure you've ever felt.

"can i? please?"

"i'm not sure what you mean, mingi." your voice is a whisper, afraid that if you speak louder you'll spook him away.

"i just- let me put it this way. i want to thank you."

"for what? i've done nothing but cause you trouble."

"i've caused it myself. i did it to myself. you only helped me. you healed me, treated me with kindness, and i'd like to repay."

a sudden creak from the hallway makes both of you jump, and you run into the corner behind the door. mingi follows, putting his hands on the wall beside your head and shielding you with his body. footsteps approach, and almost get to the unlocked but closed doors, then stop.

"barnes! care for a drink?"

"i'm doing checkups. besides, with you, elijah? no thanks."

"come on. now that we work in the same section, how about we bury the axe? besides, i did the checkups already. it was my turn anyway. we should be good for half an hour."

"you paying?"

"sure am."

"then what the fuck we waiting for?"

the footsteps slowly drift away. and you thank elijah for his quick thinking and buying you time. your attention is on mingi again, whose eyes are still fixed on your lips.

"my savior," he says, hand gently cupping your jaw and thumb caressing your cheek.

"you're exaggerating. i barely did anything to help you. i got you into bigger troubles than you started with and-"

mingi doesn't hesitate anymore. he leans in, still tilting your jaw so that you're almost at his level, and softly presses his lips into yours. you stand there, wide eyed, still processing what's happening. it isn't until mingi presses his body against you, trapping you between one cold wall and one warm one that you finally relax in his arms. you're not sure what to do, or what to feel. you're being kissed and held by a prisoner, and not just any prisoner. the prisoner that is considered one of the most dangerous ones in the whole building. and you're enjoying it. why else would your stomach feel like hot magma waiting to burst.

sensing your frozen state, mingi pulls away. his other hand rests on your waist, fingers subconsciously drawing patterns over your blouse. "let me thank you, doctor. please."

"i'm not sure i'm familiar with this type of thanking," you admit, your cheeks heating up.

his eyes change, from soft to hard, and you're not sure what to feel. yet again.

"so it's true."

"what is?"

"you're a virgin."

"well... yeah, i mean. yes. does it matter?"

"then, the gratitude i had in mind falls off."

oh. oh.

"you should go back before they return. or before i lose my mind."

"no, wait! we have a little less than thirty minutes, i didn't go through all this trouble just to go back."

the young man lays down in bed, hissing a little when his back makes contact with it, then folds his arms over his chest in protest.

"don't be a brat. i came to see you."

"and you did. i'm fine. now go."

"why are you like this suddenly?" your eyes start burning, tears gathering in the corners and blurring your vision. there's a lump in your throat, and no matter how hard you try, it's hard to swallow it. "you're mean to me, when you yourself said that all i've done is help you. make up your mind, do you hate me, or do you like me? do you want me close, or not? do you-"

"what i want is out of line and question. so the next thing i want is naturally for you to leave." he looks at you, almost glaring, before adding, "please."

"don't make this difficult. tell me, and i promise, i'll leave you alone. you'll never hear from me again."

he lays in silence, eyes closed. as if that will make you leave. instead, it brings out the stubbornness and braveness in you, overshadowing your fears. you know what he wants. you are a virgin, but not stupid. if you weren't sure, the obvious bulge in his pants makes it clear. without much thinking, your fingers start unbuttoning the purple blouse, revealing the black bra underneath. you don't take it off, instead leaving it to hang off your shoulders.

mingi's eyes open when he senses the mattress dipping, then a warm body hovering over him. he feels your warm crotch on his naked torso, your skirt hiked up and your bra exposed.

"i can't."

"why not?"

"i'll hurt you. and i already did that tonight, and i won't do it again."

"maybe i want to be hurt."

"you don't mean that. trust me, you don't mean that."

your hands take his cold ones, guiding them so that they rest on your waist. your body shivers at the cold touch, but you don't remove them. instead, you guide them higher up, until his big hand covers your breast. he gulps under you, afraid to move.

"i'd break you."

you lean in, capturing his lips in a kiss. this time, you are more confident, and allow yourself to swipe your tongue across his plump lips. he responds, biting softly into your bottom lip and tugging it, gently sucking on it and licking it. you shiver in his hands, from pleasure more than from the cold. you finally pull away, a string of saliva connecting your lips in a way so erotic that you haven't seen it in movies even.

"please do." you finally respond, a whisper into his mouth.

"and if you regret it?"

"i'll get over it."

with a swift move, mingi's hand yanks your bra down, freeing your breasts and attaching his lips to your tense nipples. you sigh, fingers reaching for his hair and pushing his head into you. his rough tongue swipes over the sensitive bud, lips sucking, while his finger spins the other one. you shake under his touch, never having been touched this way before except by yourself. it feels more intense when it is someone else, and you are dying for more.

"more, please," you beg, pulling at his hair.

"i'll give you anything you want. just ask, doctor. say it, and i'll give it to you."

"touch me more. i need more."

the dark haired man grabs your waist, and like a doll, easily lays you down on the bed and hovers above you. his strength fascinates you, and turns you on even more. you have the urge to feel his every inch under your fingers, but you aren't sure how he will take it. so you settle for placing your hands on his firm chest, just to see his reaction.

he doesn't say or do anything about it. instead, he plants kisses between your breasts, down your stomach, to the waistband of your skirt.

"should i take it off?"

"no." he says firmly. "keep it all on. bright colours look beautiful on you."

"but won't it be difficult?"

"let me do the worrying. you just relax."

with a glint in his eyes, he disappears under your skirt, and you almost yelp when his cold fingers touch your thighs. you try closing them, but his strong grip keeps them apart.

"stay still for me, princess."

a new flood of arousal washes your panties, the new nickname almost making your back arch from the hard mattress. his fingers move your panties aside, and without any warning, his lips press against your folds, leaving a kiss to test the grounds. you gasp at the newfound pleasure, and then moan when his wet muscle swipes across your clit.

"i'll make you feel so good, i promise. i'll repay you. i'll show you how good i can make you feel. just stick around me, please. i'll let you use me for your own pleasure any time you want. do anything you want to me, or order me to do anything you want to you. just stay with me. please."

"i will, i promise, i do." you're lost in the feeling of pure ecstasy, his plush lips sucking and kissing your clit as his finger tests your hole. you clench at the strange feeling, pleasure now being replaced with discomfort. "mingi-"

"trust me. relax." he peeks over the skirt, lips glistening with your arousal.

and you do, at least try to. his lips return to abusing your swollen clit, tugging it and circling it with his tongue, distracting you from his finger. when he decides that you are wet enough, he slides it in, slowly. he tests the waters, and when he sees that you're not clenching, he goes deeper. he moves in and out, knowing that you don't feel anything just yet, but preparing you for the second one.

he watches as your chest rises and falls heavily, soft sighs and moans leaving your pretty parted lips, and your hair already sticking to your face. he is satisfied with himself, finally living out his fantasy of making you feel good as a thank you. he inserts a second finger, easily gliding it along your walls. he curves them slightly upwards, brushing against the spongy part of you, and when you slightly jump and reach for his hair, he smiles to himself. jackpot.

"does it hurt, doctor?"

"it's a bit unpleasant." you admit.

"it'll be better, i promise. i'm just preparing you so that it hurts less later."

his fingers continue pumping inside you, with each entrance gently grazing your soft spot until you get used to it. when your whines turn into moans, mingi finally gives it his all. his thumb rubs your clit, while his two fingers continue with a faster pace. his lips find yours once again, tongue rubbing yours and letting you taste yourself from him. your brain feels fuzzy, and your stomach warm.

"stop, stop." you try pushing his hand away.

"why?"

"i'm close." you whine, trying to push the feeling away. it feels too soon.

"don't worry. i can do wonders in fifteen minutes."

his pumps become stronger and faster, and you helplessly grip at his biceps, nails digging into his already poor tormented skin. but he doesn't complain. he is too lost in the way you look, pure bliss on your face from his touch.

"that's a good girl," he mumbles when a long moan escapes your throat, your body collapsing under him with pure pleasure. "ride it out, come on."

your hips grind on his hand, which continues abusing your overstimulated pussy. you try to move away, but mingi grips your wrists and pins them above your head, then proceeds to finger you faster.

"please-" you're not sure what you're begging for; him to stop or to give you more.

tears stream down your face, pain and pleasure mixing inside of you and creating a roller coaster of emotions. your body twitches, another orgasm washing you over. the room is filled with squelching noises, and when you gather an ounce of strength to pick your head up and look down, you are shocked to see liquid spraying out of you and all over mingi's arm and bed. the man removes his fingers from you, wasting no time and popping them in his mouth. you watch as his tongue swirls around them, his gaze pure lust as he watches your body recover.

"forgive me."

"for wha- oh." your panties are ripped apart, pieces of fabric hanging loosely from your thighs.

"you're so pretty," he kisses you, "so beautiful," your neck, "so pure," your collarbone, "so kind," your stomach, "and so perfectly made for me."

his hands pick you up from the bed, then gently lay you across the dusty old desk near the little window with your back turned towards him. your upper body shivers when it makes contact with the cold wood, and legs almost tremble. you grip the edges of the desk, not questioning his methods. you can barely stand, but your desire to feel him, all of him, gives you energy.

"you're so small underneath me," his hand flips your skirt over, fingers caressing your buttcheeks and thighs while his other hand works on his boxers. "you fit in my hands just perfect."

you can only hum, too lost in the euphoria. his hand spreads your legs apart, and carefully pulls your hair back so that it doesn't fall in your face. you feel a warm muscle circle your hole, which clenches around nothing.

"i'm gonna claim you, doctor. you'll be mine, full of me. i'll mark you up, let everyone know that you belong to me, and i belong to you."

then, he slides in, making you grip the desk and almost bite into it. it hurts like hell, his thick cock splitting you apart. you almost growl in pain, but mingi puts his hand over your mouth just in time. you bite into it, finding comfort in hurting him while he hurts you. but it doesn't last long, because mingi knows what he's doing. he gently pulls out, then slides back in, and so a few times until your hips willingly push back in search for his cock. you are stuffed, and feel him in your stomach. his hands hold your hips in place, while his lips kiss along your spine and shoulders. every now and then, he bites and sucks, marking you just like he promised.

"you'll be mine, and mine only. won't you? tell me you will, please. have mercy on me."

"yes, yes, i will." you groan, focusing on chasing the pleasure.

"can i stuff you full of my cum?"

"you can, please."

"are you on any pills?"

"no, oh fuck- no, i'm not. just- just fuck me, please. i don't care."

mingi is taken aback by your request. but who is he to disobey you? he finds himself roughly pounding into you, completely ignoring your painful whines. he raises one of your legs on the table, and finally reaches the angle he needed. you bite into his hand again, hiding moans. he would love to hear you, more than anything, but with elijah and barnes right around the corner, it's impossible. another time. if mingi is lucky, he'll get to see and hear it.

"pretty," thrust, "so pretty," thrust, "i'm obsessed with you."

"you look beautiful stuffed with my cock."

"your cunt is the prettiest one i've ever seen."

"i want to see your cumming face every day, forever."

"i want you all to myself."

he chants against your ear, warm chest pressing against your back as he reaches deep inside of you, his pace slowing.

"i want to feel your walls swallow me every single day."

"your cunt was shaped for me."

"i'll have you squirting all over my tongue."

"nobody can touch you except me. not even you."

"and nobody will touch me, except you."

"please, doctor, make me the happiest prisoner in this shithole."

he halts his movements to catch a breath. but you, so desperate for him, move your hips and fuck yourself on him. it gives him a new surge of energy, and mingi can't help but bruise your skin with his grip as his skin slaps against yours, cock kissing your cervix and driving you insane.

"cream all over my cock, princess. please."

he doesn't have to say it twice. the third orgasm has your vision blurry, and you mouth almost drooling. you fuck yourself dumb on his cock, riding out your orgasm and feeling warm liquid spilling inside of you. he grunts behind you, helping both of you get the final touches of pleasure out before pulling out. his cum drips from your hole, down your thigh, and mingi fights the urge to stuff you full of himself one more time. it's enough for one night, he concludes.

"see? and five minutes to spare." he jokingly whispers, planting a kiss on your shoulder where a purple bite sized bruise is being formed. "let me help you get dressed."

you stand up straight, and allow him to take care of you. he delicately buttons your blouse up, fixing your collar, then reaches for his half soaked bed sheet so he can dry your skirt. you watch him as he tries his best to put you together, thinking if this was your best or worst decision of your life.

"wow. just what the fuck did i say? i find you, i kill him."

your legs feel cold, like they were sliced. your eyes widen, and mingi stills on his knees under you. you can only put your hands on his head and bring him close to you for a hug in hopes of protecting him somehow. a few seconds feel like hours to you, holding his body close to you and feeling his hands hug your legs shakily, before he is mercilessly torn away and dragged down the hallway, by none other than elijah and barnes.

jeong yunho stays at the door, a smirk expanding on his lips. he knew. from the moment you met mingi, yunho knew this moment would come. he just needed a puppet to arrange his sentence.

my saviour, the young prisoner said.

yet he didn't know that you would be his death. served as kindness on a platter, only to turn out the biggest bullet of them all.

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clerc16 · 5 months

Text

✯ music? date? both ; charles leclerc

a/n: based on a tiktok i saw earlier, by teilhard_ :)

summary: she listens to music when getting ready. he loves it. she sends him a note - he asks her out.

warnings: none.

── ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

You were a major music lover.

Getting ready? Listen to music. Reading? Listen to music. Driving? Listen to music. Bored? You guessed it.

Everyone knew that about you - you were unbelievably passionate about music. Any type of music.

“Y/NNNN, can we hang out today? iʼm bored” said a text from your friend. Naturally, you agreed - why not? It was a Saturday night and you had no plans whatsoever.

Like always, you turned on your regular playlist, making sure the volume is suitable only for your ears to hear, not to disturb any of your neighbors. Unbeknownst to you, your next door neighbor could listen to every sound coming out of your speakers. He was a nice guy - you interacted a few times, little “hello”s and “how are you”s every time you would randomly bump into each other. Despite being famous worldwide, he was extremely humble.

He was also devilishly handsome. But you never actually admitted that.

As you swiftly moved around your apartment to grab little bits and bobs needed to get ready, occasionally humming or singing along with the music, Charles Leclerc was sitting in the apartment right next to yours, attempting to read.

If he was bothered by your music, he wouldn’t hesitate to tell you - but he wasnʼt. It gave his currently dull and dead apartment a lively feel to it. Plus, your music taste was unmatchable.

As you put on some final touches, you paused your music and turned off your speakers. You grabbed your purse, phone and keys and left your apartment, shutting your door with a soft thud.

It wasn’t the first time Charles heard your music - in fact, ever since he moved in, he’d be hearing various music genres at various times of the day. This almost seemed like his final straw; he wanted to get to know you more.

He didn’t know how to approach you - he didn’t have your number, your social media, not even an email. So he channeled his inner creativity and decided to talk to you in a special way.

The special way was by leaving you a note by your doorstep. Not very original, eh?

As you were out with your friend enjoying your night, Charles was tapping his pen on the desk trying to think of what to write. After a few long hours, Charles had written the perfect note and placed it by your doorstep, hoping to see a response in the morning.

You stumbled back into your apartment complex, trying not to make a noise. You werenʼt drunk, just tired, your body begging you to fall asleep. You paid little to no attention as to what you were stepping on as you approached your door, keys in hand. As you were about to walk in, something felt stiff underneath your shoes. Looking down, you saw a small cream envelope with your name written on it in fancy cursive writing.

You bent down to pick it up and walked inside your apartment, your eyes still on the envelope. What is this?

You sit down on your couch and carefully open the letter, not wanting to rip the envelope.

“Bonjour -

Je voulais juste dire que tu écoutes de la très bonne musique, jʼadore ça!

PS: écoute “This Charming Man” de The Smiths, tu devrais aimer...

- Charles (ton voisin, n°28)”

[ Hello -

I just wanted to say that you listen to really good music, I love it!

PS: listen to “This Charming Man” by The Smiths, you should like it...

- Charles (your neighbor, n°28) ]

You immediately smiled at the note, your heart bursting with pride. If someone compliments your music taste and recommends a song, they are immediately very dear to you.

You placed the note back into its envelope and got up to change and refresh. Youʼll make sure to write back - you just donʼt really know how.

The next day, the first thing Charles did when he got up was to check for a note. He didn’t find anything. Nothing.

He sighed and decided to get on with his day. He shouldnʼt have expected a lot, really. As he left his apartment, he checked for one last time - still, nothing.

Little did he know you were just writing his name on an envelope to place on his doorstep.

The day passed, both of you anxiously waiting for a reply from each other. When Charles finally came home and saw a pink envelope on his doorstep, he smiled so hard his cheeks must have been screaming. He grabbed the envelope and rushed inside, the smile never leaving his face.

“Bonjour!

Merci beaucoup! Cela signifie beaucoup. La chanson est incroyable, The Smiths ne déçoivent jamais.

PS: écoute de “Good Looking” de Suki Waterhouse :)

- Y/N”

[ Hello!

Thank you so much! It means a lot! The song is amazing, The Smiths never disappoint.

PS: listen to “Good Looking” by Suki Waterhouse :) ]

Charles immediately opens the song on his phone, listening to it. Your music taste never disappoints, either.

It was like that for a few days - notes filled with song suggestions being passed back and forth. Every time you played music, you made sure to turn it up just a notch so he can listen to it with you.

Eventually, phone numbers were exchanged too, so notes on doorsteps were replaced by texts. Despite all this, you two didn’t actually talk in real life - even though you were literally next door neighbors.

One day, you were doing your usual, listening to music while cooking dinner. Your doorbell rang, and you walked over to the door to see who it was. Funnily enough, no one was there - but a small envelope on the doorstep was. You were confused; you and Charles text now, so why another envelope?

You brought it inside and sat down, opening it swiftly. Your hands grasped at the paper and pulled it out, curiously reading.

“Bonjour!

I feel like itʼs appropriate to ask to see you in real life now. Talking to you has been lovely. What do you say, coming by my house tomorrow at 6PM for dinner?

☐ Oui

☐ Non

- One last letter from Charles :)”

You grinned from ear to ear as you grabbed a pen and ticket the oui box, placing the note back in its envelope and by his doorstep.

Hopefully he lets you play your music on that dinner.

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 x you #charles leclerc imagine #formula 1 #scuderia ferrari #charles leclerc x you #fanfics

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jaidens · 10 months

Text

Only Bought This Dress (So You Could Take It Off)

pairing [s] : miguel o’hara x reader

a/n : guys i really don't know.. except i want him..so

Whenever Miguel invited you to the Spider-Ball, you had no idea what to wear to be completely and totally honest. Your designer was confused whenever you showed her a picture of Miguel's suit and told her to work her magic. And your designer did such.

The colors of blue and red were prominent and it had a collection of dark-orangey red to compliment his webs. It was completely perfect and what you were thinking of without even explaining it. It was a soft silk fabric with lace covered around with strings of pearls.

You had found a matching lingerie set that would have surely made Miguel lose his mind. When he picked you up in front of your apartment you saw how when you walked down the steps in your long, stiletto red bottom heels and that dress he was anxiously moving in his seat and holding only small talk with you.

The limo stopped at a humongous, absolutely gorgeous building the event was being held at. Spider-Men and Women from all over were dressed to the Tens. The driver opened your door and held his hand out for you to grab. You thanked him graciously as you tangled your arm with Miguel's as he straightened out his suit and he looked down at you. “You look absolutely gorgeous tonight. I love this dress.” His hand touches your hip, rubbing across the delicate fabric. You smile up at him, tracing across his features and the moonlight that colors his face with beautiful carvings.

He helps you up the stairs, letting you use him as a guide to getting up with such tall heels and concrete steps aren't the best mix. His hand stays on your lower back, holding you closer to him when more and more people start to show up. When you walk into the beautiful ballroom, the white marble floors are covered with people and you look up at the expressive paintings that reside on the ceiling with admiration.

“Look at that ceiling. My goodness, it's absolutely gorgeous." Miguel looks up at it, and you get a sight of his neck, as it stretches “It’s pretty amazing." Miguel leaves to speak with another caterer of the party and you go talk to sweet Mary-Jane. Her bright red hair strikes you as she turns around quickly and drops her mouth open.

“Aren’t you just gorgeous? Oh my wow... I love this dress!” Mary-Jane compliments you while running her hand down your arm. “Look at you! I'm obsessed with those earrings." You and MJ hold small talk before Peter walks up behind her and pulls her away to the drink and food tables.

You find a conversation with Peter. You ask him about why he decided to come to the event. “It’s for charity, love. I'll always go to these types of functions if it's about charity.” You turn your head and see Miguel staring at you and Peter, and you're in for the game. You put your hand on his shoulder and you start laughing when he makes a joke about robbing banks.

But as the night reached its climax, a shadow was cast over the euphoria. My heart skipped a beat as I glanced toward the entrance, meeting the gaze of a familiar face. There he stood, his eyes narrowed with a simmering mix of anger and hurt. It was him—the man I had left behind, Miguel consumed by jealousy.

You continue such actions, just being more calm and touchy. You really only saw Peter as a brother and nothing more. Even after stating that multiple times, Miguel still got worried about him. The live concert band showed up and you got giddy and grabbed Peter's hand and asked him to dance. You were casually dancing with Peter until the switch partners part of the song began and someone grabbed your hand and pushed you close.

“Such a slut aren't you? We're going home after this dance.” Miguel is angry and you can tell. His words are cut off and you see his eyes slowly darken with lust and jealousy. You stare down and rest your head on his chest. “Acting all innocent now too.” You really weren't trying to act innocent. You were worried about beginning to do it because you knew how Miguel would act.

As we made our way through the crowd, I cast one last glance over my shoulder, yearning for the stranger who had stirred something within me. But all I found were empty eyes, longing for freedom that now seemed like a distant dream.

The sleek, midnight-black car cut through the city streets like a predator on the prowl. Inside, the air crackled with a mix of desire and jealousy, swirling around Miguel and me, creating an intoxicating tension. The dimly lit cabin was suffused with a primal energy that mirrored the storm brewing between us.

Miguel's hands gripped the steering wheel with an intensity that betrayed the seething jealousy consuming him. His jaw clenched, his gaze fixed on the road ahead, but I could feel his eyes flickering with a fiery mix of possessiveness and resentment.

Earlier that evening, we had attended a glamorous social event, where attention naturally gravitated toward me. Miguel had watched as I conversed and laughed with other men, his strong facade cracking with each flirtatious exchange. The allure of his jealousy fueled my desire, and now we found ourselves alone, confined within the intimate space of his car.

The engine's growl mirrored the tension pulsating between us, as Miguel's grip on the wheel tightened, his knuckles turning white. The silence was heavy, pregnant with unspoken words and simmering emotions, as we hurtled through the city streets with dangerous haste.

Unable to bear the weight of the unspoken, I ventured, my voice a gentle tremor, "Miguel, what's wrong?"

His gaze pierced through me, his eyes smoldering with a mixture of frustration and vulnerability. "You know damn well what's wrong," he muttered, his voice laced with a hint of accusation.

A shiver ran down my spine as I felt the air grow thick with his possessive aura. Miguel's simmering jealousy took on a life of its own, threatening to consume us both. I could sense the hunger in his touch, the burning desire to claim what he believed was rightfully his.

With a sudden swerve, the car veered into an empty parking lot, its tires screeching against the pavement. We came to an abrupt stop, the stillness amplifying the intensity of our emotions. Miguel turned to me, his dark eyes staring into mine, his breath shallow and uneven.

"What were you doing back there?" he demanded, his voice low and charged with a mix of anger and longing. "Flirting with Peter, teasing him with your charm."

A flicker of guilt danced across my features, mingling with the thrill of his possessive rage. "Miguel, it was harmless. Just a bit of fun."

His hand shot out, capturing my chin in a firm grip, his touch simultaneously tender and controlling. "Fun? Do you think I find pleasure in watching Peter vie for your attention?" His voice dropped to a husky whisper, laced with a possessiveness that sent a jolt of desire coursing through me. "You're mine, and I won't stand for it."

In that charged moment, the confines of the car became an arena for our desires and frustrations. The boundaries blurred as Miguel's lips descended upon mine, claiming me with a ferocity that matched the fiery jealousy burning within him. The car's interior became a sanctuary for our entangled bodies, as we surrendered to the intoxicating dance of lust and possessiveness, each touch igniting a passionate blaze that threatened to consume us whole.

In the passenger seat, you, a tantalizing and spirited woman, brace yourself for what you sense is about to unfold. The air is thick with tension as you exit the car, your heart pounding in anticipation.

Miguel storms around the vehicle, his movements exuding authority, and yanks open your door. Without a word, he seizes your wrist and pulls you out, his grip firm yet electric with desire. He gracefully opens the door to the large house and he starts angrily dragging you to the bedroom that you shared together. He flips the lights off and presses a button. The LED lights that sat above turned a dark red. His tan skin is even more beautiful and tantalizing than it was in the sunlight.

He pulls his tie loose and he throws you onto the cleanly made bed. You bend your elbows to catch your fall. You put your knees up and close your thighs together, giving a sort of pleasure that was becoming single-handedly harder to hold back from Miguel. He begins to kiss your neck, sending a tingling sensation through your body. His hands move to your waist, feeling the curves of your body before he presses his body against yours. You close your eyes, surrendering to the pleasure that Miguel brings.

His lips travel down to your collarbone, creating a trail of butterflies that spread throughout your body. You can feel the heat of his body against yours and your heart racing. His hands move to your back as he leans in closer, sending sparks through your soul. He looks into your eyes and your lips meet in an electric kiss. You're lost in the moment, feeling alive and full of passion. You never want it to end. You're stuck in this dream before you remember what got you into this mess. He pulls away angrily and rips the perfectly made dress off your body. You stand there, feeling exposed and embarrassed. "Flirting with Peter wasn't a good idea, was it? Or would you rather him fuck you? Your heart raced as he said those words. You felt ashamed. You knew you had to face the consequences of your actions and you were not looking forward to it. He pulls off his tailored suit and you have a full look at his strong chest.

Miguel crawls back onto the bed and he bites your neck. You moan out and grab at his back, your manicured nails scratching red marks on them. "Please.. touch me." You're completely embarrassed that you're begging for him after getting yourself stuck in this situation. He smiles, a wicked glint in his eye as he presses himself against you. His hands roam your body as he kisses your neck, his breath hot on your skin. You feel a wave of pleasure wash over you as you surrender to his touch. His hand runs down your body, tracing over the delicate lace that you were adorned in. Miguel's hand travels just under the waistband of the panties, teasing you further. "You like the taste of your own medicine? I bet you do."

His fingers skim the lace and travel further until they reach your core. He teases and tantalizes you until you can't take it anymore and you cry out in pleasure. Miguel smiles, satisfied with the power he holds over you. "Such a slutty baby. Bet you'll take anything anyone gives you?" You blush and shake your head, unable to find the words to respond. He grins and presses his lips against yours, letting you know he doesn't need your answer. Instead, he just wants to show you how much pleasure he can give you. You feel his fingers rub your clit in figure-eights. You're rubbing your hips against his hands. You're so close before you feel it; he rips his hands away and lays his fingers against your lips.

You accept his fingers into your mouth and suck them off your pleasure. You moan as he moves his fingers in and out of your mouth, savoring the taste of your arousal. His hands return to your clit and you're soon overcome with pleasure, arching your back as you reach your peak. He flips you over and pushes your head down into the soft pillows and pulls your ass up. You're staring at the mirror at his gorgeous body as he pulls his pants down and throws them on the floor.

You can feel his hand rub against your ass before you feel it, a harsh smack against it. You cry out and hear him speak, "I want you to count how many times I spank your ass. If you do it correctly, I'll treat you." You take a deep breath and start counting, determined to do as he asked. As the spanks continue, you feel a strange mixture of pleasure and pain. You grit your teeth and keep counting until he stops. You feel one last rub in a circle over the burning marks. "You did well, baby." He flips you back around and your head it sat between your pillows and he grabs a pillow next to your head.

You twist your body around to be on your back. You're staring into his dark, beautiful eyes. Miguel takes the pillow and sticks it under your ass. You're on display for him. Your legs spread wide to give him room to relax. His strong arms wrap around your thighs and you feel his breath on your core. He looks up at you with a smirk and then explores you with his mouth. His tongue and lips dance around your sensitive areas.

His lips move faster and faster, sending shockwaves through your body that cause you to arch your back and thrust your hips into his face. His tongue is like a warm, gentle wave, caressing you and making you feel more alive than you ever have before. You can feel your muscles tense up as you get closer and closer to the edge, and when you finally reach it you let out a loud, intense moan that echoes through the room.

"So good for me." He groans out as he comes back up from your core and your slick is on his chin and lips, shimmering in the light. Miguel sits up and you notice how tense his body is. He's hard, his tip is dark purple had gotten so worked up from eating you out and hearing your pleasurable moans that echoed throughout the room. You sit up and your hand travels down his abs and to his cock, stroking it. He leans back against the bed; his hands holding him up from falling, and you press your lips against his, tasting yourself and him. You can feel his heartbeat racing as you kiss him passionately. Your hand strokes him as he humps into your hand. "For how dominant you had been earlier... this is different."

Miguel looks up at you. His eyes have tears as you continue to stroke him. You can sense the vulnerability in Miguel as he looks up at you, his eyes glistening with tears. You can feel the emotion radiating off of him as his heart beats rapidly in response to your touch. He is letting you in, allowing you to see a side to him that he usually keeps hidden. You wrap your arms around him, holding him close. You whisper comforting words to him, assuring him that it's ok to let it all out. He relaxes in your embrace, feeling safe and secure in your presence. After a couple of quick thrusts, his abs tighten and he cums in your hand.

He holds you and you lay in his arms. “You did so good baby. Let’s go get you in the bath.” Miguel picks you up under your aching thighs and carries you to the bathroom that was in your room. He sets you down on the chair that sat in the bathroom. He turns on the bathtub and the water begins heating up. Miguel picks you up once more and sets you into the bath. Your body stretches out and you relax. You share I Love You’s and you lay down for the night.

#miguel o'hara x black reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #across the spiderverse fanfiction #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara is my mans #miguel x you #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara fluff

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mysticworks · 8 days

Text

One day too late ~ LN4 x Reader (Preview)

Lando x Pregnant! Reader; Coworker! Reader; Very Angsty; mentions of intimacy but nothing explicit; Borderline Forbidden love; Reader & Lando are friends with feelings

S Y N O P S I S :

Carried away at the party, you and Lando share a beautiful night. You both move on and pretend it never happened, ignoring your feelings for each other...until 6 weeks later you find out you're carrying his child.

Full chapter can be read -> Here

Lando’s POV:

They say you don’t know the value of something until it’s gone. I've learnt this truth the hard way.

I’ve watched her everyday since that night; desperately trying to catch her eye at work; take her aside and apologise. Tell her we can make this happen... start over, uncaring of the world and it's concerns.

I've watched her everyday, slowly starting to shrivel. The bags under her eyes, the tiredness in her smile. I’ve watched her at lunch, nibbling at almost nothing at her plate before silently excusing herself away.

It devastates me to know that this pain is from me. I have caused it and she didn't deserve it. How I wish I could tell her that I was wrong. I was so, so wrong.

I miss her smile. Her company; once a comfort. I miss having her by my side; encouraging; so full of energy.

And so this is my chance. My chance to finally set things right.

Clutching the bouquet - glitter roses I spent the last night making - I head over to the PR query desk, determined to start again, if she can give me the chance.

There’s a new member of staff at the desk; someone I’ve never seen before and he tilts his head up at me, hearing my approach, flashing me a smile.

He thinks I’m here for a project meeting and begins to rise from his seat, holding up a clipboard as if ready to pass it over.

“I’m looking for y/n, l/n.” A moment passes.

Legs jittering. Heart tight and constricted; there’s a sense of urgency swelling in me as if telling me to hurry, rushing me to make things right. My fingers tap at the desk, impatient.

He gives a sigh, furrowing his brows and lowering the clipboard back into place.

“I'm afraid she's not here. She gave in her resignation yesterday.”

The words hit me like a boulder to the chest.

My legs feel heavy, a tornado whirling in the pit of my stomach. My fingers unclench from the bouquet and with a soft thud, the flowers thud to the ground; petals ripping apart from impact.

They've crumbled. Glitter littering the floor.

It was over.

I was one day too late.

#ln4 #ln4 ang #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine #formula 1 ang #formula one ang #formula one angst #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris angst #lando norris x #lando norris x you #lando norris x oc

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abibliophobiaa · 2 months

Note

Velvet

my skin in your teeth

summary: you’re meant to eliminate creatures from the upside down, but something — or someone — has got a hold on you lately…

warnings: 18+, blood drinking, biting, allusions to sex, smut, maybe a bit of obsessiveness, and hint of implied soulmates. to be honest, i don’t really know what this is. just wanted to write something. also thanks @myosotisa and @blueywrites for the additional vampire inspiration. 🤍

vampire!eddie munson x f!monster hunter!reader

Chance and Andy cackle ahead of you, their feet rustling the leaves littering the grass, guns at the ready. Normally you’re on duty with Steve, Nancy and Robin, but the powers at be today have decided to put you together with the biggest assholes of the bunch. Cocky, rude, still bullies despite everything — and yet, some of the best shots in the Upside Down Elimination Team. You suppose there’s some comfort in that. Should things go awry.

Your one goal on today’s mission? Make sure the perimeter of area four is safe. Fortunately for you, it’s been a quiet night. For the guys? They’re not having fun with it. For two trigger happy individuals, an eerily quiet night is an oddity. During your last overnight shift, you, Nancy, Robin, and Steve had managed to take down at least fifty demobats that had come through the gate, along with a fully mature group of demodogs.

The hours tick by. Nothing out of the usual to see. A flicker of movement from a solitary demobat with an injured bat here, rustle of leaves there. But nothing major to note when you return to base once the sun rises and your shift ends.

That is, nothing until three in the morning arrives and you catch the familiar whistle. The crack of a twig in the distance. The rustle of leaves as they draw nearer. A pack of demodogs rush through trees, but the familiar glint of predatory canines draws your attention.

You draw your dagger and throw. The metal slams into the trunk with a loud thud and you shout over your shoulder, “You go on ahead, I’ll take care of this!”

The guys run along, practically bouncing in their steps at the mere prospect of taking down a pack of demodogs on their own. Giddy with it. But your mind? Your mind is drawn to the darkened silhouette in the woods, the one that, given the chance, Andy and Chance would rip apart bit by bit.

And you can’t allow that, because Eddie Munson is yours.

——

It was forbidden; fraternizing with the Upside Down.

Even more so slipping away in the middle of the night to entertain a dalliance with a creature harbored and hemmed in the place where the world had ripped into quadrants.

No one understood how it happened. You’d all seen him die. Had seen what happened when a man was ripped apart by those winged hellions. And yet he’d appeared one night, trembling and starved. A hunger that you’d managed to quench, despite Steve shouting at you otherwise, by slicing your own palm and offering it to your friend.

The friend who peered out from those darkened eyes, lines of deep hunger like spiderwebs crawling from beneath his lashes. You whispered that it was okay, that you wanted this when he stared up at you with worried eyes.

Don’t want to hurt you, he said, sounding so much younger than his now twenty-one years of age. Or twenty? None of you understood this magic. He died at twenty, heart stopped at twenty — but months had trickled by, his birthday passed, and it only felt right to honor it all the same.

Shaking hands had curled around the back of your palm, his lips sliding over wet, injured skin, dripping scarlet rubies onto the forest floor below. Steve whirled around, choked out a horrified breath as Eddie drew in your blood, drew in your essence.

Loud, hungry gulps met your ears, making Steve retch. But you leaned in closer, curled your fingers around his bicep, clinging to him as you slipped away in your mind.

Into that heady, rich, velvety, lush ether.

“Eddie,” Robin warned, as your eyelids drooped, body slumping further into his frame, “Eddie, I think she’s done. Let go of her.”

He fell back, ragged breaths pulling from lungs. And he sounded so familiar, you nearly weeped at it. “Fuck, I’m so sorry, sweetheart —”

Those eyes shifted, changed back into the ones you knew before all of…this. Less haunted, more him, and despite the world tilting on its axis as you fell back into Steve’s arms unconscious, it seemed worth it.

You carried on with it in secret. Your friends decided it was better if, until things got better around Hawkins, Eddie remained nothing more than a shadow in the night. They’d find a way to make things right, but in the meantime…you learned how to keep things secret. How to slip away beyond the outer lines of Hawkins — to find ways to sneak off during patrols. Often, Steve would turn a blind eye. Nancy would wave you onward. Robin would give you a little eye roll and tell you to run along.

It started with conversations in the night. Things you never talked about when you’d known one another prior. And yet — since the day he’d drank your blood, you felt a connection to him in a way you hadn’t before. You would sit side by side, laughing and reminiscing. Dreaming, on nights where the world was quiet and it felt like you were the only two people who existed.

Those meetings changed as the seasons did. His gazes lingered longer. Your hands wandered. His lips glided over yours. Your fingers threaded in his hair. He fisted the back of your thigh and dragged you into his lap, whispered he wanted you against your throat.

That first time had been quick and needy. A frantic thing, with buttons flying, his shirt nearly shredded at the hem to get it off faster. He rolled you over onto your back and pinned you there against the dirt, the ground biting into your flesh, reminding you that you were alive despite it all. And you kissed him, panting into his mouth as his hips rolled furiously against your own, your fingers clutching at blades of grass, nearly ripping them up from the root as your orgasm stole your breath.

It kept on like that for months. Secret meetings, whispered words. His teeth in your skin, your bodies entwined, heart to heart, chasing whatever this thing was between you.

He was euphoria and light in a world filled with darkness, and you were addicted, and nothing would rip him away again.

——

The sounds of the guy’s hoots and hollers of enjoyment over their hunt grows quieter as you approach Eddie. He’s leaning against a tree, the dagger embedded near his shoulder, those dark eyes of his crinkling at the corners as you draw nearer to him. Lips curl back over elongated canines, and you note the swirling lines beneath his lashes, deciding you’ll have to do something about that later when you have more time and there’s no threat of the jackass twins coming back and throwing a wrench into things.

“Sorry I tried to kill you,” you tease, falling into his chest as broad palms slide around your hips to tug you close, “needed to make it look believable.”

“It’s fine, but next time you should try harder.” He draws a sigh from deep within your chest as he leans in to claim your mouth. It’s a quick kiss, doesn’t linger long, his head pulling back to look at you in amusement. Mouth curling into a grin, hair in disarray, dark eyes gleeful in the night. “Didn’t know you could throw a dagger like that.”

“You liked that, huh? Been working on that for months now.”

Your smirk grows as he flips you around, your back hitting the trunk of the tree. He grunts out as you coast a palm along the front of his jeans, grinning ruefully at the way his erection strains against the fabric.

“You did.” A satisfied smile creeps up along your features, heart skipping as he grips the dagger hilt near your head and tugs it free from the bark. The metal glints, the sharpened edge twirling as he toys with it in his palm. It shouldn’t be as hot as it is, him playing with your weapon, but the way he’s so leisurely about it — like he’s maybe done this before…knowing how good he is with his hands because you’ve been a very satisfied benefactor of their skills many a time now —

“You okay there? You forget I can hear your heart racing.”

He drags the dagger along the hollow of your throat, the standard issue button up uniform loose there, and then lower still toward the first button. He flicks his wrist and a button clatters against the ground, moves down a few centimeters and does the same to the next, the next, the next.

The knife follows. Falls into a pile of leaves, rustles them. There’s a moment — a quick, flash of time before he’s cutting off your breath in a searing kiss. Lips and teeth and hunger — a ravenous type of love, a ruinous thing that you crave. Fingers curl around your throat, apply the perfect amount of pressure that has you moaning into his mouth. He tips your chin up, up, up. His tongue glides along the skin there, silly nips spliced between, the rake of a fang over the throbbing beat of your pulse.

Heat pools in your belly. The sort of heat you know he can sense, your heightened arousal never to be hidden thanks to newer senses. He chuckles to himself as his nose nudges beneath your ear, lips toying with the lobe, breath sending chills down your spine as you shudder against him when his free hand slides down the front of your jeans, dragging a lazy circle over the wet fabric covering your slit.

“How long do we have before those idiots come back to get you?” he asks, a sultriness seeping into his tone.

“Long enough for you to feed,” you rasp out on a gasped breath, “or fuck me. Maybe both.”

“What do you want?” he asks, teeth scraping deliciously against your pulse again.

A little bit more, if you push him down a bit and ask him to take what he needs, and he’ll have sunk them into you again, submitting you to the delectable liquid honey that’ll flood your senses once he does.

The anticipation is one thing, a clanging cymbal that heats your blood. The knowledge that you can do this for him — that you enjoy it. It’s frighteningly empowering. Knowing it’s you who has kept him for so long— that it’s your blood that sings to him. Some might call it wrong; your friends had their own reservations and fears about it, understandably so.

After that first time, you got better with it. Quickly made sure to learn when to stop, how to stop (even if you often didn’t want to).

Sex had been one point of connection for the two of you. And that had been wonderful in and of itself. You craved him in ways you had never craved another. But this? Him having a part of you within him, your souls quite literally becoming one every time he drank from you — that was another level.

A sort of intensity that often made you both lose control. Whatever it was, you were irrevocably changed. This wonderful man, this creature you were meant to kill — the love that drew you into the forest like this, his hands making quick work of your jeans, tugging them down to your ankles, as his mouth licked at you furiously.

A gasp heaved from your chest. Fingers clutch in his hair as he pushes your hips back against the bark, fingers gripping tight to the dough of your thighs, keeping you spread out salaciously before him. It’s thrilling, the waves of your orgasm robbing you of your breath at the dawning realization of it, that at any moment Andy and Chance could appear.

That they might see you tangled so deeply in the web of lies you’ve become so tangled with these months, wrapped in the arms of the man who…loves you.

Because it’s forbidden, yes. By all means, if you’re found out it could be dangerous for both of you. They could kill him — would kill him.

But you would rip them all apart for the man who made a mess of you for all others.

You wince. And there’s coo. Eddie’s hands loosen from around your thighs, his body coming up to its full height before you. He lifts your hand, turns your palm up to inspect the splinter wedged into a fingertip. Blood pools from the wound, a scarlet teardrop that coasts down the back of your hand, trails toward your wrist.

Eddie’s eyes darken, and your lips curl up. You say quietly, “Go on.”

It might be wrong, on many levels, the way he brings your hand up to his mouth, tongue dragging along your wrist, the back of your palm, erasing the trickle of blood.

And it’s downright sinful the way he drags your finger into his mouth, eyes hazy and hooded, sucking lightly. Your mouth drops open, eyes fluttering rapidly at the beginnings of that familiar euphoria sparkling around the edges of your mind.

“I want to be inside you,” he groans, making no effort to let go of your offended appendage, “and you know I prefer somewhere private for…that.”

You know he means when he sinks his fangs into you, when he’s inside you, and you both lose yourself to the magic in his bite. Wants to be alone for when that primal desire kicks up within him, and he loses himself in your body intertwined like that.

“Eddie,” you whisper, dragging him down to the ground, onto the jeans laying sprawled across the floor. “Please. It’s been days.”

“Yeah,” he sighs, hissing out a breath as you make quick work of his belt buckle, the sound of a zipper ramping up your heart rate, “because your schedule has sucked this week —”

“Please,” you urge him as he helps you up and over his thighs, sliding you down his length like the thousands of times you’ve done this before.

His breath stutters against the curve of your throat as you rise and fall steadily over him, injured hand splayed over his heart.

“Please.”

There’s always a sting. It’s only a brief moment. A soft prick of pain like that of a needle. Only it’s really two, and they immediately are replaced by his tongue to soothe away the ache. A healing balm that oozes into your bloodstream. When he latches on again, it’s a bubbly, almost buzzing feeling that spreads through you. The feeling of sifting slowly through sinking sand, like dragging your fingers through water. Your mind numbs, a feeling of floating — of lightness unparalleled has you sinking further into him, the rolling of his hips beneath you tethering you to reality. Here and there, on the precipice of something earth shattering. It’s always like this with him.

“You’re perfect,” he whispers against where he’s bitten into your collarbone, into the skin peeking out from the collar of your shirt, “God, I love you.”

And he’s rolling you over, hands on either side of your face, eyes closed in blissfulness. The forest floor at your back, your thighs around his hips, bodies connected in a practiced dance. You marvel at his features, missing that point of additional connection, cupping his cheek instead. He’s told you you taste like the sweetest nectar, like heaven itself. Says it’s not like this with anyone else. That you’re divine, velvet, rich. You’re ethereal and his. And it takes everything in him to restrain himself, to tamper down the throbbing of his heart when he’s drinking you in, to not take too much. He could lose himself in you, in the bliss of your coupling, in the perfection of your essence.

You both come with a cry, and, as always, hate when it ends. There’s no time to hold one another, to kiss along his bare skin as he keeps you close to him. Not with the fear of Andy and Chance appearing at any time, fresh from their hunt, with murder on their minds.

Instead he leans down and cups a hand around the back of your head. Presses his forehead to yours and whispers of his love, devotion, desire for you. It’s a promise for later, sealed with the softness of his lips against yours, and he’s gone…slipping into the shadows.

No longer next to you, and yet forever marked on your heart.

——

A pair of white, well-loved Reebok’s sit near the door.

Paintings and sketches are scattered around the living room.

Further in the home, Eddie listens to the familiar thump-thump coming from down the hall. Can hear the reassuring inhale and exhale of your breath.

It’s night once more, and you’re finally off work, finally able to catch up on some sleep. Have slept most of the day since you got home, now that he thinks of it.

The bed shifts as he joins you once more, kissing along a bare spine, blankets curling low around your hips. He chuckles at the memory of you earlier, nearly kicking the door open on the hinges, ready to reprimand him for showing up unannounced while you were on patrol, only to end up ridding him of his clothes on your way to rest for the evening.

“Hi,” you whisper, eyes blinking up at him, adjusting to the darkness of the bedroom, “How long have I been out?”

“Few hours,” he tells you, running a hand along your bare shoulder. “Missed those eyes.”

“Sap.” It’s a tease. You see him every day, and even then it’s not enough.

“I made you dinner,” he says, rolling over onto his side beside you, nose brushing yours gently.

“Thank you.” You lean over to kiss him, smiling against his skin. That’ll never get old. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Another kiss. “Today was fun.”

A smirk curls your lips. “It was.”

“I should visit you at work more often.” He’s grinning, the insinuation of his words making your heart stumble happily. It’s music to his ears. “You liked that, didn’t you? Could smell it on you. Bet if I touched you now you’d be wet just from the memory of it.”

He’s not wrong. And he proves that point with the teasing drag of his middle finger along your clit, relishing the soft cry of, “Ed —” that spills from your parted lips.

“Reminded me of that first time we were together,” he purrs, rolling over you. Rolling you over onto your back. Your body settles beneath him, form soft and warm against his. “Forest floor.”

“Sexy,” you tease, breaking off into a whine as he pushes inside, rolling his hips against yours slowly. “All the dirt, twigs and leaves. Nothing screams romance like a nice forest fling.”

“We worked with what we had at the time,” he chuckles, cock dragging along your walls, drawing another moan from your throat. “But I think I like this better. Our bed. In our home.”

Because, though it’s forbidden, you never could handle the thought of being without him.

Had asked him to move in here months ago, into your home on the outskirts of town, to live a quiet life away from prying eyes.

Here, where you could protect him.

Here, where you never needed to be parted from him.

Here, where for a year now, and forever still to come, he’d have a place by your side.

“Next time, just bite me somewhere else, will you?” you ask, when you tumble back onto earth when it’s all over and you’re left satiated once more, body draped over Eddie’s. Eddie’s brows arch high on his forehead. “By the time your freaky magic saliva started to heal the bite, the guys thought it was a hickey and teased me relentlessly. And I can’t be with you from jail if they keep it up.”

“Pretty sure we’ll always be together.”

Forever, he’s promised.

Because maybe it’s his new, more animalistic side. The part of him that recognizes a soul mate. Maybe it’s the way you fit in his arms, the way your lips feel against his, or the way your blood sings to him.

But he thinks, in a way, you feel like his.

And he knows, in his heart, he’s yours.

#lunaloveseddie #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #vampire!eddie Munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fanfic

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lucid-loves · 20 days

Text

Personally His

Imagine: Simon Riley rewarding the 141’s personal assistant for doing a good job with putting up with him.

CW: MDNI, Smut, Office Sex, Slow and Deep, Praise Kink, Edging

You on his desk, your back arching against the smooth oak as he runs his hands over your hips. Simon Riley loves looking down at you, blouse buttons open, pencil skirt hiked up, new tights ripped to reveal your dripping cunt. Every now and then, his hands will squeeze your thighs hard, making you gasp and quiver before he massages the pleasurable pain away.

“You’ve been such a good assistant, love~” He praises in his deep, husky voice that never fails to give you shivers. While you were everyone’s personal assistant within the 141 team, Simon was quick to make you his with rewards. This is one of them.

“I’ve never seen my desk so organized. You must’ve spent a long time fixing it for me. Such a good girl~” He continues, spreading your legs further apart to get a better look at you. You whimper, pussy clenching in anticipation for his cock.

Everyone except Simon had been easy to take care of. He’s been messy, neglectful, and always busy. He’s snapped at you and been curt with you a few times too when you invaded his space. It wasn’t until you saved him from attending court for an unpaid parking ticket that he let you really help him out.

After that, you’ve been rewarded for your work with flowers for your own desk, lunches on him, and now a good fuck over your hard work.

“S-Simon. . .” You sigh, senses on fire as you feel his tip press against your entrance. You are eager, but also nervous. You glance towards the closed and locked door, your heart shuttering.

He takes your chin to redirect your attention onto him. His eyes behind the mask gaze at you hungrily. “Don’t worry, love. They won’t be back for a while. You’re all mine.”

His cock plunged into you before you can respond, bottoming out within a second. His hand covers your mouth, muting your near scream as you feel yourself stretch to accommodate his length. Plunging into a sudden orgasm, your body trembles and you struggle to catch your breath. Your hands go over his, gripping hard to try to regain some semblance of control. All you can see are stars.

He feels your pussy tighten around him, soaking him already in more nectar than before. You knew he's smirking under that dark mask. “You cum already, love? Someone must’ve been looking forward to this. Such a good girl~”

Electricity runs up your spine as he calls you the name you’ve been wanting to hear since your first day here. You were his good girl. His good little assistant.

He slowly rocks his hips, forcing you to feel every single inch of him. Forcing you to take him as deep as you can. It takes everything in you not to moan as loud as you want. To scream his name like he's equally yours. The team may have gone to a meeting, but it didn’t mean that passerbyers wouldn’t be able to hear the hot sex behind the door.

Simon presses his hand against your lower stomach, making sure that you can feel all of him. “That’s it. That’s a good girl. Look at you, taking me so well.”

Your toes curl within your heels as he continues to thrust slow and deep. Biting your lip helps control the desperate whimpers that hung in that back of your throat. Suddenly, Simon thrusts hard, making you release that pretty voice that he has grown to like. Even when you were nagging him to take better care of himself, he wouldn’t want to hear it from anyone else.

“Sorry for being difficult at the start. Promise to make it up to you, but I wanna hear your moans too.” He admits teasingly, pulling and pushing his hips hard to properly fuck you on his desk. The wet sound of your cunt reverberates throughout the office, making you blush.

You can barely take it anymore. He's fucking you hard, but still slow. You want more. He knows you want more by the way his exposed eyes crinkle with a hidden, devious smile. You had to beg for what you wanted. “P-Please, Simon, more!”

Your begging was only slightly rewarded. He settles your legs on his shoulders and presses your soft thighs down against the polished wood. Gloved fingers dig into your skin, only making you more aroused from his man-handling. But his movements are still only slow, deep, and hard. It keeps you away from another orgasm that you crave so badly. Edging you. While you do want more, you are enjoying feeling all of him please your pussy.

He enjoys your heat pulling him in as well. Though, he can be a little more patient than you. He wants to make sure that your next orgasm will rock your world. That and he wants to enjoy his time with you before he had to share your attention with his team again.

“Not yet, love. Be a good girl and be patient while I savor this some more.”

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writing-havoc · 1 year

Note

Hey! How're you? I hope you're well.

I absolutely adore your works and I hope it's okay to make a request? It's just a little idea I had, sort of inspired by your latest fic :)

Where the reader is a part of the crows and one night she finds this small child outside the club and she feels really sorry for them and brings them into the club and tries to help them? Maybe with a bit of Kaz x reader? Whatever you feel inspired to write to be honest :D

I hope this is okay, I love your works so much! 💖💞

Enough

♡ Summary: You do your best to care for a little boy you found while Kaz cools down

♡ Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Reader

♡ Fandom: Six of Crows, Grishaverse

♡ Warning(s): Hunger, Child Abandonment, says Yn twice

♡ WC: 4.6k

I could have sworn there was a mention of like, a café by name in the books somewhere but I couldn't find it? I just made one up but man this is gonna drive me crazy lol

Anyway, here you go! I hope it is to your liking and tysm for the request and kind words <3 so glad my fic could inspire!

Please excuse any grammar and spelling mistakes

∘₊✧──────────────────✧₊∘

Finding a child in an alleyway was not something you expected to tick off your bingo card so soon. Taking the child with you to the Crow Club with plans to look after him wasn't even on the card. And yet, here you are.

He's small, top of his head barely reaching your belly button, and his hands are freezing from where they hold onto your own.

You had found him not twenty minutes ago, and planned to just leave him there like any sensible person. But unfortunately, you're not as good at turning your moral compass upside down like everyone else.

So you got his attention, approaching his little shelter and offering him the last slice of bread you had swiped from someone's open kitchen window. He was hesitant to reach for it, hands slowly edging toward you as if you'd rip it away any moment, and with a certain gentleness took the piece from your hand and began to nibble on it.

His clothes were dirty, dipped in whatever dirt the Barrel has rubbed off on him and drenched through to the bone. Things were coming apart at the seams and the soles of his shoes you can tell were about to separate from the rest.

You had asked him where his parents are, and your heart immediately sunk when he looked away and towards the canal, his tiny nibbling seizing.

That was what snapped the little string you had holding you back, the other side tied to your sense of reasoning.

He's just a kid. You were just a kid once. Arguably still are. You'll be damned if you had to watch someone who was no older than 7 go through the same fate you did.

But your sentiments were short lived, starting and ending with you, as the moment you stepped through the doors of the Crow Club with the kid clutching your hand, Kaz was narrowing his eyes and his teeth were gritting.

You glared at Dreg members around you, daring them to stop you as you made your way to the back of the club where all the alcohol is stored. Nina and Jesper were setting up chairs, and you gave them a blank look as you entered the room, the sound of metal thumping rhythmically following.

"Yn." A rough gravelly voice calls behind you.

You ignore it, looking at the kid. "Is it alright if I lift you up? Just to here, hun."

In the softest voice you ever heard, the kid says "Yeah." and allows you to put your hands under his arms and lift him onto a crate.

"Yn," Kaz calls again, making your blood simmer.

There's really nothing you can do here. The Club is going to open in a few moments for the five o' clock rush and there's not any spare clothes. You'll have to wait until you can go to the market later to fetch him some clothes and bathe him at the Slat.

The ferrule of a cane drags across the floor, and you roll your eyes.

"Give me a moment, okay?" You say to the kid, waiting for him to nod before turning around, exiting into the main bar area.

"Are you mad?" He hisses at you, hand gripping his cane so hard you can see it shake. "What could have possibly made you think bringing a child here would be a good idea?"

His anger isn't too surprising. But if you're being honest, it's annoying.

"I was thinking that he has nowhere to go." You say, voice low as you walk away from the door a little more. Kaz follows you, eyebrows still snapped together and a hardness to his jaw you don't think you've ever seen directed at you. "He was outside and shivering inside a make-shift shelter made out of fruit crates and a tattered towel. He needs a place to stay."

"I don't care what it needs. It has no place here." His eyes flicker to the kid.

You cross your arms, anger bubbling in your chest. "He is not going anywhere. He is cold, and small, and hungry, and we have everything here and at the Slat to keep him comfortable."

His eyes snap back to you. "This isn't a daycare. We can't just swing our doors open to any lost kid you manage to find on the streets. This is the fucking Crow Club."

"I know damn well what this place is, Kaz." Your jaw hurts from how hard you're clenching it, head starting to pound at your temples. "I'm not blind nor incompetent. But he can't weigh more forty pounds and he's way past the age for that to be acceptable. I cannot, in good conscience, let him go for him to starve and eventually die on the streets."

He goes to say something, but stops, eyes flickering around your face. Your jaw is set, features no doubt mirroring his as you stand your ground, hands on your hips and feet stood apart.

"Please, Kaz."

You don't care that he runs this place. You're not about to be pushed around and bullied into staying complicit while this kid dies.

And he knows this.

So he closes his eyes, looking away from you as he takes a deep breath, collecting himself. His hand is no longer shaking, but you can tell he's still angry, ready to swing at both the imaginary and the physical.

He takes one last breath and looks at you, eyes only just softer than before. "You are responsible for him. He's hungry? You feed him. He's hurt? You fix him." The crows head of his cane comes up to look at you. "If he causes trouble, you deal with him."

You smile for only a moment before you push the cane away from your face, his barrier down. "He's well behaved. It'll be fine."

"You better hope so." He mumbles under his breath, walking away slightly off rhythm.

You watch him leave, members parting when they see his mood. A few even nearly knock over a chair when he gets a bit too close, Nina and Jesper arching their brows as he disappears out the door.

A few people are staring at you, eyes hungry for gossip and a glimpse at the kid you ushered in not minutes before.

You ignore them in turn for trying to figure out what to do with him.

He's sitting on a crate of Kaelish whiskey, legs shut tightly and dangling off the side, arms wrapped around his torso. But he's looking around, taking in the stockpile of alcohol.

"Alright, first things first." You say, leaving a crack in the door as you step into the room. He's jumpy, staring at you with analyzing eyes. "What's your name?"

He opens his mouth to say something, but then pauses, quickly shutting it.

You chuckle. "Listen, kid. Whatever you've got to hide, I don't give a shit. You're in the Barrel now, the only names that matter here are who you've decided to roll your dice with and those who call themselves bosses."

He thinks about it then, eyes narrowing and feet rubbing against eachother inside his tattered shoes. He wets his lips.

"Leopold."

It's... a little far from what you were expecting. You just barely stop yourself from snorting. "You'd have been better off lying."

His face blossoms in red, embarrassment clear as he begins to shut down.

"Hey, hey. I'm sorry." You're still smiling so it doesn't help much. But you kneel down in front of him. "It's customary here to at least make light fun of others when you first meet them." He's not convinced, but he's a little less prickly now, so that's something. "Is Leopold what you'd like to be called? Or is there a different name you have in mind?"

Again, he thinks about it.

"Leo, is fine."

"Leo is much better." You pat his knee, standing up.

His cheeks are still red, but you can tell he feels a little more confident now.

The arms that were tightly coiled around his waist have loosened, resting on his legs. His feet are swinging, just barely, and his back has straightened.

A thought comes to mind when you see his shoe begin to slip off his foot.

"How hungry are you?" You ask.

And before he can answer, you hear a rather loud grumbling from his stomach, and a bit of a pained expression falls on his face.

Your smile drops a little. "Well it's good to see you haven't got comfortable with being hungry yet. Come on." You wave him over as you swing the door open. "We're going to get some waffles."

"Waffles?!" You hear from your left.

Leo jumps in surprise, not expecting the voice.

You, however, were expecting it. Counting on it, even. "Yes, Nina. You can come if you want!"

It's faint, but you can hear her go "yes!" and the sound of a chair scraping against the floor. "No need to ask me twice!"

You look at Leo as he approaches the door, hands fidgeting with eachother.

"None of that." You say, tapping his hands, which in turn makes him fling them apart. "When you walk out of here, in front of all those people, pretend to be confident."

His eyebrows knit together, so you take your finger and smooth it out. "You don't have to actually feel confident, but those guys out there? They're vultures, and I dont think you have the heart to take the amount of teasing and bullying they'll inflict on you if they see you fidgeting like that." You grab his shoulders, and watch in amusement as he stiffens into a board. You give him a thumbs up, then tilt his chin parallel to the floor, bringing it out of its nook in his chest. "Fidgeting is reserved for those who have earned their place here, when everyone knows that if they mess with you, you'll hold your ground."

He's sweating, and his eyes are big and wide, but it's a little better than whatever he had going on before.

You usher him out the door, closing it behind you. People are still staring, and others are giving mean side eyes, but you ignore them, smiling at Nina from where she stands by the door.

Her face gets wider when she sees Leo next to you.

"Oh you're the little bugger that had Brekkers panties in a bunch." She leans down, ruffling his hair. "You and I are going to get along swimmingly."

Leo cringes, scrunching in on himself and away from her hand. He's absolutely not pleased, you think, as Nina takes her hand back.

Lazily helping him sort his hair back out, you start to wonder what this kid even likes.

"Nina, this is Leo. Leo, this is Nina, greatest wolf tamer to grace Fjerda's soil."

Nina scoffs, kicking her leg out and knocking your shin with the toe of her boot. "The whole world, thank you very much." She turns out the door, holding it open for you both as you exit.

You do your best to keep the kid close as you make your way through the streets, idly chatting with Nina as you shove Leo around into various alley ways when you see someone you don't have good relations with and pulling him away from an oncoming carriage when he gets lost staring at the boats that roam the canal.

He has to be an artist's son, or maybe a writer's. You don't know anyone who just stops in the middle of the road to look at boats doing their job and floating on water.

It's actually a miracle you make it to the little diner in one piece.

Inside it smells strongly like shitty coffee and various breakfast foods given the hour, much to both you and Nina's delight.

You're just happy to be out of Barrel air for a moment. Even if you were only just across East Stave and a two minute walk would plant you back in the slums, you swear the air quality just immediately skyrockets the second you cross the bridge.

The menus of this place are built into the tables, Grisha engraved into a thin piece of metal while a thick card on a rack displays the specials.

A booth a little ways away from the corner suits your group well, though you do regret not giving Leo a wipe down before coming out here.

It does seem like he attempted to clean himself off. Probably while Kaz was lecturing you. The dirt that was under his fingernails seems to be picked out, and the smudges on his face are considerably fainter.

It's a good thing you didn't walk into one of the nicer diners around here. But from your experience, the shittier the establishment the better their food will taste.

If you don't feel at least a little unsafe walking by it then it's probably not worth the kruge.

You shimmy into one side of the booth first while Nina slides in on the other side. Leo follows after you, sticking as close as he can while still giving you a bit of arm room.

"Alright." You smile, looking at the little breakfast section, scooting in just a bit more so Leo can look at the menu as well. "I know I said waffles, but really you can order anything you like."

"You're paying, yes?" Nina asks.

You roll your eyes. "Yes, Nina. I'm paying. Though do try and feel a little guilty for my poor pocket."

She doesn't say anything, eyes roaming over the whole breakfast section rather than stopping on just the waffles like usual.

Maybe you'll get some lunch to balance out the sugar that's about to grace the table.

The smallest of taps tickles your shoulder. "What's this?"

He's pounting at the menu, the item catching your eye. "Ah, I forgot these places give awful names to their foods. It's an omelet," you clarify, "with little veggies mixed in. Probably cheese in the middle."

His eyes go wide as you mime the size of such a dish with your hand.

"Would you like it?" You ask, gently probing at the little bits of personality that have managed to unravel themselves in the short time you've known him.

He looks at you, hesitant as he nods. "Yes please."

You smile. "Nice choice, kid."

The praise makes him smile, just as a waiter comes and begins to take your orders.

Of course, Nina gets a few plates of waffles with various toppings that she found interesting with a plate of toast, Leo gets his omelet with extra cheese, and you indulge yourself with a pile of hashbrowns and eggs over top.

Mixing it all together on your plate always sends Kaz into a frenzy. You hope he can feel the monstrosity being prepared and weeps at the sin you're about to commit.

"Does that man hate me?" Leo suddenly asks.

You scrunch your brows, discreetly looking around. "What man?"

"That man from before, that yelled at you." He says, rubbing his finger over a fork he received. "Did I get you in trouble?"

Nina chuckles. "Kaz is just like that. Out of everyone in that place your protector here is of the least likely to get in trouble."

You smile at that, thinking of Kaz's tendencies.

What Nina said isn't exactly true. You get in trouble just as much as the rest of them. Kaz just forgives you easier, is more willing to talk and come to a compromise.

Tonight you'll walk into his office and he'll still be steaming, angry at you for not clearing such a major change with him. He'll glance up at you, shoulders stiff and that cavern between his brows only getting deeper.

But if things go right, that edge he has a habit of keeping sharp will dull, his jaw will slacken, and his eyes will soften. He'll still be the hardstrung mini boss hell bent on making up for the past, but he'll settle down in the present for a little while, drinking the warm tea you set on his desk and heart a bit more open to you.

"No, I'm not in trouble." You fix his collar. "Just have some explaining to do."

Leo frowns, opting to pick at the metal menus. His leg is bouncing up at down, temples flexing. "So he is mad at me?"

You glance at Nina. She has a tightness to her lips, not knowing what to say either.

A joke, then. "He's not allowed to be mad at you before he meets you. However, I will be mad at you if you piss yourself in this booth."

His cheeks turn scarlet, not knowing where to look anymore. "I didnt know where the bathroom was."

"It's fine." You look towards the back, pointing to a hallway. "Down there, there's a bathroom. Lock the door behind you and knock before you go in."

He looks a little angry when you say that, but gets up and sulks his way over to the hallway. At least he already knows basic manners, then.

You turn to Nina, a deep sigh escaping your lungs.

She snorts. "I can see you turning older from where you sit."

You kick her foot under the table. "I couldn't leave him. Can you check up on him when we get back to the Club? I don't imagine he'll want me poking around at him trying to find a wound that doesn't exist."

"Seeing as you bought me breakfast, I suppose I have to return the favor."

"Thank you." You grab her hand, the both of you squeezing. "I'm sorry for tricking you."

That makes her let out a belly laugh, a short "ha!" while her cheeks glow. "If your tricks always start out like this then you wont see me complaining. Besides," she looks towards the back of the diner, "he's a cutie. Wouldn't want him dropping dead anytime soon."

"I'm mostly just worried about how calm he is. I mean, would you be this fine with a stranger picking you off the street and taking you to get food?"

Nina sighs, giving your hand another light squeeze. "Im not sure he knows he should be afraid. Which is more of a curse than a blessing. He's what, six?"

"Probably? My oldest quess is seven, but with how small he is compared to how well-mannered he is he could be ten for all I know."

"He'll be fine. And so will you. Just take it as it comes as all the advice I can offer you. He's probably going through shock."

Leo slides back into the booth, hands slightly damp from what you hope is water and not urine. Somehow the food is already done within the short amount of time you order, and a waiter is sliding the dishes onto the table.

The omelet doesn't stand a chance in front of a young boy, and a quarter of it is nearly gone before the waiter leaves.

You spare a glance at Nina, who's looking at the rapidly disappearing slab of eggs with amazement."Well if he wasn't before he definitely is about to be."

-----

You tuck the kid into bed, freshly washed and with a clean set of clothes on his body. His hair was actually a much lighter shade of brown than you thought, and beneath all that grime rested a few freckles and an old scar.

Nina had checked him all over for any sort of injury, and found nothing besides a bit of high blood pressure, which wasn't surprising given he was absolutely starving.

A bit of food in him for the next few months should help tremendously, you think.

He just got done stuffing himself with some soup you made for you and the Crows, ignoring the fact that the Slat was filled to the brim with people who also wanted some. It was enough for them that you pointed to a box of recipes and some spare ingredients, cheers sounding throughout the building.

Kaz had took his and disappeared up to his room before you could say anything, still visibly irritated.

Nina thinks he's about six, which could be why he's relatively quick to trust.

"Are you sure he's not mad at me?" Leo asks, patting down a pillow you just sewed together and bring you out of your thoughts.

You squat by your bed, head in your hands. "Maybe," you sigh. "But it's not from anything you did. He just doesn't like to be mad at me so he's using it up on you."

"Thats not very kind."

You want to wrap this kid up tighter. "No, it's not." Instead you turn the lantern beside your bed down to a very low flame, creating a soft glow throughout the room. "But it's Kaz."

Leo takes that explanation like a champ, like he actually understands what that means, and let's his eyes fall shut.

You pick up the hot tea you made earlier, using your key to lock the door behind you as you make your way over to the attic.

Strangely, you feel anxious as you ascend the stairs. The tea shakes in your hands, rattling a little against the mismatched saucer plate. But you open his door and are met with the exact situation you predicted earlier, your shoulders relaxing.

"Tea will not stave my mood." He turns over a piece of paper, setting down an ink pen.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." You set the tea on his desk, avoiding the wells of the door. "I am simply offering a nice cup of tea for my nice boyfriend who is totally not about to shove his nice cane up my nice ass."

"The last place my cane will go is up your ass." He sets the page down, looking up at you. "That's incredibly unsanitary."

You root around on his desk, looking at the various papers he's marking and reading through. "And the blood isn't?

"Arguably easier to clean." He takes a packet out of your hand and replaces it with a different one. "Educate me as to why bringing a child into my club was a smart decision."

Immediately you deflate, falling back into a chair. You cringe when the wood digs into your bones.

Honestly, you already told him everything. He's small, food was available, you had space he could occupy, why not?

"I've already told you, Kaz. I had the ability, and I dont really see a reason why not. Why don't you educate me?"

He looks about ready to strangle something, exasperated sigh shoving it's way out of his lungs.

"What are you going to do on the ocassion he gets in the line of fire? How are you going to react if his parents find him? When they take him back? Can you say with absolute certainty that this child wont destroy you?" He stands with every question, looming over his desk with his hands splayed over the surface.

"Could you have said that about me when we got together?" You counter.

It's a rare thing, to see Kaz go quiet and contemplative.

You don't particularly enjoy it.

"I can't say that should any of those happen I won't be a little devastated. But is it really justifiable to push him out just because he has the potential to hurt me?" You stand too, the packet still in your hand. "As you said, he's my responsibility. When it comes to that, I'll take the fall. You don't have to be as worried as you are-"

"I do." He interrupts. "I do, because he's important to you. And unfortunately our moods and overall state of mind have an overwhelming effect on the other."

You take a moment to look at him, purple blotches under his eyes and his scars highlighted by angle of the light. He's exhausted, and it kind of hurts to realize some of that might have been your fault.

But you're not sorry.

"He thinks you hate him."

"I don't know enough about him to properly hate him."

You smile as he sits down, bringing the cup of tea with him. He's far more relaxed than before, and is just this side of tired that you see his eyelids begin to weigh down, a deep breath is all it takes for the tension to leave his brows completely as the warm beverage meets his mouth. You swear you hear him moan when he feels just how warm it still is.

"Thats what I told him, but I don't think he believes me."

"Suck to suck. Look at the packet."

It's rather thin, you realize, black string tying the pages together. On the front, which you skimmed and didn't really read earlier, it says "Tips for new Adoptees".

On the inside are various tables and notes Kaz seems to have scrounged together, his messy cursive completely filling the pages to the point you have trouble figuring out where a thought ends and another begins.

"Huh." Is all you say, chest heavy and feet scuffing the floor.

You dont... you don't know what to say. You're reading something about how much a child costs but you're not really taking it in. It's more than you could have ever imagined.

Kaz sets the tea down. "I imagine Leo isn't going to be the last. You know where the extra paper is."

He makes your heart so warm. It makes it hard to be annoyed at him for doubting you.

The stairs leading up to the attic creak, and immediately you and Kaz are on guard, your hand moving to your back where little daggers decorate your belt.

Leo's face pops into the room, and you immediately relax, an exasperated sigh exiting your lips. "Hey, Leo. What's going on?"

He inches into the room, hands tentatively still holding onto he door. "I feel bad about going to sleep in your bed. And I wanted to say sorry for doing what I did, Mr. Kaz."

Kaz quirks a brow. "And what is that?"

"Um..." Leo freezes, looking away. "I don't know."

Immediately you look at Kaz, raising your own brow. He gives you a look that you know would kill you if it could, and you smile.

"Leo, come here and meet Kaz." You wave him over, setting the packet aside.

He hesitates, making a move to walk into the room. But when his eyes land on Kaz, he stops.

"He doesnt bite." You try and crack a joke, and while he doesnt laugh, he does drop his shoulders and release the iron grip from the doors side.

Kaz stands and walks around the table, limp pronounced as usual without his cane as Leo closes the door and makes his way across the room.

They stare at eachother for a few moments, coming just a few feet apart behind your chair. You watch their eyes scan over the other, Leo eyeing Kaz's limp and little scars and Kaz inspecting Leo' clothes and the way his ear is slightly folded inwards.

Surprisingly, Kaz offers his gloved hand first, and Leo takes it almost instantly. You watch as they share a firm handshake, nodding at eachother.

"Please to make your anquaintance." There's a slight fumble to Leo's words, and it takes everything in your power to not interrupt their moment and correct him.

But Kaz just nods, releasing their hands. "Pleasure is all mine."

You smile, the little interaction forever cemented into your soul.

Leo definitely isn't going to be the last kid coming through here. Not when Kaz let's a smile pull at his lips just so, and makes a pen appear out of thin air for Leo to look at.

For now, however, this is enough.

∘₊✧──────────────────✧₊∘

Tags:

@b3kk3r-by-br3kk3r @a-candle-maker @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @kylie18 @morrigan-crowmwell

#ask #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x y/n #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker fanfic #kaz brekker imagine #six of crows x reader #six of crows x y/n #six of crows x you #six of crows fanfic #six of crows imagine #grishaverse x you #grishaverse x reader #grishaverse x y/n #fanfic #imaginesfire

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miffysrambles · 6 months

Text

Protective! Macaque with S/O OneShot

(Warning (?) : This one gets kind of intense with the themes of being harassed, I didn't know if that needed a warning but just to be safe!)

You were backed into a corner of an empty alleyway as you were pleading with the creepy stranger to leave you alone already.

“I-I said please leave me alone, I’m not interested!” You frowned up at him as he pressed one of his palms against the brick wall from your response of trying to walk away from him.

You were beyond uncomfortable at this point, he had followed you to isolate you for gods sake!

You were only on your way to the small theater to see your boyfriend after work, apparently the stranger saw you walking on the sidewalk and decided he wanted to pursue you.

“Aww come on sweetheart, I could treat you better than anyone ever could.” He winked down at you, making your stomach and heart feel like it’s been punched.

You realized this guy wasn’t going to take no or stop for an answer, deciding your best option was to make a run for it so you weren’t isolated and around other people for help.

The creep saw you shift to the side, knowing what you were going to do next as he grabbed you by the wrist as you ducked underneath his arm.

You cried out as his grip tightened around your waist, “Where you going sweetheart, I’m not done with you yet.”

You squirmed in his grasp as you struggled to get him to let you go, your fingers trying to make his grip loosen.

This only made his fingers grip tighter, making you seethe in the squeezing pain.

“Heh, you’re cute when you struggle like…”

His words trailed off as his eyes locked above you instead of into yours, a low growl emitting from above your head.

“Get you hand off of them before I rip it off your arm…”

Oh dear Gods.

The creep quickly released your wrist, making you rub the red finger marks around your limb as it already started to bruise.

Your boyfriend Macaque had appeared in your shadow, poking his head out from a portal above you as he used another to rise from the ground to appear in front of you to defend you.

He looked behind him to see he had left bruises on your wrist as you seethed in pain.

Macaque saw red as he felt raw anger pulse through his form.

He hurt you.

HE HURT YOU.

In a flash, Macaque grabbed the creep by the shirt collar and pinned him to the wall on the opposite side of you.

“On second thought, I should rip you apart limb from limb for even laying one of your disgusting fingers on them.”

The creep’s smug composure was long gone, now replaced with shivering fear as he pleaded with Macaque to leave him alone.

The simian gritted his fangs as he raised his fist to land a blow to his face, wanting to make sure he wiped that horrid smug expression off of him for the rest of his days.

He was stopped as your soft voice called out to him, snapping him out of his enraged state as he looked back at you.

“I… I just want to go home.”

Macque looked back at the creep as he growled once more, “You got lucky pal, if I ever see you even dare to look at my partner I’ll rip your eyes out myself.”

Your boyfriend let go of the creep’s collar as he scurried off, you wouldn’t need to worry about him coming back because if you were in his shoes you wouldn’t.

Macaque never went back on his words when it came to you.

He ran over to you as he gently took your bruised wrist into his palm, pressing a loving kiss against the mark.

“That son of a bitch was lucky you stopped me, I’ll tell you that much.” He muttered against your skin.

You smiled as he scooped you up into his arms as he summoned another portal to take you home, landing on your couch as he pressed his lips against your own.

“I’m gonna stay with you tonight, is that ok starshine?” His low voice asked, making you smile once more as you nodded.

“Of course hon, I’d actually really like that.”

He sighed in relief as he laid back on the arm of the couch, pulling you close to his chest as he kissed your forehead and held you like someone was trying to take you away from him.

Macaque wanted nothing more than to keep you close to him as much as possible tonight, seeing someone make you so scared and uncomfortable ignited the protective urge in him.

No one was every gonna mess with his sugarplum ever again, he was gonna make sure of that.

#ask #cw: intense themes #cw: harassment #lmk #lego monkie kid #lmk x reader #lego monkie kid x reader #lmk macaque #lego monkie kid macaque #lmk macaque x reader #lego monkie kid macaque x reader #macaque x reader

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whorediaries-09 · 4 months

Text

afterglow;

pairing- felix catton x reader warning(s) - hurt/comfort. (let me know if i should add more.) a/n- accepting requests for characters from saltburn!

the slut club

'why'd I have to break what I love so much? it's on your face, don't walk away, I need to say

he wasn't stupid. he was rather someone who preferred not to study. he was smart, and caught on to what you were trying to teach pretty fast. you wondered why you'd been chosen to tutor him while he pretty much could've learnt all the things were explaining by himself. you felt inferior to him, to his large circle of friends and his charm. you didn't feel 'cool' enough to be his friend, and somewhere along your thoughts, you may have been intimidated solely by his presence.

'so, tomorrow at 6 pm, library, sound good?' he asked, walking backwards. you clutched your books closer to your chest, as you walked forward.

'yeah, but you'll topple and fall if you walk like that, careful felix,' you warned. he winked, joining you as he walked side by side. he put his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to his body. the deep rich scent of mahogany and cigarettes ghosted you.

you moved away from his touch. your clothes felt too sticky, books too heavy. the sun was scorching down upon you. your stomach felt too bulged. you were tired, horrendously so. it wasn't your day, it made you want to tear off your hair, rip off your skin.

'i was wondering if you'd want to go out sometime? me and you?' he asks, stopping you at your tracks. you take in a deep breath, your mind flashing different ways to dodge the situation. it's not that hard you think. slowly you gulp,

'felix, are you out of your mind? who gave you this stupid dare?'

he stares at you with an intense look in his eyes. and maybe you want to believe him, even if you rationally know he's pulling your leg. because everyone loved him. it was impossible not to love him. he was a perfect fantasy, someone who didn't seem to be real. he was a gateway to an escape from reality.

'i- i'm- i should go,' he says, turning on his heels. you watch him go, as the sunset paints it's hues on the sky. the dull hotness creeps into your heart, burning with an insatiable intensity that leaves you heaving. you feel terrible, as if you'd attacked him without reason, but you knew, you weren't wrong. it must have been a dare that farleigh had given him to complete.

*****

the knocks on your door grew aggressively louder. it wasn't a fragment of your dreams you realized, as you opened your eyes. the moonlight peeked through your curtains. you slipped you feet into your slippers, rubbing your eyes.

the college party invite hadn't reached you. it was too late to deal with drunk people shenanigans, but with the progressively loud knocks on the door, you doubted you'd be able to sleep. maybe it was the best option to chase the one who was causing the ruckus outside your door.

when you unlocked the door, a breathless felix towered over your body. he stared at you red, hollow eyed. he reeked of beer and cigarettes. he stumbled, closing the gap between you. pushing the door close with his feet, he breathed in your scent. he sighed, pulling you closer.

'j-just let me embrace you. you're so warm,' you wrapped your arms around his body, pulling yourself apart from his hold. you stared into his hazel like eyes, which were like sunlit branches or the moss covered oak. you tried to decipher his feelings, his true intentions.

'felix, can you please sit down for a moment?' you whispered. he nodded, sitting on your bedding. you sat down on your knees beside him. his palm travelled up to your cheek, stroking the skin. you smiled at him, holding his hand. you felt broken and hurt.

'do you really hate me that much?' he asked, tilting his head at an angle. he smiled, despite the tears that pooled on his waterline, waiting for you to answer.

'i-i don't hate you,'

'then why won't you go out with me?'

'because- well because you- you're you! and i- i'm me.'

'if it it's some sort of metaphorical bullshit then i don't get it. but what i do get it is that i really fucking like you. something about you feels so legit, so fucking real. like i want to know you, but you keep hiding from me, keep escaping me. you don't even talk to me except when you're scolding me...' you breathed heavy. he was legitimate with what he had meant. and he was hurt because of you. while you stood on the middle of the line of a desire to be solely his or a desire to be his companion, you were silent. you were living like an island, punishing him in silence.

'felix, we're different. don't you see? everyone around you loves you so much. you're so perfect. you're like a fantasy come into life. everyone puts on a show for you. just so you love them back. but i don't-i can't do that.'

'well that's why i like you so much! you don't put up a pretentious barrier like everyone else!' it was excruciating to see him so low. your heart throbbed against your ribcage as he grazed his temple against yours. he cradled your face in his palm. his breathing was tampered and irregular. but it felt like he was breathing just for you, just to you. when he whispered, it was like a secret. a secret just for you and him. a secret meant just to be kept, a secret to be held just between the two of you, a secret to be cherished between the two of you,

'i don't even think i like you. i think i might be in love with you,'

so maybe, he wasn't perfect. he had his insecurities, some things to hide. but he was ready, to be explored, to show his flaws. he wanted you, he wanted you with your flaws. he wanted you to be his reality, to escape the perfect prison he was in. he wanted you, to hold on to you, and not let you go.

so maybe it was all in your head. you were scared. but you didn't want to burn it down. you didn't mean to hurt him. you didn't want him to go, you didn't want to lose him. you wanted him, to escape reality of the imperfect prison you were in. you didn't want him to go. you wanted him, to hold on to him and not let him go. you didn't want to punish him in silence.

'only if the love is worth the fight,' you whispered back.

so when your lips found their path to his, you knew he'd meet you. even in the afterglow.

#felix catton x you #felix catton x reader #saltburn #saltburn imagine #saltburn one shot #saltburn drabble #saltburn drabbles #felix catton #farleigh start #oliver quick #felix x you #felix x reader #female reader #reader insert #jacob elordi

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chubypotato · 6 days

Text

Someone hitting you in front of him.

Once again it is a request from our beloved @ijustloveshingekinokyojin

Including Umemiya, Sakura, Suo, Kiryu and nirei

Umemiya

You guys were just together looking for some item you've seen online and you really wanted them.

Seeing you so happy Umemiya heart couldn't help but to felt his heart melt.

Without you noticed Umemiya went into the store.

After a few second an unknown men went to meet you. Starting to talk to you.

Even though you told the guy to leave you alone he started to scream at you and even took your arm.

At the exact moment Umemiya cameback.

He didnt have the time to make a move that your fist meet this guy face.

When He tried to replicate you felt a hand on your waist and an important presence behind you.

That was of course your boyfriend. He's coming to help you.

"What do you think you're doing? "

Seeing the firing uniform the man left quickly.

When you asked Umemiya were he was he looked at you with adorable eyes showing you the product he bought that you guys came originally for.

Sakura

You guys were outside you went with Sakura and his friend on a patrol. You weren't used to go with him but you had nothing to do and you really wanted to spend time with him.

Sakura and you were behind everyone talking and stuff. You even manage to take his hand in yours. His face was slightly red but not that much noticeable.

When a men approached you and talking to you in an appropriate way. Telling you stuff you really didn't like and after all you are here to spend time with your boyfriend and to see how a Furin patrol is.

Sakura couldn't even say a thing before you jump on that guy to rip him apart. No thought needed just action. Your body moved before you could think.

The fight started and well obviously you won. Women supremacy. The men left running his tails between his leg. Not very brave for a men who went talk to you and even tried to flirt with you in front of the furin.

When you turn back everyone was looking at you. Such a pretty lady fighting like that. Quite impressive. The mouth were open not really know how to react or even what to say. But what did they expect you are Sakura 's girlfriend.

But honestly even him didn't know you could do that. The guy didn't even touch you once. You were so cool.

Sakura looked so proud like have you seen that? That's my girlfriend look.

"You can fight? Fight me. "

Bro now want to fight with and against you.

Suo

Walking hand in hand with your boyfriend he was listening to you while you were talking about your last interest of the moment.

It was such a cute moment everyone could tell you were loving bird.

That nice moment were cut off by a bunch of men who came by you

Without a thought suo put you behind him to protect his significant other.

Unfortunately the guys wouldn't let you off so a fight start.

Suo was doing as always amazing but he didn't see one of the guy approaching you.

It was only when you sent him fly to another guy suo was fighting that he turn around to see you angry.

Seriously it was a nice afternoon, the weather was nice but no people pissed you off.

You went by Suo to be behind him again. Sure you know how to fight but you don't want to.

After that you guys went by an item from your interest of the moment to cool you off.

Kiryu

Can we take a moment to appreciate how cute he looks on this image?

You guys were on a date in the arcade laughing and having fun playing.

It was such precious date to you since you could enjoy a passion in common but also cause let's not lie you beat every record on the arcade born.

After beating another record Kiryu told you he will comeback in a few and to just wait for him.

So here you are now trying to escape a boring conversation with a men who clearly want to take you home.

You wish your boyfriend would comeback soon but unfortunately it seems that he will take some time.

When you nicely said the men you didn't wish to speak to him and you already have someone he began to be more aggressive.

He took your arm begining to drag you closer to him. You couldn't do much since he has your arm so you hit him with you head on the nose.

He startind to bleed when his lift his hand to slap you.

You raise you arm ready to block him. But before you could a hand stopped him.

Kiryu came back. Finally. You were clearly not a princess in danger but if you could avoid fighting even though you know how to its better.

Kiryu was clearly really pissed off by this men. His pressure on the guy hand was strong and he didn't want to let go. Who do this guy think to touch you?

The guy otherwise did not let go to. They started to fight before a manager came to the situation and make everyone leave.

Kiryu look at you before giving you a plush he won while he was not with you that's why he left. Finally you guys ended up at his house playing game with the plush between your arm.

Nirei

You guys were walking on the street heading to a meet up with the other.

It was a nice day you actually came cause the meeting was called kinda late and you really wanted to meet your boyfriend's friend.

So here you are walking listening to Nirei talking about how Sakura tried to again started a fight and how he tried to stopped it while Suo encouraged it by his sarcastic comment.

At some point a guy came by you stopping you on your walks.

Dude tried to poorly rizz you when Nirei told him you weren't interested and then HE was YOUR boyfriend.

But the guy didn't like that his fist up he tried to hit Nirei when you stopped him and hit his elbow with your knee. Bam you broke it.

The guy left crying how much it hurts. Nirei was so impressed by you he even asked you to teach him how to do that.

You looked at him laughing when you slowly realise his friend was behind him. With all the sound the fight did obviously furin came to see what happened. And they saw everything.

And that is how you met you boyfriend's friends.

#anime #headcannons #kiryu #nireii #suo #windbreaker #windbreaker satoru nii x reader #windbreaker satorunii #x reader #as your boyfriend #windbreaker x yn #windbreaker x reader #wind breaker x reader #windbreaker anime

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ladykailitha · 7 months

Text

Soft Part 1 of 2

I was meant to be working on Grief (A Friend Indeed) this weekend because I didn't want to leave you hanging at the end of six (which I have written), but my muse wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote this one. It's a little more than 3k, so I'm splitting it up. Which will give me more time to write part 7.

It's called soft because all the way through writing it, that's what the feel was. It was all fluff. And I really couldn't think of a better title.

Eddie walked into the apartment Steve shared with Robin and found Steve crying on the sofa.

"Stevie?" he asked, gently creeping up on the sofa as not to startle him.

"Hey, Eds," Steve greeted mournfully.

"What happened, babe?" Eddie asked, easing on the sofa next to him.

"Anna broke up with me..." he muttered.

Eddie blinked. "But wasn't she the one that brought up marriage, like just last week?"

Steve nodded. "Apparently it was a test or some such shit."

"What did you say?" he asked.

"I told her that marriage is great when you find the right person, but that it wasn't for everyone," Steve explained. "I said it was great feeling to stand up in front of your friends and family and declare your love for each other."

"Sounds great to me," Eddie said. "What was her damage?"

Steve sighed. "Apparently the answer to the question 'should people get married' is never ever in a million years and I'm a misogynist for even thinking about it."

"Ouch."

"Stupid me for thinking otherwise," Steve groused. "Hell I even went and put a down payment on a ring. A very nonrefundable down payment."

Eddie closed his eyes and opened them slowly. "Shit, sweetheart. She should reimburse you for that, leading you on like she did."

Steve shook his head, pulling out a small box. "I bought this instead." He handed it to Eddie.

Eddie opened the box and inside was a beautiful white gold chain with a large clasp.

"That's pretty, Stevie," he murmured. "Birdie will love it."

Steve shook his head again. "It's for you. It's for your guitar pick." He jutted his chin at Eddie's necklace.

"What?"

"Can I show you?" Steve asked gently, holding out his hand.

Eddie nodded and took the necklace off and placed it in his waiting palm.

Steve set it on his thigh as he unscrewed one end of the clasp. He slid the pick off the bubble chain Eddie kept it on and onto the silver chain. He screwed the clasp back on and then brought the two ends back together. They connected without any help from Steve.

"Whoa!" Eddie said, enthralled.

"It's magnetic," he explained. "That way when you do shows you can do the whole rip it off your neck without having to buy new chains all the time."

He handed it back to Eddie, who put it on. He tugged on it normally but it didn't come off. He tugged harder and it came off in his hand. The chain slipped around his palm and reconnected. He wrapped it around his wrist and the pick fell perfectly in his hand so he could strum.

He played a little air guitar and then put back around his neck.

Steve ran his fingers through his hair. "I heard that picks really don't last long, and that that one is really special, so I had these made too."

He pulled the cushion out of the jewelry box to reveal about a dozen picks with a hole drilled into the top so Eddie could string them on the necklace.

Eddie picked one up and saw that it had initials on it. "JL." He picked up another one. "DH." A third. "LS."

"Steve..." he whispered.

"They each have an initial for someone you love," Steve murmured. "Your uncle. Your band. The kids."

"Not you?" Eddie asked, tilting his head around so he could get a better look at Steve face.

Steve blushed a dark red. He tugged on the necklace and it came off in his hand. "My initials are here." He pointed to the two clasps. And sure enough there were engraved into the silver was a simple S and H.

Eddie's heart stuttered in his chest. "Thank you." His lip quivered a bit before he spoke again. "You didn't have to do this, you know."

Steve shook his head. "I had to get something with down payment. This wasn't that much. I promise. I liked getting it for you."

Eddie just nodded.

Eddie showed up for band practice, practically vibrating out of his skin.

Jeff leaned back. “Whoa, man. Who’s put caffeine into your veins?”

“Lookie what Stevie got me!” he said and yanked off the chain, it immediately demonstrated the effect for him.

“Holy shit!” Gareth said bounding up to him. “That’s so freaking cool.”

Eddie grinned. “He also got me these.” And he poured the picks into Gareth’s hand.

Gareth picked one up, after another reading off the initials. “JH, ES, DH... GH?”

He looked up at Eddie in awe. He held up the GH. “Is that me?”

Eddie nodded, pursing his lips. “There’s a JL and a BM in there too.”

“And the rest all the kids right?” Brian asked coming up behind Gareth.

“And Wayne and Robin,” Eddie confirmed.

Jeff wandered over, too. “No pick for Stevie?” he asked, pushing them around in Gareth’s hand.

Eddie quietly showed them the initials on the necklace itself.

“Holy fuck!” Brian said, wide-eyed. “That’s a declaration of love if I ever saw one, man.”

Jeff nodded. “Yeah, Ed. That’s some straight up romantic shit.”

“Come on, guys,” Eddie moaned. “It’s not like that. He put a down payment on a ring for a relationship that went bust and needed to spend it anyway.”

All three of his bandmates just stared at him in disbelief.

He squirmed a little under their gaze. “I bet Birdie got something even better than this.” He held up the necklace. “It’s only silver, it couldn’t have cost that much anyway.”

“Dude,” Brian said. “Your rings are silver. That is something else.”

Eddie frowned and compared the two pieces of jewelry side by side.

“Oh.”

He chewed on his lip. “I think I know what metal this is.”

Gareth rubbed his chin. “It looks like my mom’s wedding ring. And that’s...”

“White gold,” Eddie and Gareth said together.

Jeff’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head. “You mean to tell me that Steve got you a necklace made of white gold and you still don’t think it’s a declaration of his undying love you?”

“Guys...” he whined. “It’s only the necklace. It can’t have cost that much, okay?”

Jeff ran his tongue over his lips, a sly look on his face.

“What?” Eddie barked.

“I’ll tell you what...” Jeff said shrewdly. “If he bought something for Buckley, too, we’ll learn all fucking ten minutes of Master of Puppets.”

Eddie grinned. But Brian and Gareth didn’t even have the decency to look worried.

“And if he hasn’t...” Jeff continued. “You’ll play Free Bird at the next gig at the Hideout.”

Eddie groaned. Both songs were long, but he thought Free Bird was boring. Not like Master of Puppets, that song had depths.

But then again... he was sure that Robin had something even nicer from Steve. Like diamond stud earrings or some shit.

“You’re on.”

Jeff smiled as they shook on it and it made Eddie doubt a bit.

Nah.

He had this on lock.

Eddie came bounding up to the counter at Steve and Robin’s job at the bookstore. Just another in their long line of jobs they had together.

“Where is your soulmate?” he asked the very disgruntled Robin.

She rolled her eyes. “He’s at home. With another migraine.”

Eddie winced. “That’s the third one this week.”

Robin nodded. “He’s got an appointment with a neurologist next week, but I’m stuck here, while he’s at home being miserable.”

Eddie pouted. “Poor Birdie. I can check up on him on my way home?”

“Thanks,” she said, a little bit of tension leaving her body.

“Speaking of your soulmate,” he said. “Did he show you what he got me?”

Robin shook her head. “I didn’t even realize he had gotten you anything.”

Eddie frowned, but took off his necklace and handed it to her.

She smiled at the initials. “That dingus. That’s really sweet of him.”

He told her the whole story. “So what did he get you?” he asked when he finished.

Robin furrowed her brow. “Nothing.”

Eddie reared back his head. “That’s not possible. He loves you the most in all the world. He would have gotten you something.”

She gently took his hand, the necklace tangling around their fingers. “Eddie, he loves you, too. Just as much, just differently.”

He reached out with his free hand and fingered the braided chain. “Jeff... the whole band really thought it was a declaration of true love.”

“They sound pretty smart to me.”

Eddie pursed his lips. He nodded. “I’ve got to go. Don’t worry, I’ll still check up on him.”

He untangled their hands and put the necklace back on.

Robin watched him go with a fond smile on her face. They were both stupid. But they were getting there.

Eddie had made sure Steve had taken his medicine and was lying down in his room with an ice pack on his head.

He was snooping. He was usually against that. Like with every fiber of his being, but this was extenuating circumstances. He couldn’t ask Steve as it was for a surprise for him. Couldn’t ask Robin, he loved her but she would blurt out the surprise. Just randomly. Without prompting.

So he was snooping around looking for a specific piece of paper he knew Robin kept in one of three places. Her nightstand. Wasn’t there. Next to the phone. Again, not there. So he was rifling through their junk drawer in a last ditch effort to find what he was looking for.

EUREKA! He found it.

He copied the information and then put the paper back. He carefully put the paper in his wallet.

He stayed nearby until Robin came home, but Steve slept straight through the changing of the guard.

***

Part 2

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#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #fluff

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dimlylittorch · 4 months

Text

first official post of my own thoughts bc I’ve decided to let myself be deranged on here..

the cod boys with a chubby partner who finally works up the nerve to attempt to send a nude!! this is so self indulgent y’all😭

PSA: !! I’m probably a horrible writer pls forgive me !!

My Masterlist🌱

Reader x John Price, Reader x Simon Ghost Riley, Reader x Johnny Soap MacTavish, Reader x Kyle Gaz Garrick

Random Headcanons: Edition 1

Warnings: NSFW

(mention of erections, nudes, inappropriate voice recordings, probably poor workplace behavior lmao)

Price

y’all have to be careful with our old man!! you might give him a heart attack :((

imagine he’s just in his office, bored out of his mind filling out his routine paperwork. Keeps dozing off, doesn’t feel like getting up to get more coffee. Practically praying for some kind of distraction or crisis to present itself. Suddenly he gets a text from you!! You know he gets bored at work so you try to send him little things that he’ll look at throughout the day, funny videos, a pretty tree you saw, etc.

But this time? Oh lord. He opens his messages from you and he sees your image with the blurred setting? With the caption ‘just in case you’re having a slow day.. don’t let anyone else see, okay?’

Of course our old man is scratching his beard, trying to guess what it is. He thinks on it for a moment, but ultimately gives up.. he opens it and goddamn. It’s your pretty little self perched on the bathroom counter of your shared apartment.. naked. Suddenly another text comes through, an apology. ‘I’m going to delete that- it looks really bad, I’m sorry’

He just about slips out of his chair with how fast he’s texting you ‘Don’t you dare.’

Ghost

Ghost? Ghost is a different story. You don’t have to worry about his heart- you have to worry about yours. The second you send him something like that? Sweetheart, there’s no stopping what he’ll do after the fact :]

He’s had a rough day, having to train some stupid ass recruits (his words, not mine). He’s already annoyed- someone took the last packet of tea from the kitchen area, he got caught on a nail turning a corner and his shirt ripped.. it’s not our baby’s day, y’all :((

He goes up onto the roof to get away from everything before he punches a whole in a wall- or in another person. He gets up top, sitting with his back to the ledge as he lights up a smoke. Grunting and grumbling to himself about everything that happened today, just thinking about being able to go home. Suddenly he gets a message from you. He sighs softly out of relief, and mumbles to himself ‘thank fuck.’

He opens the message, seeing a few little paragraphs about your day. You know he can’t text much during work, but you send him updates and he reads them at night whenever he can’t fall asleep. That way he still feels like he’s with you/talking to you while you get a good nights rest <3

He’s scrolling through the paragraphs, deciding to read a few to calm him down. He gets to the very top.. and he drops his smoke on himself., dropping his phone too. He quickly curses, brushing it off and stamping it out. He picks up his phone and.. the screen is broken. He’s so pissed off, poor baby. He manages to open his phone and see the picture through all of the cracks. He’s cursing to himself at how he can’t see the full picture. Suddenly he’s on his feet, heading down the stairs as fast as he can, ready to go home and make you recreate that photo..

Soap

We all know Soap is a menace. He probably sends you nudes (with your consent, of course) every few days. He’ll be trying on clothes and feeling himself? Who wouldn’t want to see a cute naked picture of him in the mirror. This definitely isn’t his first ball game, be sure of that ;)

Johnny has been having an alright day, mainly doing his duties nonchalantly, per usual. He manages to finish early and decides to hang out with some of the boys today, he knew you wouldn’t mind. Goes into the rec room where everyone was relaxing, playing pool, watching sports. He grabs a drink out of the mini fridge and kicks back on the couch, Ghost on his right, Alejandro on his left.

Between you and Johnny, you were definitely the more level headed one in the relationship. You knew that if you texted him throughout the day, he would get distracted and not get any work done, solely wanting to focus on you (just like a puppy, istg). He had texted you letting you know that he would be staying a little late today. You were always nice about it when he did that.. but today you felt a little needy, deciding to tease him a little.

He suddenly gets a text from you. Ghost and Ale, as nosy as ever, happen to be glancing at his phone screen when he opens his messages to a picture of a naked you on your knees, on your shared bed in front of a mirror, with the caption ‘that’s okay Johnny. just miss you, is all’. Johnny practically chokes on his drink, immediately slamming his phone against his chest, hoping Ghost and Ale didn’t see. He can already feel himself getting hard, and Ghost and Ale just chuckle. ‘Might want to get on home, Johnny’ they tease

Gaz

sweet, sweet baby Gaz. I wouldn’t be surprised if he wasn’t overly accustomed to sending nudes either!! In my mind he’s just the perfect gentleman, never initiating something like that unless you bring it up first :3

Gaz is outside, helping unload cargo from one of the trucks, just a usual shipment of supplies. He’s sweating his ass off, tired and ready for the day to end. He takes a break, sitting on a case of cargo for a moment and pulling out his phone. He sees a few messages from you and he smiles to himself, loving that you think of him throughout the day. He decides to go into the bathroom to get cleaned up. He walks in, grabbing a few paper towels to wipe some of his sweat off with as he opens his phone. First he sees a voice message, and he holds it up to his ear as he leans against a sink, ready to listen to his sweet love’s voice.

The audio recording starts to play. He immediately freezes, his body tensing as he listens to you. He could hear a faint buzz in the background, accompanied by your soft noises, clearly enjoying yourself. He’s frozen in place, barely comprehending what he’s listening to. The short voice recording ends and he just pulls his phone down from his ear, dumbfounded as he can already feel an erection growing. You send another text, a picture of you with a towel, cleaning yourself up. ‘I hope you’re having a good day <3’ is all you send with it. Let’s just say, he went into one of the bathroom stalls and didn’t come out for a little while, making sure to send you back a similar message. ‘My day is so much better now, baby’ he texts back with his own recording

I hope you guys liked this!! Please give me feedback, it would mean the world. Let me know if you want me to make a continuation of these, or do a part 2 with more characters!! Happy holidays <3

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biteofcherry · 11 months

Text

To find the light, we must first touch the darkness

Please also check out @bluepinkangel’s amazing hot moodboard for this universe 🖤

dark!mafia Steve Rogers x female reader

summary: When you unexpectedly are appointed to run a health center, you foresee many struggles along the way, but not one in the form of a merciless mob boss. Steve Rogers’ core aim is to own and he won’t take no for an answer. To any of his demands.

warnings for this chapter: dark!Steve Rogers; power imbalance; forced relationship; violence; death (minor character); D/s undertones; gun play; gun play kink; explicit sexual situation; faint choking kink; mention of breeding kink;

I did warn you this Steve is dark 😜

word count: 8k

Touch the Darkness Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Chapter 4. Heated hail

~ * ~

Hues of orange and purple brushed over the horizon in softest strokes as the sun settled down, but your heart couldn’t settle in your chest, every few hours jumping into a rapid patter to the tune of anxiety.

Staying in the safety of your apartment for two days after the horrid events didn’t help much, it still felt impossible to ease into your new life with its stains of alluring darkness.

You called in sick the morning after your engagement. Then stayed home for another day, as well. Hiding worked no miracles, your brain was very much conscious of the events that happened and of the things awaiting you, but at least you didn’t have to face it all for those few more hours of denial.

Though no one appeared on your doorstep and you didn’t sense any eyes on you as you occasionally walked out onto your tiny balcony, you were convinced that Steve knew very well where you were.

At all times.

It was a blessing he didn’t march into your home with a wedding gown, forcing you to say the vows immediately. You half expected it, since your continued talk after the kiss included Steve’s announcement that you’re to be married in a month.

He wasn’t interested in waiting.

It seemed that even when Steve Rogers appeared patient, it was only when he knew the results he demanded would come precisely in the time window he approved of.

Giving you a month was undoubtedly an act of grace in his eyes, since he could’ve as well dragged you in front of some registrar the very next day.

Or maybe it was a wicked torment on his part, making you organize a wedding you didn’t really want. Not ripping off the band aid quickly, but making conscious decisions (as indifferent as they may be) about details regarding the ceremony of binding yourself to Steve for life.

True torture was playing the part of shocked and grief-stricken when Natalie called you a few hours earlier to inform you of Felix’s tragic car accident.

You nearly laughed hysterically at that.

Car accident. Sure.

Against a truck branded Rogers.

You had no idea if they staged it so that it looked like an accident after they'd beaten him to death (or done worse things to him), or if Rogers had enough officers under his thumb that they classified it as such, without letting anyone know the truth.

But you knew the truth. Most of it, anyway, without gory details.

Maybe you shouldn’t feel sad, considering Felix gave you to another mobster on a silver platter. Who knows how that meeting would go, if Steve hadn’t intervened. However, you were still human and, even if occasionally you felt a taste for drawing blood when someone pissed you off, you didn’t wish anyone death.

You would have to play the shocked and sorrowful employer in front of the health center employees, which was also why you dreaded going back to work.

It would be easier, perhaps, if your mind reacted in the way it was supposed to.

Though you knew people reacted to trauma in various ways, there were certain symptoms you expected from yourself. They never came.

When you dragged yourself to bed, you fell asleep easily. Steve Rogers haunted your dreams, but they weren’t exactly nightmares you’d expect.

Those dreams were ridiculous, really. Dark, yes. In a gothic horror setting almost. No terror wrecked your body, however. You didn’t scream in fear, nor wake up drenched in sweat as you dreamt of running away from the altar only to fall straight into Rogers’ arms.

You were processing it all too logically, as if you were only wedding stressed and annoyed with Rogers, not in fear for your life and that of your loved ones.

If you were your own patient, you’d ask yourself if there were aspects of the arrangement with Steve that you found benefiting? Something that perhaps drew you to him?

You still had no answer to that question as you finally walked into the health center on the next day.

Steady, slow steps; a pace perhaps a heartbeat slower than your usual. The sound of your heels clicking on the floor echoing through the quiet halls.

Natalie waited for you in your office, as she always did without fail. In a way, she was playing a role just like you; wearing a mask to function without a hitch. Organizer in hand, she recited to you the changes she made due to your short sick leave and those that needed to be made for the day of Felix’s funeral.

A thought crossed your mind briefly, of what Steve would say about you going to Felix’s funeral. Since he apparently belonged to a branch of the mafia, attendance of Hydra mobsters and other of their operatives was highly possible, and you didn’t think Rogers would want you anywhere near them.

You viewed yourself as merely a civilian boss of the man that passed, but you possessed enough intelligence to recognize you were now also a part of a rivaling mob - no matter how reluctant your participation was.

Not only by shared business, but ranking now much higher in your status as the fiancée to the ruthless mob boss.

You didn’t mention to Natalie that you weren’t sure if you’d be going to the funeral at all, only nodding at her skilfully reorganized schedule.

“There’s one more thing,” she said, closing her calendar.

She walked to the door, opened them and beckoned someone over. A young man, a boy really, entered your office with a shy smile on his face.

Unruly hair, which he combed neatly, but they still betrayed harmlessly chaotic functioning of youth. A pressed collar of a button down shirt peeked above his blue cardigan. He reminded you of first year students, or apprentices at their first posting.

The first person in the past few days who seemed innocent and you welcomed that change with a softened heart.

“This is Peter Parker.” Natalie announced.

“Hi! Nice to meet you,” the boy cut the space between the two of you and extended his hand for you to shake.

“Peter has just applied for our vacant position.” Natalie’s voice remained neutral and professional, but the way she accented vacant position left no doubt that it meant Felix’s job.

Which shouldn’t be announced this soon. No one would post an ad without your authorization. So unless one of the center’s workers tried to push his own son or nephew into free position, that Parker kid was sent in by someone who knew of the brutally gained opening.

“Son of a bitch.” You cursed under your breath.

Natalie arched a single brow, but said nothing as you picked up your phone and unlocked it with a murderous glare. Parker said nothing either, only looked your way slightly bewildered.

Shame that Rogers didn’t warn him about your newly discovered tendencies to outbursts.

That it was Steve Rogers’ move, you had no doubt.

You found his name in your contacts - Steve typed it in himself, teasing you that a fiancée should have her future husband’s number in her phone.

He picked up quickly, actually surprising you that he answered at all. You thought his phone number to be more of a reminder for you that you gave yourself away to him, rather than being able to actually call him. So when you heard his voice on the other end of the line, you choked on your words for a second.

“Princess?”

You wondered if he saved your number under that pet name.

“The center was supposed to remain under my control,” you hissed into the phone when you regained your voice. “Hiring people should be my decision.”

“Peter’s very approachable and he learns fast,” came Steve’s reply; his voice soft, but there was that lining of finality to his decision.

You paused, once again surprised. This time by the fact Steve wasn’t playing lying games, just cutting straight to the core of the problem. Which also meant he anticipated your reaction, but did it anyway, disregarding your opinion on the matter.

You’d laugh at the irony of it - that a man being truthful and direct in an important conversation (traits you valued), at the same time was the fucking bane of your existence.

“Is he even of age?” You snorted, glancing Parker’s way. “He looks sixteen.”

“I’m twenty two.” Peter chimed in and you frowned.

He really didn’t look to be over twenty. Then again, in the past you’ve been asked for an ID even though you were way over twenty five. You had no idea how young people were when they started working for the mob.

Perhaps Rogers had no conscience and hired kids for dirty jobs too.

“He’s legal,” Steve sounded amused. “No forged papers on him. Lives alone with his aunt, so a solid job, like the one at the center, is something he needs.”

You did not believe in Rogers’ sympathy, not for a second. Perhaps he took care of his employees in a peculiar way, but you wouldn’t mistake it for him actually caring if Peter’s dreams come true, or if his economical status is secured.

Moreover, you suspected he used Peter’s wobbling financial stability as a means to lure him into the mafia in the first place.

“Then he could’ve applied without your commendation. Since it’s his own motivation to work here, right?” You allowed yourself a defiant tilt of your chin and a challenging gaze, since Steve couldn’t see it anyway.

You weren’t stupid to believe Steve pushed the kid into this position only because Peter needed it. More likely, Steve wanted someone from his own batch to infiltrate the center. Maybe even to keep an eye on you, though you seriously didn’t imagine how a barely-out-of-teens boy was supposed to do that.

“Recommendation is an additional bonus to an otherwise great employee you’ll be hiring.”

You didn’t know Steve well enough yet to assess by his tone alone if he was growing annoyed with this conversation, or rather bored (since he knew you would be agreeing to his demands anyway, unless you wanted more harm happening).

“That depends on the recommendation,” you muttered, too late realizing you said it out loud.

“You don’t trust my word, Princess?” A deeper timbre resounded in Steve’s voice, sending a shiver across your skin.

He wasn’t there, but you could easily imagine the glint in his blue eyes as he peered at you from beneath his long eyelashes. An edge of a blade caressing your breakable skin.

“I’m miffed at you planting your fucking seeds in my center, when it was supposed to stay under my care!”

There was a pause after you snapped.

One in which you cursed yourself inwardly for once again antagonizing someone who held your life in his hands, quite literally. Your heart thumped loudly, you felt the echo of it through your bones.

However, when Steve’s voice returned with a reply, it wasn’t a promise of your death.

Though it may as well have been, considering his words.

“I can plant different seeds, if you wish. Inside you, Princess.”

Your intake of breath was sharp, your pupils widened and your mouth hung open. He did not just say that!, your mind screeched, while your body roused in alertness.

You hung up the phone without uttering a single more word to Steve, then tossed it to the far edge of the desk as if it burned you. Your gaze lingered on it for a moment longer, in fear of it ringing to life.

You couldn’t comment on Steve’s innuendo. Acknowledging it meant recognizing this particular aspect of marriage, which you somehow repressed from your mind.

No, your marriage to Rogers was supposed to be only on paper, only for his gain of the lands and immunity.

A facade, with a shiny ring and your new last name stained with the blood of Steve’s opponents. Not a true merging of two people, neither in minds nor in hearts, definitely not in bodies.

A quiver pattered down your spine like a strummed string at the sudden, vivid image of Rogers’ thick body pressing into your naked space.

Fear, it had to be. But it also carried a rush of adrenaline that tingled in your nipples and brought heat to the sensitive shell of your ear.

“I need a break,” you shook yourself out of it and abruptly moved. “I’m going for coffee.”

“I can make you some,” Natalie offered, observing you with perfectly masked curiosity.

It was a change in your behavior, this sudden restlessness and outbursts of unresolved tension. As stressful as taking over a big health center was, you managed to remain calm and professional since the first day. Natalie witnessed you roll your eyes a few times and assertively set yourself, but this was a novelty.

She could only assume it was because of the tragic loss of an employee so early in your work, maybe suspect Rogers was threatening you. You doubted she’d ever imagine the extent of sweet terror he planned for you.

“No, I have to get out for a few minutes.” You weren’t even sure you really wanted coffee, a shot of vodka would be a better option.

But you needed to step outside for a few minutes; to not see Peter’s boyish face with its innocence written all over it, while you knew the darkness he was signing his soul to. You hoped his only job was to tattle on you.

You grabbed your handbag, purposely ignored your phone still hanging on the edge of the desk, and strode toward the exit.

“What about Peter?” Natalie asked before you reached the door, both of them staring at you expectantly.

“Hire him.” You sighed, anger whipping in your tone.

“And you!” You glared Peter’s way. “Make sure your other boss knows that within these walls your duties are only to the center.”

It was a bold statement. One you probably had no leverage to actually make real. In terms of power, Rogers had more of it, since he had it also over you. If he gave Peter a different task to run along his duties at the health center, that order would come first.

Still, you wanted to make your opinion clear and install some respect for the work here.

As you walked to the nearby coffee shop, you glanced around a few times to check if anyone was following you. You had no proof of Rogers sending someone to trail you, yet you were convinced of it.

If he had, they were skilled at blending in, since no one seemed suspicious to you.

The usual buzzing noise of the coffee shop - conversations combined with quiet music and clinking of glass - felt like a soothing lullaby to your strained nerves. You took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of freshly brewed coffee and sweet pastries.

By the time you got your order, you had mostly calmed down. You were still pissed off, but there was no point in exhausting yourself fighting a losing battle.

It was time to accept the uncomfortable truth of Steve’s upper hand. At all times.

As you stirred your coffee with a paper spatula, someone stepped next to you. In your peripheral vision you caught their hand reaching for three packets of sugar.

“I’d suspect having Rogers on your tail requires a stronger brew than coffee.” A smooth, melodic male voice started casually.

His words froze you in place for a second, trepidation stopping your heart and then rushing it into a rapid beat.

You said nothing, tossing your spatula into the bin and quickly reaching for the cup lid to put on your paper cup and leave the place. The man’s hand slipped between you and the lid, pushing it to the side as he reached for the cinnamon sprinkle; his gesture seemingly so innocent.

As he withdrew his hand, glass jar of cinnamon in his hand, your gaze dropped onto a leather casing left on the counter right next to your coffee.

A police badge. In the name Quentin Duvall.

Was it a test? Since all signs on earth and in heaven pointed that Rogers had police and other agencies in his pocket, this could be a game to see if you’d stay loyal to your future husband.

Logically, he shouldn’t expect you to. It was only your lack of connection that you didn’t dare to seek help in the law enforcement, for if you had some friend of a friend who was an officer then you’d go to them in a heartbeat.

You were quite certain Steve knew you would and he probably didn’t care.

“He’s a pain not only in your ass,” the man said, exchanging the cinnamon for his badge. “It’s hard to build a case against him when more than half of my colleagues are on his payroll.”

“What do you want?” Your fingers squeezed the paper cup, coffee sloshing to the brim.

You didn’t lift your head to look at him, figuring it was best to keep the impression of a casual conversation over coffee station. If you were being watched, perhaps it wouldn’t be too suspicious.

“There’s an ATF agent working to build a case against Rogers’ mob. He’d like to meet you and propose a way to provide you protection for whatever you can bring to the table.”

“Why won’t he contact me directly?” Deliberately, you picked a jar of chocolate sprinkles and added them to your cooling coffee.

“Since he’s one of the very rare daring to hunt Rogers, he’s on the fucker’s radar. If he appeared anywhere near, Rogers would know of it and it could end badly for you.” There was a hint of concern in Duvall’s voice, but not enough to be a poor actor’s play.

Then again, maybe it was a perfect play. Luring you with a safeline, but making it risky so you wouldn’t see it as a trap right away.

“If you want to help-” he picked a spatula and stirred his own coffee- “if you want to get out of Rogers’ grip, come here the day after tomorrow at the same time. I’ll give you the meeting details then.”

He took his cup and left, merging with the group of friends that were exiting at the same time. You waited a few moments, carefully putting the lid on your cup and lifting it to your mouth for a long, thoughtful sip.

Your walk back to the center was sluggish, your gaze switching from staring blankly ahead to staring at the pavement beneath your feet.

If it was a test and you failed it, what sort of consequences would Steve draw out? If, by some miracle, a just officer could save you from the dragon guarded tower, shouldn’t you risk it?

As you sat in your office, too preoccupied with the new dilemma, your irritation grew. That someone appeared and rocked the boat on an already stormy sea.

Though a flicker of hope tempted you to take the risk and meet the agent, you were annoyed that it came as another drastic change in your life in such a short time. Honestly, a part of you simply wanted to just go steady with one route, even if it was the one with you on Rogers’ leash.

At least it would be settled. If you kept fighting, not only would it piss off Rogers, but it meant exhaustion for you. Perhaps a never ending one.

Because was there really a chance for protection from Steve, if his ties reached to the Capitol and beyond?

Natalie found you deep in thought and blankly staring at the window of your office. She did a quick scan of the untouched documents which you should be working on, then flicked her gaze to you.

Whatever she saw in your face, it made her close the door to your office and lock it.

She moved a free chair to sit next to you on your side of the desk and in a hushed tone asked what was going on.

You looked at her for a long, silent moment. It would be reckless to tangle another innocent soul into the sticky, dark web in which you were trapped. You didn’t want to put her in danger. But you needed someone to know, someone who was a part of it from the beginning even if it was as a bystander.

Natalie and Felix were the ones who told you the truth of who Steve is in the first place, so at least you didn’t have to reveal to her something she wouldn’t already know about the man.

With a sigh, you opened your mouth and told her everything.

As you studied Natalie’s face afterwards, you realized she might have been the best choice to share the burden. There was no fear on her face, no panic settling in. She frowned, processing it all and you almost could sense the cogs in her head turning as she conjured up a plan.

“That officer, what was his name again?” She asked, sliding her phone out of her pocket and typing rapidly.

“Duvall. Quentin Duvall.” You told her. “Why?”

“I fucked a guy who has ways to check people’s background,” Natalie replied without an ounce of shame or awkwardness. “A computer geek. I’ll ask him to check if officer Duvall is who he claims to be.”

“Oh!” That way at least you’d know if it wasn’t a scheme. “That’s helpful. Thank you.”

Natalie didn’t acknowledge your gratitude, as if it wasn’t even needed. Determined and focused on the task, she exchanged text messages with whomever was so into her he still agreed to do for her something that was probably illegal.

Since you were engaged to a mob boss, you weren’t going to judge.

Few hours later, just as you were finishing for the day, Natalie returned to your office with ready information.

“It’s your choice,” she said, taking her jacket off.

Thin bracelets on her wrist jingled faintly, a peek of a small spider tattoo on her forearm quickly disappeared beneath the folded jacket which she draped over her arm.

“But I think you should meet him. A meeting doesn’t yet mean you’re agreeing to anything.” She walked next to you as both went toward the exit. “If they don’t offer you actual solid protection, you simply give them nothing.”

“What if Rogers finds out about the meeting and it angers him? Even if I don’t say anything yet.” Somehow, as you thought of the consequences to your decision, it was Steve’s face that kept popping in your head.

His icy eyes trained on you; his fingers stroking you before clenching around your throat.

Natalie paused, glancing at you with a scowl. She didn’t seem annoyed with your question, but rather with the fact she had no certain answer for it. Natalie liked knowing everything.

“That I don't know.” She admitted, with a small pout. “In different circumstances I’d go for some predictable wrath, but honestly? He declared your engagement. That’s definitely completely unpredictable. So who knows what he’d do.”

It was a very small, very naive consolation, but you reminded yourself that if he wanted you dead, Rogers would have made that happen already.

If you were his employee who betrayed him, then severe torture awaited, if not aforementioned death.

What awaited an unruly fiancee?

You hoped to never find out. Being extra careful in your act of casual trip to the coffee shop on the pointed day, you already considered potential excuses for another meeting, details of which Duvall was supposed to give you.

It better not be on some late evening in some shady place, because even though you still didn’t catch anyone following you it didn’t mean Rogers didn’t have an eye on you.

To your surprise, and actual relief, Duval didn’t talk to you this time, just slipped you a piece of paper as he tossed out a napkin into a bin right next to which you were standing at the coffee shop. It contained the address of a small apothecary in a nearby neighborhood and an afternoon hour.

That was very clever. A visit to such a place wasn’t anything unusual, even if most people bought their medicine at the big drugstores. And since it would still be daylight, it seemed even more harmless.

Natalie agreed with you on that, telling you also about a bakery nearby into which you could also step in to keep the appearance of running errands.

Both of you probably watched too many crime shows, but it came in handy.

The lights in the apothecary were on when you went in, but it occurred to you that it was completely empty only when the door closed behind you.

There were shelves stacked with medicines, some key-locked cases and an antique looking chest of drawers, which you suspected was more for decoration than to keep chemicals inside.

There was no one behind the counter, however. Only the backdoor, leading to an additional room, was open.

“Hello?” You called out, not moving from your spot near the door, in case you needed to run.

There was some shuffling and then Duvall appeared in the backdoor. He smiled in relief, clearly fearing you would not come. He beckoned you over and you followed him through the short, narrow corridor into another room.

Spacious, but minimalist (to not say empty) compared to the front. There were two industrial tables and three chairs, some metal cabinets and neatly grouped apparatus.

The man who leaned against one of the tables didn’t look like a chemist.

Though you suspected a man like him may know a thing or ten about chemicals that blew up, judging by his close to military look. Well, since you never met an ATF agent in person, perhaps it was how they dressed.

“Claude Batroc.” He introduced himself, with a smile that perhaps would be charming if not for a hint of dishonesty to it.

There was something about that man that instantly made you feel uneasy.

Steve raised the hair on the back of your neck as well, but his type of danger was a sizzling black fog that engulfed you in its warm embrace and zapped your body with scary tingles. Batroc was the sound of screeching tires a second before a truck pummels into you.

Your instinct was telling you it’s best to squirm your way out of this, even though you haven’t yet heard the deal they offered.

“Officer Duvall claims you’re able to help me,” you swallowed past your nervousness and looked at him expectantly.

Like Natalie told you, you planned on making sure their promise was solid, before you jumped off any cliff.

“I am.” He nodded, tilting his head to the side. “But that depends on what you can give me?”

You frowned. You assumed they knew how new and short your acquaintance with Rogers was; that you weren’t one of his inner circle people, who could provide a lot of intel.

Foolishly maybe, but you thought being threatened and knowing of Felix’s demise was enough for them to consider you an important witness. There wasn’t anything else of heavy value that you could bring to the table.

“Does he really have the stones?” came Batroc’s direct question.

Simple, but completely confusing for you.

Out of all the things you could’ve expected them to ask you, that never came to mind.

“I don’t know anything about any stones,” you said slowly. Your frown deepened as your brain tried to work out, if maybe there were some jewels involved in the whole mess.

Was Howard hiding a diamond mine under the health center, or something?

“There’s a rumor that Rogers is in possession of the Infinity Stones.” Duvall mentioned and you glanced his way over your shoulder. When he saw your face, he sighed in disappointment. It was clear you were unaware of what they were talking about.

“They belonged to Thanos. A Greek mogul, who’d probably surpass Zeus himself if mythological riches and armies were comparable to the real ones. He was in possession of the six, most valued gems in the world. They are called the Infinity Stones.”

“Few years ago Thanos was found dead.” Batroc took over the story. “Along with most of his men. A job so clean, nothing pointed to a rampage. And nothing but the gems disappeared from his fortress. No organization ever boasted it to be their job. In time, Rogers’ name has been whispered as the one to do it, but he never confirmed. Never put them up for auction.”

You shook your head again. The only gems that came to your mind as you thought of Steve Rogers were the few that glinted in the dark, thick silver of his rings.

You doubted anyone would put the most valuable jewels in simple rings, which he wore daily on full display for everyone to see.

Then again, wouldn’t that be a perfect power move? A shiny middle finger and a warning to anyone who dared to think they could cross Rogers.

“A different angle then.” Batroc changed the topic. Quite eagerly, too, as if the one he was moving onto was to him far more important than a few shiny rocks.

“Why is he circling around the health center?” Something dark, greedy, flashed in his eyes. “He’s already got his people sitting all over it. Made an effort to reach you directly, not just work under your nose.”

When Batroc straightened and made a slow step forward, you stepped back. Duvall was standing in the doorway, blocking your escape route. You didn’t think you’d need one, but now your instincts screamed at you that there was something bad behind their intentions.

“Rogers isn’t the kind of man to tell his secrets left and right.” You tried to stand your ground, despite your pulse quickening in fear.

You weren’t a type of person to limitlessly trust the law enforcement, but since they were supposed to be determined to build a case against Rogers they should treat you (as the potential help in successful operation) with less creepiness.

At the moment, Batroc’s stance and the way his eyes danced over your form were displaying a poor skill at charm and comfort.

“Maybe you aren’t privy to his secrets.” Batroc shrugged, then bared his teeth in a sinister grin. “Or maybe you’re the one who actually holds the key to the project Rogers has been building, huh?”

“Quentin said you keep yourself guarded, which is smart if you’re going toe to toe with the likes of us. But there’s not a can that can’t be opened…”

Perhaps Batroc was an agent and maybe he was building a case against Rogers. His methods, however, were those of another gutter kingpin. He could be working for one, doing his official job and an extra one on the side. Or he could be one himself.

You should’ve predicted that your hope for help would be false.

You considered Rogers playing you, testing your loyalty, meanwhile another mobster scum was attempting to use you to screw with Steve.

“We’re gonna play some interrogation game. With bonuses.” At Batroc’s words, you made another hasty step backwards, your back hitting the metal cabinets.

A sudden wheezing sound and a loud thump of a falling body averted Batroc’s attention from you.

Duvall fell down lifelessly, face first onto the floor. At least a second passed before you noticed a pool of red spilling around his head like a horrific halo.

Then something heavy flew across the space, knocking Batroc’s gun from his hand as he reached for it.

Still glued to the cabinets, shock freezing you in place, you watched as Steve Rogers strode inside in all of his dark glory. Shoulders so wide he barely fit in the entrance, muscles straining under the fabric of his clothes.

He and Batroc clashed in the middle of the room - forearm blocking a punch, then a knee up to block a kick.

Both of them were fast and strong, their fight a darker, less choreographed movie combat. For every of Batroc’s hits, Steve delivered two. Despite his bulk, Steve was exceptionally graceful in his technique. His opponent stumbled for a second, shaking his head to get rid of dizziness after one of Steve’s hooks. Meanwhile Rogers didn’t even wince when Batroc managed to split his lip open.

It wasn’t a fight that would continue honorably, until one yielded and pledged fealty.

After disarming Batrock when he pulled out a knife, Steve kicked him a few steps away then drew out his gun and shot him three times. Twice in the chest, once in the head.

You flinched with each gunfire sound, but remained glued to the spot.

Your gaze was on Rogers, you didn’t pay much attention to other men stepping inside. Steve spoke to them, but all the voices blurred into a dull sound as your hammering heartbeat threatened to pound away each vessel in your body.

Only your sight remained focused. Your mind picked Rogers as the only solid point to anchor itself to.

Perhaps simply because he saved you. Once again. Even if it was to ensnare you himself.

You pushed against the cabinets, trying to bury yourself into them when Steve dismissed his people with some short orders and started towards you, but they didn’t budge an inch.

You weren’t attempting to escape him. You wanted to escape your growing need to wrap your arms around him and cling to the beast that spared your life as the only source of comfort at the moment.

Yet, you knew the sickness that bubbled in your stomach wasn’t because you felt a twisted sense of safety now that Rogers was here, but because you witnessed people being killed, blood splattering; hell, you nearly were mauled. Again.

The anxiety was skyrocketing. Or it would be, if not for the freezing shock still gripping you so tightly you felt like trapped in a glass box. It was an inner torment, procured by your own neurotransmitters and chemicals, that kept you on the edge of a malfunctioning fight or flight mechanism.

Steve’s broad form caging you in, shutting away the bloodied world outside of his arms, was the first thing that pulled your focus back to reality of now and here.

The feeling of a hot, metal muzzle touching the underside of your jaw snapped you out of the traumatic trance.

He pointed his gun at you. The one with which he shot Batroc.

A spike of adrenaline roused your body into full alertness. However, instead of logical terror and tearing up at the oncoming death, your brain paid attention to how delicate that pressure of a gun was.

How the warmth of it felt against your clammy skin; how refreshing was the metallic scent of it and how quickly it disappeared under the familiar now undertones of Rogers’ cologne.

That gun held so much power.

It ruthlessly disposed of a direct threat to you. An extension to the one who was behind saving you over and over (even if it was only, so he could be the one to torment you). Steve was living up to being your knight. Not in shining armor; not even one with good intentions. No, he was a black knight whose curse trapped you in a twisted realm.

“Did he lay a hand on you?” pressing the muzzle to your chin, Steve moved your face left and right as his eyes scanned your state.

Swallowing hard, you shook your head. You were unable to form a single word, your throat constricted with all the sobs which you couldn’t force out of yourself.

“Good.” Steve stated simply, without much genuine relief.

“Your naughty stunt served me well.” He mused as he gently dragged the barrel of his gun across your cheek and down your neck; like he was caressing you with fingers, not a deadly weapon.

“I wanted to get rid of Batroc for a while now, but he buried himself so deep it was hard to find him. I should’ve known he’d come up for something when he saw everyone else wanted it.”

You weren’t paying enough attention to Steve’s words to decipher their full meaning, your senses were more interested in attuning to the trace of his gun on your skin.

Holding your gaze captive with his icy blue eyes (so clear and unmarred with anger, despite what just happened), Steve kept moving the muzzle of his gun from one of your collar bones to the other. Slowly.

He had to read something in your body you weren’t yet aware of - a spark of curiosity ignited in his irises.

You realized what it was a few seconds later as you felt your nipples stiffen.

No!, a voice in your head whispered in utter disbelief. That current at the touch of Rogers’ gun was arousal. Underlaid with fear, but the kind that spiced the arousal higher, not switched it off.

It had to be the adrenaline still rushing, you thought. Your mind locked in an acute stress reaction, so that your body got confused; it didn’t know how to react, or which hormones to produce.

That had to be the reason, the only explanation. Because you have never experienced anything like this.

Rogers being despicable aside, you simply never entertained any kinky fantasies that included a gun, or any other weapon, or being overpowered so completely. That was never something you considered you might like.

But as much as you were afraid of Steve in general, in this very moment you somehow knew he wouldn’t hurt you. Not in a bad way.

And the gun pressed to your body was a substantial proof of his power. One that could touch you physically; do things to you…

“My, my, Princess,” Steve leaned closer; whether to feel you shiver, or to shield the view of you from any prying eyes. “You’re just full of surprises.”

He ran the gun down your body - between your breasts and down your quivering belly. When the still warm muzzle nudged the hem of your flowy skirt up, the haze of shock snapped.

“I-” you started, but your voice was weak and breathless, turning into a gasp as Steve drew the gun higher up your thigh.

“I should go.” You squeaked out, but somehow couldn’t tear your eyes away from Steve’s.

The only muscles you moved were those of your legs, which parted slightly as he slipped the gun over your clothed core.

His free hand shot up to your neck; ringed fingers curling around your throat in a loose reminder of Steve’s dominance. Like the first time he’s done it, your breath hitched in your lungs, your pupils widened and your knees weakened.

Then the solid barrel rubbed against your covered folds and your lips parted on a needy whimper.

While it shocked you, it absolutely delighted Steve.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Princess.” He cooed, dragging the gun back and forth over your pussy. “It’s okay to need to take the edge off. After the afternoon you’ve just had.”

“That’s not how-” a part of your brain tried to fight the building arousal.

You closed your eyes, instantly opening them again at Steve’s warning hiss. In his eyes danced a glint of triumph - bright and cold like a blade pulled straight from the forgery.

“Not like this.” You muttered, embarrassed with how eager your body was to experience the little thrill of being caressed with something that could so easily hurt you.

Sex as a way of destressing wasn’t a foreign concept. Hell, an orgasm or two often helped you relieve some tension after dealing with daily obstacles and minor inconveniences. You’d even agree about needing one to burst you out of the bubble of shock you fell into today.

But you could do that on your own, not by the hand of the handsome monster who forced himself into your life. And with your own toys - the normal, safe ones.

It was both a relief and a shameful disappointment when Steve withdrew the gun.

“Slide your hand into your panties, Princess,” he brushed the side of the gun against your arm, nudging your wrist.

Your fingers twitched, but you didn’t move. Your heart was still going like crazy, the beat of it pulsing in your clit.

“Come on,” Steve traced his gun up your arm, then tapped your cheek with it, “be a good girl and put your hand in your panties.”

You knew it wasn’t a request, but a command. No matter if Steve’s voice melted into a soft, thick and sweet like chocolate tone. Slowly, you reached your hand beneath your skirt and under the waistband of your cotton and lace panties.

“That’s it.” Steve brushed his lips over your temple, whispering dirty encouragement. “Now slide your fingers over your pussy. All the way.”

You did as he asked; trembling fingers dipping between your soft folds.

“Now show them to me.” He pulled back slightly.

You wished the ground would open up and swallow you whole to cut your shame short, as you lifted your hand up for Steve to see.

Your fingers were sticky with your wetness, a pearly string of slick stretching between them.

“Seems to me that’s exactly how you need it, Princess.” Steve smirked; icy blue of his irises heating into white flame.

A retort was forming on your tongue, but died a second later. When Steve’s mouth closed around your digits and he sucked them clean.

His tongue lavished the crease between your fingers, teasing your rotten mind with a reflection of where else on your body he could use that tongue. Suction of his mouth wasn’t gentle, strumming down your nerves with vibration from his pleased hum. He pulled off, with a lewd swipe of his tongue.

For a millisecond, your gazes locked in quiet suspension.

A blink of an eye and then the gun was back beneath your skirt, while Steve’s lips were capturing yours in a filthy demand. He pushed the barrel past the fabric of your panties this time, hard metal grazing your delicate parts. His dark chuckle in response to your moan reverberated on your lips.

The fingers curled around your neck tightened slightly, his thumb pressing over your carotid, but not enough to cut off your air. Not yet, at least.

Stars danced in the corners of your vision, heightened pleasure mixed with delicious trepidation filling your body with bubbles of ecstasy unknown to you until now.

Steve angled his gun so that it spread your folds, rubbing your clit and teasing your entrance with each slide. Your hips rocked back eagerly. When he pushed a little deeper, pressing the muzzle into your opening, you almost seized.

One of your hands flew to Steve’s forearm, holding onto the wrist of his hand which was choking you. The other fisted his shirt near the collar. You let out a startled cry that turned from appalled to needy.

“Give it up, Princess,” Steve teased your bottom lip with his tongue, all the while nudging the muzzle into your cunt.

Muscles in your legs tensed, your eyes shimmered with tears that weren’t of sadness or pain. You were ashamed of your reaction to the filthy debauchery, but you wanted, needed it so badly.

“I’m gonna have you cum for me anyway, so just let go.”

That demand was sharper. Steve’s fingers on your throat tightened, cutting off the flow of air. At the same time, he pushed the gun deeper. Merely an inch or two slipped inside, but it was enough to feel your pussy stretch around it.

Your climax was an outburst with sharp edges, each tremor feeling like an electric current. Your cries sounded choked, though Steve released his hold on your neck enough for the air to flow easily into your lungs.

The gun wasn’t inside you anymore, but he kept moving it harshly against your clit, prolonging your orgasm to a point of painful throb that threatened to build into another humiliation if he continued longer.

If he slid the gun back, or his cock into your quivering cunt, you’d probably lose your conscience. While cumming all over him again.

Finally, Steve eased the pressure. He occupied your lips with sensual kisses, slow and lingering, and tongue dipping indecently into your mouth. The gun withdrew from your panties, the fabric clinging to your drenched pussy in an embarrassingly uncomfortable way.

Your arms fell to your sides when Steve let go of your neck and straightened. He wiped his gun, covered with your slick, in your skirt, then secured it back in the holster at his side.

“There now. Isn’t it better?” You weren’t certain if he was mocking you, or if it was a pure cocky smugness.

You were gaping at him, your breath still ragged. Your legs were shaking and your heart was hammering, but there was warmth and life and a vivid feeling of anger resurfacing. No longer the cold stupor of shock and fear.

No, Steve beckoned your brain back to reality. After short circuiting it.

“Better?” You hissed, clenching your hands into fists. “You pointed a gun at me!”

“And you creamed all over it, Princess.” Steve’s knowing smirk added to your shame.

“You shot someone!” You derailed, unable (and unwanting) to unpack the mess of your body’s reaction to being fucked with a gun.

“Just straight up shot them. In broad daylight!” It was now reaching your mind that all the terrors and dirty deeds, which have happened in the past half an hour, didn’t take place in the deep darkness of the night. It was a sunny afternoon, with people walking the streets just outside the front door of an ordinary apothecary.

“They would’ve hurt you,” came Steve’s remorseless reply.

Simple and direct, spoken in a warning growl.

“Nobody hurts what’s mine.”

There was nothing romantic about it, even if your post-orgasmic heart flowed with bonding oxytocin.

It was a dark claim, making you into Steve’s possession. His protection of you came only from the need to have his pride untouched - if anyone managed to steal or hurt his bride, it weakened Steve’s ruthless reputation.

“Now let’s get you out of here, so my cleaning team can swipe in.” Steve motioned at you to follow him as he moved toward the exit.

Your feet were frozen to the spot. There was a dead body of a man between you and the door; the pool of blood inches away from your toes. You definitely wanted to get out of there, but you couldn’t simply make yourself jump over someone’s corpse.

Steve’s impatient sigh was motivating - you did not want to get on his nerves too much. But your body wasn’t listening to any of your commands. As it didn’t listen to you when you tried to fight off the arousal earlier.

Suddenly, you were picked up.

Steve hoisted you up easily, throwing you over his shoulder. He carried you over Duvall’s dead body and through the narrow corridor, ignoring your outraged squeak.

“All that blood and death, you really need to focus on lighter things from now on.” He said conversationally, tone light as if aforementioned gore was just a chore from which one needed to take a break.

“For a while, at least-” Steve continued, as he carried you out the front- “Wedding planning should help with that.”

“No! I don’t want it!” You protested, kicking your legs.

With what just happened, you couldn’t imagine forcing yourself to organize a fucking wedding. One you didn’t want in the first place. You couldn’t imagine going back to your routine, daily life at all.

You just weren’t sure if it was the deaths you witnessed that changed your life forever, or the wrong kind of desire that Steve brought out of you.

“Oh, I’m sure you don’t. But you will.” He put you down on your feet once you were outside.

Steve cupped your chin, crushing it painfully between his thumb and forefinger, and tilted your face up.

“We both know you will be a good girl for me, Princess.”

#touch the darkness #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x you #dark!steve rogers #dark mafia!steve rogers #dark mafia!steve rogers x reader #dakr mafia!steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers imagine #my writing

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i-drop-level-one-loot · 8 months

Text

My corporeal love (Yandere!Fem!Spirit X Fem!Reader)

CW: Yandere behavior, death

poltergeist versus ghost

(Reader) shook her head at the results, deleting the question from the search bar while heaving a deep sigh of frustration.

types of ghosts

A hand reached out from under the chair (Reader) was sitting on, running long nails across one of her feet. (Reader) only sighed again and pulled up her feet and tucked them under her bottom. Ghosts turned out to be real, and they were annoying.

The haunting began like how horror movies promised they would, soon after moving into the new apartment (Reader) began hearing scratching noises late at night and seeing lights flicker out the corner of her eye. At first it was unnerving, but exciting. Hearing a thud from the next room over and having a chuckle after the shock of being startled, it was fun. The ridiculous situation helped dull the pain of reality.

It quickly grew, making her think she saw someone hiding in the closet, only to disappear when (Reader) would flip on the light; waking to claw marks on the bedroom door when she unlocked it in the morning; feeling someone roughly grip her ass while she tried to wash the dishes...

Wild, bulging eyes watched (Reader) as she put away her computer and wandered into the kitchen to make her morning pot of coffee; the owner of said blood shot eyes was a grey toned naked woman with long, sharp nails who sat crouched on the counter.

"(Reader)~" a dry voice cooed while a dead hand reached out to lightly brush (Reader's) shoulder.

The newly single woman had once made the mistake of trying to connect with the entity she shared a home with, believing it to be a lost soul in need of assistance, only to awaken with hands traveling up her thighs and bite marks on her neck. This thing wasn't a soul in torment, but an evil spirit that didn't believe in personal space.

It fed on energy. The more attention (Reader) gave it, the stronger it became, now freely crawling across the ceiling at all hours and whispering suggestive words of praise to (Reader). Which is why (Reader) was now doing her best to ignore her.

"Your hair looks beautiful today. I wish you'd let me run my fingers through it."

A jingle sang out of (Reader's) pocket. She grabbed it a little too quickly, thankful for having something to help her ignore the spirit, but unfortunately was too eager, and didn't pay attention to the name of who was dialing, accidently answering "BASTARD"s call.

"Hello?"

"Finally you answer. I've only called you every single day for a week."

Her heart dropped. "It was an accident, I promise it won't happen again."

"Oh, grow up (Reader). I made a mistake, but you're acting like I hit you or something."

(Reader) clenched her jaw. The woman next to her slowly closed in on her as (Reader) stayed still as a statue. The undead's breathing ragged as it strained to hear who (Reader) was talking to.

"What do you want."

"To talk."

"There is nothing to talk about."

"... You're being childish."

The phone was suddenly ripped from (Reader's) hand, smacking into the wall across the kitchen. (Reader) freaked out, forgetting for a second that the strange woman in her home was an unknown entity and not just a dick.

"Fucking really?!" She cried out as she jogged over towards her cell. "Don't do that! That's my phone!" As she bent to grab it the phone slid just out of reach, her ex's voice still angrily berating her. (Reader) stood, glaring at the approaching thing shuffling on all fours like a gorilla.

She smiled, her buggy eyes still wide and terrifyingly dark, pupils expanded to the point (Reader) couldn't see the irises.

"You deserve better."

Then, poof. She was gone.

(Reader) was stunned. She could still hear the cheater calling out her name from the phone on the floor. For a third time that morning, (Reader) found herself sighing.

"Hey!" (Reader) called out, never having learned her ghostly roommate's name. She passed through every room until she heard scratching from the closet, and opened the door without turning on the light in an attempt to prevent her from disappearing again. The spirit was lying on the ground, scratching at the floor, leaving marks.

"I never found out your name."

"I don't remember it."

(Reader) sat criss cross outside the opened door. "What's wrong?"

"... What if he hurts you?"

"He wouldn't. He's a dick, but he's also chicken shit. I left him because he cheated on me. He doesn't even know where I live now." The ghost seemed unconvinced. "I promise."

She took a deep breath, gurgling slightly as she always did. "I don't remember my name. I don't remember who killed me. But I can feel my bones breaking down in the cement of this building."

Guilt over how (Reader) had been treating the dead woman settled heavy into her gut. Even if she got a little handsy, it was probably lonely being invisible to everyone.

"That sounds terrible. I'm sorry." (Reader) laid down next to her, and she immediately rolled over and latched onto (Reader's) body, her nails digging into (Reader's) back. Her body was cold, and not entirely solid, (Reader) believed she could feel the nude flesh sinking through her shirt, freezing her bare skin underneath.

"I'll protect you, (Reader). I don't want you to end up like me... The pain never ends."

The next two weeks flew by. (Reader) had nicknamed the spirit Lydia. She didn't get the reference and was just happy that (Reader) was calling her something other than "Hey, you". Lydia still had issues with getting too handsy every so often, but as (Reader) came to know her as a person instead of a presence she hated it less and less.

Lydia sat in (Reader's) lap as they watched television together. Her form was stronger than ever, and although she was still cold, Lydia felt like a real human next to (Reader). The connection (Reader) felt with Lydia was comforting, and she had even begun to care for her as someone more than a friend.

(Reader) unlocked the door, opening it to reveal her ex boyfriend standing on her welcome mat with a smug look on his face.

Someone pounded on the front door, banging it hard enough to shake the joints and cause the hinges to clatter. Lydia was immediately agitated, dissipating from view. (Reader) could still feel her presence though, a chill settling in the heavy air, and as she rushed to the front door it felt like she was wading through fog.

She tried to reclose the door the second she registered his face, but he used his foot to block her attempt, bulldozing his way into her new home. "That's no way to greet someone." He chastised.

Her face scrunched up in fear. "How did you find me?"

"Not easily."

(Reader) tried to hold herself steady, but she could feel her body shake with anger. "You need to leave before I call the cops."

"The cops?!" He laughed in annoyance, glancing around his ex's apartment with his hands on his hips. "Jesus Christ, you're acting like a crazy bitch."

Lydia dropped something in the bedroom, and with the crash (Reader's) ex's smile fell as well.

"Is someone here?" He started for the hallway as (Reader) panicked.

"Stop! I told you to leave!"

He burst into the bedroom, searching for whoever had made the noise. Then the door shut on it's own behind him.

"What the hell, (Reader)? Is this some kind of joke?!"

A shuttering gasp emanated from under the bed. Lydia's scarred arms slowly began to drag her body out from underneath the frame, relying on the intruder's fear to make herself visible to him. The man began shaking the handle, incapable of opening the door.

"(Reader)!"

Lydia's body cracked painfully as she stood up straight.

"(Reader! Open the door!!"

"Stop saying her name."

Whipping back around he found himself alone, the broken looking woman gone. He felt his body go numb with adrenaline. (Reader's) ex was panting, trying to figure out what kind of fucked up prank this was, and how (Reader) could have set it up. When he realized the woman was probably hiding again, he turned back to try opening the door again, only to turn face to face with wide black eyes twitching with rage. Lydia grabbed his face, her nails piercing his cheeks and jaw.

From the living room (Reader) could hear her ex scream in fear, smashing against her bedroom walls and ceiling, then silence.

The police would never find his body.

Stored deep inside the building itself, resting between concrete and steel beams, bleeding into the cement block that was Lydia's final resting place. They would never find even a drop of blood in (Reader's) home.

After the noises had ceased, (Reader) heard the door unlock, so she ran into the bedroom to greet Lydia, throwing her arms around her and kissing her gently. Lydia softly crept her hands up under (Reader's) shirt, caressing her bare back.

"I told you I would protect you."

#yandere #yandere x reader #romance #fem yandere #fem reader #yandere ghost #yandere ghost x reader #not proofread #rushed

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takotakigum · 6 months

Text

star — itoshi sae.

characters: itoshi sae × gn!reader

warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort, established relationships, heavy codependency, burnt out sae, word vomit, sae is an idiot that’s too in love, and sae who’s emotions are all over the place.

word count: 2.3k

synopsis: the world itoshi sae once envisioned is so hazy, barely non-existent anymore. and it’s all because of you.

note: the nicknames/callsigns "mi amor" and "mi vida" mean "my love" and "my life".

aged up characters | please read at your own risk!

my singular interest is becoming the best in the world—is something itoshi sae remembers saying to someone with much conviction.

oh, how he lies.

sae reminds himself to never let his mouth speak such nonsense driven by his now crippling ego. sae wants to go back in time, tell that stupid interviewer that he doesn’t care about being the best in the world if it means being the only one in your universe.

itoshi sae fell in love, to put it simply.

his singular interest is you. it doesn’t matter when, where, or what happens—it’s only you, the one and only other piece of his dull soul. when sae loves you, he feels it overwhelmingly all over him, too. he feels his body tingle with tenderness, he hears his breath shudder when talking to you, and so much more. at first, it was weird. although after a long run? it became addictive.

he longs for you in every way, even if you’re already his. sae doesn’t quite understand why, but he also feels like it also doesn’t matter; because he deeply misses your soft giggles that warm his neck when you’re too close to him, he misses your scent—fuck, he misses everything about you. so, naturally, sae feels like his heart is being ripped apart with every flight he has to take back to spain. during many occasions, sae almost begged you to go to him: interlocking your hands together until he reaches the entrance of the airport, not bothering to let go until you have to pry yourself away from him; and even staring sadly into your eyes with the faintest pout on his lips.

perhaps—no, sae is fairly certain about this—being away from you is one of the most agonizing things he has to experience in this life of his. sae wishes to curse his soccer team, his manager, or even anyone who arranged such a game far from home. or rather, far from you.

you’re so far away; he’s in his lukewarm apartment in spain, while you’re in your homey abode in japan. it sucks in his bedroom here. it’s awful, boring, and you-less. his bedsheets are soft, sure, but nothing will compare to the feeling of hugging your waist and burying his face into your soft skin. he takes a deep breath—it could be that he’s merely dreaming this boring setting, when you’re really lulling him to sleep—that’s why he’s stuck in it, yeah. yeah no…fuck, again, sae misses you far more than his patience could handle.

tiredly finding his phone on his mattress, his hands find its way to your contact in an instant, and he calls you. timezones be damned, because sae can’t take it anymore.

“shit,” sae feels his lips twitch, wanting to let an amused breath be heard by you over the phone. “uhh…hello?” it seems that only now do you think you’ve picked up the phone, voice dry of sleep.

“i love you.”

“huh?”

“i also miss you.”

“sae?”

“hi,” sae’s voice is muffled by his pillow, his face burning up as it still hasn’t adapted with his slippery tongue pouring affection onto you. “what’s wrong? it’s…uhm, 4am here, you know?” your voice is much clearer now, and it’s accompanied by a loose giggle into the phone’s speaker. sae knows you have an answer to your own question, he’s that obvious. “mn. sorry. i-” sae’s heart beats louder and faster when he hears your giggle once more become a tune to his ears. “love me? miss me?” you complete his thoughts, and sae holds onto every second of it. he hums quietly, nodding guiltily even if you couldn’t see it. “‘s okay calling me, sae. but i’m a bit sad right now.” your voice acts, and sae practically sits up his bed, phone pushing harder onto his ear to hear what’s happening.

“did something-”

“mhm, i was dreaming about you, and then…you woke me up.” you groan rather loudly, however, easing some weight on sae’s shoulders. “sorry for that too, mi amor.” he apologizes like he’s committed a sin; although deep in his heart that’s all for you, it probably is considered a crime. “fine. but do know that it’s suuper unfortunate.” sae’s heavy sigh of relief widens the smile on your face. god, the tension of amusement on your end is enough to be felt by sae—who knows what sae would do to see you with that pure smile right now.

“is it really unfortunate now? was the itoshi sae in your dream better than me? your real boyfriend, speaking to you right now?” instinctively, sae pouts as his eyebrows twitch to furrow, hoping for the answer his childish self wants. “hmm,” sae’s jaw slackens in disbelief, did you really have to think about it? his pout worsens, he can’t believe you had it in you to tease him when you’re probably half asleep, although, he may or may not really mind. “i like the sae in my dream better, maybe.” sae now scoffs, rolling his eyes pathetically. “mi vida, why are you like this?” sae questions, but that doesn’t particularly matter. at least, not when despite anything your personality gives him, he’ll accept.

“aren’t you curious, though?” you continue to tease.

“hmph. of course i am.” and sae’s adoration for you continues to indulge.

“remember when you took me on our first date?” your voice goes softer now, fond of the memory and storytelling. “do you think i’d forget?” how could he, though? how could sae forget how he regretted planning such a boring date—all because he didn’t think he’d fall into such a deep trench to love you? “c’mon, don’t be so down now, sae. it’s a good dream, promise.” it’s most likely, because as you’re thinking of the words to say, sae hears your covered yawns consecutively.

“felt like i relived our first date, you know? really nostalgic. we were walking out of the convenience store late november with a bag filled with your favorite popsicles.” your dream is spot on already. sae’s heart beats a little faster again. “then, we went to your favorite spot by the sea. it was extra cold, too. but we still ate the popsicles.” you laugh, warming sae’s thoughts as he reminisces about the chilly winds of the evening that you dared not complain about. instead, sharing countless of frozen popsicles sae still feels numbing his tongue with the kindest, most precious smile he’s ever seen.

“yeah, i remember that. why’s the sae in your dream better, then?” you’re a bit silent, as if unsure of what to explain.

“mi amor?” you only hum, still thinking about it, it seems.

sae gulps slowly—anxiously. because sometimes, itoshi sae wonders deep in his complex emotions that he’s weary of.

“mhmm, i’m still here.”

sometimes, itoshi sae wonders why out of all the people that could’ve and should’ve treat you better, you decide he’s the one.

“it’s just that, i guess i missed having you around right beside me? ah, but i think i’m just speaking nonsense, it’s almost past four thirty.” you don’t spout such things as nonsense, anything you have to speak about, sae withholds with utmost seriousness.

right now, itoshi sae is at that spiral of sudden insecurity.

“you- i’ll go home as soon as i can.” sae mutters, voice wavering as a part of him is scared. of what? losing you? a bit childish, still. he knows you’ll understand, everything and anything he’ll go through. it’s why he fell in love so deeply in the first place. you’re the first person to give him back the amount of love he never knew he was even capable of. don’t leave now: his heart whispers.

“sae, wait,” he can’t hear you, at least, not when his senses are fully enveloped in the listing of available flights back to japan as soon as possible—at 2am in spain in a bit looks promising enough for him.

“sae, listen to me first? you’re not going back here yet, you still have a game next week.” you remind him, but sae doesn’t care. “that doesn’t matter, current team i’m with is pretty shit. anyway, i miss you a lot, too. so it’s alright.” sae feels his stubbornness root from his core and out all across his body, and he feels guilty.

“itoshi sae.” just before sae could click his booking of the plane ticket, your stern voice halts his actions. a thin coat of sweat heats his palms as he fidgets with one finger. “mad?” he asks, throat clenched. “no, not at all. just, let’s talk, okay? promise me you’ll listen.” sae hears movement from your line, you’re probably beyond serious right now, sitting up on your bed, back resting on your headboard as your eyes look at the ceiling. “…sure.” it’s a promise.

“you know why you’re in spain, right? to pursue your dream—your passion, sae.” he wants to shake his head and deny everything, he wants to tell you to not continue any longer, because eventually, sae wouldn’t even know what to answer. “and i’m here back home, because i also have my dreams here. you understand that, don’t you? you miss me, and i miss you—that’s so normal, because i love you and you love me back, right? you’ll come home when you can, but not now,” why? is something sae wants to ask. “not now when your goal is right in front of you.” no—you’re not right on that one. “you don’t have to forfeit anything related to your dreams for me, you know that. i’ve told you that, yet you’re still as stubborn as ever, huh?” you let out a breath, your voice is neutral yet still heavy of sleep in hopes to reach him.

sae isn’t giving anything up, truly, he is not. his career from soccer has already gone shit, anyways. ever since he’s given up being the worlds best striker, he’s felt empty; trying to compensate with his new, still shitty, ambition of being the best midfielder there is. realistically, sae can’t give anything great up when everything is already lukewarm in his life.

however, in this life of his with only you matters; when the circumstance is him defying you as his sole dream—then, he has nothing to lose.

“i would quit football for you.” sae whispers, shocking not only you, but himself at the bluntness.

“you wouldn’t.” sae knows he shouldn’t, because you wouldn’t like that.

“i would, if you wanted me to.” rationally, he’s an idiot to say such things. because all his life, itoshi sae has been so inhospitable, never understanding certain lengths people would go through for another. all his life, he’s never felt like this. the version of himself three years ago—the him who stated that he has no other interest aside from being the best in the world—would curse him off, never to accept this current state of his. even though sae knows how to act, he throws out all that rationality when it’s you he’s thinking of.

to quit soccer for you? he would fucking do.

but is it for his own selfishness? he doesn’t know.

“i don’t want you to.” he knows. your voice a tad bit disappointed at him, and he’s a tad bit disappointed at the answer. “you can’t just throw everything out for me, sae. i wouldn’t like that.” reluctantly, sae closes the tab for booking flights with your low voice looming over him. “why? would you rather me be in spain for who knows how long?” sae tries to humor, although his voice falls far too seriously once more.

“i’d rather have you here with me. but…” sae’s breath hitches, clutching on his phone harder, eyes moving too much.

“but?” please, his heart begs, be something he’ll want to hear. tell him to go back to japan, tell him to leave everything behind in spain. please, his heart begs again. again. and again.

“hm, not if it means you giving up something you’ve worked hard for in the very beginning. that would be a waste, no?” fuck—how many times will his mentality scream at him? it’s not a waste. nothing is a waste for you. if him abandoning his career means being with you for as long as you allow him to, then it’s okay. if you being with him means he certainly has something to love and hold up to, then it’s beyond okay.

“mi vida, i-” sae lets out a shaky breath, he doesn’t know anymore. the corners of his eyes burn, and it starts to warn him of tears. “mi amor, what’s really wrong?” you answer back, voice so clear it makes him look to his side to see if you’re possibly with him in spain. now, he thinks you’ve pierced through a barrier sae never realized has been built. it crumbles, almost instantly, too, and sae confesses the first thing eating at the back of his mind: “i miss you so much. i want to go back, it’s so lonely here.” because you’re not here, is what sae wishes to express further.

“are you tired?” now, sae understands a part of him better. through the years of dating, he’s subconsciously relied on you for anything and everything. what matters to you is his guide on what should also matter to him.

itoshi sae, now understands that your love and care for him is one of the sole basis of his composure.

“very much.” his voice is so fragile, and sae hates how he’s aware you’re aching for not being there to physically comfort him and his collapsing mental figure.

he’s desperate, so please, do something about it. his body pleads entirely now, tears frantically pouring down his face with nothing to solace it. you hear him sniffle, hiccup—everything. you hear it. you wish you understood the underlying need of his, but he wouldn’t blame you if it were a bit later, as well. because sae only now discovers just how far the roots of his distress reaches.

“i see. then, come home, mi amor. i’ll be here waiting for you.”

#blue lock #itoshi sae x reader #sae itoshi x reader #itoshi sae #sae itoshi #bllk x reader #bllk #blue lock imagines #sae #blkk imagines #itoshi sae x you #sae itoshi x you #takotakigum.writes

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