#where's your fucking rage where;s your anger RISE RISE RISE
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i couldn't rest until i made something this is driving me insane. so what if i dismissed your success as because of your hardships instead of in spite of them
#fantasy high#fantasy high junior year#dimension 20#riz gukgak#fantasy high spoilers#my art#riz is a better man than me bc if i read all that i'd have straight up started killing people#where's your fucking rage where;s your anger RISE RISE RISE#kipperlily i am studying you like a bug
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Hii idk if you’re taking requests or not but I’m sorry if you aren’t!! I just wanted to see if u could maybe do a small smut story that still takes place in puzzle pieces and it’s basically where Miguel got really pissed & in sm stress because of some idiot and he accidentally hurts his shy wifey :,(( so he decides to make it up to her by literally giving her one of the best nights of her life and just gives her his baby yk 🤗
*TAGS ENTIRE PUZZLE PIECES TAGLIST*
Now, I won't ever say no to some extra Puzzle Pieces content, hehe.
Warning: MINORS DNI, smut, p in v, mentions of abuse, language, soft sex, oral (f receiving) , rough sex, creampie, overstimulation, praise, fluff
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It had been a very rough day for Miguel. From Alchemax to his mafia, there had been nothing but a slew of bad news. It had been two months since the Venom incident, yet for some reason the accursed drug still tormented the streets.
Come to find out that one of Eddie's followers took on his role, giving a new gang to rise called Carnage. Miguel was furious at the situation given to him. Especially since Carnage had gone out of his way to kill one of his trusted men.
"¡Mierda! ¡Cuántas tonterías tengo que soportar! (Fuck! The amount of bullshit I have to deal with!)" Miguel roared at the top of his lungs.
Then, Alchemax had to put some icing on the cake, and get a lab blown up. Several idiot scientists were in the hospital all because they decided to take a risk Miguel told them not too. The worst part was that Miguel couldn't fire them yet. He had to wait until all of the legal bullshit flew over.
"Miguel?" You whispered.
Miguel was consumed with rage that he didn't even hear his poor little fiancé. You were standing in the corner, watching Miguel's fit. This was the not the first time you've seen him mad, but at the same time, he had never gotten this mad before.
"Fuck! Those fucking-"
Miguel yelled once more as he grabbed the closest thing to him and tossed it. He needed to let out his anger somehow.
"Ah!" You cried.
Upon hearing your terrified yelp, Miguel snapped out of his state of anger. He quickly rushed to your side, seeing you bend down and shaking. His eyes widen towards your fear. Immediately scooping you up, Miguel whispered apologizes.
"Mi conejita, (My bunny), I'm so so sorry," He whispered, kissing your head as he brought you to the couch, "Baby, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell and-"
Miguel's eyes soften as he saw a small cut on your shoulder. He glanced back towards the glass he threw. Cussing quietly, Miguel kissed your cut repeatedly.
"Mi amor (my love), I won't ask for you to forgive me-"
"I-It's...o-okay," You whimpered softly. Miguel frowned as he kissed your tears away,
"It's not. I hurt you in my fit of rage."
"B-But y-you weren't...m-mad at m-me," You tried to reassure him. Miguel gently bit your hand before kissing it,
"I promise I'll take my rage elsewhere." He whispered, kissing you once more then your cut, "I never, ever, want you to be afraid of me. You don't ever need to be afraid again."
"Miggy,"
You were still trembling, but knew Miguel meant well. He had never hurt you before and will never. This was just an accident that he was taking to heart. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you smiled as you felt him kiss your cut more.
"M-Miguel..." You whispered, getting cozy.
Miguel picked you up and took you to your shared bedroom. His kisses were nonstop as he laid you against the bed. His large grip, holding you gently as you spread you legs for him. Miguel inhaled deeply to your gesture.
"Such a good girl for me," He groaned, kissing your neck, "Let me make up for my foolish behavior. Give my precious wife the best night of her life."
"M-Miguel!" You squeaked, feeling his hands take off your sweatpants, "I-I-I..." You covered your face, feeling flustered.
"Am the best? Am too good for me?" Miguel filled in your words as he placed his head under your shirt, kissing up your stomach.
"Ah~ M-Mig~"
You trembled as Miguel took off your shirt. His kisses leading up to your breasts, back to the small cut on your shoulder. Miguel's hands were all over you, stroking each part of your body until you stopped shaking.
The warmth of his hands, begging your body for forgiveness. Miguel inhaled to the soft sound of your moans as he grinded his bulge against your panties. Your body arching against his hips, whimpering and whining for more friction.
"I'm sorry, Mi conejita (my bunny). I won't ever harm you," Miguel whispered as he groped your breasts.
"Mhpm~ I-I know....y-you didn't mean it," You cried, feeling your core burning up, desperate for release, "I-I-I'll a-always, ah~ ah~ M-Miguel~"
You arched your back, crying out your first of many orgasms. Taking a moment to catch your breathe, you squirmed and whimpered as Miguel took your damp panties off. He kissed your nipples, humming lowly as he bend down.
You tried to stop Miguel, wanting to hold him, but gasped loudly as you already felt his tongue against your clit. You gripped against the bedsheets, moaning his name as Miguel feasted. This was always his way of spoiling you after a rough day.
Though you had to question if it was more enjoyable for you or him.
Your body was shaking as Miguel held your hips in place. His tongue ravishing your pour clit and pussy. Your vision had begun to blur once more as you felt your high returning. With a curl of your toes and another grip against the bedsheets, you cam once more.
"Good girl," Miguel blew against your cunt, watching you twitch, "My precious good girl."
You shuddered and whined as Miguel returned to licking your clit. His tongue lapping up the mess you made. You were already overstimulated, unable to handle the amount of pleasure you were receiving now.
"M-Mig! M-Miggy!" You whined, riding his face, "P-Please..."
"Anything,"
Miguel hummed as he gave your pussy a break to give you a deep kiss. Your adorable fucked out expression just eager for more. With swift movement, Miguel slowly pressed his dick inside your tight gummy walls.
"Ah~"
"See how hard you make me?" Miguel hummed, kissing your small wound once more, "I am yours and you are mine."
"Mhm~ Y-Yes~" You gasped, holding onto Miguel as he rested his hips against yours.
"My beautiful wife," Miguel grunted as he pulled out slowly before hitting you deep, "Taking me in so well."
You gasped and moaned as Miguel took his time. Your pussy fluttering and gushing around his cock with each slow and rough thrust. Miguel kept kissing your body, whispering nothing but praises as he took you nice and slow.
"Such a good girl. Does my little bunny enjoy this? Shall I keep going slow?" Miguel asked with a tease, enjoying your blissed out expression.
"Y-Yes~ Ah~ Hah~ F-Fill me, p-please." You begged, babbling your moans like a cock drunk mess.
"Fill you? Do you want to make me a daddy?" Miguel said with a light chuckle as he got hard at the thought, "Wanna be a mommy, mi amor?"
"Ah~ Y-Yes! Yes!" You cried another orgasm, feeling your mind doze off.
Miguel felt a shiver run down his spine. His grin widen as he held your hips and placed your on your knees. Miguel kissed your back as he started to pound your pussy from behind. The loud slapping noises of your juices against his dick and your moans were consuming the room.
"My wife wants a baby. I shall give it to you," Miguel chuckled, nibbling against your ear as he ravished your hole.
"Ah~ Ah~"
Your face was pressed into the pillow as you moaned to each thrust. His hot seed filling your womb, causing you to gush and cum against his dick. Drool rolled down your mouth as Miguel kept his ruthless pace, praising you constantly.
"Awe, look your womb is swallowing my cum. Now this is a way to end such a shitty day," Miguel groaned as he placed you on your back, "Giving my wife a baby."
You arched your back, your mouth forming an 'o' as you felt Miguel's dick rub against your sweet spot. Words unable to form as you just whimpered and moaned to his thrusts. Miguel pulled you into his embrace as he held you in mating position, fucking you senselessly,
"I love you, (Y/N). I love you so much,"
You would repeat, but you were so cock drunk that you weren't paying attention. With another orgasm, you fell unconscious.
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You awoke the next day, sore and exhausted. Miguel had washed you up and put on your most comfortable pajamas-his clothes. You smiled weakly towards the water and pain killers on the side table. There was also a note and you felt a bandage on your shoulder.
"Hehe, Miggy," You cooed, finding your soon to be husband so overprotective.
As you laid on your back, you started to recall last night's passionate sex. Your face turned bright red as you started to remember begging Miguel to fill you and him assuming you wanting a baby. You covered your face into the pillow, squealing lowly.
"M-Maybe....we....we could....k-keep trying...f-for one."
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@migueloharacumslut @18lkpeters @deputy-videogamer @leahnicole1219 @synamonthy @thedevax @jolynesposts @thraetor @freehentai @2099hitmylineyline @vvampir3s @dontfollowmepleaseitsannoying @secretadmirerisnowonline @jadeloverxd @bunnibitez @oharasfilipinawife @randomgoosegame @lilbanas @daisy-artfield @axi-moore @mimiemie @darkfairy102190 @jazzyj1011 @mcmiracles @innercreationflower @spoderssimp @thel0velykey190 @moonvoidpng @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @scaleniusrm @love4saturn @nyxgoddessofchaos13 @slutty-chronicles @ghstypaint @migueloharastruelove @brainmatterdump @a060403 @trendyharold @yannauauau @kimivixen @angel-xx-1 @nxrdamp @miguelzslvtz @lynxslokley @wafflefries786 @pochapo @what-the-jams @flaps200 @ii-angelsrolltheireyes-ii @nakimushiohime @tojishugetiddies @aya-world @supercowgirl04 @mysteris-things @daisy-artfield @mcmiracles @alexa4040 @llama--drama @kpopscoups17130000 @havkjhdecs @ruexvn @tojishugetiddi @openup-yourmind @black-swan-blog27 @xstarsdiary @kiddisquacking @gachagator @yujyujj @emmyrxx @blackteamint @sockears @black-swan-blog27 @soraya-daydreams @byjessicalotufo @nanoinn @bunnibitez @aockskcw @l3laze @dimitri-needs-therapy
#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel spiderverse#spiderman 2099#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel spiderman#miguel o'hara smut#atsv miguel#across the spiderverse#spiderman miguel#miguel x reader#miguel ohara#miguel x y/n#miguel x you
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would've, could've, should've (k.b.)
if i never blushed then they could've never whispered about this.
Summary: kaz blames himself for reader's kidnapping, and reader fights back as best she can.
Pairing(s): kaz x fem!reader (established relationship)
Word Count: ~3.9k
Warnings: heavy violence (kicking, punching, gun is mentioned but not used), mentions of blood, reader is repeatedly knocked out via ether
Genre: angst + action
Author's Note: not as much kaz in this one, but fret not! he appears more in the next piece, which is already in the works and should be up in the next few days! i hope you all enjoy!
grishaverse masterlist
(GIF from capinejghafa)
The leatherbound volume slammed against the creaky door of Kaz's office the moment Inej shut it behind her. Splinters rained down onto the floor, and he glared at the mess.
His gloves were tight against his knuckles, where he gripped his cane, and his chest heaved with fury. Raw anger coursed through him; for once, he could not feel the slime of a corpse against his skin. Instead, rage had set his flesh alight, burning away the feeling of death. The harbor was absent, recoiling in favor of the temper he fought hard to keep in check as much as he could in the Barrel.
Kaz reached for his jar of ink and threw it as hard as he could against the door. But the sight of ink and glass spraying across his office did little to ease his anger or the panic rising in his chest.
He hunched over his desk, his gloved palms pressing flat against the surface. His breathing was too fast, his shoulders trembling as his mind wandered. Pekka Rollins hired mercenaries to take you. They were taking you south. Who knows what they had planned? Who knows what resources they had at their disposal?
Who knows if a few hours ago would be the last time he ever saw you, and it was tinged by his inability to choke out how he felt? Before you left, you'd squeezed his hand and murmured three simple words.
I love you.
It was funny how three words from your lips made him feel like he wasn't Kaz Brekker, like he didn't regularly hurt people or steal or threaten violence against those who got too close to his business for comfort. With just three words, you made him feel like maybe some part of him could be Kaz Rietveld still.
And he didn't fucking say those words back, though his throat burned and his mouth opened and:
"No mourners," he said instead.
"No funerals," you responded, with no idea how much he wanted to tell you he loved you back. No clue of how the words sat on the tip of his tongue, tasting like the fruit his father pretended he didn't see Kaz and Jordie swiping from the harvest. Tasting like a part of him he thought had drowned, a part that you pulled to shore and put air back into.
He didn't fucking say it. He should've said it.
Kaz squeezed his eyes shut. He could hear you in his mind: Breathe. Think.
He couldn't think, and there wasn't enough oxygen in the room for his lungs. All he could think about was you, at the mercy of some mercenaries who probably didn't give a damn that he was Kaz Brekker and could gut them without blinking.
Kaz slammed his palms against his desk hard enough that his skin stung beneath his gloves. He grabbed his cane from where it fell and limped around his desk and past the mess of his office. His door trembled on its hinges as he ripped it open and stormed past; he moved over to the crumbling stairs and brought the blunt end of his cane down on a step he knew was particularly creaky.
The entire staircase rattled, and Kaz heard the quiet shuffling of feet as Inej, Jesper, Nina, Wylan, and even Matthias started coming up the stairs. They stopped on the landing when they saw Kaz, shadows cast across his face by a dim oil lamp in the corner and icy eyes darkened by anger, turned the color of the True Sea.
"Mercenaries, you said?" Kaz said quietly, gaze flickering to Inej. "Hired by Pekka Rollins."
Inej nodded, reigniting his fury. But not at her, nor at Jesper. Being angry with them had never crossed his mind, though he saw their haunted faces as they sized him up and tried to figure out how much he blamed them for Y/N's situation.
Kaz clenched his jaw and turned on his heel. "Meeting. Now." He stormed back toward his office and kicked the inky glass shards out of his way as he entered his office. They skidded across the floor, some disappearing beneath furniture, others twirling until their sharpest edges pointed upward.
The Crows piled into Kaz's office. Jesper leaned against the wall with Wylan, ducking his head and looking down at his hands. The hands that, just an hour ago, had shot at mercenaries in an attempt to protect his friend. The hands that failed him. Wylan slipped his hand into one of Jesper's and gave it a gentle squeeze.
Nina sat in the chair across from Kaz's, and Matthias stood within reach. His eyes tracked Kaz as he moved from his desk to the smudged window and back. For once, Matthias could guess what the demjin was thinking, could see it on his face. Kaz was angry, yes, but Matthias could read the terror written beneath from the grip on his cane to the ticking of his jaw.
He found himself sympathetic toward Kaz, and Matthias didn't often feel anything but mild vexation toward the man. As he glanced down at Nina, nervously tracing the shape of her thumbnail with her fingertips, he understood Kaz's fury; if someone took Nina, he would respond the same way. And Kaz would be the first person he'd call to get her back.
"Where do we start?" Inej said quietly, positioning herself at the window and glancing at the street below. She twirled one of her knives across her knuckles, unable to keep her hands still.
"Describe the mercenaries," Kaz finally said. He clenched his fist around the crow's head of his cane as he sat to take the pressure off his leg. It was difficult to sit down; he wanted to be on the streets, burning the city to ashes to find you. But he would be of no use to you if he didn't have a plan and his leg went out beneath him. Think, Brekker. "Then we make a plan, and we get Y/N back."
-
SIX HOURS LATER. NOON.
You awoke to the feeling of a carriage rattling along an uneven gravel road. The back of your head thumped against the carriage window, and your skull ached from the repeated impact against the blacked-out glass. Air seared against your nose and throat with every breath you took, and it was a struggle to open your eyes with the heaviness weighing them down.
Two of your captors sat across from you, their masks on and eyes on you. One held a stained rag and a brown bottle in one hand, and the other pressed a gun to your forehead. Out of instinct, your fingers twitched to disarm him, but you quickly found that your hands were tied behind your back with sailing rope, and your ankles were bound with the same material. The rope chafed against the skin of your wrists and ankles, and it took every ounce of your self-control to not show your fear or pain.
"Now, don't make any sudden moves," the man with the gun said calmly. His voice was thick with an accent. He clearly wasn't from Kerch; you guessed he was a sailor by training and a mercenary by choice, if the rope around your limbs was any evidence.
You sized him up and considered your immediate instinct to spit in his face. He wouldn't shoot you in close quarters and, if your suspicions were correct, wouldn't dare injure you without a particular gang leader's go-ahead. You didn't have many options, and anything seemed more appealing than sitting there with a gun against your temple.
A wad of spit went straight into his eye, and you swung your legs upward toward his head to jerk yourself into a sitting position. It lacked decorum and grace, but you didn't have much room to move. Unfortunately, your feet only struck the man's shoulder, making him hiss and lower his gun. He shoved your legs off him, and you teetered on the edge of the bench opposite your captors.
Son of a bitch, you thought. You would've said it aloud had it not been for the man with the bottle opening his cargo and dunking the liquid inside onto the rag in his hand. The sickly sweet smell from earlier struck your nostrils, and you immediately shut your mouth. Your lungs burned as you held your breath, but you refused to pass out again.
When I get my hands free, I'm gutting you and using you as fish bait. You wiggled around to cause as much mayhem as possible, hoping to distract from the jerking of your shoulders as you fought against your bindings. You brought your feet down on the bottle man's boots, making him grimace and nearly drop the toxin. "She's a fighter, ain't she?" he snarled. "Open her mouth."
The first man lurched toward you, dropping his gun into his lap and grabbing your face with his hands. You writhed, jerking your head to the side to free it as you locked your jaw shut as tight as possible. Your teeth ground together, and black spots danced around your vision from the beginnings of a lack of oxygen. You could either breathe in the toxin that knocked you out or pass out of your own volition; both choices led to you being no closer to escaping.
Save your energy. You didn't want to give in. You didn't want to see your friends' faces swimming in your mind, warped and twisted by whatever your captors were poisoning you with.
You had no choice.
You let the man think he had successfully pried your mouth open, and you bit down hard on the flesh between his thumb and forefinger. He roared, jerking his hand back and cursing in Ravkan. His blood filled your mouth, and you gagged on the bitter taste, spluttering to get it off your tongue. It dribbled down your face, onto your clothes.
"Touch me again, and you'll lose the hand," you hissed. You spat at the first man again, and red speckled across his face like grotesque freckles.
With a fierce glare at your captors, you inhaled deeply. The relief of your lungs expanding was quickly counteracted by the weight of the toxin pulling you down, and you collapsed back onto the seat of the carriage, your head colliding with a sickening crack against the door handle.
-
SIX HOURS LATER. DUSK.
The next time you opened your eyes, you were in a dark cell. The rope had been removed from your limbs, but the skin burned from chafing. A searing pain threatened to split your skull in half, and you could hardly turn your head to take in your surroundings.
As your eyes adjusted, you could see a single oil lamp in the corner, unlit and covered in dust. Beside that was a bucket filled with water; you could tell the water wasn't clean from the horrid smell wafting toward you, and you held back a gag. Gingerly, you sat up from the makeshift pallet of ragged blankets you'd been set on.
Bad idea. Immediately, the world swam before you, and a violent wave of nausea overtook you. You swallowed the bile rising in your throat and carefully laid back down to ease the throbbing discomfort in your skull. You pressed a hand to the back of your head, and it came away slick and red. Shit. How were you supposed to fight your way out of here if you couldn't even sit up without the world doing flips?
A metallic clang echoed down the hall, and you turned your head toward the sound. Pain shot down your neck and spine, and you could barely suppress your hiss of pain; your pain was forgotten as a pair of boots stomped into view. You lifted your gaze to find none other than bottle-guy, looking unhappy to have found you awake. He wore no mask this time, and you took the chance to scan his face and memorize every detail so you could describe him if you made a ran for it. Smeared with dirt and grime. Dirty hair of unknown color. He looked like just about every sailor you'd ever met.
He grimaced at you like you were the problem, and you glared back at him. "I was hopin' you'd die in your sleep," he said matter-of-factly. His eyes, dark as night, skimmed your form, and disgust crossed his face. "I can't figure out why we were hired to deal with ya."
"You don't seem to be the brightest bunch," you shot back. You pushed yourself onto your elbows and surveyed your captor with just as much distaste. With some satisfaction, you noted some of his buddy's blood had stained the hem of his trousers after you spat it. "You'll be lucky if Pekka Rollins doesn't have your head after you're done with me, just to cover his tracks."
Your captor barked a laugh. "I'd like to see him try, sweetheart." He drummed his knuckles against the metal bars of your cell, and his eyes roamed over you again. A predatory glint shone in them, and his hand dropped to the ring of keys on his belt. "Now, what makes you special enough that he's willing to hire us instead of doing the dirty work himself?"
He unlocked the door to your cell and stepped inside. You kicked yourself into a sitting position and shoved yourself back against the wall. The world did somersaults, and you fought hard to keep from collapsing again as the blood rushed from your head and black spots danced in your vision.
The man crouched before you and reached out as if he intended to stroke a finger down your cheek. You shoved his hand away and nearly lost your balance. "Don't touch me," you snarled.
He just laughed again. "Feisty, aren't you?" He reached out again, and you kicked your leg up as hard as possible between his legs. He grunted and dropped his hand, slumping to his knees.
Taking the opportunity, you pushed yourself forward enough to swing your fist toward his face. With terrible vertigo and the feeling like you were about to collapse into a useless heap, you were pleased when your hand collided with his nose with a satisfying crunch. Blood sprayed across your knuckles and down his face, and he reeled back with a shout of surprise.
"You bitch!" he growled, bringing his hand to his face and glowering at you over his fingers. He lurched forward like he might strike or strangle you, and you kicked out again with much less force than the first time. Your strength was waning, and he knew it. He caught your ankle and pushed your leg away with ease. But before he could get any closer, a hand grabbed the collar of his jacket and hauled him back.
"Now, Sergei, don't antagonize our guest," a new voice said. His voice was quiet and thick with a Fjerdan accent. You looked up while blinking away the blurriness in your gaze and found a third man who hadn't been in the carriage with you. Judging by the ease with which Sergei obeyed him, you knew he was in charge. He reeked of authority and pride.
"What, want the chance to do it yourself?" you snapped. Though he pulled Sergei away before he could bash your head into the wall, you didn't appreciate the man looking down at you like he'd done you a favor. You couldn't help but bristle as his eyes roamed your body, and you would've curled up to cover yourself if you could will your body to move. "I didn't think mercenaries went so low as to kick someone while they're down, especially when they intend to hand them over to someone else."
He wasn't as tolerant of your spite as Sergei was. Without releasing Sergei, he brought his foot down on your knee. The joint seared beneath his weight; your kneecap threatened to shatter, and the tendons nearly snapped as he pressed down until it almost bent in the wrong direction. You cried out, your head falling back against the stone wall. The impact agitated the gash on the back of your head, and you could feel blood soaking your scalp. It seeped down the back of your neck, and a soft groan of pain slipped past your lips.
"It might be wise for you to consider that we can do what we wish to you until Pekka Rollins arrives," he hissed. He dropped Sergei, who gingerly got to his feet with a smirk playing on his lips. If you could, you'd shoot them both to see if they would still be smirking. "I suggest keeping your mouth shut and your limbs to yourself."
A haze of pain clouded your vision, the adrenaline of inflicting some revenge on one of your captors dissipating. You forced yourself to nod, hoping he'd take his weight off your knee before your traitorous tears of agony could fall. You blinked them away, and a trembling sigh escaped you as the Fjerdan stepped back and off your knee. Immediately, you pressed a hand to the tender flesh and whimpered as a sharp ache shot up and down your leg.
Definitely bruised, and the kneecap might be broken. How the hell am I supposed to get out of here like this?
He left without another word, taking Sergei with him. As he passed, Sergei grinned through the bars at you, his teeth glimmering like a monster's, and offered a taunting wiggle of his fingers. You dropped your gaze to the ground and your outstretched legs before you, one swollen and the other scraped from who knows what.
You heard Sergei laugh as he moved down the hall after the Fjerdan leader, and the sound rang in your ears long after he was gone. Mocking, gleeful, haunting.
Tears slid down your cheeks without your permission, and you impatiently wiped them away. There's no time to cry. You thought of Jesper and Inej, who had definitely told Kaz about your disappearance by now. If you thought of them and how strong they were under pressure, maybe you wouldn't think about the searing pain in your body. If you thought of Matthias, damn near unbreakable, perhaps you could channel his strength. Nina, her bravery and wit, no matter the situation.
Your friends, your family, who had to be trying to find you.
Your thoughts drifted to Kaz. His scheming face. His smirk. His fingers laced with yours. The fierceness in his eyes. How he looked at you before you left, with glimmering eyes and hair falling into his face from running his fingers through it too many times. Kaz had looked at you like there were a million things he wanted to say, to do. A rare moment of softness that made your heart ache as you considered where you were now.
Somehow, you managed to slip into an uneasy sleep. You dreamt of men with masks and blood seeping from your mouth as you inhaled the sickly sweet toxin they kept giving you. Behind the masks, they laughed and laughed, even as you began to choke. It was impossible to break from the nightmare; something held you down, kept your eyes shut.
Finally waking was a mercy, though you should have feared whatever awaited you once you awoke. Blinking slowly and fighting against lingering fatigue, you noticed two bowls of thin broth had been shoved into your cell. The scent had long faded, and dust floated in a thin layer on top.
How long had it been since you were last awake?
You forced yourself into a sitting position, ignoring the aching of your muscles, and you investigated your injuries. Your knee was severely bruised and couldn't bear the weight of even your fingertips on the skin, and dried blood crusted your scalp and the back of your neck.
Eat, you thought. You needed to regain some of your strength if you stood a chance at surviving whatever Pekka Rollins had planned for when he arrived. Even better, perhaps you could escape before surviving him was necessary.
You dragged yourself across the stone floor toward the bowls of broth. It felt like your muscles hadn't been used in days, and your right knee dragged painfully against the ground as you crawled to the bars. When you made it, your breathing was ragged, and your face was coated with a thin layer of sweat. It was a struggle to focus on one of the bowls of broth as each throb of your head rattled your vision; you nearly knocked a bowl over but caught it with trembling, clumsy fingers.
What the fuck are they giving me? How have I been weakened so quickly?
You propped yourself up on one arm and used the other to lift a bowl to your lips. The broth felt like acid on your dry mouth, but you forced it down. It tasted like nothing, and you wondered if you would've been better off taking your chances with not eating it.
No. Eat.
You finished the bowl of broth and reached for the second. Already, some moisture had returned to your mouth. Your mind was less muddled, the fog in your brain cleared by the sensation of something other than the toxin passing your lips. Before you could start sipping the second bowl, you heard boots scraping down the hallway.
Your head snapped up, and you grabbed the two bowls, stacking them and then scrambling backward using your legs and free hand until your back hit the wall. Keep nothing behind me and my eyes ahead. The skin of your fingers whitened as your grip on the bowls grew tighter, and you waited for your visitor to arrive.
For a moment, you couldn't see who it was. A gas lamp shone brightly outside the bars, and you turned your head. Spots twirled in your vision, and you blinked them away. When you opened your eyes, you immediately wished you hadn't. Your second wish was that you had a gun. Your third was that the man before you hadn't been born in the first place.
Pekka Rollins stood outside your cell in a perfectly tailored suit, untouched by blood or dirt. In your state, covered in dirty and torn clothing, you could have felt like nothing more than a bug beneath his glare.
That was what he wanted, and you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing you crumble.
Instead, you lifted your chin and the full bowl of broth. Feigning bringing it to your lips, you kept your eyes defiantly on him as you took one slow sip. Pekka Rollins just watched with a note of amusement in his eyes. He was too happy to see you before him like this.
His smugness was the match needed to light your anger, and you were all too happy to be ignited.
You launched the bowl across the cell and watched as watered-down broth soaked the front of his suit and slivers of porcelain sprayed into the hallway and onto the floor of your cell.
You only hoped you would get the chance to do worse.
TAGLIST: @tonberry-yoda, @b3kk3r-by-br3kk3r, @futurecorps3, @statsvitenskap, @sapphiccloud, @casualladyinternet, @d34drapunzel, @noctemys, @whitejxsmine, @so6, @franzelt, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @marlene-the-witch, @thestudiouswanderer, @lyjen, @rideacowb0y, @weasleybuns, @dal-light, @mariatpwk, @dreammgc, @elysian-chaos, @breadbrobin, @poppyflower-22, @halfofagayallofaqueer, @battleraven, @amarokofficial, @tenaciousperfectionunknown, @poppyflower-22
#kaz brekker#crooked kingdom#six of crows#six of crows duology#kaz brekker x reader#kazzle dazzle#soc kaz#soc fanfic#soc inej#soc nina#nina zenik#jesper fahey#soc jesper#shadow and bone#the grishaverse#shadow and bone season 2#sab season 2#grishaverse fanfic#freddy carter#the crows#inej ghafa#inej my queen#midnights but make it kaz brekker#kaz brekker x fem!reader#kaz brekker x you#matthias helvar#soc matthias#wylan van eck#soc wylan#sab season two
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This wasn't in the parenting book.
Warnings: tantrums and parenting, Suguru is referred as mama but that's just because we love male wife Suguru.
Suguru Geto wasn't the one who would usually hold grudges, more or less a child of that matter.
But his adoptive son, (Name), was pushing his limits today.
Suguru took a deep breath, pitching his nose, “I want you to tell me the truth and this is your last chance”.
(Name) whined and kicked his feet against the floor, "I'm not lying! Gumi did it!”.
(Name) was at that young age, you know, five, where kids learn to be honest. The past couple of weeks (Name) would lie about small things, examples followed, if he brushed his teeth, if he broke Satoru's favorite mug, if he was the one who let the cat outside, a lot of small things that led to worst outcomes because of said lying.
Right now, the current lie is that Megumi broke the TV.
Suguru felt agitated, “(Name) I want this lying to stop-”
“I’M NOT LYING”
“MEGUMI IS AT SCHOOL! WHO ELSE COULD'VE DONE IT!”
“I saw him break the TV last night momma! I promise! I promise! Nana and Mimi saw it too! Momma! Momma!”.
(Name) broke down in sobs, the little boy overwhelmed with new emotions.
As (Name) cried. Suguru picked up the little boy, hushing him and rubbing his back. “See? This is what happens when you lie too much. No one will believe you when you tell the truth”.
“I- I-”
“Take a deep breath for me”.
“I promise momma, I didn't break the TV”.
Suguru rocked the small boy, making him calm and eventually fall asleep.
Now Suguru had another problem to deal with, his other children.
“Who broke it”
Nanako, Mimiko, Tsumiki, and Megumi sat silently on the couch.
Suguru glared down at Nanako, “Nan-”
“It was (Name)” Mimiko intrupted.
The other three nodded leaving Tsumiki quiet..
Tsumiki was shaking, trying her hardest not to look at Suguru.
“Tsumiki….”
“It was Megumi!”
“TSUMIKI!” The other three yelled.
“It's not just my fault! It's also Mimiko!”
“It was not!”
“It was too!”.
The four kids bickered with each other, and Suguru rubbed his temples. Where was Satoru when you needed him?
“Everyone to their rooms, I don't want a peep until Satoru comes home. Upstairs. Now!”.
The four rushed upstairs into their rooms.
Suguru pinched his nose, did he want children of course he did but he didn't think about how siblings ganged up on each other since he was an only child.
Same with Satoru.
“Honey am home-”
Suguru's glare cut him short.
“Um, rough day?”.
Suguru sighed, “You can say that”.
(Name)’The baby monitor went off, small crying for Satoru.
“Great I guess I'm the bad guy today” Suguru growled while collapsing on the couch.
Satoru could only stare, confused about what to do. “Is everything okay?”.
Suguru put his palms to his face, “I'm a horrible parent".
Satoru came behind Suguru, rubbing the male's shoulders. “No, babe, you're a wonderful parent. The kids love you”.
“I accused a five-year-old of breaking the TV”.
“Shit I forgot to replace that”, Satoru said under his breath.
Suguru felt his anger rise. “You fucking knew who broke the TV and didn't tell me?”.
Satoru was sweating bullets, “Listen baby! I was- I was going to tell you but I promised Megumi and the girls-”.
Suguru felt a murderest rage, one he hadn't felt in y e a r s. “What happened”.
“You know how you said no curse en-”
“Fucking christ Satoru-”
“Last night Megumi wanted to show me something cool and- one thing led to another and the TV got hit-”.
“Fuckinh Christ Gojo, we need to be on the same side, you need to communicate with me and not fucking hide this kind of shit from me”.
(Name) whined louder on the monitor.
Suguru took a deep breath and walked up the stairs towards (Name) and Megumi's shared room.
“Babe! Don't kill them!”
“I'm not doing anything, I'm grabbing (Name) and if anything I'll kill you”.
Megumi tensed up when he heard the door open, seeing Suguru and his curse energy.
“Momma!”.
Suguru picked up (Name) carrying him down the stairs.
“Babe! Suguru! Where are you going?”
Suguru grab his and (Name)’s shoes, “I'm taking (Name) to dinner to make up for earlier, I expect an apology from everyone when I get back”
“....do you want me to get a new TV”
Suguru stopped and pondered, "Actually, see this as a punishment, y'all broke it, no more TV”.
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Hello dear. Can you write hcs with Ghost, Alejandro and Soap? They had a strong argument with their s/o and both have not spoken to each other for days, and their s/o is very upset with them. Tysm hun.
Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley:
He’s the last person to cave, as much as he wants to reach out to you and bring you back to him, there’s something in him that stops him from picking up the phone
But make no mistake, he’s in turmoil, he’s running through the argument over and over, seeing everywhere he went wrong and everything that led up to pushing you away
And then that last sentence is all that’s on his mind, he’s pushed you away, he’s pushed you away, he’s pushed you away
His brain goes into overdrive and now he’s doing everything to bring you back, he’s making sure the house is spotless, he’s stocking the pantry with your favorite foods and snacks
When you finally talk to him, he’s dead silent. He doesn’t argue, doesn’t fight back, doesn’t say a word. He’s letting you ream into him, he absolutely deserves it. When you’re panting, out of breath from giving the dressing down of a lifetime, he sinks to his knees and hugs your waist, burying his face in your stomach, he speaking his apologies into your skin, he’s nauseous, dizzy, head pounding, he can’t push you away, he can’t lose you
John ‘Soap’ MacTavish:
Out of the three of these guys, Soap caves first
He doesn’t let you storm out the house, he’s blocked the door and he’s begging you to stop, to please just wait a moment
Your chest is rising and falling, rage bubbling and broiling in your stomach, but you look at him, his pleading eyes that are swirling with regret and fear
You lose steam and eventually sigh and turn on the ball of your heel, plopping angrily onto the sofa, arms crossed over your chest, leg bouncing angrily
Johnny walks over to you and stands in front of you, he gets down on his knees and gently takes your hands in his, he’s so soft like he’s afraid of scaring you away, he presses your knuckles to his lips and brings them against his forehead, eyes closed and so fucking soft
Alejandro Vargas:
He lets you stew a little in your anger, he needs a little time himself to settle down as well
But he doesn’t let it be for too long, he eventually comes knocking on your door his voice low, tone impossibly soft.
“Amor, can we talk, please?”
If you wind up opening the door and letting him in, he starts off by apologizing and listing off where he went wrong and what he’ll do to prevent that in the future
If you’re not ready to see him yet, that’s fine. He’ll wait. His heart is in his throat and he’s terribly anxious but he’ll wait. But while he’s waiting he’ll do things to hopefully warm you up him, cleaning up the house, organizing, cooking with the hopes that it’ll lure you out of your room and into talking to him again
Once you’ve emerged and you wrap your arms around him, he’s lightheaded from the relief as he turns to face you and hug you back, he’s kissing your head and apologizing and promising it won’t happen again.
#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost x reader#john soap mactavish x reader#soap mactavish x reader#soap x reader#alejandro vargas x reader#alejandro x reader#cod x reader#mw2 x reader#cod mw2#cod mwii#cod headcanons
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7 for Geraskier? 💕
7. "I used to compare your attention span to a goldfish, but I've since then learned that you are much, much worse."
Geralt does nothing to hide his amusement as Jaskier slinks out of the alderwoman’s house, looking like a puppy that just got scolded for making a mess of the carpet. In this case, it seems the carpet is the alderwoman’s pride, judging by the shouting Geralt can hear from inside the house.
“What did you do this time?” Geralt asks.
Jaskier glares at him. “The good thing is we have until nightfall to get out of town before I get put in the stocks.”
“Huh, guess you didn’t fuck her sister then.”
“Nothing so sordid.” Jaskier sniffs disdainfully, as if doing just that to a baroness isn’t the reason they got kicked out of the last town where they stopped. “I may have misremembered an important piece of information.”
“What’s that?”
The shutters of the windows above them fly open. The alderwoman leans out, pink-cheeked with rage. “You forgot these, Jaspar,” she snarls before dropping the shredded tatters of what were once Jaskier’s hose to the ground. Looking triumphant, she slams the shutters again.
“Ah, well.” Jaskier looks down at the hose. “Those were only my third-favorite pair.”
Geralt arches an eyebrow as Jaskier retrieves the pieces. “You called her the wrong name, didn’t you?”
“Perhaps. But in my defense, Cordelia and Camille are very similar names.”
“They really aren’t.” Geralt shakes his head. “You spent three days in her bed.”
“Yes, but she only introduced herself once and I was rather distracted at the time. You saw her.” Jaskier casts a wistful glance over his shoulder.
Geralt claps a hand on his back and steers him away. “You know, I used to compare your attention span to a goldfish.”
“That’s uncalled for.”
“I’ve since learned you’re much, much worse.”
Jaskier huffs. “I pay attention to the things that are important, Geralt!”
“Like what?”
“Like music! And art! And…other important things!”
Geralt snorts. “Come on, let’s get Roach. You get to explain to her why she doesn’t get to sleep in a warm, dry stable for another night.”
***
Despite the anger coursing through him, Geralt is gentle as he sets Jaskier down on his bedroll. “You fucking idiot.”
Jaskier’s eyes are glassy and unseeing as he stares straight ahead. His chest rises and falls rapidly with his panicked breathing. “This is temporary, right? Please tell me it’s temporary.”
“Yes,” Geralt grits out. “It’s temporary. Which you would know if you were paying attention earlier. You clearly fucking weren’t, because then you would have heard me when I told you not to get within range of the grave hag’s tongue.”
“I was—”
“If you say distracted—”
“You looked very fetching in the sunset! I was inspired. I had to write a few verses down.”
Geralt is suddenly very glad that Jaskier is blinded so he can’t see Geralt’s gobsmacked expression. “You nearly got yourself killed because you were inspired?”
“They’re very good verses, if I do say so myself.”
“You…” Geralt shakes his head. “You fucking goldfish.”
He stalks away, as much to get a cloth to clean up the mud and blood on Jaskier’s face as to put some distance between them.
***
“Jaskier,” Geralt says. “Remember when I told you that I always put on weight in the winter?”
Jaskier gnaws on his thumb nail. “Perhaps.”
“And remember when I told you that if you were going to force me to wear an outfit for the Countess’ wedding, you should account for that?”
“Are you sure you had that conversation with me? Could it have been another bard?”
Geralt gestures at himself. He’s crammed into a doublet and breeches so skin-tight that he’ll probably rip them if he takes too large of a step or tries to lift his arms above his head. “What the fuck is this?”
Jaskier smiles. “If it helps, your legs look amazing.”
“It doesn’t.” Geralt tries to fold his arms over his chest, then thinks better of it when the doublet makes an alarming tearing noise. “What the fuck were you distracted by this time?”
“I’d rather not say.”
Geralt snorts. “I’m not wearing this.”
“Geralt, do you know how much I spent on that?”
“Then you should have fucking sized it properly.” Geralt turns away.
“Oh,” Jaskier says in the tone that tells Geralt the bard is definitely checking out his ass. “I think I got the measurements perfect.”
***
Geralt keeps a hand pressed to his side as he lowers himself onto the bed. His skin crawls with the effect of too many potions. Even the single candle in the room seems blazing; he has to squint his eyes against the light. “Jaskier—”
“Here.” Jaskier shoves two bottles into his hand before Geralt can force the words out. Geralt looks down at them and sees Swallow and Golden Oriole. He remembers explaining the different witcher potions, what they did, and how to recognize them to Jaskier years ago, not expecting the flighty bard to remember much.
Geralt closes his eyes and downs both potions. When he opens them, he finds Jaskier has snuffled the candle, plunging the room into darkness.
“You remembered,” Geralt says as Jaskier settles down on the bed next to him, the familiarity of his presence soothing.
“I told you, love.” Jaskier drops a kiss on his cheek. “I always pay attention to the important things.”
***
Tag list: @kueble @mollymawkwrites @feral-jaskier @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @dawnofbards @thisislisa @tsukiwolf42 @mosaicscale @rockysstupidity @fontegagrilledcheese @kuripon @help-i-need-a-cool-username @julek @flowercrown-bard @eveljerome
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hello!! could I request a story with casey where she had a tough case and had been threatened and all and she figures out that she’s wasting her life by locking herself up from reader and that she actually loves her and it’s not just a hook up so she goes finds her and tells her that? could be smut or not hehe thank uuuuuu
slight cw for themes of violence and general toxicity
"Casey." You say, looking tiredly at the redhead stood at the head of your bed, now scrambling to get dressed.
"For fucks sake." She growls, pulling her hair out from beneath her jacket and moving to bolt out of your bedroom door.
You'd been grilling Casey about what happened at work since she'd showed up at your apartment in a haze of aggression. You’ve seen her emotions range from angry to disillusioned, but not anything like this, nothing ever spurring her to treat you the way she had tonight. The redhead had managed to silence you with her lips and tongue for the past couple of hours, but—much to her dismay—your prying continued once you could breathe again. Casey’s refusal to explain what was going on with her was maddening, and for the first time since you'd known her, you were contemptuous toward her.
You’re refusing to let her leave without an explanation for her behavior, though you know it’s going to be exhausting trying to shatter her stoicism, even just for a few moments. You exhale sharply after getting up from the bed, and noting the swelling on your thighs and arms from Casey’s grip on them earlier. Moving your hand over the area beneath your shirt, you can still feel the indentations of her bite marks; the crudeness in which she’d used you tonight mounts your anger as you storm out of the room. You fling open the door to find her standing in your living room, gathering her belongings.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" You ask, your tone venomous; she scoffs and you can feel yourself becoming enraged.
“I can’t deal with you right now.” The redhead pivots, insolently looking downward to avoid your scolding eyes.
You cut off her path as she makes a move for the door, and position your body between her and the exit. She stares at you with a look of aversion you’ve never seen from her before, and you feel physically ill. You cross your arms defiantly in a silent challenge to the older woman; she begins to chuckle wryly at your stance. Your face stays unmoving as you watch Casey laugh manically, her head thrown back and her voice raw. She eventually contains her disbelief into just a mere smirk, and fixes her gaze downward upon you once more, stepping closer and pinning your body.
“Move.” She mutters, the calmness of her demand forging a pit in your stomach.
“Or what—you gonna call your cop friends?” You ask dismissively, pressing your back further into the wood in attempt to create distance between your tense bodies.
Casey’s face drops and a sheet of blackness seems to overlie her sharp features; you click your tongue in indifference. The anger swelling within your chest, and the dull ache radiating from your ragged muscles quashes your usual pull towards disarmament. The standoff between you and the older woman lasts for what feels like minutes; neither of you dare to speak or move from your places. The redhead looks away—her eyes crazed and her nostrils flared in white-hot rage—and you let out a quiet breath of relief. However, just when you let your guard slip, her calloused hands bracket on your upper arms, and sling you into the left wall.
Without thinking, your arms rise to level with your chest and throw her off. As she stumbles into the back of your couch, it seems you can hear the rush of adrenaline in your ears as much as you can feel it pummel the walls of your veins. This no-strings agreement the two of you had made within the first month of meeting went out the window long ago; it’s replacement a weekly cycle of virulently taking out the frustrations of the day on one another. You know it needs to end, but neither you nor Casey seem to possess the willpower to cut it off. Casey shoots you a dumbfounded stare as you purse your lips and rest your hands on your bruised hips.
“Get out.” You hiss, throwing open the door for her, and walking into the kitchen; she obliges wordlessly.
You brace yourself against the granite surface of your kitchen island, and try to quell the trembling of your limbs. The faint thrum of Casey’s heels against the tiled floor of your building can still be heard through the open door; you straighten your posture and move to slam it shut. You lean your head back and cover your face with your eyes, hoping that you’ll open them to see Casey asleep next to you, and realize this was just a nightmare. No such comfort comes, and you groan as you see the angled couch serving as mocking evidence of you and the redhead’s fight.
Hours melt into one another as you pace around your living room, your brain swirling about the events that transpired between you and the older woman. Despite the immeasurable amount of time you’d spent with Casey—tangled in her toned arms and enamored by her words—you feel as if what you experienced tonight is the real her. The small glimpses of her humanity that you’d grasped at to justify this relationship twist into indiscernible memories the longer you think of her. You smile drolly at the absurdity of your choices, and dwell on the hours you’d wasted in her company.
The shrill sound of your ringtone echoes throughout your flat and shakes you from thought. You realize your phone somehow ended up on your desk, and you walk quickly towards it on the off chance someone at work is calling you at 2 o’clock in the morning. You nearly lose your balance when you see the name illuminated across your screen—Casey. You blink a few times and just stare in disbelief at the white letters plastered on your phone; however, curiosity overtakes you, and soon you’re pressing the green button and holding it up to your ear. You can faintly hear her release a breath, and the call is silent until Casey decides to speak.
“I didn’t go home.” She murmurs, and you believe the faltering of her tone is a figment of your imagination.
“Where are you?” You ask, clearing your throat nervously and walking towards the kitchen window.
“I need to see you.” Casey says, her voice so defeated you almost can’t believe it’s her on the line.
“This has to end.” You sigh out, your eyes fluttering closed; Casey chuckles hollowly in response.
“Consider it closure.” The older woman states, and you hum in hesitant approval before she hangs up.
Minutes later, she’s walking in wordlessly and peeling the coat from her shoulders; you’re already sitting in preparation for whatever convoluted interaction is to come. Casey sits at the island across from you, and places her hands meekly in front of her; you fidget softly under the counter. The older woman brings her head up slowly to look at you, her eyes wrought with guilt and shame. You try to maintain an apathetic gaze, but you can feel your brows knitting in clemency at her despondent presence. She interlocks her hands behind her neck as she inhales, and prepares to speak.
“The short version is that I had a rough case; not any worse than the others, but some friends of the defendant cornered me at the courthouse after arraignment.” Casey avows quietly, and you nod slowly at her words.
“You could’ve told me earlier.” You croak, and she sucks in a breath through her teeth.
“It wouldn’t have changed anything, it still doesn’t.” She says, her eyes fixed to the floor.
“You threw me into a fucking wall, Casey.” You choke out, your tone imploring her for a compelling explanation, though you know there isn’t one.
“I’m sorry.” She whispers, her breathing labored as if there were a mass upon her chest; you stand and turn your back to her in order to keep your composure.
“I still don’t want it to end.” You confess derisively, and you can hear Casey shuffle to stand and approach you.
“It doesn’t, not for tonight at least.” Casey scrapes, and you can feel tears prick at your eyes as her arm encircles your waist.
A warm sensation spills into your chest to replace your anger as Casey turns you in her grip, and lightly drags her hands over your exposed arms. The frown she wears resembles that of an apology itself, and the tears you’d tried to stifle spill over across your cheeks as you try to escape her forlorn gaze. You should do nothing but shove her away from you just as you did a few hours ago, but you can’t, and you don’t want to. Every moment with the older woman traps you in the same alluring stalemate of weakness and desire; escape is unthinkable. As Casey’s lips burn soft kisses into the skin she’d blackened earlier, you feel a sense of understanding—of her, yourself, and the fucked up situation you each find yourself in.
Her lips envelop yours with a soft adoration, moving as if it were her first time doing so. Casey pulls back and glides her thumbs over your face, trying to wipe the tears from your flushed skin. She settles on kissing them away instead, repeating a hushed apology each time she plants one. Her hands rest on the small of your back, gently adhering your waist into her upper thighs; your head drops into the dip of her shoulder. She’s mumbling something into your hair and guiding you towards the bedroom, but her words are muffled by the fog occupying your mind. She has you encased in her arms as she lies with you, and you can feel sobs crack through your lips.
Casey’s mantra of apologies ends once your ragged breathing steadies to sync with hers. The older woman runs her lithe hands through your hair lightly, and you try to suppress the feeling of comfort looming over your being. You can think coherently now, yet you can’t find anything to say, only counting down the hours until you watch her leave for good. You tilt your head upwards to lay a kiss across her jawline, and the smile playing on her lips doesn’t evade you. You move to straddle her hips as you realize how close to morning it is, and your expression is as determined as it is plaintive. Casey has no reaction to your movements, her hands still cupping your face and her eyes fixed on yours.
“I don’t want that.” She says, looking at your expecting body and sliding her thumb over your swollen lips.
“For closure, right?” You chide, grinding your hips into hers softly—once again, no reaction from the redhead.
“I think I’m in love with you.” Casey admits lowly; your body goes rigidly still atop her.
“Fuck.” You say, closing your eyes and huffing in sheer impiety at her words.
#law and order special victims unit#law and order svu#casey novak#casey novak fanfiction#casey novak x reader#svu#hurt/comfort
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Papa’s Pet
Pairing: Dr Martin Brenner x Fem! Lab Worker! Reader.
Summary: Dr Brenner will absolutely use you teach someone a lesson about the consequences of trying to steal what belongs to him.
Warnings: NSFW, Smut, Daddy kink (Papa), Not exactly public sex but y'all fuck in front of someone, Jealousy!, Jealous! Brenner, Creampie, Intercourse (P in V), Unprotected sex, Established relationship (?) this is kinda up to you, You belong to Papa, Reader is Papa's Bitch, I am the Reader.
Writing Time: 1 hour.
Word Count: 1,374.
Format: Kinktober Fic, Day 25.
A/N:
Sorry to all the 001/Henry fans out there. I kinda did him dirty here. I love Henry and I'll write another fic to make it up to him.
I'm so wet for Brenner though. An old hot crazy scientist? I'm already spreading my legs. Take me please, Papa.
I don't know if it's clear in the fic so I'll explain it here. Reader is Brenner's play thing, and Henry is caught trying to fuck the reader (flirting shamelessly with her in front of Brenner), to get a rise out of his Papa. But reader doesn't realise what he's really up to and thinks he's after friendship, which is is happy to give. Brenner knows the truth and punishes Henry for it.
Here are my other Kinktober 2023 works.
—///—
You felt beyond vulgar and used in the worst way possible.
It almost made you sick to your stomach. It was anyone else, you'd snap. Filled with rage and disgust.
But this was for the Doctor. Dr Brenner. And it wasn't much of a secret how much you loved the Doctor, or the lengths you'd go to please him.
Which is why you allowed him to drag you away to his office in the middle of your short scheduled time with the children, where 001 was already waiting, and throw you onto his chair (knees on the seat facing away from him) and rip your skirt up and tights and panties down. Exposing you completely to the men in the room.
"I'm sure you know why I brought both of you here today..." Dr Brenner sighed whilst stroking your wetting entrance slowly.
He continued, "I was pretty shocked and disappointed with both of you as of recently... maybe you didn't realise how obvious you were both being, but I've seen the looks you've been each other... the little conversations you been having during and after work... I've decided I need to give you two a reminder of the rules here."
You were frozen in fear, what was he talking about? Yes, you and Peter had been getting close as of recently but only as friends. You'd never betray your beloved Doctor like that.
You couldn't see, but behind you Peter was also frozen in fear. He didn't quite know where this was going. He had tried to anger his Papa by flirting with his naïve girlfriend right in front of him and did expect Papa to lash out and punish him, but he didn't quite know what kind of punishment this was and the lack of knowledge and control scared him to say the least.
Dr Brenner stared Henry down as he shoved a finger inside of you, making you gasp and grip onto the chair harder. Brenner and 001 could see how wet just a finger could make you, 001 moved uncomfortably on his chair and tried his best to hide his growing erection.
But Brenner had already seen it, and it only made him angrier. To him, Henry had no shame. He shamelessly flirted with his girl right in front of him and how he was shamelessly getting hard right in front of him for his girl.
Brenner knew you had no real part in his, he never once doubted your loyalty to him. But he was a little upset you hadn't seen 001's bad intentions with you and come to him immediately.
But still, this was Henry's punishment, not yours. Your punishment would come later.
Brenner unbuckled his belt and pulled down his trousers with just his free hand, before adding another finger into you.
He turned away from Henry to look at your bare ass and wet cunt and began stroking himself though his boxers, "I'm doing this to remind you both of your places, since you clearly need reminding. Henry, your place is beneath me and my darling... you should be grateful I've kept a failure like you around for so many years... and my darling," You slowly looked around to face him and your eyes met, "...You're my whore. I keep you around just to use whenever I please. You'll do good to remember that."
It stung and made you wetter. To hear you meant so little to the Doctor broke your heart a little but you already knew it. But also to hear that the Doctor wanted to use you in filthy ways... I mean, a win is a win.
Dr Brenner removed his fingers from you and showed them to Henry. The young man closed his eyes and looked away, moving awkwardly in his seat again because his hard dick was starting to hurt against his trouser.
Brenner chuckled at him and placed his fingers in his mouth, sucking off your juices with an evil smile on his face.
You whined and whimpered, grabbing both men's attention.
You shook your ass at the Doctor, "Please more Sir..."
Henry thought he was gonna be sick. He wanted to run away, but knew running away from his punishment could make things even worse.
But Brenner was quite the opposite. He was always thrilled to hear you beg for him. And since you were handling this all so well, he figured you deserved what you wanted.
He pulled down his boxers and quickly sheathed himself into you. You both let out a groan and began eagerly rolling your hips together.
You bit your lip and ripped the chair beneath you, you needed some way to let out how good this felt.
"Oh Papa... I'm so sorry!" You cried, "I'd never betray you! I love you!"
Brenner gently patted your head and continued fucking you, "I know you wouldn't, dearest. Papa knows you would never... God! You're taking me so well!"
You came first, Brenner not long afterwards. You sighed as you slowly came down from your high, you stayed out just in case your Papa had more in store for you.
Dr Brenner sighed as he carefully spilled all of his seed into you, then tucked himself back into his trousers and turned to look at Henry.
His face was almost covered with his hair as he looked down, but Brenner could feel 001's fury from a mile away. This punishment was a reminder that Brenner owned him, and he hated it. He always hated his Papa, but now he might hate you even more, for not helping him. And for choosing your evil mad Papa over him.
"Henry..." Brenner spoke out of breath, "Before you go back to work, look here."
He pointed to your cunt, filled to the brim with the Doctor's cum.
"I can't stop you from thinking about my Darling, but when you do, remember her filled up with all of me."
Henry didn't even bother to look.
"Now go back to work."
Henry was more than happy to run out of that office. Both to jerk himself off and to get as far away from the both of you as possible.
Brenner turned back to you and carefully pulled up your panties and fixed your clothes. He pulled you off the chair to face him and smiled at you.
"You did so well Dear." He gently stroked your face, "You know Papa really does love you. I love you more than anything else in the World, actually."
You smiled at your Doctor, your heart beating speed up to the point you though you might be having a heart attack. Your Papa did love you.
"I love you so much too Papa."
Brenner smiled again at you and leaned down to kiss you gently.
It was better for you to enjoy the tender moment than to worry about how 001 would react or treat you after his humiliating punishment.
#stitched#stitched talks#stitched mouth#stitched writes#stitched’s kinktober#kinktober 2023#kinktober#stranger things x reader#stranger things#stranger things netflix#netflix#dr martin brenner#dr martin brenner x reader#dr martin brenner smut#martin brenner#martin brenner x reader#martin brenner smut#brenner x reader#brenner smut#stranger things smut
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This Is The End (Of What Used To Be)
Chapter Seven of Sweet Home Alabama
Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x OC (Linley Mitchell/Floyd), Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x OC (Linley Mitchell/Floyd)
Description: The morning after your night out on the town is anything but happy. You can't believe you made the decisions you did last night. Maybe those rounds of shots were a bad idea? But for better or worse you're making even worse decisions, picking fights and hurting the one person you've never wanted to hurt - not again. You get what you want. So why does it feel like you don't want this - not anymore?
Themes: angst, love, attraction
Warnings: arguments, anger, cheating, aftermath of cheating
Word Count: 2990
A/N: The last chapter was titled The Road To Hell Is Paved With Good Decisions for a reason, y'all! This chapter picks up right where the last one left off (or well, I should say the morning after it left off). Jake and Linley are not in a good place at the end of this chapter, not at all.
AO3: Cross-posted here!
Wattpad: Cross-posted here!
My Masterlist
Previous Part | Series Masterlist | Next Part
Everything hurts when you wake up. It feels like an entire New York construction site has set up shop inside your skull, complete with jackhammers, big machines, and yelling and beeping. But the bed is soft under you, and you’re warm, and the arms around you feel too good for words.
Wait…
The arms around you?! You slide carefully out from between the sheets, shivering at the goosebumps rising on your bare skin. It’s more than just the pain of a hangover in your body, then. You’re sore, the specific kind of sore that you’ve really only felt after a night of passion, and when you look back into bed, it’s to see Jake lying on his stomach fast asleep while facing you. It hurts seeing him lying there because it’s everything you’ve wanted for seven long, lonely years.
The longer you’re awake, the more you remember about the night before. You remember every single thing you said - to him and about him. You remember Jake picking you up like you weighed nothing and carting you out to the parking lot when you’d been nearly blind with rage and drunk. You remember the kisses, too. You bring your shaking hand up to your lips because even now, you can still feel them. After that first kiss, it was like you were consumed by lightning. Every part of you ached for Jake. He’d kissed you in that parking lot like you were the air he needed to breathe, kissed you until you wanted nothing more than to feel his touch again.
The two of you had stumbled into his car and driven home with barely withheld need coursing through you. As you stumbled into the house, avoiding Bryant’s dog bed in the corner of the living room, it felt like you were finally alive. When he finally had you in his bed, it was like having sex with no other man. You can still feel the ghosts of his touch on your skin. He’d stripped your clothes off tenderly, replacing them with his kiss, his touch. It was heated, frantic, every inch of your skin singing under his touch.
You’d say it was hate fucking, but there is too much history between you and Jake Seresin. It had felt like nothing you’ve ever felt before, not even with Bradley, and that scares you. You came to Alabama for one reason, only one. To get a divorce - not get horribly drunk and end up in the same situation you were in before you left all of those years ago. This situation also means that you just cheated on Bradley. God, Bradley. What’s he going to think? How can you tell him? Carole’s already on a warpath about you and the wedding. If you tell him you cheated, it’ll break his heart.
Oh, god!
If Carole finds out, he’ll be shipped off to California to marry one of his exes quicker than you can apologize, and you'll be seeing interviews where she accuses you of breaking her baby boy's heart. You can’t hope to have him forgive you. Not when you know his thoughts on relationships and on cheaters. Not when you know how much he’s struggled to advance in his career. The news of your infidelity would completely destroy your relationship as well as any political aspirations he has.
Jake grunts just a little in his sleep, lips smacking as he turns to the other side, jolting you out of your musings. As the bed jostles slightly, you can see the bruise purpling on his golden skin from where you’d chucked the pool ball the night before. Seeing Jake like this makes worry swirl even tighter in your gut. How are you going to face this? Something like practicality sinks in despite your worry as you gather your scattered clothing. You’re probably still a little drunk as you bend to pick up your underwear, your head aching as you pull the garments on over passion marked skin. You’re just fighting with one of your high-heeled shoes when the rustling of sheets and a sleep rough voice tell you that Jake is awake.
“Hey, darlin’.” He sounds so good, but you know the minute you turn around, you’ll have to break his heart all over again. “Good Mornin’.”
You pause for several long moments, standing in Jake’s bedroom, the scent of him surrounding you while trying to think of what you can say.
“C’mon Lin, can you look at me, sweetheart?” God, he sounds so happy and fond. Would he sound like this if it were anyone else in his bed at the moment? How much longer can he sound like this? Especially when you know what you have to do. Does it make you cruel to try to push for a divorce now? When Jake is the first time being intimate has brought a smile to your face in years? When Jake is the one person you’ve never had to hide around? You turn around and try to spread the facsimile of a smile on your face. Because Jake knows you, he can easily see your feelings in your face. That easy smile drops, and worry takes its place.
“Hey, sweetheart?” He scrambles out of the sheets, tugging worn gray sweatpants on before taking your hands in his. “What’s going on in that head of yours? Is it what we said to each other last night?”
Why is it that he just can’t shut up? He keeps acting sweet and pretending like you’re someone important to him when both you and he know you’re not - not anymore. Each selfless word, each gesture, god, even the way he pulls you into his chest, sends you spiraling. You can do this. It feels like you’re living a lie, a much bigger one than your life in New York, even. It’s always only been Jake who has been able to strip you bare like this. Only ever Jake. If you didn’t lose your best friend all those years ago, you’re definitely going to lose him now.
Your throat is bone dry as you pull away from his secure embrace. Your eyes burn with unshed tears and your voice is gravelly as you say, “I can’t do this, Jake.”
“Do what, honey? Tell me what you’re thinking. You don’t have to do that right now, Sugar. Take all the time you need.” Damn him!
God, you’d give anything for angry Jake right now. There’s a reason why you left Pigeon Creek the first time in the dead of night. You’ve never been able to handle his pain.
You gather all the hatred you’ve ever felt for anyone and hold it in front of your battered, aching heart and spit out words you never would have said before, and don’t mean in the slightest.
“I can’t do this anymore, Jake.” It’s obvious he doesn’t understand, so you twist the knife a little bit deeper, hoping he doesn’t see how you’re bleeding a little too. “Last night was a mistake.”
Confusion graces his face as you continue. “A cheap little hate fuck. As if I could ever want to be with you again. God, you’d think I’d never learn. Jake, there is no way I could ever want to be yours again. I mean, come on. Even a year was too long last time.”
Pain rises in those green eyes you love - no you loved, because you love Bradley - so much before his expression schools into blankness. His voice is gravelly and quiet, so quiet that it makes you want to sob just hearing it. “So what did you want, sweetheart?”
“You came on to me last night.” His voice turns into a snarl, a growl. “You just want your happy little rich life, the one Bradshaw can give you. Forget having something real with someone who loves you.”
That’s when a sob breaks through from the iron hold you have on your tears. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Jake. I didn’t mean to hurt anybody.” His chuckle is far from joyful or happy. He stomps into the living room and comes back with the divorce papers nearly crumpled in his fist. He signs the papers with enough force to nearly rip through the paper three excruciating times and shoves them your way.
“You got what you wanted, Linley. Now get the fuck out of my house before I call Mickey to drag you out.” By the time you’re sitting in the front seat of your car, not that you know how it got to Jake’s house, there are tears on your cheeks. It shouldn’t hurt this much to get what you want. It shouldn’t. It can’t. But it does.
It feels like you're reeling as you mechanically drive to your dad's, shower, and get ready for the day. Thankfully, your dad’s not home. There is a note on the fridge, though, proudly stating, “Went to prep for the reenactment in Greenville, Lin! Love you, Dad.” The shower helps, as all showers do, and you feel positively human as you walk into Pigeon Creek's one tiny post office and mail the divorce papers away. But with that done, you feel lost. Adrift and caught between the person you were, lonely, heartbroken, and alone, and the woman you’d made yourself into in New York. For Jake, you’d been willing to give up everything, your hopes, your dreams, everything to make a new dream with him. Without that dream, it had felt like nothing else mattered. Not over a decade of friendship or the love you felt for Jake. On a whim, you drive out of town. With the top down and the wind blasting your tears away, you feel a little more bit like yourself.
It rained overnight, you note dimly, the world rain-drenched and brand new as it whips past your windows in a patchworked blur of gold, green, and bronze. Unconsciously, you must drive on the roads you’ve been driving since your dad taught you how to drive, and you end up looping around town and in front of the one place you never expected to go back to, especially after how you acted the night before.
In contrast to when the Hard Deck is filled to the gills, this time when you walk through the swinging doors, the scent of lemon wood polish fills your nostrils, and it’s quiet - blessedly tranquil, in fact. The silence blankets your thoughts, muffling the frantic, flurried thoughts until all you can hear is the clack of your heels against the golden, aged wood. Unsurprisingly, Penny’s at the counter. Seeing the glare she levels in your direction doesn't surprise you at all.
“You know, I knew you were trouble the minute I saw you walk through those doors, Linley.” You nod dumbly, sitting on the stool in front of her. “My son’s put up with a lot for you and from you. Because he loves you. When you left, we all thought it was just because you were heartbroken and didn’t know how to tell him how badly you were hurting. We put up with the turmoil you inflicted on him for seven years. And then you pull this nonsense?”
A tear drips down your cheek at her words. Because it’s true. “You never loved my son at all, did you? What was it then, all those years ago? A case of possessive ego? A chance to prove that the nerdy little thing sketching all the time could bag the quarterback?” That can’t be why you did what you did. Right?”
“What do you have to say for breaking my son’s heart like you have?”
What can you say?
“Penny, I did love him. I think a part of me always will.” She snorts, and that’s when you officially give up on salvaging the relationships you’ve broken in Pigeon Creek. But you have to try. Penny’s the closest thing to a mom you’ve ever had. Without her, you wouldn’t know anything about being a woman. “I think a part of me will always love him, Penny. I think I’ve loved Jake since before I knew what love was. But I have to grow up. I’m too old to think that true love conquers all. And I found someone who loves me. He loves the person who followed her dreams and succeeded despite her struggles. We both know Jake’s never been able to do that.”
“Then why are you still here, Honey?” You shrug, the motions feeling like you’re moving something that could shatter at the easiest provocation.
“I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye to Dad, could I?” It’s your best answer, even as she bustles out from behind the word with a skeptical glance in your direction. You're left alone, with just your frenzied thoughts and your battered heart.
"What're you doing here?" Amelia's arrival breaks the tense silence as she smacks one of her textbooks onto the counter and pulls a soda from the fridge.
"Didn't you get what you wanted anyway?" She can't hide her disgust for you as she opens the can and takes a long sip. "I mean, come on. You broke my brother's heart again and then stomped all over it."
"If you weren't smart enough to realize that you've had Jake since before I was born, I guess seven years hitting it big in New York didn't teach you a single thing."
She gestures to the now empty can in front of you. "The soda's 3 dollars and 50 cents. We take cash if you forgot. Only my family gets free drinks at the Hard Deck. You're not family anymore. Don't let the door hit you on the way out."
When Amelia has made it absolutely clear exactly how much she hates you, what else can you do? You leave the bar after leaving a five-dollar bill on the counter. Talking to Penny was supposed to make you feel a little more settled in your skin. Instead, you feel like a tornado has blown through your life. Driving in circles inevitably leads you to the same place that you left earlier in the morning. The door is locked, and you’d left the spare on Jake’s dresser after the fight as you walked out of the door. Jake’s truck isn’t in the driveway, and the entire property sits in a dappled green haze. It feels like there is still something dragging you towards Jake, and it’s not just the bruises he’s left on your skin. A part of you isn’t ready to let this part of your life end without some closure.
You pad around the house and make your way down to the dock. The seaplane is still out there, and that’s where you see Bryant sleeping under the broad wing. He lifts his head the minute he sees you and lopes forward, happily slobbering over your upturned palms. You can’t help the soft kiss you press into the silken fur as he rests his whole head in your lap. It’s heavy and warm, and in that instance, a spike of longing impales your heart for the puppy you bottle-fed and raised sitting on this very dock. Your Bear loved you with all his heart, and even now, you wish you could have taken him to New York. But he would have been miserable in your shoebox apartment, going from a king in the countryside to a pauper overnight. So you’d left him with Jake. And as it turns out, you will never see him again. At least you know Jake loved him until the very end.
When a whistle rends the air, jolting Bryant into action, you’re not surprised at all to find tears on your cheeks. Of course, Jake strides down the well-worn planks with a bone in one hand. You can faintly hear him mutter, “What’s she doing here?” as he sets the bone down on the planks. “I thought you’d be long gone by now.
“I put the money back, Jake.” There’s still anger in his eyes as he looks over your face. His jaw is tight, like his teeth are clenched.
“That saves me from a lot of bounced checks. But that still doesn’t explain why you’re here. I signed your papers and everything. So you could go after your dream in New York. Now I’m going after mine.” Every word rings of finality.
“You’re leaving Pigeon Creek?” It hurts hearing Jake say that, you can’t quite figure out why it hurts as much as it does.
“All of the things you did to the house will actually help its resale value.” His chuckle is sad and soft. “I’ve been spendin' a lot of my time up around Tuscaloosa, so…”
“Oh.” There’s a lump in your throat that you have to swallow around. “I came to thank you, Jake. And to tell you again that I never meant to hurt you.”
“I know, darling. It was the only way to get what you wanted.” If he knew, why did he let you hurt him like you did this morning? “You’ve always been single-minded when you were trying to get what you wanted. The girl I knew never used to leave people behind. She’d take them with her if they truly mattered to her.”
Hearing Jake’s words makes all of your accomplishments over the past years seem pale in comparison. “The girl you knew, she wasn’t living life at all.” The words nearly get stuck in your throat as you say them.
“Better get on with living then.” He turns to Bryant, ushering the puppy into the plane. It makes you smile, just a little, to see how Jake has to lift him into the plane, drool-covered, gnawed-on bone and all. It feels like the end. Now, if only you knew why your heart hurts when you have something, no someone, just as wonderful, waiting for you in New York.
I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR ON AO3 BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR AO3, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.
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#star writes#top gun fanfic#top gun fanfiction#top gun maverick fanfic#top gun maverick fanfiction#top gun imagine#sweet home alabama#a top gun au#star's sweet home alabama top gun au#jake hangman seresin x oc#hangman x oc#jake seresin x oc#bradley bradshaw x oc#bradley rooster bradshaw x oc#rooster x oc
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BAD ATTITUDE | Chapter 3: Sex, Drugs & Toxic Affiliations
ch. 1 | ch. 2
chapter word count: 13k
warnings: mature (18+), violence, drinking, drug use, smut, fluff, angst, feels, rough s*x, emotional manipulation
pairings: Gojo Satoru x Fem OC, Geto Suguru x Fem OC, Nanami Kento x Fem OC, Fushiguro Toji x Fem OC
series summary: Jujutsu Kaisen Yakuza AU where Riku Ozaki (OC) is really good at getting herself into trouble. Though the Ozaki family is ranked #10 out of the 15 clans of the Tokyo Yakuza syndicate in terms of power & strength; and the Gojo, Geto, and Zenin families fall at #1, #2, and #3 respectively; that doesn't keep her from getting in the mix with these highly ranked, highly dangerous men. Her clan's bodyguard, Nanami, can hardly keep up with all the compromising positions she constantly finds herself in. Will she ever learn her lesson? Find out on the next episode of Dragon Ba-
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Gojo sits at the center of the Table of 15 Families, a massive circular structure of a table that’s white statuary marble flat is intricately polished and lined with small bronze and silver squares. It’s a place that only each of the leaders of the Tokyo families can touch, and an emergency meeting between all the clans had been called due to Toji’s uprising with a third of the Zenin clan’s men.
He leans back in the uncomfortable chair made of similar materials as the table, crossing his arms over his chest as he glares across the room at the family leaders currently seated at the table – most of which are from lower rank clans, of course. He usually appreciates them for their their timeliness; as the higher-ranked Zenin, Kamo, Inumaki, and Fujiwara clan leaders were always fashionably late; but today he’s pissed. And understandably so, as his home as well as the entirety of the Tokyo Yakuza had been threatened.
Gojo taps his pointer finger on his opposite bicep out of impatience, currently dressed in a black dress shirt, black slacks, and black combat boots. It’s the kind of yakuza getup that mostly serves one purpose – concealing blood stains.
Geto sits at his side in the 2nd rank seat, arms similarly crossed but eyes closed as both him and his friend had not gotten any sleep since they’d dropped Riku off at the Ozaki residence. They’d been up working, of course, designing a plan to retaliate against Toji and the Zenin clan. Though Toji had gone off the grid and was unable to be found in the early hours of the morning, at least not by their folks, Gojo and Geto had decided to take action and wasted no time using the strength of their clans to stage and carry out attacks on the Zenin clan’s properties.
Just then, the Zenin clan leader, Naobito – who had shoulder-length gray hair and a pointed mustache, storms their meeting room in a fit of rage. Geto opens his eyes, narrowing them at the man currently entering.
Gojo smirks to the look on his face. At least he has the Zenin leader’s anguish to be happy about.
“Three warehouses?!?!!” Naobito wears an ivory kimono and black hakama, screaming the words as he approaches Gojo.
Gojo and Geto’s retaliation had come in the form of destroying three of the seven warehouses where the Zenin clan built and stored the illegal weapons they sold, just a few short hours ago. With the entire Tokyo Yakuza syndicate outraged by last night’s attack, it was fairly easy for Gojo and Geto to band their forces together and burn the warehouses to the ground. Gojo rises from his seat, wickedly grinning at Naobito as the older man strides directly to him.
Naobito grabs handfuls of Gojo’s black shirt, balling it up as he grits his teeth at the other, “How fucking dare you! You’re going to pay for this!!!” He spits between clenched teeth.
Gojo easily pushes the man a few steps back with a single movement of his muscular arms, then returns them to their crossed state, still smirking but expression brimming with anger, “What? Did you think I would just stand by while a third of your men destroy my property?” He leans over a bit so he is eye-level with the man, facial expression turning into one of hardened rage, “You really think I wouldn’t make you all pay for that?”
“That wasn’t our doing – it was Toji’s, you bastard! Those factories and facilities will take months to restore!!!” Naobito explains, angered but simultaneously aware of Gojo’s power… He doesn’t want to upset the man even more than he already is.
Gojo is able to calm down just slightly at Naobito’s words, shrugging, “Not my problem. If you’d kept Toji and your men under control, none of this would’ve happened. Plus, how do I know this isn’t some scheme of your clan to destroy me?”
Naobito has no sufficient answer and turns with a grunt, moving to sit in the 3rd rank seat on the other side of Geto, “You disrespectful, piece of shit…” He grumbles under his breath.
“You’ve got a lotta nerve, Naobito… Seeing how every clan in this room was impacted by what members of your clan did last night.” Geto joins the conversation, pissed and sleep deprived. He wears a deep brown suit and white button-up, the toned muscles of his back and arms just barely contained by the expensive fabric that is noticeably dusted with the black ash of explosives they’d used to destroy Naobito’s warehouses.
“Where’s Toji?” The only other white-haired yakuza enters the room and takes a seat in the 6th rank chair. He’s much younger than most in the room as he’s only 21 years old, and is a bit shorter than most as well. His hair that usually has small spikes in it is currently in a straight, bowl cut – his choice of high-end streetwear over a suit especially telling to his age. The inumaki clan business consists of finding, controlling, and selling insider information regarding any and all business trading markets, politics, and even celebrity relationships in Tokyo.
“Long time, so see, Toge.” Gojo smiles, returning to his seat at the table once more.
“We don’t know.” Naobito answers as honestly as he can, “We’ve been tracking him for hours and still, nothing. We’re still looking.”
Not acknowledging Gojo, Toge glares at the Zenin leader in silence for a moment, then speaks up again, “He’s telling the truth, unfortunately.” He concludes with a sigh. It’s one thing he’s sure of as he’s dealt with liars his entire life.
“Well, you better find him quick. I have personal business with that man and would like to see him dead.”
The clan leaders currently seated turn their heads as Jin Ozaki speaks, entering the room in a tan suit and buzz cut. He’s the last member to join them, and sits down in the 10th rank chair, noticeably angered and stressed by this predicament, “Sorry I’m late. It appears that Toji has gotten in contact with my niece this morning via phone.”
All eyes around the table widen to this information, and Gojo and Geto exchange a look.
“Do you have her phone?” Noritoshi Kamo speaks up from his 5th rank chair – leader of the clan that deals in illegal tech and machinery. He wears a long, black kimono with gold embroidery.
Jin retrieves a black iPhone from his pocket and slides it across the table to Noritoshi, “Got it from her before I left home.”
Noritoshi slips the phone into the sleeve of his kimono, “We’ll do what we can to trace the location of where the call came from. Toji’s actions are unacceptable and he must be killed for the atrocities he continues to commit.”
“I’m sorry, your daughter?” The Okamoto family leader, Haruki, asks from his 12 rank seat – an older man in a gray suit who leans forward to this information that’s new to him. The Okamoto clan directs the black market of car trading, racing, and illegal car importing in Tokyo.
“Yes, seems like she got in some trouble with Toji last night and hit him where it hurts.” Jin clears his throat.
“That’s one way to put it.” Gojo chuckles.
“Where is she now?” Geto asks.
“Working.” Jin replies plainly, “We still have businesses to run, but I’ve hired more men to protect her in the meantime. And I doubt Toji is dumb enough to strike in broad daylight.”
A few around the table make noises of agreement, and there’s silence for a moment.
“I did receive a written message an hour ago, about Toji’s demands…” Noritoshi admits.
“Then why didn’t you say anything before, fucking geezer?!” Gojo asks, irritated, “The fuck does he want?”
“100 million…” Naobito says, deciding to ignore Gojo's name-calling this time around before moving his gaze to Jin, “…and he says he’ll cease his attacks for a week, if we hand him your niece.”
A rage brews in Jin Ozaki and he’s hardly able to contain it, hands shaking for a second, “You expect me, to give away my family…?!!” His hands tighten into fists on the flat of the table.
“I’m just repeating the message I received. And if less attacks mean less people being hurt or kille-”
“Then, what? My niece’s life is worth it?!?!!”
“That’s not an option.” Gojo interrupts, strangely calm, “Plus, a week is hardly any time. That offer is honestly just disrespectful to your family’s worth, Jin.”
“So what do we do now?” Haruki Okamoto questions outright.
“Well, that’s what we’re here for.” Gojo smirks before glancing over at his friend, “Geto and I have a plan.”
*
Riku sits across from two of her best friends, Nobara and Maki, who always had lunch together on Fridays at one of their favorite cafés that was locationally at the center of all three of their workplaces in the city. She’d told Maki and Nobara what happened with Toji the night prior, including that he’d called and threatened her this morning.
“Oh, so that’s why you didn’t pick up earlier…” Maki nods to herself, a bit stunned from hearing this information.
“Mhm.” Riku finishes her bite of the mixed greens salad she’d ordered before responding, “Got a new one on my way to work, though,” she retrieves it from her purse and unlocks it before placing it on the wooden table between the three of them, “so put your numbers in please.”
Nobara is in complete shock, “Are you insane?” She asks with a horrified expression on her face, her fork of fluffy cheesecake poked in Riku’s direction, “You kicked Toji in the balls?!” Nobara picks up Riku’s phone, regardless, beginning to navigate to her contacts.
Maki shrugs, “I mean, it’s not like he didn’t deserve it,” she takes a sip of her iced green tea.
“See? Maki gets it.” Riku smirks, “But then again, you are the baby of our group.”
Nobara rolls her eyes, “I’m only two years younger than you both… 23 is not that young, okay!”
“Oh, and you’re still an idiot, Riku – I’m just saying I get why you did that.” Maki says, taking the phone from Nobara once the other is finished entering her number and beginning to do the same.
“Yeah, like, do you want to die?!” Nobara shouts.
Riku shushes her, holding a finger to her mouth as there were other patrons in the café, and Nanami was only seated a few tables away, sipping from a mug of black coffee. She glances across the room, only to find that the blond man’s eyes were still trained on her. She sighs dramatically, “Ugh, he’s so annoying…” She trails off.
Maki follows Riku’s gaze to find Nanami at the other end of it, then turns back to her once more, “I’m guessing Jin upped your protection as a result?”
“Yeah,” Riku groans, dropping her head into her hands, “there’s even three of our muscle outside.”
“Yikes. And the guards follow you everywhere?” Nobara leans in, asking in a quieter voice.
Riku drops her hands from her face, sitting upright once more, “Yes. Kento even stood outside the door when I used the bathroom at work earlier.”
“Ew.” Maki says plainly, “That seems excessive.”
“That’s what I said!” Riku whisper-yells.
“Maybe it isn’t, I mean you’ve all heard the news, right? Gojo destroyed a bunch of the Zenin clan’s property in retaliation this morning, so they kind of have every right to be angry with Gojo and anyone seen with him – i.e. you.” Nobara says just above a whisper as she stares directly at Riku.
Maki jumps in, “Well, they don’t have every right, but since Riku humiliated Toji like that, I can understand why him and his men would be after her.”
Riku’s eyes light up when she recalls an important bit of last night’s story that she hadn’t told her friends yet. She suddenly grins, leaning in and lowering her voice when she speaks up again, “You won’t believe what happened before Satoru and Suguru took me home, though.”
“Oh my god, what?” Nobara mirrors Riku’s expression, grinning back at her with intrigue.
Riku glances between her two friends with her next words, “So we stopped somewhere to eat on the way back because I was hungry, right?”
“Mhm,” Maki nods along.
“And so, we went to Chinatown and had this really good dim sum and roasted duck, but these guys were being super secretive about shit and kept, like, whispering to each other mid-conversation, and even left me completely alone at the table at one point to meet in some room in the back of the restaurant,”
“…okay,” Maki says, nodding to the waiter who sets a plate with her ham and cheese croissant sandwich down on the table before departing to help another party.
“Probably were planning the clan revenge shit.” Nobara adds, taking a bite of her cheesecake.
“and so obviously I had to go see what they were up to.” Riku explains.
“You didn’t, but sure,” Maki takes a bite of her sandwich while Nobara nods in agreement.
“And so, they caught me snooping around…” Riku clears her throat, speaking her next words just above a whisper, “…and one thing led to the next and, Suguru kind of ate me out while Satoru talked me through it.” She finishes, shyly looking down and scratching the back of her head.
Maki chokes on her sandwich with a loud cough, hitting her chest a few times before she’s able to swallow and then speaks again, “Bitch-”
Nobara stops eating and her jaw drops, “You’re fucking kidding me. Wait – both of them were there?! At the same time?!?!” She whispers the questions.
Riku nods, biting her bottom lip to hold back a grin.
“How did you…?!” Maki starts, then stops herself, “Riku, bitch…” she pinches the bridge of her nose in frustration, “now why the hell would you get mixed up with those two in that way, of all people?!!”
“I know, I know, they’re big, scary, dangerously powerful guys—”
“The biggest, scariest, most dangerously powerful yakuza in Tokyo!” Nobara jumps in, clarifying Riku’s statement.
“—but they’re also so hot.” Riku whines out.
“Well, yeah, but still – are you fucking crazy?!” Maki whispers, now fully understanding Nobara’s point of view from earlier in their conversation.
Riku inhales slowly before speaking, “They’re not so bad. To be honest, I think they’re a bit overrated when it comes to the whole scary thing. I mean, these are the same guys who’re trying to keep peace between the clans! Doesn’t having the ability to be extremely scary and powerful kinda come with the job description?”
Maki sighs, “Yes, but getting caught between those two also means you getting stuck in all their yakuza drama, violence, and craziness… You do know that, right?”
Riku pauses for a few seconds, breaking her gaze to look up in thought, “Yeah, I can see how that could be a bad thing.” She grits her teeth at her next thought, and Nobara immediately catches on.
“Fuck, Riku. What else?” Nobara asks, perplexed.
“I kind of might have a date with Suguru tonight at his clan’s onsen…?” She winces as she says the words, returning her gaze to her friends.
“Bitch…” Nobara drops her fork entirely, allowing it to clatter onto the wooden table. She runs both of her hands through her short, ginger hair, visibly stressed, “Drug lord Suguru, of all people?! I almost would’ve preferred if you said Satoru, but apparently that guy’s really insane.”
Riku smiles, “Suguru’s so sweet, though! At least from what I can tell so far. He’s a total gentleman; and you’re right, Satoru is kind of an egotistical asshole and talks a lot of shit. But he’s also not so bad.”
“Takes one to know one.” Maki notes, taking another bite from her sandwich.
Riku chuckles lightly, “Please, I’m not that bad! Confident, sure, but you don’t get anywhere in our world without that – it’s the bare minimum for survival.”
Maki curves the corners of her lips down and cocks her head to one side in a contemplative look that says, ‘I hadn’t considered that before,’ “I guess you have a point.” She can agree with that, at least, “Just be really careful, alright? And call us if you need us.”
Riku runs a hand through her long curls, “I don’t even know how this bodyguard thing would work with me over there, and he doesn’t have my new number after the Toji shit that happened this morning, so who knows – maybe I won’t be able to go after all.”
Nobara claps a few times, “Yay!” She fake cheers, “This is your chance to escape the date and never talk to him or Satoru ever again!”
“Well, that’s not exactly realistic, but it could work temporarily.” Maki puts her sandwich down, “Who knows, maybe they’ll get preoccupied with all this yakuza clan craziness and forget you for a little.”
“I don’t know,” Riku slightly puts her hands up in mock-surrender, “I am a pretty memorable bitch.” She admits with a small grin.
*
“One, two, three and four… Five, six, seven, eight and…” Riku counts through the short routine she’d just spent the past hour teaching her last intermediate-advanced level pole class of the day, her hips and legs easily gliding through the slow sequence of turns, spins, and elevated holds. She continues to count even through the inverted moves, her upside down body only held in the air above the ground by her thighs’ grip on the pole or the strength of her arms. She solely wears a black sports bra and spandex shorts, as more skin allows her to hold herself up on the pole a lot easier. The routine ends with a pirouette around the pole and a reverse body roll, and when Riku is done, she turns back to face the six women on the individual poles behind her, “Are we ready to do it with music?”
The girls chorus a ‘yes,’ and Riku walks over to her bag in the front of the room, retrieving the new phone from her pocket to turn on some music, “Let’s do the routine a final time, then freestyle a little, okay? Now five, six, seven, eight…”
Riku allows herself to get lost in the music, taking her time with each movement as it’s a slow ballad, much unlike the faster paced hip hop and R&B songs she usually plays for her pole dancing classes. Her hips, back, and shoulders roll smoothly with every move she makes, a kind of ease that’s only earned with years of practice. Riku incorporates a bit of floor work into her freestyling near the end of the song, ending with a slide into a floor bridge. She pops onto her knees when the song finishes, applauding her students who join in to clap with her, “Nice work, ladies!”
It isn’t until after she sits up that she spots an additional figure standing next to Nanami just on the other side of the glass wall that splits the back of the pole room from the hallway—Geto. He wears a black suit and black gloves. Riku feels her face redden and removes her gaze from the man that had obviously been watching her, instead turning to walk back towards her duffle bag that has her sweats in it. She slips into the loose gray pants and matching long-sleeve crop top crewneck sweater, bending over to zip up her bag and step into her plain, green-colored cushioned slides.
As she exits the room, Riku waves to the group of ladies who are at various stages of putting back on their outerwear and shoes, “Thanks for coming! See you all next time.” She smiles, turning her attention to the long-haired man once she’s on the other side of the door, “Suguru? What are you doing here?”
“Here to pick you up for our date, of course.” He gazes down at Riku, offering her a wink.
Nanami sighs, obviously not thrilled about having to speak his next words, “There’s been an update, you’re staying in Suguru’s territory for a few days – Jin’s orders.”
Riku quirks a brow, “Suguru’s territory? Why? And wait, Uncle Jin decided this?”
“It was Satoru’s idea, actually. Jin just agreed.” Geto clarifies, smiling.
“As much as I hate the idea,” Nanami glares at Geto, “and I do fucking despise this idea,” he glances back to Riku, “it is the safest place for you to be right now. The Ozaki estate is too much of a hot spot and it’d be easy to hit… And Suguru’s clan is the only one with territory in Tokyo’s mountains that’s more difficult to get to with its elevation and web-like network of underground tunnels and roads. And he has a lot more muscle and trained guards who could protect you.”
Riku blinks up at Geto, “And why do you have a web of tunnels underneath your property?” Riku looks genuinely confused.
“Easier to ship product that way.”
Right, of course. Geto’s clan handles the underground drug market, underground in more ways than one it seems… Riku nods with understanding.
Geto turns to Nanami, “Don’t worry, Nanami,” he reaches out to tug Riku by her wrist, easily pulling her into his arm, “I’ll take good care of Riku.”
Riku blushes, a bit uncomfortable about the weird relationship triangle she currently finds herself in, “Well then, I guess I’ll see you in a few, Ken?” Geto releases Riku from his arm and she gives Nanami a hug.
Nanami hugs her back tightly, then grasps her chin after they let go of each other, staring down at Riku with an expression that contains a mix of concern, care, possessiveness, and unmistakably – love, “Call me if you need anything. Okay?” He says low, just loud enough that she can hear.
Riku nods.
“You ready, beautiful?” Geto asks, before taking the duffle bag from her hand.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Riku says, a little caught off guard by this recent turn of events, “wish I’d brought some clothes with me.”
“I’ll send some men to pick some stuff up for you.” He says, pressing his free hand to the small of her back as they pass the front desk and begin to approach the main entrance to the studio.
“Okay, but I don’t want a bunch of guys snooping through my underwear drawer. Do you have any ladies you can send?”
Geto chuckles, “I’ll send some ladies, then. Fair?”
Riku remembers something and turns to Nanami, “Oh, do you know if the wall remodeling guys finished upstairs?”
“They just left. Paint crew will be in tomorrow.” He replies, eyes not on Riku but instead glaring at the hand Geto has on her back.
“Thank god,” Riku sighs in relief, “I’ll be back tomorrow to check it out, okay?”
Nanami nods, folding his hands behind his back as he sees the two of them off when they exit the front door of the studio.
“Bye, Ken!” Riku waves, and Nanami returns the gesture.
Theres four men outside in similar black suits smoking cigarettes, and when Geto cocks his head towards the parking area they split into pairs, two of them each unlocking and entering the two identical dark gray BMW X5 SUVs on either side of a different car.
Riku figures that the car in the middle is Geto’s, as he clicks a button on his key and the trunk door lifts open for him to place her duffle. It’s an all-black Mercedes AMG G63, and Riku tries to contain her excitement as she’d always wanted to have a G-Wagon of her own, “Nice ride.” She notes, visibly perking up a bit.
“You like it?” Geto smirks at Riku, clicking the button once more so the trunk closes. He moves around the car, opening the passenger door and helping Riku into the seat, “It’s simple, but reliable.”
“If by simple you mean pricy, then yes.”
Geto chuckles as he closes her door, only responding when he slips in the drivers seat and starts the engine, “You think this is pricy? You sweet, summer, rank ten yakuza child.” He laughs.
Riku rolls her eyes, and their trio of cars pull out out of the dark side street, beginning to head toward Tokyo’s mountains.
Geto looks into his rear view mirror, shaking his head with a slightly apologetic look when he spots Nanami still watching them at a distance from outside the studio, until their SUVs are out of view, “Damn, he really loves you, huh?” Geto notes, “I kinda feel bad for the guy.”
“Don’t.” Riku says with a long breath, looking out the window at the passing street lights, “It’s not his fault that he feels that way about me, nor is it my fault that I don’t feel that way about him.”
Geto glances over, taking a good look at Riku before returning his eyes to the road, “It’s gotta suck for him, though.”
Riku meets Geto’s eyes briefly, “You think I don’t know that? That I don’t think about how it hurts him?”
There’s a beat of silence, and they both focus on the road ahead of them for a while.
“You two always just been friends? Nothing else ever happened?” Geto eventually asks.
“You ask all your dates shit like this?”
Geto chuckles, then shrugs, “Just curious. It’s not everyday you see a guy that love whipped for a girl he’s never been with.”
“We kissed once when I was tipsy,” Riku admits with a sigh, “I tried to have sex with him, too, but he stopped me. That was three years ago.”
Geto winces with a hint of a smirk on his lips, “Ooo, fuck, he’s a great guy. I mean I already knew he was, but damn.”
“It’s the bare fucking minimum.” Riku clarifies.
“True that,” Geto turns the truck onto a narrower street, following the SUV with the two guards in front of him onto the road that snakes up the mountain, “But it’s gotta suck. I mean imagine his point of view; you want this girl so fucking bad you’d do anything for her, and she usually never pays you any mind but all of a sudden she’s throwing herself at you. Of course you say no, but it’s still gotta sting like a motherfucker.”
Riku lifts her brows briefly before dropping them back down to their relaxed state, “Funny part is, I actually wasn’t that drunk.” She crosses her arms over her chest.
Geto glances at Riku with a small look of surprise, then back to the road, “No fucking way.” He grins, “So you actually wanted him that night?”
“Yeah. But don’t tell him that, though. You gotta promise me, okay?”
Geto frees one of his gloved hands from the steering wheel to cross an ‘X’ over his heart and lifts his hand in the air, “I swear, Ri. But fuck…” He laughs, “So all this time he’s thought you were drunk, but you really did want him, too? Oh, this is some tragic shit, Ri! This is my friend we’re talking about, here…”
“I know, but he can’t know.”
Geto nods once, “So let me get this straight – that night, you’re all over him, but he keeps pushing you away because he thinks you’re drunker than you really are?”
“Yeah, basically.” Riku sighs.
“That’s fucking heartbreaking!” Geto guffaws, “But what changed? Couldn’t you’ve just told him how you felt when you were sober?”
“After that night, I didn’t feel the same. We were friends and I didn’t wanna ruin that with sex or anything like that. I still don’t. Plus…” Riku trails off, unsure if she should say what she plans to say next.
“Plus?”
“Plus, to be honest, I knew I could never give him what he wanted – for me to love him back. I didn’t want to get his hopes up for something that was never going to happen.” Riku finishes.
“How do you know that for sure?”
“Know what?”
“That you could never love him?”
“I’ve fallen in love before, with different people and… You just know. I mean, don’t you?”
“Sure, I get what you mean,” Geto chuckles under his breath, “not really much of the romance type, though.” Geto admits, turning the wheel of the car smoothly, gently accelerating the car as they began to hit a steeper incline in the mountain.
“Really?” Riku asks, honestly surprised, “I mean I know what Satoru said about you both not doing the whole relationship thing, and I can definitely see him not being a romantic but, not you?”
Geto turns to look at Riku briefly, smirking lightly, “What makes you think I'm the romantic type?”
“Everything. The way you talk, your whole chivalry thing, the way you touch... Everything about the way you act, at least towards me, so far, has been pretty romantic.”
“You like that, don’t you?” Geto grins, returning his eyes to the road while reaching over to slide his hand over Riku’s thigh; he gives it a gentle squeeze.
“It’s nice,” Riku admits with a small smile, glancing out the window, “But you’re not a romantic?” She turns back to Geto.
“Furthest thing from it, beautiful. I’m just really good at knowing how to make you feel good.”
“Me? I’m guessing all people you're trying to please at the moment are included in 'me?'” Riku questions.
Geto makes sure to look Riku in the eyes with the next of his words, hand pushing up her leg and to her inner thigh, “You’re the only one here, Ri.” Geto’s gaze is so straightforward and intimate that it would’ve tugged on Riku’s heartstrings if she was just a few years younger and still immature when it came to these things.
Riku suddenly breaks their shared heated gaze, chuckling a bit to herself, “Like that?”
“Just like that.” He confirms, looking back at the road with eyes completely devoid of the feigned emotions he’d acted out just moments prior.
“Wow,” Riku claps her hands a few times, genuinely impressed, “bravo. And that’s fun for you?”
“Sure. It allows me to be in control.” Geto replies, his tone a bit clinical.
“I can understand that. I mean it’s kinda fucking twisted, but in an unexpectedly sweet way.” Riku thinks aloud.
“I sell drugs, beautiful. Never promised anyone I was a good guy.”
“And that absolves you of responsibility for any hearts you may break in the process?”
Geto pauses, and makes an expression hinting that he may or may not have thought too hard on this prior to now, “It doesn’t.”
Riku doesn’t know if it’s an answer, or rather, an admission of guilt. She doesn’t ask for clarification about that, and instead asks a different question, “What about you and Satoru?”
Geto moves his hand from Riku’s thighs, sitting up as he returns it to the steering wheel. Touchy subject, huh? Riku thinks, wondering if he’s even aware of his body language in this moment, “Satoru Gojo is… a completely different monster.”
“No pun intended.” Riku adds.
Geto laughs, “Exactly.”
“But seriously, what’s the deal with you two?”
“Hmm… It’s hard to put in words but, I’d die a thousand times for Satoru.” Geto says, completely straight faced.
“So you love him?” Riku can’t help her curiosity.
Geto shakes his head, “That’s such a… bullshit, flimsy-ass word. What Satoru and I have goes much deeper-”
“In your opinion.” Riku interjects.
Geto laughs once, continuing to look at the road, “Ri, you don’t know fucking shit… Seriously.”
She raises her hands in mock-surrender, “Alright, so let’s go with your definition. But what does that mean for the two of you?”
“It means, we share everything that matters.”
“Fascinating answer.” Riku says, her tone of voice a bit dramatic but still completely honest in her response. She doesn’t know if she’s more or less confused by Geto’s answer, but ponders on it for a moment in silence, “Whew, this conversation deserves a drink. Maybe a good meal, too.”
“Baby, this is still the shallow end of it all.” Geto chuckles, slowing down their speed a bit as they reached a flattened peak in the the mountain. Suddenly, a large collection of buildings and their lights glow in the far distance; even in the bright light of the setting sun, Riku catches when they pass a few ‘onsen’ signs.
“Really?” Riku raises her brows.
“Really.” He smirks, “What do you want for dinner tonight?”
Riku turns to Geto with an unconvinced look, “Is this an I’m-acting-nice-so-I-can-make-you-compliant-and-be-in-control-and-reap-the-benefits-of-that kinda thing or are you seriously asking me because you want me to have whatever I want for dinner?”
“Mostly the former,” Geto says honestly, pulling into a private, reserved and underground garage that is separate from the one his guards drive into, “but I also don’t wanna hear it from Jin if you don’t eat and enjoy your stay while you’re here with me, so the latter, too. And I do cook a little.”
“Okay.” Riku nods with a smile, satisfied with Geto’s answer, “I’m in the mood for… kaisendon.”
Geto laughs, “Of course you are. Kaisendon. That’s easy; I can do that.” When the gates open, they pull into a vast, 18-car garage with all rare, expensive, new, and old sports cars.
“What do you mean, ‘of course I am?’” Riku asks,
Geto parks the G-Wagon in the only open space, then gets out to open up Riku’s door for her, “You girls and your seafood.” He shakes his head, helping her down from the truck. Geto then pops the trunk.
“Mr. Geto.” Riku doesn’t see or hear the two girls approach until they’re already there, right behind her in matching black suits. She quickly turns around. One of the girls has light brown hair that’s in a high bun, and the other has a black, shoulder-length bob. It’s easy to tell that they’re twins.
“Hey Nanako, Mimiko,” Geto gestures to Riku, “this is Riku.”
“Hi,” Riku waves to the two girls and smiles brightly, to which they only glare at her in response. Jeez, what is it that makes young people hate me?!
“Ozaki family.” The girl with the bun concludes, as if Riku’s family name is a multiple choice answer on a quiz.
“Ding, ding, ding! That’s right, Nanako. Now, can you organize some girls to grab some of her clothes from her family estate? Riku’s going to be staying with us for a few days. Mimiko, I need to to get all the ingredients for kaisendon and get them in the fridge at my house.” Geto removes Riku’s duffle from the trunk, handing it to Mimiko, “and put this in one of the guest bedrooms. Got it?” Geto asks, closing the trunk. The G-Wagon’s horn sounds a few times when he locks it.
Nanako looks like she’s trying to fight back a look of annoyance, “Isn’t the Ozaki estate like, an hour from here one way?” Her eyes narrow at Riku.
“Yes, it is. That a problem?” Geto asks.
The girls immediately straighten up, facial expressions quickly snapping out of their previously annoyed states in sync, “No, sir.” They say at the same time.
“Good. Now get going.”
The girls immediately spin on their heels, walking in different directions.
“Nice to meet you…?” Riku says but the girls pay her no mind, already far off in the distance.
Geto turns to Riku, “Don’t mind them. They hate any women I bring over… especially when they’re pretty.” He pauses before asking his next question, “You ever been in a trap house, beautiful?”
Riku shakes her head.
“Didn’t think so. I have some business things to handle quickly so quick rules: One. Don’t touch anything. Two. Don’t talk to me or anyone unless I say you can. And three. Put on the mask when I tell you to. Understand?”
“Got it.”
“I need your word, Ri.” Geto says seriously, leaning down so that they’re nearly face-to-face and holding the sides of Riku’s face with his hands.
“You have my word.” Riku says, starting to feel a little anxious.
Geto continues to hold and study Riku’s face, then presses his lips to hers in a deep kiss. He controls their pace and doesn’t pull away until he feels the tension begin to leave her body, “Relax, alright? I’m not going anywhere.” He smiles, then drops a hand from her face to interlock fingers with one of hers.
Geto turns, beginning to guide Riku by her hand towards a white door in the corner of the garage.
When they’re inside, Riku is surprised by how dark it is. There’s no way there’s any windows in here. She thinks, simply following Geto’s footsteps as it’s nearly pitch-black. They enter another door, then another, and then finally Riku is able to make out one of Geto’s muscle standing outside of a white door that’s similar to the one they’d initially entered. He offers both Riku and Geto pm 2.5 masks, to which Geto declines with a wave of his hand.
Geto looks back at Riku, “You put one on.”
Riku does what he says, fastening the elastic bands of the mask around the backs of her ears. She looks up at the man, “You’re not going to wear one?”
“Rule 2.” Geto glares down at Riku with an expression so cold and without emotion that it honestly sends a shiver through her spine.
Right. Don’t talk to him or anyone else unless he says so. Riku offers Geto an apologetic look.
He turns away from Riku and shakes his head in a bit of disappointment and annoyance, “Don’t fuck up again. Follow me.” He commands, and when the guard opens the door up, Riku enters behind Geto.
Riku’s eyes widen at the sight of at least 150 workers in white, full-body hazmat suits and gas masks. All worked in various supply lines – some bottling pills and others cutting and packaging pounds of white powder.
“Mr. Geto!” A shorter man in a gas mask and a gray suit and red tie approaches them; from behind Geto, Riku can only see that he’s balding and that he has a cute, round belly, “Welcome home! How are you?”
“Hi Hiroshi, thank you. I’m doing well. You have some new product to show me?”
“Yes!” He clasps his hands together, right this way.”
Geto looks back and down at Riku, “You stay here next to the door. Got it?”
She nods, and Geto departs to a supply line a few meters away with Hiroshi. They stop in front of a woman in a hazmat suit and mask who was currently cutting and measuring a white powder before transferring the small amounts into miniature ziplock bags.
“We’re trying a new formulation of 3,4-methylenedioxy-methamphetamine that has twice the strength and lasting effects in the system as our usual MDMA,” he explains.
“Has it been tested?” Geto asks, turning to Hiroshi.
The older man nods, “We’re on week four of trials as we speak. There’s been no adverse effects or drug dependency as of yet. Would you like to try it?”
“Of course.”
The woman in the hazmat suit hands Geto one of the small baggies, which he easily snaps open and taps some of the white powder onto the crook of his thumb and index finger. Geto eyes the powder for a fraction of a second before bringing his hand to his nose and inhaling sharply. His eyebrows raise and winces, “Wow. Hm, that burns a lot more than expected, no?” He glances down at Hiroshi.
“Yes, Mr. Geto, we have heard that from a few of our trial partners.”
“Then why didn’t you lead with that?”
The man laughs awkwardly, then wipes a bit of sweat from his forehead, “Apologies, Mr. Geto.”
“Fix it.” He says plainly, “I don’t want anymore trials of the old version amongst our higher ranked trial partners.”
“Yes, of course, sir!”
Just then, a man in a white button up shirt and black pants barges in the door without a face mask or gas mask on, “Mr. Geto!”
Geto turns with a sigh, “Yes, Kei?”
He glances at Riku, visibly choosing his next words carefully, “There’s some... men from the Kyoto syndicate here to complete their purchase.”
“Right now…?” Geto says under his breath, mostly to himself. He reaches around to his back and tucks his hand underneath his black suit jacket to retrieve a silver hand gun. Riku’s eyes widen as she hadn’t realized he’d had it on him this whole time. She flinches at the clicks it makes when he loads it.
Geto’s eyes dart back over to Riku, “Get Ms. Ozaki up to the onsen level and make sure she has whatever she needs. I’ll meet you there in a few, Ri. Okay?”
Riku nods a few times.
“Sir!” Kei shouts loudly. He glances down at her, “If you would please follow me, ma’am.”
*
When she’s changed and escorted outside, Riku is shocked and in awe at the sight of the onsen’s outdoor pool on the cliff’s edge – overlooking the vast outskirts of Tokyo at night with a few mountains in the background. As the pass the outdoor showering area, Riku begins to understand why her uncle had agreed to the idea of her staying in the Geto clan’s territory for a few days; as it looked incredibly difficult to sneak up on a place like this. And – in the event of some trouble with Toji and his men – if there really is a web of underground tunnels beneath the mountain that she can quickly escape to and through, then all the better. For now, she tries to temporarily forget that Geto is meeting with some people with a loaded gun, many floors below.
The massage therapist leads Riku to a set of massage tables on a wooden patio that sit a few yards before the steps of the natural hot spring, turning to her with a pleasant smile as she taps one of the beds, “Please get comfortable under the covers, and I’ll return in about five minutes so we can get started with your full-body massage.”
“Thank you.” Riku nods.
The massage therapist bows her head respectfully, then retreats back into the indoor area.
When the woman leaves, Riku looks around the extensive outdoor space, slowly easing out of her complimentary, white fluffy robe before hanging it on a nearby hook on the makeshift wall of the patio. The night air feels cool on her naked skin as she strides back to the massage bed before slipping under its thick sheets. She’s surprised at the warmth of it, immediately realizing and appreciative that it’s a heated table.
Riku lays face down and sticks her head into the cushioned, circular opening in the bed, allowing her eyes to flutter shut to the warmth of the heat that radiated from the table to all throughout her body. She already begins to feel herself drift off to sleep, but her senses awaken a bit when she hears a door reopen and close in the distance.
Riku hears small footsteps approach and stop at her side, “Feeling comfortable and ready to start?”
“I’m ready.”
“Okay. Let me know if the bed temperature is okay. First, we’re going to start with legs. Are there any concerns there?”
“No, not particularly, though I did use my thighs a lot today.”
The woman flips up the heavy sheets of the massage bed, but only so Riku’s legs are uncovered, “Do you run, or dance often?”
“Yeah, I teach dance sometimes… How did you know?” Riku asks, curious.
“It’s not hard to tell when you’ve massaged and talked to hundreds of different people.” Riku can’t see the woman but can hear that she’s smiling by her tone of voice, “That, and it’s pretty easy to tell if someone’s a dancer.” The masseuse rubs her hands together to warm them up, then picks up a small bottle of oil from under the table opposite to Riku’s to spread on her hands.
“You know, that’s the second time someone’s told me that in the past day…” Riku lightly chuckles from the opening beneath the table. Her eyes flutter shut when the woman begins to massage her hamstrings, kneading the muscles there in a circular, repetitive motion.
Riku is unsure of how much time passes throughout the leg massage as she floats between consciousness and a light slumber every so often, but she appreciates the woman’s movements, vaguely aware whenever she switched legs or ran her thumbs down the back of her legs to knead her calf muscles.
Riku twitches out of her sleepy state when she feels a light tap on her shoulder, though, eyelashes fluttering in a series of blinks when she’s awakened.
“Ms. Ozaki? Just letting you know that another masseuse will be taking over from here to do your back. Enjoy, and have a good night!”
“Oh? Thank you, you were amazing…” Riku trails off, voice breathy with sleep.
Riku’s legs are covered with the sheets once more and it doesn’t take much for her to doze off again with the comfortable heat of the massage bed. Her breathing slows and deepens, and she doesn’t even notice the new person enter until they remove the covers from her shoulders and peel them down all the way under the dimples of her back. She makes a small noise to the sudden coolness on her back and is too sleepy to greet or question the person who doesn’t introduce themselves.
The hands are much bigger and a bit more calloused, but they move skillfully on her back, strong thumbs massaging up the straight lengths of muscle on either side of her spine. Riku instinctively releases a breathy moan to this motion, unaware of how tense her back had been until now.
“You’re pretty tight here, huh?” The words are lowly uttered right beside Riku’s ear, and she gasps in surprise, immediately recognizing the other’s voice.
She whips her head towards him, “Suguru?!” Her eyes widen when she sees the long-haired man standing above her in only a white robe, the sliver of exposed skin on his chest covered with a mix of dragons and other colorful, yakuza tattoos.
His hair was away from his face and tied up in a messy bun, a grin on his face at Riku’s surprised expression, “I told you I’d rub this little back of yours, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, but…!” Riku’s cheeks redden with embarrassment. She turns from the other and shyly puts her head back into the massage table, “You should’ve said something.”
“Surprise.” Geto smirks, continuing to knead his fingers into Riku’s back.
“How did the Kyoto syndicate purchase go?”
“As well as it could’ve.” Riku hears a smirk in his voice, “What, were you worried about me because I brought a gun?”
“No…!” Riku’s face blushes from beneath the table.
He bends over to whisper his next words beside her ear, “Liar.” He stands up straight again, “Just brought some extra protection is all.”
“Whatever. I mean it’s not like I want you to die or anything.” Riku says, and there’s silence for a moment.
Riku groans in pleasure every so often, especially whenever Geto massages a knot out of the muscles in her back and shoulders, “Are you even licensed to do this?” She moans out, words contradicting the obvious pleasure she feels from the work of Geto’s hands, “I’m calling the authorities…” She grumbles, relaxed and sleepy from the other’s massaging.
Geto chuckles, “I own the place, beautiful. Can do whatever I want.” His hands finally cease after a while, “All right, you’re done. Wanna shower and get in the hot spring?”
Riku grunts childishly when Geto stops massaging her back, really living up to the brat allegations, “Keep going…”
Geto’s hand connects with the curve of Riku’s ass with a loud ‘smack,’ even through the thick fabric of the massage table’s sheets, and she jumps with a high-pitched yelp before turning her head back to look at Geto, “You don’t tell me what to do, Ri” A devilish grin is on his lips, “Now get up and shower with me.” The back of his hand lightly brushes Riku’s exposed cheek as he speaks.
“Fine,” she grabs the sheets at her lower back and pulls them up so her body is hidden from Geto’s eyes, “but you have to undress first.”
Geto rolls his eyes, smirk remaining on his lips as his hands move to unfasten the cloth belt of his robe. He quickly makes work of the white, towel-like fabric, removing and tossing it entirely to the side so that it falls nearby the hot spring.
With his robe now gone, for the first time Riku is able to see the fullness and extensive nature of Geto’s colorful tattoos that cover all of his torso and arms… vivid, red and green dragons twisting and dancing up the length of his arms, chest, and back. Part of her wonders how many hours it took to ink so much of his body. Riku’s eyes finally dart down Geto’s cut abdomen and between his legs, widening a bit at the size of his dick, even in its half-hardened state. She could tell it had a lot of girth, and blinks in a bit of surprise.
“Like what you see, Ri?” He chuckles to her dazed expression, “Your turn.” He crosses his bulky arms over his muscular chest, eying her.
Riku slowly sits up, lightly biting her lower lip as she allows the sheet to fall from her shoulders, exposing her bare, perky breasts that were a tad large for her frame. The sharp indent of her small waist comes into view when she hops off of the massage table to stand in front of Geto; her wide, toned hips and legs that he’d gotten a preview of last night now more visible in the lights of the onsen’s patio. Her wavy, long black curls dust her shoulders as they fall down to rest at the center of her back.
Geto doesn’t hold back and looks Riku up and down shamelessly, taking his time as he engraves the image of her into his memory, “Wow. You’re like a work of art, Ri.”
“Like?” She quirks a brow to the word, confidently.
Geto laughs once under his breath, shaking his head to Riku’s ego, “Shut up and come here.” He grasps Riku’s hand and pulls her along towards the traditional Japanese shower area on the side of the patio. Geto turns on the handheld shower head and squats to sit down on one of the stools, leaning over to pull another stool in front of him before glancing up at Riku who’s still standing.
She smiles brightly, “You’re going to help me wash my back, too? Aww…” She turns and sits down on the stool in front of Geto so that her back nearly presses flush against his front.
When Geto reaches to retrieve the handheld shower head from its holder, his free hand brushes her thick hair over her shoulder and he presses a soft kiss to her newly exposed neck. Riku allows her eyes to flutter shut to the sweet interaction, leaning back a little so that her back gently rests against Geto’s toned chest.
Geto sprays the hot water on the two of them, next passing the shower head to Riku so she could rinse her hair while he frees his hair from its bun and snaps his hair tie around his wrist.
“This is a first.” Riku notes, passing the shower head back to Geto and leaning forward to squeeze a number of pumps of the onsen’s complimentary shampoo into her hand. She rubs it over and through the length of her hair.
“What? Showering with someone?” Geto asks, drenching his own hair with the hot spray from the shower head.
“No, I’ve done that – just not in a Japanese style bath… at a private onsen on top of a mountain, at that.” She turns to one side while she lathers her hair, glancing back and up at Geto for a moment.
“Well, I’m glad I could give you a new experience, beautiful.” He winks down at her. Geto puts the shower head back in its holder, directing it so that it sprays on Riku’s chest before sitting up once more and moving his fingers to her scalp. He gently massages the shampoo into the roots of her hair.
Riku’s hands fall from her hair at the blissful sensation of Geto’s fingers massaging her scalp, mouth falling slightly agape and eyes closing as she softly hums to his small, circular movements, “Fuck, that feels amazing…” She breathes out, brows knitting together in pleasure.
Geto chuckles right beside Riku’s ear, “Yeah?” He coos, one of his hands retreating from her hair after a minute to slide down her shoulder and over the curve of her breast before squeezing. He uses the hand still in her hair to turn her head back towards him, lips pressing to Riku’s agape ones in a heated, passionate make out. Geto’s tongue dances with Riku’s, the two of them beginning to set a pace as he lightly bites and sucks her bottom lip into his mouth between kisses.
Riku senses a familiar heaviness building in her abdomen and feels Geto’s erection twitch firmly against her ass, breaking their moment of heated passion to pant heavily and look up at the other.
The moment quickly fades when a bit of the shampoo suds fall into her eye, “Ow,” she rubs at it a little.
A grin plays at the corners of Geto’s mouth and he grabs the shower head again, beginning to help Riku rinse her hair, “You okay? Need me to blow in your eye?” He teases.
Riku simply grumbles, leaning back into Geto’s shoulder so some of the spray from the shower head could flush out her eye. The bit of foundation she’d put on earlier drops from her face and the red and purple bruises underneath begin to come into view.
Geto gently brushes his fingers over her bruised cheek with his free hand, to which Riku flinches in a bit of pain, “Sorry,” he says low and apologetically.
“S’okay…” she blinks up at Geto, eyes directly meeting his in a long silence.
“Does it hurt bad?” He asks, genuinely.
And Riku thinks she finally understands why so many women in the yakuza syndicate swoon over this man. It’s almost too easy to fall for his sweet and attentive ways, “No, looks worse than it feels.” Riku says, picking her head back up and taking the shower head from Geto to finish rinsing her hair. She’s careful not to look into his eyes for too long, as she definitely is not interested in falling for anyone right now, let alone a yakuza drug lord.
“Wanna smoke a little?”
“Sure.” After thoroughly washing their bodies, Riku wrings her hair out a bit more before tying it up in a high ponytail and stepping into the hot spring. She sits on one of the rocks beside Geto who’s already inside.
Geto sits with his back pressed against one of the unyielding, straight rocks inside the edge of the hot spring pool, facing the vast view of the city at night before them. He reaches back to grab the joint and lighter from the pocket of the robe he’d abandoned on the ground earlier. Geto easily lights the joint in a practiced sort-of-way, evenly burning the end and lightly puffing the filter a few times to make sure it’s well lit.
He holds the joint between his lips while he places the lighter back on his robe behind him, then glances to Riku, passing the joint to her to hit, “Ladies first.”
Riku takes the joint from Geto between her index and thumb, eyeing it before finally pressing it to her lips to take a few small puffs. She hadn’t smoked weed in a while and didn’t want to embarrass herself by coughing so much. She exhales smoothly, blowing the smoke out from the corner of her mouth and away from them.
“Don’t worry, beautiful. It’s not laced with anything.” Geto winks, “I wouldn’t do that to you.”
She shrugs, teasing, “Ya never know, you being a drug lord and all.” Riku passes the joint back, and Geto takes a long, heavy drag from it, ending with a French inhale when he expels the white smoke from his mouth.
Geto chuckles, holding the joint between his fingers, “You’re… different, Riku.” He takes another puff, turning his gaze to the beautifully cultivated scene of nature and city lights before them.
“Different how?” Riku raises a brow at Geto, resting her elbows behind her on the rock edge of the onsen.
“Well, none of the women I usually hang around would ever give me as much back-talk as you,” Geto admits, beginning to smirk, “that and the fact that you expect men to do whatever you want them to do.” He turns back to Riku and hands the joint to her.
“As they should. It’s better that way.” Riku says coolly, then takes a longer drag from the joint compared to her previous puffs. The back of her throat stings from the smoke but she’s able to refrain from coughing, “And shouldn’t I be able to have anything I want?” She says in a cute, pleading tone as she gazes at Geto with big eyes and slightly pouting lips. It’s the kind of look that would undoubtedly make most men crumble.
Geto simply looks at Riku for a moment, straight-faced; almost caught in her spell. He blinks, then retrieves the joint from her hand, a small grin on his lips, “Shit, you’re good.” He takes a puff, “They teach all the Ozaki girls how to put on an act like that?”
“Nah, we may be masters of the arts, but that part’s just genetic. And I guess I should take that as a compliment, coming from you.” Riku smirks, turning her head to appreciate the city lights once more.
There’s a lull in their conversation for a moment, but they both simply observe the view with the background sounds of running water.
Geto speaks up again, “I’m not saying a man shouldn’t treat you like a princess, he definitely should, but,” he pauses to take another drag from the joint, returning his gaze to Riku, “you don’t seem like the type to reciprocate at all. Not even a little.”
Riku laughs under her breath, cocking her head to one side in agreement, “Well, you’re right about that. I’d rather not do that kind of work if I don’t have to.”
Geto responds with a single chuckle, “Hah, work? Damn, Riku, not out of the kindness of your heart or because you love someone, but work? Shit. Who hurt you?”
Riku shakes her head, lightly smiling at the view before them as the other continues to gaze down at her, “It’s not like that. I’m sort of like you in a way – just not the romantic type. I’ve never been disappointed when men do me wrong or don’t meet my expectations – men are always going to fail when it comes to that. It’s what they do best,” she takes the joint from Geto again, poking it between her lips to take a hit – now beginning to feel her head floating, “I’m just not interested in investing in that sort of dynamic when I already know there’s no return on it.”
“Ah, so you have had your heart broken…” Geto smirks.
“Sure, I mean who hasn’t?” She passes the joint back to Geto, “But honestly, even when I do think back about past lovers and past relationships – which is a rare case in itself… I think, why would I want things any other way than how I operate now? It’s very efficient, and who would even want to lift a finger for a man’s sake if they didn’t have to?”
“Yeah, you’re a brat through and through.” He concludes, nodding to himself as he takes a hit from the now much smaller joint.
Riku laughs lightly, but it’s an honest one – probably the most honest Geto’s heard her utter in the short time he’s known her. She suddenly moves closer to Geto and closes the gap between them, naked thigh pressed against his beneath the hot water as she looks up at the man, “You say that like it hasn’t worked on you.” She nearly sings, expression smug.
Geto quickly finishes the joint before placing the bud of it on the rock behind him, turning back to offer Riku his undivided attention. He furrows his brows as he looks down at her in a mix of confusion and amusement, “Please, baby. I see through it.”
Riku turns up the brattiness a notch, “Do you? I mean, it’s hardly been 24 hours since we met and you’ve already eaten me out, treated me to onsen, given me a massage, washed my hair… and you even promised to make me dinner tonight.” She says, counting each of Geto’s actions on her fingers, a bit mockingly. There’s a devious glint in her eyes, “And what have I done for you…?” Riku pretends to think for a moment, “Kiss you and look pretty?”
Geto’s gaze on Riku narrows, and all of a sudden, he’s grabbed her hips with one hand and moved her onto his lap, water splashing around them at the speed of his movements. Riku makes a high-pitched noise of surprise when she’s maneuvered, eyes wide as she’s now face to face with with Geto’s cold expression, “You’re mistaken, brat. Don’t you gloat too fucking much,” he snakes his arm around Riku’s waist and locks it there, causing her back to arch and her hips to jerk into his, “I’ve done those things for you because I like doing them.”
Riku feels her heart beat a bit quicker, but somehow regains some of her composure as she sits on the man’s lap, feeling his naked erection prod at the crook of her inner thigh, “Mhm, but the fact still remains, no?” She leans closer, pressing her lips to his ear with a sultry whisper, “You wanna treat me good; and there’s countless men out there who’d line up to the same exact thing for the same exact reason as you – that you’re infatuated with everything about me.” Riku runs her slick tongue along the length of Geto’s neck, beginning to kiss and suck small red marks onto the skin there. She simultaneously grinds her hips forward in a smooth, fluid, and controlled movement that only a dancer could, rubbing over Geto’s hardened dick.
“You’re a piece of fucking work, Ri…” Geto slips his free hand up Riku’s back, slowly and gently combing his fingers through the roots of her hair before abruptly grabbing a handful and jerking her head back, “Gojo was right. We need to teach you a lesson.” His near-black eyes peer down into her brown with an examining gaze.
“Can’t wait.” Riku smiles, eyes beaming with exaggerated excitement.
Geto rolls his eyes, unable to help the smirk on his lips when he suddenly pushes Riku off of his lap and tosses her back into the hot spring water.
“Agh—” Her scream is cut off when she falls into the pool. She breaks the surface a few seconds later, long curls straightened slick against her face and shoulders from the moisture of the water, “Hey… That was mean!” She pouts, pushing her wet hair out of her face before crossing her arms over her bare chest.
“You kinda deserved that one, Ri.” Geto begins to rise to his feet, wading over to the steps of the onsen and then walking out, “Gotta teach you to stop your back-talk somehow.”
Riku shamelessly admires his muscular form emerge from the water, especially appreciating the bulk of his toned arms, and his tight butt that sticks out when he picks up her robe for her. He grabs his own as well before putting it on and fastening the waistband.
Geto turns back to her, tucking her robe in the bend of his arm with an outstretched hand to help her out of the onsen, “Come on, Ri. Let’s get out of here. I still gotta make you dinner, right?” He smiles, this time honestly.
*
Riku lays back on the black leather couch of Geto’s vast, modern style living room, legs stretched out over the length of it as she scrolls through her phone and replies to a few messages – most of which were from Nanami who kept asking her for updates. A cooking show softly plays in the background from the large TV in front of her but she doesn’t pay it much attention at the moment. As she hadn’t planned for or previously known that she’d be staying with Geto for a few days, Riku wears some of his clothes as makeshift pajamas, currently and solely wearing one of his white t-shirts and a pair of his boxer-briefs. Both were far to big for her but especially the extra large t-shirt that drapes and loosely hangs off her shoulders – basically the length of a small dress.
Riku knows that Geto is in the kitchen finishing up preparing their dinner but hears a door loudly open in the distance, and suddenly his white-haired best friend is the one to stride into the living room first, eventually followed by Geto.
“Hey, Ri,” Gojo is fully dressed in his all-black getup when he enters the room. He smirks down at the sight of Riku on the couch, arms folded across his chest as he admires the view, “damn you look fucking good in his shirt…”
Riku locks her phone and places it on the flat of the couch’s arm rest, a bit caught off guard when Gojo suddenly leans over and captures her lips with his own in a heated kiss; Riku can’t deny it’s a bit embarrassing with Geto right behind him and blushes, lightly moaning into his mouth when he easily slips a large hand beneath the shirt to grasp her bare breast.
“Hey,” Geto warns, “I’ve been working on that one all night,” he quickly explains to Gojo, “don’t ruin dessert.” He grins wickedly.
Gojo breaks the kiss, standing upright again, “Well, when you put it like that…” He trails off, grin matching his friend’s.
Riku sits up, smoothing the shirt back down, “Is that all I am to you? Something you want to eat after dinner?” She plays along, only pretending to be offended in the way she asks the question.
Gojo plops down beside Riku on the couch, aimlessly watching the cooking show for a moment, “What is for dinner, anyways?”
“Kaisendon,” Geto sits on the opposite side of Riku, joining the two of them on the couch, “already prepped the sashimi and just waiting on the rice to finish cooking, now.” His eyes dart over to Riku, “This one had to choose something expensive, of course…” the pads of Geto’s fingers brush under her chin.
Riku rolls her eyes, “Oh please, a few hundred bucks spent on quality fish is nothing to you.”
“Still acting like a brat, I see…” Gojo tears his eyes from the TV and leans close to Riku.
“Oh she’s been even worse today,” Geto pokes two long fingers to Riku’s lips and slips them into her mouth – and Riku immediately starts to lick and suck on them lewdly. Geto glances to Gojo with his next words, “all kinds of smart shit’s been coming out of this pretty little mouth.” He looks back at Riku with a dark, heated gaze, “Such a shame when she could be using it for something better.”
“You’re such a slut.” Gojo laughs, hands slipping up Riku’s shirt to squeeze her breasts again, pausing every so often to tease her hardened nipples with his fingertips, “You’re barely even ashamed of wanting to please both of us at the same time, aren’t you?” Gojo then talks low, breathing hotly into Riku’s ear, “Go on, show him how you’d treat his dick.”
Riku moans soft and wantonly as she laps and swirls her tongue around Geto’s fingers, eyes locked on Geto’s until he suddenly pulls them from her mouth. Geto’s gaze lowers to Riku’s body as he trails them down her exposed stomach, slipping them under the waistband of the loose boxer briefs and starting to gently rub small circles over her clit.
A breathy but louder moan falls from Riku’s lips at the pleasurable friction Geto creates, brows knitting together when Gojo pinches her nipples at the same time. She looks back and forth between the two men, both of their eyes locked on her as they continue their sinful movements on her body.
Riku glances down at Geto’s hand that moves beneath the fabric of the black boxer briefs, unaware of how much her body had been craving his touch so badly until this very moment. She moans again and grabs the thick of Geto’s forearm, pulling it closer as she wants him to touch her more.
“That good, huh?” Geto says slyly, “Or is this just what you’ve been thinking about all day?”
“That feels so good…” Riku pants out between heavy breaths, honestly surprised by how perfect and skillfully his fingers move on the tiny, swelling bud of flesh between her legs.
“I know, baby.” Geto pecks Riku’s forehead with a kiss, and the innocence of the gesture mixed with the contrasting, wicked movements of his fingers drives her a little crazier.
Gojo pauses and retrieves one of his hands away from Riku’s breasts, popping his middle and ring fingers into his mouth to wet them before removing them from his lips with a ‘pop.’ He reaches down between Riku’s legs, slipping his hand under the stretched fabric of the briefs and beneath Geto’s that circled over her clit to press his long fingers into her tight, slick hole.
“Hah…!” Riku cries out, instinctively squeezing around Gojo’s fingers.
“Shit, you’re tight, babe…” Gojo notes, “And so wet. You haven’t been fucked in a while, have you?”
Riku props up her leg on the edge of the couch so that the men have better access to her. She moans messily in response to Gojo’s words, looking up at him to shake her head as she currently finds it difficult to speak with all the pleasure she’s receiving.
Gojo’s fingers move at a slow, steady pace in and out of Riku’s pussy, deeply massaging her from the inside with each thrust of his hand.
“Tell us how long it’s been, beautiful.” Geto speaks up again, his sultry voice just slightly demanding.
Riku whines, somehow mustering up the strength to speak coherently, “Uh… a l-little over a y-year…”
“A year?!” Gojo and Geto simultaneously chorus, both of their hand movements ceasing for a few seconds, before eventually continuing again.
“Shit, babe, no wonder you’re such a slut for a little bit of friction.” Gojo says, still pushing his fingers in and out of Riku deliciously slow. He tries curling the tips of his fingers forward when he slides them deep into her pussy, pressing against the soft spot at the front of her drenched walls.
“Ah—!” Riku loudly yelps, hips jerking forward when Gojo touches her g-spot while Geto continues his feather-light circling of her clit.
“There it is…” Gojo grins, softly chuckling to Riku’s response, “You like it right here, babe?” He whispers the rhetorical question into her ear. His hand abruptly picks up speed, the toned muscles of his arm rippling beneath his black button up shirt as he begins to harshly thrust and pound his hand against Riku’s cunt.
Her mouth falls agape and loud groans continuously fall from her lips, “Fuck, ah, S-Satoru! Too fast…!” She turns to look up at him, free hand gently grabbing the bicep of his arm that moved at a crazy pace. Her eyes are pleading and the expression on her face is a helpless one as she’s at the mercy of these two powerful, cruel yakuza men.
“Shut the fuck up and take it like a good girl, yeah?” There’s not a hint of care or kindness in Gojo’s tone – only nastiness and impatience.
Riku’s hardly able to register how quickly she’s drawn to the edge at the command of Gojo’s pounding, curling fingers; the sharp contrast of Geto’s gentle, circling ones only driving her closer to her climax. Geto speeds up his movements to match Gojo’s, and Riku’s body shudders with anticipation of the big orgasm she feels approaching. She nearly reaches the edge, chest shaking as she loudly hyperventilates at the strong sensation that’s so close she can almost taste it…
… and Gojo and Geto exchange looks, nodding at each other once in sync before quickly removing their hands from between her legs.
Riku is dazed for a moment, not having expected the men to stop, and her moans turn into a long whine. She pulls at their arms, looking between Gojo and Geto with begging eyes, “Please…! ‘M so close!”
The two men simply pull out of her grasp in response and rise from the couch, leaving her there. Geto laughs loudly.
“That sounds like a personal problem, Ri.” Gojo yawns, turning to Geto with a shit-eating grin, “I’m hungry. You, Suguru?”
“Yeah. The rice cooker’s probably finished by now, too.”
“Oh, fuck you two.” Riku’s helpless, pleading tone is already long gone and she spits the words bitterly, obviously pissed and angry from having been edged and denied her orgasm. She dramatically throws herself back onto the couch so she’s stretched over it like she had been before. Riku picks up her phone once again, looking at absolutely nothing in particular as she truly just felt like ignoring the two men who’d teased her.
“Aw, look who’s mad!” Gojo pokes fun at Riku, laughing, “What’s wrong, babe? We’re only giving you the punishment you deserve.”
“Maybe next time you’ll think twice about giving us attitude. Now come, Riku. Let’s eat.” Geto says.
Riku turns on her side and away from the men so that she directly faces the back of the couch, “No.” she grumbles childishly, tapping away at her phone, “I wanna cum.”
Riku suddenly feels her arm harshly being grabbed and pulled back so that she gets off the couch and stands on her feet, Geto’s sharp eyes glaring down at her with a coldness that’s downright scary, “Don’t make me say it again, brat. You don’t get to cum unless I fucking let you. Now you better fucking eat this good ass dinner I made. It’s what you wanted – right, slut?”
Riku’s stunned and honestly a bit frightened by this dark side of Geto, as he’s usually so sweet and she hasn’t really experienced him act like this until this instant. That’s right, he is Tokyo’s most vicious drug lord. She feels her heart rate hasten and drops her phone to the floor, “Yes!” She replies obediently.
“Then come on and fucking eat it then.” Geto leans in so he’s face-to-face with Riku, peering down at her.
Riku regains some of her confidence, not wanting to cower under the man’s gaze and instead changing her expression so that she glares up at him.
Gojo watches their interaction, deciding to break the tension. He brushes the back of his knuckles over Riku’s smooth cheek, genuinely smiling to the pissed off look on her face, “You’re so fucking cute when you’re angry, Ri.”
“That’s toxic!” Riku shouts, turning her attention to Gojo.
Geto laughs, his fit of anger leaving him as quickly as it came, “Not the fact that he’s the highest ranked yakuza, but the fact that he likes the way you look when you’re angry? That’s the red flag?” He laughs a bit more, “You’re hilarious, Ri…”
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The Kraken of Bilgewater Bay
Part Three: Calm Before the Storm
Summary: Through your grief, you make a plan and prepare to leave the island.
Thank you to the wonderful @juniper-sunny for beta reading <3
Part One, Part Two, Part Four
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[Silco x Fem!reader] [Kraken!Silco] [Tentacles] [plot] [emotional hurt] [Fluff]
“What would mmmmake you fffeeeel better?” Silco asked, keeping his voice low.
That’s a good question. What would make you feel better? A cruel smile curled your lips before speaking, fists shaking with rage, pouring your tortured soul into his mismatched gaze.
“I want to kill every last asshole in the Temple of Mother Serpent. I want to obliterate all who thought it was a good idea to sacrifice me. I want vengeance for the life they stole from me !” you shout, releasing your anger.
And, to your surprise, the beast smiles wide, admiring your blood-hungry soul.
“Annnything for the fire-heart.”
Chest heaving, your mind goes to work.
“I’ll need a boat; can you get me one?” you ask, anger shielding you from grief.
Silco hums his agreement, but before he can leave, you grasp his arm, pulling him closer. Tucking an errant lock of his hair behind his ear, you plant a swift kiss on his marred cheek.
“Thank you, Silco.”
His gaze lingers, eyes shining with something mysterious you cannot hope to comprehend.
“I’ll return sssssoooooonnn,” Silco promised, slithering over the pool edge.
He needn’t show off as much of his form this time as the tide rolls in, and you quickly rise to your feet before the rapidly rising water ruins your dress, holding the tattered panties in one hand. What should you do with them? Surely, they do not have a surplus. Could you mend them somehow?
Why are you worried about panties? Silco obviously doesn’t care for them. Why should you? You toss them into the ocean and begin to strut back to camp. You’ll need the weapons in the cave, but what else? Would you need food and water? Extra clothing? Bedding? The voyage isn’t very far and is most likely a one-way ticket anyway.
A voice hummed a lovely melody, snapping you out of your thoughts. What of the others? They may want to join you. Something else nags at you, though. Why didn’t they tell you about Evie? They’re hiding something.
You stomp toward the voice, finding Jo storing some of the hanging, dried meat. She turns, your eyes lock, and she backs away in fear.
“You knew Evie built a raft, and you knew she left! Why didn’t you tell me? What are you hiding!” you shout, stopping your advance a foot in front of her, angrily breathing down on her.
“I’m sorry! Y-you sounded like you knew her, and we didn’t want to speak badly of her!”
“What do you mean?” you growl, adrenaline making your hands shake.
“S-she went nuts, ok?! She lost her mind! We kicked her out of our camp after she attacked Anna,” Jo sobs, “I-I went over there once, to where she made camp and saw the raft. I tried to talk her out of it - I tried to convince her to speak to the beast, but she wouldn’t listen! She kept screaming about going back to her sister!”
Crazy? Your sister? She was the most level-headed person you knew. How can this be? Hyperventilating, you take a few staggering steps away.
“Who was she to you?” Jo asked softly, touching your shoulder cautiously.
“My s-sister,” you stutter, tears falling down your reddened cheeks.
In a flash, Jo’s arms envelop you in a tight embrace, and you sink into her, accepting the comfort. She holds you until your eyes dry, soothingly rubbing your back as the embarrassment of your outburst settles in. You could stay there forever, and you might have if not for the sound of footsteps approaching. Lazily lifting your head, you see Anna walk into camp.
“My sister attacked you? Why?” you ask, voice haggard.
Recognition flashes behind her eyes, and her face sours as she speaks, “Yeah, in my fucking sleep! Just for disagreeing with her about going home.”
“I had to knock her out,” Emily added, stepping out of the cave entrance.
They had no reason to lie. What happened to Evie? Why did she lose her mind? You thought about your mental state after you lost her, and it dawned on you. Grief was almost your undoing, and it must have been hers.
“I’m sorry. I believe you,” you sit on a crate near the fire, emotionally exhausted. “I’m leaving the Island.”
“Oh, here we go again!” Anna hisses.
“I’m not crazy,” you bite, “Silco - the beast, I mean, is going to get me a boat.”
“He talked to you?!” Jo gasps, plopping down on the seat next to you.
“How do you know his name?” Emily joins in.
“Helena carved their names into a tree that I found, and yes, he talked with me,” you answer, amused by their curiosity.
“Where are you going?” Anna asks, voice cold.
“I want to end the madness in Bilgewater, even if it means bloodshed.”
Anna sits opposite you, fire reflecting in her eyes as she speaks, “Now that’s something I can get behind.”
Emily and Jo were harder to convince but agreed to come. They still had family on the island and worried for their safety, something you heartily understood. You compromised by strategizing a battle plan to keep the fighting away from the city as much as possible. Of course, this would only work if Silco agreed to take down Bilgewater’s navy, and it was up to you to convince him.
You walk out to the beach several times a day to check if your beast has returned, taking breaks from packing the supplies in hand-weaved containers. It was hard work, but sustainability was everything; if you were to survive living on the water for approximately a week, you needed to keep your supplies dry and your water stored. Time went by fast, bonding with the others through hard work and determination. You even began feeling especially fond of Anna and her enthusiasm for revenge.
The preparations make the days fly by, busying your mind and hands. Before you know it, a week has passed before your sea monster returns. A beautiful, small sailboat one person could easily handle sits in the small island bay, just waiting for you. It was perfect for such a small voyage and could easily hide among the serpent isles.
Every kid of the Bilgewater knows the tales of the isles, and now you get to find out which are true. It’s said to be crawling with monsters and ghouls, but what harm can they do with Silco beside you? Even if the dangers persist, he will protect you; or at least you think he will - feel he will? Gods, you don’t know anymore. Is it possible for you to catch feelings this fast? And for a… whatever Silco is? God? Monster? Fuck-topus?
Shaking the thought from your head, you try to focus on the task at hand. You can’t see Silco as you scan the water with a hand shading your eyes, so you run back to camp to tell the others.
“It’s here! The boat is here!!!” you shout excitedly, coming to a skidding halt outside the cave entrance.
Anna is the first one out, hair still wild from sleep. She blows past you, opting to see for herself rather than talk about it. You grab the floatable sled you built and start piling supplies evenly across the surface. Emily and Jo are ready to start their day just before you’re prepared to leave.
“You want some help with that?” Jo smiles, grasping the reins before you can answer.
Sharing a matching grin, you grab the other side and share the weight. The excitement coursing through your veins makes the trip fast and easy, barely exuding any effort as you stop just out of the water’s reach. For the next part, you already have a plan; one person stays on the boat, pulling supplies from the sled/raft combo, while the other three bring the supplies out.
Jo enters the cold water first, whining as she slowly dunks her body in, prolonging her suffering. Rolling your eyes, a mischievous smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you back away from the water’s edge. You run full force, jumping into the shallow water with a gigantic splash. Jo shrieks and, as you come up for air, pushes you back down again to save herself the view of your shit-eating grin.
“Asshole!” Jo calls back, swimming for the boat without you.
Breathing out the last of your laughter, you wipe the hair out of your face and start to swim. You climb onto the ship after handing the last of the supplies to Jo, not waiting your turn to explore the boat. It was in fantastic condition, save for a bloodstain on one of the sides. There will be more where that came from after all this is over. Ducking your head into the small cabin, you doubt all four of you could sleep comfortably in the space after the supplies.
“Let’s hope for fair weather!” Jo quips from behind you, happily gazing into the cabin.
“Yeah, or we’ll have to get real close to each other!” you retort, feigning disgust.
Jo laughs and starts to load the dry goods into the cabin. Taking the cue to leave, you take a moment to stretch before diving off into the water. The other features of the boat do not interest you anyway. Having no experience sailing, you were thankful that Emily and Anna come from fishing families. And even better, you didn’t have to beg them to come!
If you had to, you would have ridden driftwood back to bilgewater, but you were grateful for the help. With your new companions by your side, you feel like you stand a chance at changing things on that god-forsaken island.
You completed two more solo trips to and from the camp before Jo switched with you. Organizing the supplies immediately, you peer out to the beach, not seeing anyone. What now?
Sighing, you sink to the deck, mast at your back, and rest. It’s not long before the bright sun sets your skin afire. Walking down into the cabin, you find the temperature even worse. Well, you never were one to sit idly by.
You engineer a small tent with some rope and cloth with the end of the fabric tucked under the pulpit. Before you get a chance to cool under it, Anna is calling to you from the water.
“Oh hey! Sorry about that; you’ll thank me later,” you explain while you pull the first supplies onto the boat.
It was back-breaking work but with plenty of rest in between. In the slow moments, you stare into the ocean periodically, wondering where Silco is like a love-sick maiden. Thoughts swarm your head, clouding your mind in your time off. You think about the dangers of battle and the likelihood that you’ll die, but you also question whether a creature such as Silco could love. By the time you’re relieved, you’re tense from frayed nerves and eagerly swim back to shore.
The others most likely felt the same after their time aboard, you gather, from their equally silent and diminished composure while they traded shifts. The shifts rotated, and as the last on the ship, you tell Emily you’ll be right behind her.
You look over everything one last time by the light of the moon, leaning against the railing with a long sigh when you finish. Seeing something glowing red bobbing in the water, you squint at it, trying to decipher its origin. You take a few steps to the right and gasp as it follows you.
“...Silco?” you ask timidly, clutching the railing with white knuckles.
He lifts himself further out of the water, bathing his face in the moonlight.
“You scared me, Silco. See, humans have this custom where we announce ourselves to unsuspecting people as a courtesy,” you rattle on, muscles relaxing as you try to distract yourself from the day ahead.
Silco floats closer, and when you lean over, you see the tips of his tentacles attached to the side of the boat.
“Is tomorrow a good time to leave?”
“Yesssss,” his ethereal voice dulls every other sound until it’s the only thing you hear.
His presence made the heat swell in your core, but you also felt relief. You didn’t like seeing him go, though you would never admit it. Too afraid it’ll be the last time, you decide right then and there not to hold anything back. Tentacles creep closer, and you reach out, gently touching him. Silco looks surprised at the contact, and you begin to pull away, thinking you offended him.
He grabs you softly by the wrist, his wet appendage wrapping delicately around it. Smiling as warmth floods your chest, your hand returns to him, rubbing gentle circles into his flesh.
“I have a favor to ask - another one, I mean,” you begin, losing confidence by the second. “We’re going to try to overthrow the Temple of Mother Serpent with as few casualties as possible. I know what I said before about killing everyone - I’m not typically that murderous.”
Silco listens silently, eyes never leaving your face while you stammer.
“So - what I’m trying to get to and failing is: can you take out one of their warships so we can send a message back with a handful of survivors? It’s what started the sacrifices, and we think it may be the key to ending the barbaric practice. We’re going to demand they stop and, if they do not comply, hold Bilgewater’s economy hostage. Please help us; I don’t know how we can do it without you.” you plea, taking a deep breath as you anxiously wait for his answer.
“You haaave to promisssse,” he replies, to your confusion.
“P-promise what?” you ask, brows furrowed.
“You must sssstay alive.”
Did you hear him right? A smile slowly spreads across your face at the implicated emotions. He tugs on your arm insistently, letting out a low growl, and you giggle at his impatience.
“Fine, fine! I promise not to die. I’m not sure I can keep it, but I will try my best,” you cave easily, hesitating before you add, “For you .”
The boat tilts just a little as Silco pulls himself further out of the water. It knocks you off your balance, and you fall forward. Before you can steady yourself, his lips are on yours, tentacles steadying you in their gentle embrace around your waist. The kiss is rough and unpracticed but passionate, leaving your head reeling as he breaks it off to gaze longingly into your eyes. You cradle his face with one hand, resting your other on his bare chest, and lean in for another. This time soft, running the tip of your tongue along his bottom lip and tasting him.
A salty sweetness lingers in your mouth as you lean your forehead against his, nose pressing into his cheek as you take in his scent in long, deep breaths. You shouldn’t feel so safe surrounded by a beast that could easily kill you, but here you are, completely intoxicated by his presence.
A shout from the shore interrupts the moment, pulling your attention away. Before you can protest, Silco retreats into the water with a splash, and you let out a frustrated whine. Wishing you could go back and live in that moment forever, you think about calling his name, but you doubt he would return.
You reluctantly dive into the water, taking your time to swim back to shore on the off-chance your monster surprises you. He didn’t, and whoever called to you was also nowhere to be found. A tension twists inside of you, equal parts anxiety and lust. No, not lust; want. You will do everything in your power to stay alive, if only for him to hold you again.
Does that make you desperate or lonely? You can’t help feeling Silco is a kindred soul. A tether exists between you, pulling you ever closer, making you wonder if he is your fate.
One could hope.
The others babbled excitedly over the fire, and you played along, eating your dinner. Only Jo seemed to notice the weight of your emotions, giving your arm an affirming squeeze when you head off to bed before everyone else.
Your internal compass is all over the place, mourning for Evie but still warm from blossoming love. You have something to fight for once again! Originally planning to die in the assault, you find the familiar fear settle in your soul. It makes you feel weak, and if there’s anything you hate more than the Temple of Mother Serpent, it’s this feeling. And just like that, you find your fire again. You deserve to be happy - to love and be loved.
You’re going to survive this. You have to.
Heart steeled for the adventure ahead, your body relaxes, wrapped in soft blankets. Sweet dreams of gentle caresses and honeyed words soothe your internal strife, blessing you with a restful night’s sleep.
#silco#arcane#silco arcane#fanfic#fanfiction#arcane fanfic#silco x you#silco x reader#silco x female reader#kraken!silco
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Moonlighting, Chapter 1
Summary
In order to save money and move residences to escape harassment from an ex-boyfriend, S.T.A.R.S. officer Jill Valentine moonlights as a pianist at a restaurant. After showing up late to work from a rough night, she finds herself in hot water with her boss; the enigmatic Captain Albert Wesker. However, after an unexpected and fateful encounter at the restaurant, a spark ignites affection for each other and their growing attraction would soon be the answers to both their problems.
This chapter follows Jill in the story and what she has been dealing with in the recent weeks.
Warning(s): None
Rating: Mature
AO3 link
BANG BANG BANG!!
The chain lock on Jill’s front door rattled violently from the abrupt pounding. The officer jolted awake and instinctively grabbed her gun from the drawer of her nightstand, body rigid as she rose out of bed and ready to defend herself. Gun pointed directly at her front door with her finger resting against the trigger guard, she cautiously side stepped around the corner of her bed and released a deep and shaky breath through her nose, calming her rapid heartbeat.
It was the dead of the night. The studio apartment glowed a dark blue from the soft illumination of the moonlight through her window blinds. It was silent for a moment aside from the light hum of the refrigerator and water softly dripping from a leaky faucet Jill had been meaning to get repaired. The officer positioned herself next to a support post and waited. It was just wide enough to give herself some cover if the situation needed to come to that. Light from the building’s hallway was beaming through the bottom of the doorway, but two shadowy feet pacing side to side made the light look like it was dancing. Still, she waited.
“Open up, Jill! I know you have him!”
Jill’s shoulders and arms immediately dropped in frustration, but her mental guard was still up and her temper rose.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” she groaned in anger as she headed for the front door and slammed her gun on the kitchen table as she stomped by. She released the deadbolt lock in a quick fury but left the chain untouched.
The man on the other side planted his hand on the door and tried to force it open but the chain held firm, halting the short rattle. His sweaty and rugged face came close to the crack of the door. It looked like he hadn’t shaved in weeks and judging by his breath, he had been drinking. Jill flinched in disgust at the sharp reek of booze that greeted her.
“Where is he, huh?” the man growled through his teeth. His voice was hushed yet seething with hate. “I know you took him. Where is Ruger?”
“Fucking, what?” Jill quietly yelled in confusion. “I don’t have your dog, James. Now, leave me the hell alone!” Before she could slam the door in James’ face, he shoved his foot into the doorway.
“Ruger? Ruger?!” he yelled through the crack.
“Oh, my god! Will you get out of here before you wake everyone up?” Jill hissed at him. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he ran away ‘cause you’re such a fucking asshole.”
James slammed his fist against the door with a deep grunt, rattling the chains once again. He pointed a threatening finger at Jill. “Wait ‘til I tell your cop buddies about this. I’ll have you fired and your ass will be on the streets!”
Jill gritted her teeth to control her rising rage. Her lips and nose twitching in suppressed anger. But she placed her hand over her exhausted eyes and wiped down her face to ease the tension in her cheeks and jaw. Fed up and maintaining her composure, she replied, “James. It’s been over a month. You need to stop calling me. You need to stop showing up here in the middle of the night uninvited. You need to move on and leave me alone.”
Knowing this was leading nowhere, the rugged man huffed through his flaring nose, spun away from her in an exasperated grunt and walked down the hallway, only stumbling once or twice.
Jill didn’t even think twice to watch him to make sure he was completely out of sight. She was too tired to care. The door shut and she locked the dead bolt, releasing an exhausted breath of relief and grief. Her head dropped, resting her forehead against the door and holding back tears. She was only anticipating the next time her ex-boyfriend would show up again.
After a brief moment, Jill dragged her feet back toward her bed, lazily picking up her gun along the way. But she made a stop at her desk in the corner of the room. Her eyes glazed over a hanging cork board of notes and a messy stack of paperwork until they met a framed picture of a happily sitting golden retriever. She picked it up with a small smile on her face.
“I wish you were here, buddy,” she quietly said to herself. “You’d be better off without him, too.” She carefully placed the frame back down in the darkness then proceeded to unplug her telephone on her desk. A preemptive move against any unwanted calls in the night.
Jill sat back down on her bed. Thinking about Ruger only made her feel depressed and she couldn’t stand the pain of him being lost. As an elite S.T.A.R.S. officer, Jill hated making mistakes even if it was in her personal life. She thought she had found the right man suited for her and even thought about settling down with him, treating Ruger like he was a baby. And even inquired if Ruger was good with children. But that initial dating phase blinded her. Blinded by James’ inceptive charm and gentleman-like behavior. Until he became too comfortable and Jill noticed his drinking problem along with the anger and increasing verbal abuse. And thinking more about him only made her angry, too.
She dropped her gun back into the nightstand and slammed it closed so hard that her alarm clock tumbled off. Too drained to be bothered, Jill fell back onto the mattress and covered herself with a blanket as the sound of a battery quietly rolled across the hardwood floor.
Jill woke up in a grog. Her eyes were puffy but she was still able to notice the immense brightness of the sun shining through her blinds, assuming it was going to be another hot day.
Knock knock knock. “Jill? Are you in there?” A concerned and familiar voice called to her through the front door.
Suddenly, the officer’s heartbeat bolted to her throat and a rush of anxiety tingled her skull. She kicked off her sheets and scrambled to find the alarm clock on the nightstand. Only to find it on the floor with a missing battery. Her eyes darted toward the unplugged phone on her desk.
“Shit!” she scolded herself as she hurried to the front door in a stumble. She found her partner, Chris, in full uniform standing on the other side. He shook his head in disbelief.
“What the hell, Jill?” he asked incredulously. “You weren’t answering your phone. Did you sleep in again?”
Jill ran her hand through her disheveled hair as Chris bombarded her with more questions. “Just- Just give me a few minutes,” she interrupted and shut the door. She hastily readied herself, struggling to put on her boots as she hopped toward the bathroom. She carelessly splashed cold water on her face to wake herself up and reduce the puffiness in her eyes. Tightening her belt as she made her way back to the front door, she met up with Chris who had just glanced at his watch.
“Okay, let’s go,” she said.
“Your beret?” Chris reminded her.
Jill scoffed in annoyance, reached back into the doorway and grabbed her blue beret off a hanging hook. She and Chris quickly made their way down the hallway as she adjusted her beret, tucking in uncombed hair strands.
“The captain is so pissed right now,” Chris remarked, almost chuckling.
“Shut up, Chris.”
Inside Captain Albert Wesker’s office, Jill stood with a hanging head and clenched fists. She couldn’t find the courage to look at him. Her eyebrows twitched and furrowed as the captain’s words scalded her ears. His body language seemed undisturbed but she felt every stab of his icicle gaze shoot right through her.
“This is the third time this month, Valentine. And over an hour late,” he said with a rising tone.
Finally, she looked at him out of respect for her superior. Calmly seated, his hands were neatly folded on his desk but his mute expression and cold glare told otherwise. Chris was right. The captain was pissed. “Captain, I-” Jill began. “I have no excuse for my behavior. I’m sorry.” She felt pathetic as there was nothing else to say. Or at least nothing she wanted to reveal.
A sharp exhale escaped through Wesker’s nose as he turned his head slightly with a tight lip. The gears turning in his head as his well articulated voice began to lay out. “If I weren’t me, I would temporarily suspend you.” He paused and Jill anticipated his next words in a sweat. “But, because we are who we are and you are one of my best officers, I’m assigning you overtime this evening.”
Jill softly gasped in shock, but it wasn’t because of how easy the captain just let her off. “N-no no no. It can’t be tonight,” Jill blurted out. Then became in disbelief with herself as she inadvertently argued.
Wesker cocked his head. “Excuse me? You would proclaim something better?” The captain was not one to show much emotion but she could feel his temper just below the surface.
“I-I me-meant no disrespect, s-sir,” Jill stammered. She shut her eyes and paused, giving her a moment to breathe and collect her scrambled brain. When she was somewhat calm, she said, “I’ll come in tomorrow. A full shift. And I promise you’ll never have to see me in your office like this again.”
There was a deafening moment of silence as their eyes locked. Jill was internally praying and hoping Wesker would agree.
“You would rather work a full shift on a Saturday than a few hours tonight?” Wesker asked.
The officer stood firm at attention. “Yes, sir.”
Despite Jill’s current stature, Wesker noticed the pleading in her face. It called out to him unexpectedly and for some reason he answered it. A barely audible short grumble vibrated in his throat. “Fine. Now get to work.”
Unknowingly holding her breath, Jill exhaled at ease. “Yes, sir.” She turned away when-
“Wait.”
Jill turned back and saw the captain rise out of his chair. “Yes, sir?”
The captain walked past her and gently shut the door to his office. He stood before her with relaxed shoulders. His perpetual dagger-like gaze and chiseled face somehow softened as he looked down at her.
“Jill. Is everything okay?” he asked, concerned yet warmly. “Everything at home?”
It was strange to hear him address her by first name but oddly comforting. Jill barely knew the captain outside of work but she was touched by his simple inquiry. No one had even asked her that since the break-up, not even Chris. Perhaps it was her emotions getting the better of her as she felt her jaw tremble, stifling tears. She wanted to let everything out and just bury her face in the captain’s hard chest, but she held back.
“Everything is fine, Captain. Thank you,” she replied plainly.
Wesker noticed that subtle yearning in her again, but he opened the door and let her go.
Friday night in Raccoon City was always bustling. The evening air was cool and breezy, providing relief to a rough morning. Waiting patiently on the sidewalk, Jill gripped at her clutch purse as she ignored the citizens passing by, quickly stealing glances at her elegant dress.
The officer was now outfitted in a dark blue, chiffon lace evening gown. A sharp contrast from her daily blues. Her fair skin of one arm and shoulder were exposed to the elements while the other comfortably wrapped in a lace sleeve. The lace on the upper half of the dress were embellished with fine sequins that could be part of the city sky itself. The leg slit revealed shimmering heels at her feet. The overall column accentuated her natural curves and physique. Even the officer’s naturally straight hair was curled loosely at the ends. Jill’s entire getup almost made her seem unrecognizable in the most beautiful way possible.
A yellow taxi pulled up to her and she sat in the backseat, careful not to wrinkle her dress. She was heading north toward the finer part of town. Warming her hands together and stretching her fingers, she gazed up at the high rise apartment buildings touching the night sky. She could only dream of what they looked like inside for now.
Soon, Jill reached her destination. The taxi slowed to a stop in front of a valet and the door was immediately opened for her. She stepped out onto the shiny concrete as the valet slightly bowed and addressed her.
“Good evening and welcome back, Ms. Valentine,” the man politely greeted. He looked young and barely out of his teens. He accompanied her toward the doors of the restaurant.
“Thank you,” Jill replied back with a smile. “I’ll be sure to play extra loud so you and the boys can hear from outside.”
“I’d greatly appreciate that,” the young man chuckled. He opened the door for her and she stepped in.
Jill’s heels clicked on the dark marble floors as she made her way through the restaurant. She passed the wide bar and cocktail lounge near the entrance, waving kindly at the acquainted bartender. The small chitter chatter of the restaurant patrons slowly quieted as Jill walked through the dining area and toward the back, approaching a grand ebony piano. She sat down on the small bench before the ivory keys and a waiter promptly poured her a glass of water and set it on a small round table next to the piano.
Taking in a deep breath and releasing all her tension from the day, Jill fluidly flexed and extended every joint of her fingers then hovered them over the keys. All eyes were on her but her gaze was upon the chandelier and hanging curtains centered on the crepuscular ceiling. This was the only time of her recent weeks that she felt tranquil. Almost as if she had floated into space and was headed toward the stars herself.
Jill began to play.
During that first hour, a curved smile on the corner of her mouth never left her face. Her eyes occasionally closed as she softly played calming tunes from memory. Scattered claps softly vibrated the air after the breezy pieces. Seeing the crowd pleased brought much joy and warmth to Jill’s heart, nearly forgetting why she started this gig in the first place. As patrons began to leave throughout the night, the waiter brought large bills to Jill and placed them in a glass bowl on the small round table. The bowl gradually filled as the night went on.
The evening was coming to an end and it was time for Jill’s final piece. Her very own arrangement she had been forging for months. The room fell silent, knowing her performance was coming to a close soon. She took a sip of water and stretched her fingers one last time and began.
Slow upbeat tunes floated through the air louder than any of the previous songs. It was jazzy, jaunty yet dark with a fun mixture of low and high notes. The permanent smile she bore disappeared as her eyebrows furled in concentration. Her fingers danced across the ivory like a ballet. Her upper body motions were tense yet flowy, projecting all her passion for the song. The patrons were still and silent as they watched and listened on, disregarding their expensive meals and conversations going cold. Even the employees were at a standstill. Time had frozen just for Jill.
Then, she was done.
Every single person in the room applauded her. Elated, a wide smile appeared on her face as she stood and bowed in the limelight. Silently mouthing ‘thank you’ to the patrons. Their claps slowly died down and they returned to their own worlds and Jill to hers. The few hours she spent playing the piano now felt like a fleeting moment of bliss from a dream. A familiar sadness began to creep back as she gathered herself to leave for the night.
The bartender approached her with a tray and a single glass of white wine. “From the gentleman at the bar.”
Surprised and flattered, Jill gingerly picked up the wine glass. At first, her heart dropped as she expected her ex-boyfriend, but then she blushed as the bartender stepped aside. In the distance sitting at the bar, a tall blonde man dressed in a sleek black suit raised his wine glass to her with a smirk.
“Captain Wesker?”
#albert wesker#jill valentine#weskertine#wesker#resident evil#resident evil fanfiction#ao3 fanfic#fanfic#ao3fic#ao3 writer#ao3
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3 4 and 14! :D
3. what ideas come from when you were little!
cant tell if this means like ideas about art in general or ideas about what/how u draw? ill do both i guess. but to be really honest i have like no memory LOL i know i was big into anime as a preteen so that's definitely where the nightmare began in general. like with my art style... i don't even want to get into art styles cause i don't think that's real but also i do so bad because i dont have one and it kills me. i guess this is sort of an inverse of from when i was little but i did have a hater of pink phase and now i understand that i was so wrong. now i tend to use a lot of warm colors and pink when i draw i love you peach i love you orange i love you pink!!!! for art in general idk where it comes from but i have it in my head that i have to render every single thing when i do NOT and im working on not being so bananas about it.. but on the nice side i've always been a firm believer that anybody can draw and maybe should draw once in a while. im not a fan of "practice so you can get good" Nao!!! learning is fun but why is it about being "good" what does that even mean draw with whatever you have even if you think it sucks and then love your creation. it's about catharsis. have some whimsy
4. fav character/subject that's a bitch to draw
everything (coughs up blood) actually i Love frills and hair. i DONT LOVE RENDERING FRILLS AND HAIR AAAAHG!!!! also eyes because i never ever draw them consistently i forget how im drawing them every 10 minutes. and for characters this is shameful to admit but i have such a hard time getting emu right she's literally my favorite and my weirdgirl daughter but i just cannot get her regular hair to look right ever. OH ALSO I LOVE SHOES SO SO MUCH AND I JUST CAN'T DRAW THEM... i love chunky sneakers.. loafers... dress shoes... i always get stumped drawing the soles
14. any favorite motifs
oooh my god well since yuo asked i fucking LOVE anything that involves like a stage or acknowledging that the media is a story/a work of art. its definitely revstar and orvs fault but like stage curtains and audience seats and page margins and books and the character(s) staring at the viewer. etc. i hate the monarchy but i freaking love knights. chivalry in general its a gender on its own. also to be generic i Love devil motifs and horns in general and blood but not in a gorey way more like a metaphorical blood on your hands way. i love the light that corrupts im like a moth... umm and like to get really specific the impaling of someone with a sword especially while in a tragic/intimate setting/tender embrace will get me every time. to get really vague anything to do with love even when its sad though personally i believe love prevails. i also love a tragic jester. what else umm stars n space and astronauts but specifically with whatever the future eve MV has going on... oh i love when something symbolizes a characters determination or ambition. best reference for this off the top of my head is the tomato thing in revstar.. im editing the post to add this but ballet even though i hate doing it the visual themes are so good. and i LOVE texture in both digital and physical mediums especially when noise/scratchy textures or chunky paint or visible strokes etc are used to show anger and rage like YESSS rise rise rise it is so Visceral and it is so good. thank u for the ask!!! ♪(*^^)o∀*∀o(^^*)♪
#i love ask games that are an excuse to ramble. hear my thoughts boy#ask game#THIS IS LONG WTF..#long post
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Where's your rage?
Wheres your fucking anger?
RISE
RISE
RISE
RISE
WE HAVE R I S E N
NEVER SHALL WE FALL
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Alpha's Temptation - Chapter 35 - Part 5
*Warning Adult Content*
Daemon's eyes widen in surprise but he doesn't say anything, just nods for me to keep going.
"Um. I... Um..." my lip trembles, already feeling my breath coming short.
Just the mention of him sends me into a panic.
Daemon runs his hands up and down my arms, knowing how much physical touch soothes me.
I've been touch starved for so long.
"M-my dad left the pack when I was s-six. That forced my mom and I to live with my stepfather..."
I go into the story of how she died from sickness and how abandoned I felt by my father.
"A-all I had left was Alpha F-Ferix. But he..." my voice cracks, my heart caving in.
I don't know if I can say it.
Saying it makes it real.
It makes me have to acknowledge that it actually happened.
Daemon looks like he's about to stop the whole thing, and I feel the need to press on.
I wanna get it out.
I can do this.
"He liked... hurting me. U-Uh, it was fun for him, I think," I scratch at my hair, looking down so I don't have to see his reaction.
"It all s-started when I was six. He'd burn me. T-Try to drown me. Other stuff, too. I don't really remember it all. What I do know is that he'd beat me almost every d-day. He let his friends do it too. And when I m-misbehaved, he'd lock me down in the cellar. I wouldn't be allowed to e-eat anything for days. And..." I wheeze for breath, tears rising to my eyes but I swallow them down, pressing on.
"W-when he got really m-mad, he'd..." I gasp, my airway feeling like it's going to close up.
"He'd cut m-me with this l-long knife. T-that's why I u-um have that stuff on my b-back," Daemon has gone deathly quiet, but I keep going.
"He hated me more than anything. He knew I liked art, so he c-crushed the bones of my right hand so I could never draw again. H-He forced me to..." I break out in a sob, clenching my eyes shut.
"To make paintings in my own blood. H-He told me I don't deserve anything, t-that I'm worthless and would be better off dead. S-So the night before you found me in the woods, he held a knife to my neck and tried to kill me. I b-barely managed to get away..."
Daemon shoots up to his feet, a feral growl ripping out of him.
His fists clench so hard the veins in his arms look like they'll pop.
And then I look up at his face.
His eyes are red.
He looks inhuman, the dark rage boiling beneath the surface.
I leap up to stand too, my heart racing.
"Daemon..?" I say, my voice high with fear.
That same, blazing anger distorts him.
He doesn't look like himself.
"I am going to rip him limb from limb," he seethes, going for the door. I grab his arm, latching on.
"Wait..."
But he pulls out of my grip, grabbing the knob and ripping the door clean off its hinges, splintering the wood.
I yelp in shock, watching as it falls to the ground in a large crash.
Daemon doesn't look phased.
He marches right out the door and I cry, running after him.
"Daemon please."
I wrap my arms around him from behind, trying to stop him.
"It's the middle of the night. Where are you even going to go? Dark Moon is miles away."
"It doesn't matter."
"They have guards around the pack perimeter... even if you got past, y-you can't kill him now. It'll start a war."
"I don't care. Hurting you means war," I hold him tightly, refusing to let go.
"Please don't. J-just stay. Stay here."
"He cannot get away with this. He abused you... no, he fucking tortured you for more than half of your life, He stole your childhood. He has to pay," he roars, his wolf simmering to the surface.
"I know," I sob, clutching him from behind. "I know he does b-but he can pay later."
Daemon turns to me.
"That monster is still out there... alive and well even after what he fucking did. No one gets to do what he did to you and live."
"But Daemon.." I plead.
"Imagine if you hadn't been able to escape him," he stops me.
"You wouldn't be here right now, Ash. Do you know what the thought of that does to me? The thought of that man killing my baby and I'd never even know it?"
We lock eyes, my own blurred with tears as I look at him.
I've never seen someone so angry for my sake, nor believed someone actually gives a damn about what happens to me.
But I see it now.
I see the pain in his eyes, the anguish, the way his chest rises and falls in angry breaths.
"Knowing what you went through is agony," his eyes shine with sorrow, his voice gruff. "I wish I had been there to protect you."
I sob, shakily taking his hand into mine.
"Then be here for me now. Don't go," I beg. "I-I'm not saying you can't kill him. Because I hope you do and I hope he suffers..."
That's the first time I've admitted that out loud.
"But not now," I shake my head.
Daemon is silent, taking all of me in.
Then he lets out a long breath.
"If I don't go kill him now, make no mistake... when I do get my hands on him, he is gone."
"Okay," I say quietly, a tear dripping down my face.
I'm okay with that. Ferix deserves it.
We continue to look at each other, my face no longer hiding anything. I let him see it all.
The ugly side of me, the part so broken and traumatized that I swore I would keep hidden forever.
But there's no judgment in his eyes.
The look in them hasn't changed.
It's the way he first looked at me, I realize.
I had been too out of it to see at the time but when he first found me, for a moment, all I could see was that look.
That same look captures me now, has me throwing myself into his arms to have him crush his lips against mine in a ferocious kiss, one that steals my breath away.
One filled with want... no, need.
His tongue captures mine as he greedily takes from me, letting me take from him in return.
When we rip away from another for air I stare up into his eyes, wondering what good deed I ever did to be blessed with him.
"What if I become a burden to you?" I whisper, my heart clenched.
His eyes glow like hot coals, the furrow in his brow deepening as he presses his forehead to mine.
"Never."
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better
pairing: regulus black x evans!reader
word count: 3.3k
warnings: swearing, angst, make out scene
request by: @upchurch-funk
summary: being a muggleborn dating Regulus meant you had to keep it a secret. When your older sister finds out she raises fear of heartbreak in both of you
♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~
You and your sisters had been born jealous. Petunia turned to envy first as the attention that had been solely given to her was split between two other daughters. She had always been bitter towards you and Lily, never forgiving you for interpreting her perfect young life. She had taken your things, broken your toys and ripped your clothes trying to punish you for being born and turning her from an only child to the eldest.
Lily was next when she realised she wasn't the only one who could sprout fire from her fingertips. She had accused you of faking your magic for years, doing everything she could to best you even if she never fully understood her powers herself. Luckily she outgrew this jealous fit and by the time you shared a cabin on your way to Hogwarts she was beaming ear to ear.
It was you who was last to realise what the burn in your chest really meant. The feeling came heavy like thick rain drops as you watched your sister fall so effortlessly in love. Each time she gave James a quick hug or leaned onto his shoulder your eyes narrowed, fury irrationally rising in your throat.
This wasn’t because you wished James was yours instead. In fact you had considered him an idiot since you met him and would have rather drown yourself than date the loud mouth fool. You were instead jealous of the simplicity of their relationship. Envious of how they could be carefree, how they could dream of picket fences and happy futures. You hated that they could still be stupid kids. How they were given the freedom to make out in hallways and sneak into eachothers dorms with their worst consequence being a slap on the wrist and week of detention. Nothing hurt more than watching your sister live a simple life you knew you never could.
You stared across the room locking eyes with Regulus for only a brief moment before his darted away. Charms was dreadfully boring, the lecture practically putting you to sleep, you knew you should have been paying attention, but watching the younger Black perform the spell with ease was far more interesting. The flick of his wrist was an addicting, dull look in his eyes far more attractive than it should have been. He had woken up late that morning, his hair messier than usual. You thought it looked adorable, the way a few strands drooped in front of his lashes. He only got cuter as he blew them from his face with a pout.
“You have a staring problem.” Levi muttered from beside you.
You rolled your eyes, “Do you ever mind your own business?”
“Please, you make your thing for Black everyone's business.” He muttered and you kicked him under the desk.
Cussing at you he glared, leaning down to massage his bruising shin.
You wondered briefly how he would have reacted to the reveal of your relationship with your “hopeless crush” as he liked to call it. The surprise on his face would have been sweet as honey.
Regulus was watching you now as you continued to talk to your desk mate, he had never liked the boy, call it jealousy or anger, something bitter always rose in his throat when he saw you with him. Maybe it was because he knew your life would be so much easier if you had loved him instead.
“I don’t get what you see in him anyway.” Levi said, looking across at Regulus whose eyes had quickly retreated back to his parchment.
You grew brittle at the statement.
“I mean I know he's attractive but if it's really about looks why not go for his brother?” He grumbled.
You scoffed, “Please, Sirius is a piece of work.”
“And he isn't? I’m surprised he hasn’t called you a slur yet.”
Rage bubbled in your stomach, your chest feeling hot, “Shut up.”
Levi was either oblivious to the anger set in your tone or unbothered by it “I mean really y/n, you have a crush on a purist? It's sickening.”
You screwed your eyes shut in an attempt to stop the hot tears building behind them. You wanted to scream at him, slap him across the face and shout how Regulus would never do such a thing. You wanted to tell him how wrong he was, make him regret ever speaking such cold words. But instead you looked away, wiping your tears as they came while your boyfriend sat across the room pretending you didn't exist.
You were used to it, you knew as a muggleborn dating a pureblood from a family like his would never be easy but the words still stung. That night you sobbed into Regulus’s chest as he held you in your usual hidden courtyard.
As your tears soaked through his sweater he felt nothing but the cold grip of guilt. He had never meant to fall in love. He had known it was a mistake the second it had happened. Even now he knew he had been wrong and stupid and naive to let himself feel so deeply for someone he could never truly be with. He would never forgive himself for forcing you into the hellish life he lived with a simple confession. He hated himself every day for it, he didn't deserve to indulge in his emotions knowing it would cause you nothing but pain. He didn't deserve you and he had known that from the start.
Yet every night you met, kissing under the pale moon until your lips grew numb. Everynight he found himself falling deeper and deeper into you until you filled his dreams and nightmares alike. So he forced you closer to him, knowing he would cause nothing but hurt. And you were so childishly in love you let him.
Later as you lay asleep on his chest, legs tangled beneath a blanket he let his own tears go, silent apologies dripping down his cheek as he tightened his grip on your waist.
Lily watched you from where she sat at her table, green eyes narrowed as she tried to read your mind across the dining hall.
“Something is definitely off.” She mumbled turning to James who stared at her with a dopey grin. “You haven’t been listening to a word I said have you?”
“How can I when you’re so beautiful?” He murmured back and she scoffed, face darkening.
Sirius gagged, “You guys are disgusting.”
“Christ Black, how old are you?” Lily spoke with the roll of her eyes.
He scrunched his nose and pretended to mock her silently only earning a sigh from Remus who sat beside him.
“Something is wrong with y/n, I can just feel it.” Lily continued content on ignoring Sirius.
“Maybe she's dating that Callahan kid.” James offered. “There’s been tons of rumors.”
Lily scoffed, “Please, she has told me multiple times she has absolutely no interest in him.”
“A few months ago you were telling her you had absolutely no interest in James.” Remus offered not to look up from his book.
Lily sputtered blushing heavily again, “That is completely different.”
“Sure it is.” Remus drawled, eyes peering over the cover at her.
Lily furrowed her brow, “But why wouldn’t she tell me? I mean I thought we've always been close.”
“Maybe it's not that serious.” Sirius shrugged, “Maybe they’re just fuck buddies or something.”
Lily pulled back in disgust, “Don’t talk about my little sister like that!” she hissed as Remus kicked him under the table.
“What? She’s almost 17! It's not like she's 12 or something, Godric.” Sirius complained and James threw a spoon at him.
“You know if you’re really that curious we could always just check the map.” James said looking over at Lily who was trying to set Sirius on fire with her glare.
She considered it for a moment, “Isn’t that kind of..” she paused “intrusive?”
He shrugged, “She's your little sister.”
The sky was dark that night as you met with Regulus. The moon was new leaving only the blinking stars to light the ground beneath you.
You grinned when you saw Regulus leaning against the small statue in the middle of the courtyard. You quickened your pace pulling him into a brief kiss as you met.
“Hi.” You whispered against his lips and you felt him smile.
“Hi.” He responded, hands on your waist pulling you closer once again.
You tasted sweet like the nectar of the gods, soft and tender in his arms. Your hair smelt of pomegranate, your flowery perfume engulfing him. There was nothing more addicting on this world than your lips.
You both pulled away breathless and grinning stupidly, “Your hair looks so cute like this.” You mumbled running your hands through it and tugging lightly on a curly lock that had fallen down his forehead.
Regulus practically purred, melting into your touch. He dipped his head low to hide his blush, lips skimming the skin of your neck.
You giggled as he mumbled a bashful thank you before nipping slightly below your ear. He was always careful to never leave marks that could be seen the following day. You wished he wasn’t.
You felt his hands on the back of your thighs lifting you off the ground. You wrapped your arms around his neck and buried your nose in his hair as he walked until your back hit the wall of the castle. You scratched your nails lightly against his scalp and Regulus groaned. You gasped at the feeling of his tongue on your jaw as he pressed you further into the stone. Your legs now wrapped around his waist as he left sloppy kisses on your collar bone.
It was then you heard the shuffle of footsteps.
“Regulus.” You whispered and he broke away to look up at you, his lips red and glossy , “I heard someone.”
He slowly lowered you to your feet, “You sure?”
You nodded and you both stood silently, ears craning for another sign of life among you. After a minute you sighed, “Sorry, I must have been hearing things.”
Regulus just shook his head grinning lightly, “ ‘s fine babe.” words slurring, intoxicated by your taste.
Your lips reconnected, his teeth grazing your bottom lip as you began to work on the buttons of his shirt, tugging on his tie to loosen its knot. But there it was again the soft sound of feet, closer this time.
You both paused Regulus pulling away leaving your skin feeling cold in his absence.
“Who’s there?” He demanded into the darkness, wand lit.
There was no response and you grabbed his hand to pull him back to you. Regulus stood his ground so you leaned into him, lips ghosting against his ear.
“It's probably just a mouse or somethin’.” You murmured hands coming back to undo the remaining buttons of his shirt.
Regulus glanced around once more before looking down at you, “You’re probably right.” he said before he began to untuck your blouse, hands sliding slowly under it.
It was that which finally broke Lily, her vision going red. She stepped from beneath the invisibility cloak ignoring James' protests.
You let out a small yelp as your sister appeared from thin air, Regulus who had his back turned to her immediately drew his wand pushing you lightly behind him. His eyes went wide as he found himself inches from your older sister. It was your turn to pull Regulus behind you.
“Lily, What in bloody hell are you doing here?”
When James sheepishly appeared as well you gasped, “What is wrong with you both, are you stalking me?”
Lily looked stern, her arms crossed, “Why are you with him?” she seethed.
Your eyes narrowed, “None of your fucking buissnes. Now take your dog and leave.”
Regulus almost didn't believe it was you that was talking. He wasn’t accustomed to the harsh tone you used, your anger hardly ever directed at him.
“This is most certainly my business!” She spoke shrilly.
“It is most certainly not. Now get out.” You shouted.
“How can you expect me to leave when you're getting all touchy feely with a purist?” She hissed, grabbing at your wrist to pull you away from the boy behind you. You slapped her away so hard the sound echoed off the walls, “Call him that again around me and you’ll fucking regret it.” You growled.
Lily stepped back surprised by your sudden aggression but not backing down, “Please y/n, I’m just calling it as it. The sooner you realise that the better.”
Regulus felt his throat tighten as he listened, teeth biting into his lip as he had nowhere to look but his feet.
You stepped closer to your sister inches from her face, “Leave.” your voice struck heavy.
Lily responded just as harshly, “No.”
James shifted behind his girlfriend feeling like he was intruding on the fight which was taking place. Sensing his awkwardness you looked back at him with a searing gaze.
“Get out Potter, you have no place here.” You spat.
He was planning on shuffling away when Lily turned back to him angrily, “No James stay.”
You scoffed as he did as he was told, “Fucking pet.”
“Don’t speak to him like that.” Lily scolded.
“You're the one who's calling my boyfriend a purist.” You growled your mouth bitter at the taste of hypocrisy.
“Because he is one!” She bit back. “You really think he actually loves you after being raised how he was? With a mother like his?”
Regulus felt like he had been slapped, his cheek stinging as the older girl spoke.
“Don’t you dare bring up his mother.” You were shaking with rage by now, your face streaked with angry tears, “And how dare you speak ill of Regulus simply because of his upbringing as if his brother isn't one of your closest friends. How do you think Sirius would feel hearing what you just said?”
This took Lily back a step, her rage cooling a bit as she realised her mistake, “It’s different,” She tried to recover, “He isn't with his family anymore. Sirius has already broken away from them. He made the choice any good person would.”
Regulus felt her eyes on him as she spoke. She was no longer interested in her sister and instead focused on him. He felt like he was choking under the pressure of her stare. When he glanced up to meet her gaze he inhaled sharply. He hadn’t seen such hatred in a long time.
Your lashes were thick with tears by now, disgust and fury morphing your face, “Go fuck yourself Lily.” You spat.
She ignored you, gaze locked on Regulus, she had no intention of speaking to you anymore, “You stay away from her.” she demanded, “If you truly love her you stay away from her.”
You shouted lunging forwards and shoving your sister backwards. She stumbled back catching herself.
It was you who fell, your feet tangling, forcing you to the ground. You hit hard, hands and knees scraping against stones and moss which made up the floor. You couldn’t find it in you to stand up simply letting exhaustion and misery take you where you lay. You shook with sobs, voice cracked and raw. Lily immediately dropped beside you, hands circling your neck as she drew you into a hug. You fought her as you always did but she held on, letting you beat her chest with your fists until you stilled.
Regulus took a step forward but was stopped by your sister whose glare told him everything he needed to know. Tears pricking his own eyes he stumbled past the two of you and disappeared into the darkness of the dungeons. He didn't hear James shout for him over the sound of the ring in his ears. He wasn’t sure where he ended up, somewhere deep in the depths of the sprawling castle, dust coated the staircase he collapsed onto. Only there did he let himself cry, choking sobs rubbing his throat raw as he looked for someone to blame. His mother for forcing him into the terrifying world of dark magic? His brother for abandoning him in his abusive home? Or your sister for pointing out the truth he prayed you would never see? Regulus wished he could pass the blame off to anyone but he wasn’t stupid, he knew he had no one to hate but himself.
Regulus disappeared entirely for three days. Three days you spent desperately avoiding your sister who seemed just as adamant to talk to you again. You skipped meals opting for hunger instead risking meeting her in the hall. She would show up outside your classes forcing you to scramble out the back way or sprint away like a child running from punishment.
On the fourth day of your boyfriend's absence you felt yourself beginning to panic. Fear of him never returning, filling your head with irrational thoughts. It wasn’t like you could ask around for him, your relationship needed to remain secret despite the difficulties you were facing. It was then Lily cornered you.
You stared at the redhead as she blocked your only exit. “Lily, move.” You sighed exhausted by the past few days, sleepless nights not improving your condition.
She didn't listen, “Y/n we need to talk.”
"About what?" You scoffed, "I have nothing to say to you.”
“I just want you to understand why I,” She paused, “Why I said what I did.”
“I don't care why you said it Lily.” You said, “I don’t care if you think you were protecting me or saving me from some hopeless relationship. I honestly don’t care.”
Her eyes swelled, “How can you say that? How can you not care? I love you y/n I just want you to be safe.”
You stared at her, “I just don’t understand why you couldn’t just let me be happy.”
“He’s dangerous.”
You shook your head, “No, his family is dangerous. His situation is dangerous. He’s not.”
“Y/n please.” She begged, for what you did not know.
“Just stay out of my shit Lily.” you mumbled pushing past her and back into the hallway.
You spent the night where you always had, the small courtyard hidden between two towers of the castle, a statue of a woman draped in vines and flowers at its center. The moon was a small sliver, a dusting of clouds blocking the stars from your view. The shuffle of footsteps brought your eyes from the ground.
There stood Regulus, his face shining in the pale light. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, nose pointed at the floor as he refused to meet your gaze.
You stood quickly throwing your hands around his neck. He leaned into your touch burying his head into your shoulder as his hands found your waist.
You smelled delightful as always, your lips soft against his cheek and hands in his hair. Regulus hadn’t realized he was crying until you began to comfort him. Sweet words whispered into his ear as you only held him tighter.
“She’s right, you know.” He croaked, lifting his head to look at you. “You shouldn’t be around me.”
You shook your head feverishly, “You’re wrong Reggy.”
“I don’t deserve you y/n, I don’t deserve to be with you.” He sobbed, “I could never deserve you.”
“You’re right, love.” You mumbled, smiling through the tears that coated your cheeks, “You deserve so much better.”
♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~
taglist:@accio-rogers @roslea @k3nz-doodl3 @theseuscmander @sleepingalaska @chloe-geoghegan1 @coldlilheart @suseptiable-bur-siriusexual @the-natureofme @trickylittlewitch @layaa-layaaa @rosieweasleyy @dracosgoodgirl @inglourious-imagines @princess-jules47 @daedreamss @d22malfoys
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#harry potter#harry potter imagines#harry potter au#harry potter imagine#harry potter x reader#marauders imagines#regulus black ships#regulus black imagine#regulus black imagines#regulus black#regulus black x reader#regulus x y/n#regulus x reader#harry potter marauders#marauders era#hp marauders#marauders#young marauders#marauders x reader#marauders x y/n#marauders x you#marauders imagine#sirius black x reader#sirius black imagine#sirius black imagines#james potter imagines#lily evens#lily x james#jily fic#jily fanfiction
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