Bunny

16 People under 13 DNI

[nicosfavbun]

ℐ𝓃𝓉𝓇ℴ 𝒫ℴ𝓈𝓉!

𝒩𝒾𝒸ℴ 𝒹𝒾 𝒜𝓃ℊℯ𝓁ℴ #1 ℊ𝓁𝒶𝓏ℯ𝓇. Pink lipgloss. 𝒞ℴ𝓂𝒾𝒸 𝒷ℴℴ𝓀𝓈. Vanilla perfume. ℛℯ𝒶𝒹𝒾𝓃ℊ 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝓁ℯ 𝓎ℴ𝓊’𝓇ℯ 𝓉𝓊𝒸𝓀ℯ𝒹 𝓊𝓃𝒹ℯ𝓇 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝒸ℴ𝓋ℯ𝓇𝓈. Bunnies. 𝒮𝒽ℴ𝓅𝓅𝒾𝓃ℊ. Currently writing for: 𝒩𝒾𝒸ℴ 𝒹𝒾 𝒜𝓃ℊℯ𝓁ℴ (I write him as both gay and bi!), 𝒥𝒶𝓈ℴ𝓃 𝒯ℴ𝒹𝒹, 𝒯𝒾𝓂 𝒟𝓇𝒶𝓀ℯ, ℬ𝓇𝓊𝒸ℯ 𝒲𝒶𝓎𝓃ℯ and 𝒜𝓇𝓉ℯ𝓂𝒾𝓈 ℱℴ𝓌𝓁

More about the 𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒽ℴ𝓇:

16, I write anything from pure fluff to DDDNE, don’t be shy to send in requests! <3

Yes, I am well aware of what I write, please keep it cute in the comments and reblogs.

[nicosfavbun]

Hii! Could you please do a Nico x a daughter of Athena who’s really shy but is like the most feminine girl ever and loves Lana Del Rey and is a ballerina, but everyone’s surprised that they’re friends (kind of with benefits)? I’m not an English speaker so I’m sorry if I made some mistakes and thank you!

Say Yes to Heaven

(Nico di Angelo x Shy!Fem!Ballerina!Reader)

TWS: Reader has an eating disorder

CWS: Reader is fem AND feminine, reader is described to be shy, idk if this needs a warning but she likes listening to Lana Del Rey

Author’s Note: Answering this ask from my lovely mootie @jellyyyyyybean . I hope you enjoy it, and hopefully I did my best to honour your request! <33

The burn in your ankles only rose up and up as you moved effortlessly through the length of the studio, catching glimpses of yourself in the mirrored walls. The pirouettes you’d been perfecting ever since you started on pointe were nearly flawless, your teacher watching on as you spun.

Class was over within the next ten minutes, yet you couldn’t help but linger around the mirrors, looking at the way your body fit against the leotard. You were quickly broken out of your thoughts as one of your friends yelled a quick “you coming?”

You cast one last glance at yourself before following them out.

The fresh evening air of the camp hit you immediately, a welcome respite from the scents that built up in the studio, a mix of rosin, odour, and too much perfume.

The walk to Cabin 6 was fairly short, but felt hours long. Your calves ached as you all but flopped onto your bunk, bag discarded carelessly on the floor.

You’d completely forgotten that the other campers would be in as well, startling momentarily when Annabeth spoke up:

“You alright?”

Turning over, you simply glanced at the blonde, too exhausted to form proper sentences.

“Tired.”

She chuckled.

“Yeah, I can tell. Did you eat something?”

Now that made you freeze, but you recovered quickly enough. Any longer and she’d suspect something.

“Yeah, I had like two candy bars before class.”

“I meant actual food.”

“Not yet, but we’ll have dinner soon enough.”

She thought about it for a moment, before simply nodding and turning back to whatever she was working on.

“True enough.”

The cabin was lightless and quiet by the time your little haze finally lifted, and your vision cleared. You sat propped against your bed, picking at the covers, your pajamas, anything you could get your hands on really. And then you felt it.

The soft warmth and tug of something unfeelable wrapping around you completely, and the familiar rush of being whooshed away.

You were in Cabin 13 not even a moment later, slowly being laid on the king-sized bed occupying most of the room. There he was in front of you, Nico fucking di Angelo. Your boyfriend, but not really your boyfriend.

Eh who were you kidding, it was barely a situationship as it stood right now, Nico…he was, well he was him. Most everyone at camp knew he struggled, but very few knew how deep it ran. You tried to be one of the few exceptions…truly, but it got to a point, being pushed away time and time again.

At first you thought it was to protect you. After all, anyone with problems would try to pull the wool over loved ones’ eyes. But, after a while you realised it was just you.

You saw the way he spoke so easily to Dionysus, smiled at Will long after their time together had ended, so why was he so comfortable with everyone except you?

He didn’t let you dwell on the thought much before you were being pressed against the soft mattress, warm against your back as he slowly pulled your pajama bottoms down.

You winced as the cold air hit the bare skin of your thighs, but he didn’t even acknowledge it, just pulled your underwear down with his teeth.

“Wow, not even a ‘hello?’”

You grinned down at him, trying to hide just how spent you were.

The corners of his lips twitched as he looked up at you from his spot between your legs, a smile he was clearly trying to fight back playing against his lips.

“Hello. May I please have you now?”

You pretended to think about it for a moment though you both knew what the answer would be.

“Yes, you may.”

He didn’t waste any time, throwing your underwear haphazardly against the wooden floors, parting your thighs for him as he licked a slow, teasing stripe over your folds.

You gasped softly, trembling already.

His tongue drew tight figure eights over your clit, fingers thrusting in and out of your gushy hole. Two at first, then three once you were relaxed enough.

Whimpering at just how well he was filling you up, you tried to fully wrap your thighs around his head.

Nico wasn’t having any of that. Cold, firm hands held them open all as he never stopped sucking your bud purple and midnight blue, alternating between that and flicking his tongue over it.

God, he felt perfect. It was like he was made for you, and only you, with the way he was working you open with fingers, fucking you so well with his mouth alone.

You came with a whimpering cry, squirting against his chin and dripping onto the sheets beneath you.

Usually you would’ve had more energy to continue, you would’ve even gotten on top (but ultimately ended up with your face buried against his neck because it was too embarrassing).

You lay down just like that for a bit, face buried into your pillow so no one could suspect anything when you didn’t go out for dinner. It was… ‘god what the hell was up with you!?’ You didn’t understand it.

You knew you had to eat, it was fuel, it kept you alive! You even knew what ‘anorexia’ was and how dangerous it could be! So why couldn’t you keep anything down?

The hours melted and joined into one limbo, you didn’t stir even when the rest of the campers came back, bellies full and faces bright in the way that only good food and conversation could bring. You didn’t move an inch even when they turned the lights off and went to bed. You didn’t have the energy to do…well, anything really.

Then again, you really weren’t in peak physical strength right now.

You huffed softly, trying to catch your breath. Nico looked down at you in that way, like he saw right through you. He had that thing about him, making you seem like the center of his world, if only for a minute.

“You okay, angel?”

“I’m fine, Neeks.”

You forced on an easy smile, relaxing against the pillows.

Once satisfied with your reaction, and clear that he wasn’t hurting you, Nico slowly pulled down the black sweats he wore, the band giving way to the sharp v-line that ran down, then finally his length.

It slapped against his stomach once, a drop of pre leaking from the tip, and you ached to catch it on your tongue. It was already red, and throbbing just for you.

He slid it up and down your folds a few times, groaning as the slit caught your bud before finally lining himself up against your entrance.

You whimpered as he finally entered you, gummy walls moulding around him. Despite how many times you’d fucked already, you would never fully get used to how big he was.

He set an easy pace, slow thrusts until you loosened up, gently rocking your hips against his.

That, was when he really started. Brutal, deep strokes that hit your soft spot perfectly, making you cry out each time he did. You could practically feel him bruising you, marking you inside and out as his teeth nipped at your neck, lips slowly wrapping around the soft skin and sucking it different hues of red and purples.

You reciprocated eagerly, licking a slow stripe against his ear lobe and biting down gently, smiling against the skin when he let out a groan.

If there was one thing Nico did well, it was leaving you well and truly satisfied, the heady smell of sex now filling the room as he flopped next to you, tugging you close.

It was moments like these that gave you a false sense of security, you in his arms, the soft hum of ‘Say Yes to Heaven’ echoing in the too large cabin (yes, he’d made a playlist all for you.)

You both would just stay like that for a bit until either of you finally fell asleep, sometimes you’d try to bring up what you both were but you would be brushed off as usual, or placated with soft kisses peppered against your forehead.

This time though, it was Nico who spoke up.

“Angel?”

“Yeah?”

“I was thinking- or well, it came up and I wanted to talk to you about it. Or- sorry, I’m rambling…”

He shook his head and you were quick to tug his face toward you, pecking the tip of his nose.

“Hey, no. Tell me.”

You swore you felt your heart melt a little as you looked into those brown eyes, the outside light making them glimmer and shine in the dim room.

“CanIbeyourboyfriend?”

The words came out rushed and jumbled, leaving you to barely understand what he said.

“I- what?”

He sighed, looking away for a good few moments then back at you again.

“Can I be your boyfriend?”

You couldn’t believe it, here you were, thinking you’d be the first to confess that your feelings had gone beyond casual sex, and then be broken up with. ‘No, this couldn’t be real. How?’

“Really?”

“Yes, really. I realised, it wasn’t right. I’ve been using you and I’ll make it up to you for the rest of our time if you’ll let me. You’re everything and gods if I don’t hate the way Connor Stoll keeps making eyes at you.”

He glared into the distance, as if to punch the young boy through air.

You giggled a little, cheeks burning red as you felt a familiar wave of embarrassment wash over you. Quick to bury your face against his shoulder, you nodded.

“Yeah, you can be mine.”

The days passed quickly, nights spent in the privacy of the Hades cabin now turned into dates in all sorts of places. The strawberry fields in the late summer afternoon, the smell of fruit filling the air, or late dinners at run down restaurants that Nico swore should be given Michelin stars.

As if by fate, Connor caught you both one morning. Your hand was warm, pressed against Nico’s as he walked you back from the Big House. He’d figured out your issues with eating on your very first date, and from then, even you were a regular at Dionysus’s.

He didn’t force you to eat, neither of them did, just quietly celebrating whenever you kept down as much as you could. And…you felt better too. Much.

You could stand en pointe longer without feeling faint, actually do five turns in a row without wanting to keel over. It was…good, better than you thought it would be.

The young Stoll had been just passing by, backtracking as soon as he saw the position you two were in.

“What the actual fuck?” Hermes’s son wasted no time in gathering a bunch of his friends through his little scream, nearly half the camp staring at you and your boyfriend.

Nico looked unamused, deadpanning:

“Yes, Connor? Is spending time with my partner that amusing?”

He merely grinned, the rest of the kids now whispering as you hid your face against Nico’s sleeve, fighting back a smile.

“Man, I don’t know. She’s her, and you’re you. Spooky, a little uptight, she’s so sweet! Just look at her!”

“And I’ll have you know, she’s mine.”

“Okay, okay.”

He smirked, putting his hands up and going back to whatever it was that he was doing, leaving you and Nico to enjoy the rest of your day in peace.

He tsked, glaring at the ground like it had all the answers.

“He was right, you know. You really are sweet, shouldn’t be with someone like me.”

You stared down as well, not wanting to make it any more awkward for him.

“I chose to be with you. Not Connor, not anyone else. You.”

A few minutes passed in complete silence, one that didn’t need to be filled, before he kissed the top of your head.

As you both walked along, the sun still sparkling overhead, it was peaceful. Calm in a way neither of you thought you’d ever have,

[nicosfavbun]

oops i just realised i hadn’t turned on asks…

send me requests!!

[nicosfavbun]

Freak

(Bi!Nico di Angelo x Reader)

TWS: Mentions of suicidal thoughts, one graphic mention of self-harm, mentions of eating disorders

CWS: Reader is fem AND feminine

Author’s note: As always, my work is ‘don’t like, don’t read. Nico is mentioned to be bisexual (bcs I can’t stand LGBTQ+ erasure) so, keep it cute in the comments (if you are to leave any.

Resting your chin in your hand, you felt the cold, varnished surface of the desk bite into your elbow. Only Monday, yet you still felt that familiar headache building with the overstimulation setting in. Closing your eyes for a moment, you sighed in relief. No more excessively bright lighting, yet the noise, ‘God how were teenagers this loud at nine in the morning!?’

“The new student will be joining us today!”

Your math teacher’s excitement broke you out of the trance you’d been in. ‘New student, huh?’ Oh well, if they had the misfortune of being male, the guys would probably corrupt him immediately. No boy that joined your class had escaped that fate. But a girl? A girl would be nice, another new friend, maybe she’d be someone you could actually confide in apart from surface level discussions about school, or what new store had opened…

The door creaked open to reveal one of the staff, and oh gosh. You fully took in the kid next to him, ‘his jacket was so cool!? Was it real leather? If it was, it better have been thrifted!’

“Class, this is Nico! Come on in!”

Nico stepped into full view, combat boots, dark wash jeans and an equally dark shirt, and finally, the bomber jacket. Just from his vibe alone, you could tell he was cool. He looked like he listened to obscure music and had posters on his walls, oh and he’d definitely hate you.

You looked down at the obnoxiously sweet sundress you wore, the sweetheart neckline dipping just right to expose a section of your chest, barely enough to tease. And further up, the gloss that probably sparked against the skin of your lips. ‘Yeah, he’d definitely hate you.’

Glancing up at his face, oh. His brows were creased, but his eyes? No, you knew that look. Like he was retreating back into himself, you’d made the safe face mainly after arguments with your family, or after a particularly bad memory resurfaced.

It was the same once you saw at least once a week in the bathroom mirror, frowning when no amount of eyeliner could fix it.

As if he could sense you looking at him, his gaze flitted toward you. Quickly enough, you made a show of looking at the board behind him.

“Go ahead and introduce yourself.”

“My name’s Nico di Angelo.”

‘Hm. Was he Italian? Also, was that all? Direct, you liked him already.’

Like getting caught staring at him wasn’t bad enough, the only seat left was next to you. You stiffened as he walked over, sitting down without a word of introduction. It was almost like that one scene in Twilight where Edward gagged when he saw Bella, but you were pretty sure Nico wasn’t a vampire. And even if he was, you didn’t know if your blood smelt nice enough to physically make him react.

The class passed by in flipped pages, equations you barely understood, and wet pen ink staining your skin.

“Hey.”

You glanced up, ‘oh okay, he was talking to you. Cool, cool, totally cool.’

“Hi, what’s up?” You forced a smile (one he didn’t return), trying to look friendly. It was his first day, the last thing you wanted to do was spook the new kid.

“Can I borrow a pen? Mine ran out.”

“Oh, yeah sure!” You rummaged through your pencil case trying to find something that wasn’t empty, missing a spring, or torn in two. Finally, you found a half full pen that you miraculously kept safe.

“Here,” your fingers brushed his momentarily and you almost shivered. He was freezing. Even with all those layers!?

“Thank you.” And with that, he turned away leaving you to drown in a barrage of numbers you couldn’t wrap your mind around.

The weeks all felt the same: get up, get ready, school, lunch, go home, go out for the weekend. It was routine, one that hardly broke. You’d been picking at your food as your friends chattered around you, the familiar lump forming in your throat.

‘God, you were pathetic. Acting depressed for attention when all your friends were around, clearly having fun. Who were you to ruin it?’ But, was it really faking when all you thought about was how much better they would be without you. You were too far gone, no need to drag them down with you- the light dimmed to your side, blocked out by…Nico fucking di Angelo?

You almost didn’t believe what you saw. He usually ate alone, sat at a desk with his laptop or a book open on his lap. Sure, the guys had offered him a place at their council of incels, but from what you heard, he shooed them off with some scathing remark.

“Do you- do you want to have lunch together?”

You paused for a moment, looking around the table at your friends.

“Y’all mind?”

“No, not at all! Go ahead.”

You gave them a little smile before taking your stuff and following him to his desk. Sitting down, you looked first at what he had. ‘Hm, chicken sandwich and a candy bar. Solid choice.’

There was a book next to the insulated lunch box: White Nights.

The chair scraped against the cement floors as he sat down, gaze flickering awkwardly before he focused on you.

“You read Dostoevsky?” You felt a little lighter than you had before, ‘maybe he’d have some recommendations?’

“Huh? Oh yeah. It’s a good one.”

You smiled.

“I’m sure it is. Got any recommendations.”

“Have you read his stuff before?”

“Nope.”

“Well, you could start with ‘Notes from Underground’ it’s short and sweet, and then ‘The Brothers Karamazov,’ and I know everyone tells you to read ‘Crime and Punishment’ but come on, his other stuff’s great too and-”

The conversation flowed easy after that, you started to lose count of how many books he’d recommended and you’d even got him to laugh when you made a stupid joke about your headmistress. It was a brittle little thing, but a laugh alright.

“Aren’t you going to eat with the boys?” You stuck your fork into another piece of the pasta your dad had packed, careful to not look like a slob as you ate.

“Eat with a bunch of heathens whose entire sense of humour revolves around objectifying girls? Yeah, no.”

You snorted, trying to stifle a giggle. He was so right though.

“You’re not wrong, man.”

Unfortunately, the time you spent together came to an end in just fifteen minutes. You got up, packing your box up and giving him a small grin.

“Well, this was fun. Wanna eat together tomorrow”

“Yeah, yeah sure.”

“Great! Bye, Nico.”

You offered him a small wave before returning to your friends. The debrief was…intense, to say the least.

By the time winter break rolled around, you’d reached the point in your friendship where he would drop by unannounced, or you’d be waiting for him outside the ridiculously large manor he stayed in, yelling for him to come out.

It wasn’t always easy though, no. Your parents said he was ‘bad’ for you, making you act unlike yourself. ‘Yeah right, like you’d listen to the same people who thought you being depressed was the result of your ‘bad influence’ friends.’

The first time you found him…one of the staff had let you in, straight up to his room you went. And God, the sight he made…one pale hand clutching a bloodied wrist as he slumped against the bedpost. You nearly dropped to your knees next to him, instead you froze. Taking in the sight of the wet craft knife left on his desk, the little rivulets hitting the floor.

“Nico? What- what the fuck happened?”

He flinched, not having even noticed you.

“I’m fine, it was an accident. Go outside, I’ll be back.”

You stepped further in, sitting next to him. It was the first time you'd held him, not missing the way he stiffened. The boy was icy as usual, cold to the touch as you brushed hair from his forehead.

“Where’s your first aid kit?”

“I said I’m fine-“

“Nico.”

“Closet, first shelf on the right.”

The minutes that followed were long and silent, the air heavy with words neither of you spoke out loud. Your fingers gently pressed antiseptic on the wound, the cotton ball brushing the broken skin, before you wrapped gauze around it.

“Be careful when you change the bandages, it might stick.”

He didn’t reply, and you assumed it was better than him actually saying something.

You let the shock settle over you fully. He’d hurt himself. Willingly. It wasn’t like you hadn’t suspected it before, the scars he’d cover with long sleeved shirts, the way he’d been so hesitant to let you visit first, God how had you brushed it off for so long?

“You weren’t supposed to see this.”

He sat on the floor still, gaze burning a hole through the wall.

“I know.”

You took your place next to him, not touching anymore. He needed the space to breathe.

“I’m not gonna interrogate you, but you know…if there’s ever something on your mind, I’m here.”

You avoided his eyes deliberately, not wanting to make the situation more awkward than it had to be.

“Yeah. I know.”

You let your hand find his naturally, pinkies wrapping against each other. It was just you two now, no one else. And it felt right, you felt less alone in that moment than you had in years.

Lunch was the worst, occasionally you’d ravage whatever had been packed, but…sometimes all you could think about was how many calories each item had. You could practically feel the fat in your stomach, bulging out, the skin of your thighs spreading with each bite. ‘No. You could skip, plus it wasn’t like you needed to eat more anyway-’ The crinkle of a wrapped interrupted your little spiral, the warm orange packaging standing out against the dull ochre of your desk. A protein bar, really?

You looked up at the person who’d slid it to you, said person now pretending to be extremely engrossed in his copy of 1984.

“You’ve been shaking. Eat.”

You looked at Nico and back down at the chocolate chip covered monstrosity resting in front of you, before begrudging tearing the wrapper open. You missed the twitch of his lips as you ate for once.

You’d almost forgotten how good food felt, the sweetness of the chocolate against your tongue, contrasted by the caramelised granola. Weirdly enough, your mind felt less foggy, the dreamlike haze your world had been covered in for the past week now lifting.

The mattress felt warm beneath you, covered piled high as you rested against Nico. Yes, he slept over. No, your parents did not know that he slept in the same bed as you. What they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them anyway.

Soft puffs of breath cooled against the tender skin of your neck, your thigh squished between his legs.

“Hey, Neeks?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think anyone would miss me…if I was gone?”

‘Oh curse your stupid fucking mouth, why the hell had you said that? What was wrong with you bringing shit like that up!?’

A beat passed, then two before you found your words again.

“I’m sorry I don’t know why I said that, just forget-”

“Remember when I said I’m going wherever you are?” I meant it.”

You exhaled shakily, smooshing your cheek against his shoulder as his hand found your back.

“Tell me something, anything.”

“I used to have a boyfriend.”

“Was he cute?”

“I meant I’m- you know what, never mind. Yeah, he was.”

You didn’t know why your stomach lurched at the thought of this unknown boy, but whatever, maybe it was what you had for dinner.

“Why’d you break up?” You looked up, meeting the brown of his eyes glinting in the dark room. Nico had that thing about him, his eyes shone like they held both the stars and all the tears one could spill.

“We were too different. No bad feeling though, he’s a good guy.”

Your throat worked as you chose your next words. ‘Did they still talk?’

“That’s good though, so y’all are still friends?”

“We talk sometimes.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to ignore the last part.

“That’s nice. What’s his name?”

“Will.”

“Like, the guy from ‘Stranger Things?’”

You glanced up to see him grinning mirthfully at the ceiling.

“Sort of.”

“Was he kind?”

“Yeah…yeah, he was.”

You resisted the urge to huff, whoever this guy was…he was probably happy huh? Someone with sunshine in his motherfucking pockets. The thought left a bitter taste on your tongue. That’s the kind of person he deserved, someone that could pull him out of his head, not you. You had your fair share of issues, it wouldn’t be right to dump them on him. With that, you muttered a ‘goodnight’ before rolling over to let the tears soak your pillow and not his shirt.

School was the hardest place to avoid him. You could leave texts on delivered, hide things he gifted you, bury conversations, but hiding was a different story.

The building was small enough as it was, and for how long could you try to blend in with the crowd, keeping your head down even though all you wanted was to look up and see a brown bomber jacket. How long could you hide in the bathroom during lunch and freak your friends out, and just how long could you avoid his gaze in class?

“Found you.”

You nearly dropped your books, turning around to see- oh.

‘Oh gosh.’

Nico looked worse for wear, the pale bags under his eyes having darkened to an almost purple, the blue veins under the thin skin now more prominent than ever, and his hair…it was like he’d just brushed it after days of letting it stay knotted. The lengths frizzed in a way they never did before, and his hands trembled against his sides.

The silence wrapped around you both, warping and stretching as it pulled you with it.

“I- are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Nico. But, what happened to you?”

You took a step closer, sucking in a quiet breath as he stepped back.

“You haven’t been around.”

You looked down, and apparently that told him everything he needed to know.

“I sent you, I don’t know how many texts. You replied to barely five.”

You opened your mouth to speak, only to be cut off again.

“Was it something I did?”

You glanced up immediately, meeting his gaze.

“No, Nico it’s not you, it's me. And I know how bad that sounds, believe me. But, I’m fucked in the head, okay? I can’t be what you need. I’m sorry.”

It was like watching his entire being crumple in real time with each word.

.

.

.

“What?”

“You heard me, I’m not good for you.”

His throat bobbed and you hated how you wanted to cross the distance and pull him in. Instead, you sighed, walking back to class. ‘You’d regret this so bad, pushing away possibly the only friend that understood you.’

It didn’t stop just there, everything kept moving. The teachers came and went, your friends still spoke about whatever drama they’d heard, your parents and you still fought, but Nico…God, it was like you both were still in your own bubble. Still stuck.

You felt your heart break a little more each time you saw the empty seat in front of him during lunch, the unopened candy bar resting where you would’ve. You hated how you’d still kept the copy of ‘The Brothers Karamazov’ he’d given you, the margins still filled with his own annotations.

‘It would pass. You’d be okay, you always were.’

Your body hit the bed even before your mind fully caught up, hands moving to tug the covers over yourself. The week had passed in a long limbo of hurt and too much coursework.

The pillow was soft under your head, pliant as you sunk down and- it smelled like him. That very same mix of leather and something woodsy you could never pinpoint. In a brief flash of white hot rage, you got up and swung the pillow as hard as you could, deflating as it hit the wall and slumped down with a thud. You had been trying so hard, so so hard to get him out of your life. Why did he have to follow every time?

The tears finally came, heaving sobs that wracked your body and turned your cheeks red. Your own wails echoed through the walls, bouncing back at you. You didn’t even hear the window slide open until you felt the mattress dipping down, didn’t have to. You already knew exactly who it was.

“Leave me alone.”

Turning away, you really did try to breathe, truly. But it wasn’t enough, tears still dripped down your cheeks, smearing your mascara and staining the sheets with drops of black.

“Look at me,” you barely resisted as he turned you to face him, kneeling on the floor as he looked up at you.

You hated how stupidly soft he looked at the moment, soft for you.

“Please, look I brought you this.” You sniffled as he fished around his jacket pocket for something, finally pulling out a…pomegranate?

The red flesh was dark, barely spotted with maroon marks. It looked fresh, like it had just been plucked instead of being picked from the market shelves. You watched as he got out a pocket knife, cutting the fruit in half. The juice dripped a bright garnet from his fingers as he picked out exactly 6 seeds, offering them to you.

“Wow, only 6 seeds. Not even half?” You gave him a watery smile, flattening your palm for him.

He grinned back.

“Be grateful I’m giving you any.”

You leaned down a little, taking his fingers into your mouth as you felt the sharp tang of the juice against your tongue. ‘Fuck it, you weren’t gonna be around much longer anyway.’

It was almost erotic, the sight of your lips wrapped around his digits, sucking as your gloss formed a colourful ring around them. He didn’t even flinch, much to your surprise. He held your gaze, flattening them against your tongue.

You let go with a soft pop, eating each seed one by one. And with each one, it felt like your vision went darker, or was it your room?

By the time the sixth and final seed hit your tongue, it felt like the shadows from all corners rose up and curled around you both. It was terrifying, your head on a swivel as your breathing got more intense.

“Hey, hey no. They’re not gonna hurt you, they’re friends.”

“What- what do you mean ‘friends?’”

You clutched his wrists tighter as the world around you went dimmer.

“You’ll find out soon enough. Rest.”

It was like someone drew the curtains closed as your eyelids grew heavy, slumping against your bed.

You really had no idea what you’d gotten yourself into.

[nicosfavbun]

Taking Requests!!

Just wanted to let y’all know that I ammm taking asks! I write most anything from fluff to muchhhhh darker themes.

Don’t be shy to send in requests and please keep it specific!

P. S - This is a side blog so you’ll have to comment whatever you’d like to read! Sorry!

Love you!

[nicosfavbun]

How to Disappear (Older!Mercenary!Jason Todd x Younger!Abused!Reader)

Authors’s note: WARNING: Not to be romanticised

TW: Mentions of child abuse, Child Protection Services, kidnapping, dub-con touching and heavy petting, hostage like situation, one brief mention of very graphic violence (noses being chopped), Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

CW: Reader is fem, Jason Todd is a badddd person, reader is implied to like feminine things (makeup, etc.)

The dull thud thud thud of your heart rattled your ribcage and filled your ears as you lay under the covers. ‘God, what the fuck were you doing?’ The blue light of your phone screen illuminated your face as your finger hovered over the link. It had been a stupid, late night Reddit scroll. The thing with your parents…you needed advice. It was a stupid fucking decision, getting CPS involved. You didn’t want to leave, but what choice did you have? Plus, they didn’t even know yet.

So, you’d clicked post.

@Redditors, I reported my parents. What should I do?

There were a few DM’s you received, mostly spam but some with the most basic advice, but there was one that stood out. An account, the username was just numbers. In the message, it read:

▍ you need help, click here.

And attached was a fairly suspicious looking link. ‘Eh, who cared? You were fucked anyway, what would a virus do?’

You regretted your choices immediately, your camera flashing red just once before you were guided to a website, the first result a video of a man’s nose being chopped off. You gasped, utterly horrified as something popped up.

For Hire

That was it. Clicking once more, it lead you to a list of names. Various accounts, all with descriptions like: Five years training, 125 bc (which you’d later come to find out meant ‘body count’), and discreet.

There was one that stood out, -redhood-. His was the only one without the overtly descriptive bios, with a simple: Extraction and Disposal.

Hesitantly, you pressed the Message tab. The rim around his account glowed green, he was online.

You started typing, trying not to cringe.

▍ hey, redhood. i’m rlly new here, and honestly i have no idea wtf i’m doing. ur bio mentioned extractions? is that something you’d be willing to do for a minor, for example? i did something really stupid, so i’m kinda fucked. also, just name your rate, i got some of my allowance saved up.

You waited, a minute passed by, then another before he finally typed back.

▍ get off this site, kid.

You huffed, ‘did he not realise how serious you were?!’

▍ my parents are shitheads, i reported them and i’m fucked if they find out. please? i’m not joking or pranking you or anything, i really need this.

‘How long would he take to reply?’

▍ i’ll do it for free. how old are you and what’s the address?

You smiled despite yourself, giving him your info. And then you actually came back to earth. ‘You just gave a mercenary your address. He was going to find you.’ You stared at your message for a good while. The thought nearly made you want to hurl, but whatever. What’s done is done. No reversing the clock.

▍ extraction’s gonna be this week. you’ll know when i’m there.

You exhaled shakily, already feeling a tear slip down your cheek.

▍ okay, thank you. :)

A wet laugh escaped your throat. You were going insane. Casually exchanging texts with a person you didn’t even know, who had all the means to hurt you and then some. He texted once more:

▍ confirmed. one window, east facing room.

You paused, ‘how the fuck did he see you!?’ You flipped around, tugging the covers off so fast you almost gave yourself whiplash, as you looked out the window then back at your screen.

▍ how do you know that already?

Your message was left on seen.

You tossed and turned anxiously, clutching the little stuffed animal that lay next to you. ‘The extraction would be this week,’ whether that’d be tomorrow, or Sunday, you didn’t know. ‘You have to pack soon…’ and you were out. Nothing like a task you couldn’t procrastinate to knock you out.

The first thing on your mind was packing, the next morning. Your body moving even before the haze of sleep fully cut through you, you had no plans coming up, so you began to fold and stuff all your going out tops into a ridiculously large hand bag you’d bought, followed by loungewear, underwear, your makeup bag (obviously), and then some more stuff you thought would be needed.

Never in your life had you imagined it would get this bad or that you’d let it. ‘How did you trust a killer for hire more than a government organisation!?’ Although, looking back on that sentence, the questions answered themselves.

You knew ‘Red Hood’ had seen you, how you lived. Judging by how the window was sometimes left ajar (even though you’d closed it an hour ago), how your bunny had gone from sitting on the bed to your nightstand (you were still mad at Hood for moving your child, how dare he!?), and the mysterious disappearances of your everyday objects. An empty lipstick tube here, a hair clip you’d never bothered using, a half used pen…you didn’t understand how exactly these objects would help in the extraction, but you left it up to the professional.

Although, you couldn’t stop your paranoia from creeping up on you. The thought of always having eyes on you made your skin crawl and the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. The fact that he had such easy access to a place you spent most of your time in, to your parents…you shook the thought away.

The week passed in silent mourning. You stared a little too intently at how your dad walked when he headed back into the bedroom for his nap, the curve of your mother’s smile when you told her a particularly hilarious joke, what phrases they’d frequently use. You took pictures of your room, the way the blankets draped over the mattress, those same sheets you’d probably never see again, the way your makeup lay on your table, even the contents of the fridge.

It was already Friday night, before you knew it. And you had actually hugged your parents goodnight before going to lay down, letting the grief wash over you in uneasy waves. The bag was ready to go, your bunny sitting inside instead of laying next to you. Along with your phone, a charger, and your headphones. ‘Gosh, you were gonna miss this place.’

And that’s when you heard it, the sound of the window sliding making you flinch involuntarily. ‘Maybe this was a bad idea, maybe you should just pretend to be asleep and he’d go away, maybe you could screa-’ You were promptly cut off by heavy, yet silent footsteps heading right towards you, stopping at the edge of your bed.

“Get up, kid.”

You swallowed, pushing the covers off and wincing as the cold air hit your bare skin. For some odd reason, you’d even done your makeup. ‘No one liked a slob, after all.’ And, there was something romantic about performing that same old routine one last time in your mirror, a finale.

You looked up, only to see the tallest man you’d ever come across. He wore a blood red face cover, extending into a black mask that covered only his eyes, and well of course, a red hood. Along with some practical gear such as Kevlar, thick trousers and combat boots, and probably a bulletproof vest underneath his shirt.

Swallowing thickly you grabbed your bag, glancing back at him.

“What now?”

“Let me take this for you, you’re not gonna be able to hold it.”

“It’s not even that heavy.”

“Take the advice.”

He shrugged the bag onto his shoulder, your little bunny’s cheek brushing his arm as he pulled something out from his belt holster. A mid-sized box, with a large syringe and a vial.

You simply stared in terror, as he filled the syringe before turning to you.

“Sorry, sweetheart.” You gasped at the feel of your skin being pierced, and within a few seconds, you were completely lucid before everything went dark.

The soft sheets against your skin woke you up, a dull ache in your temple. Everything was completely dark…wait, no. You tried blinking your eyes open, restricted by a fabric tie. Right. Red Hood, you weren’t in your own house anymore. ‘You weren’t in your own house anymore. Instead, you were with some strange man who looked like he could tear you limb to limb.’ Speaking of said strange man, you felt a warm, heavy hand on your stomach, pinning you to the bed and soft puffs of breath against the side of your neck.

You tried to move, when you heard the soft scrape of metal, reaching your hand down only to be greeted by a cool, scratchy shackle wrapped around your ankle. That all too familiar panic clawed up your throat, choking and threatening to pull you under…

“Morning, kid.” You stiffened, Red Hood’s sounded more or less the same, even without the voice augmentor he used the previous night.

“Mr. Hood?” You fumbled around, searching for purchase with your hands.

“Just Red’s fine.”

“Sorry, Red. Uh-you can let me go now, you know. It’s over.” You tried to sound as calm as you could, thinking about the fake ID sitting deep in your bag. It was a stupid thing really, photoshopped and printed, but it was real enough to get by with.

“You aren’t getting anywhere with a fake and no money.”

‘How the fuck did he know that?’

“Did you look through my stuff?”

“Occupational hazard.”

You squirmed a little, the blindfold too tight and your eyes felt itchy with built up crust.

“Could you take the blind off, please? My eyes are itchy.” The meekness in your tone revolted even you.

“No can do, kid. It’s either this, or I put a bullet in your head. And I really don’t want to be a child murderer.”

You grimaced at the anecdote, trying to stay calm.

“I need to brush, plus I kinda have to use the bathroom, Red.”

“Five more minutes.”

You barely stopped yourself from huffing, ‘who did he think he was?’ Then again, provoking the very man that held you hostage wouldn’t be a very wise decision.

“Please? It’s important.”

You heard a huff, as he grit out a “fine,” moving to get up. Soft footsteps padded over to your side of the bed, and you felt the covers move off, and the undeniable sound of a lock clicking open. You swore you felt the blood flow return to your ankle immediately, before he was helping you sit up.

There was a soft scrape, before you felt cool glass being pressed against your lips.

“Drink.”

“What is it?”

“Water. Now, drink up.”

What choice did you really have? It was either this or nothing, so you acquiesced, letting the cold liquid quench your thirst. He tilted the glass further until nothing was left, all before helping you stand up.

That was a bad idea. Your legs wobbled as soon as your feet hit the floor, nearly giving out had Red not been holding you. His arm went under your knees, picking you up effortlessly.

“What the fuck, Red!? Put me down!”

“You wanna fall flat on your face, be my guest.” He still didn’t let up.

“I’m heavy! You’re gonna drop me!”

“Well, how much do you weigh?”

‘Did this asshole not know to never ask a woman her age, or her weight!?’ You paused, a hot flush creeping up the back of your neck. You ended up telling him anyway, and much to your horror, he snorted. Full on snorted.

“Oh, kid. You’re not even my warm up weight.”

“Well, not everyone’s built like the fucking Eiffel Tower.”You grumbled, resting your head against his shoulder. Being moved so fast had done nothing for the migraine you felt coming on.

It was only when you’d entered the bathroom that he took the blindfold off. It was…surprisingly fancy, yet generic, The marble tiled floors, a matching sink, the bathtub and shower enclosure both separated from the actual lavatory with a thin glass wall. It was posh enough to be a hotel, but judging by the array of products from different brands on the countertop, it seemed to be his house.

You really focused, trying to hear anything outside, traffic, voices, anything that could give you a clue into where you were. A minute of straining your ears later, you were at a dead end. No sounds, of course. ‘This guy was a mercenary, no shit he’d have a soundproofed place.’

You turned to him, letting your eyes adjust to the sudden light.

“How come I have to wear this thing everywhere but here? You’re not worried I’ll rat you out?”

From your understanding, Red seemed to be one paranoid man. You hadn’t even realised when he’d put the mask back on, or how he’d tied it with one hand. There was one other perk of not being blinded, you got to trail your gaze down the expanse of his skin, taking in each and every scar that marred the defined planes. You looked away a second later, too early in the morning to be weird.

“You try telling the police that the only thing you know about your kidnapper is what his bathroom looks like.”

“I could also tell them a description! Tall, built, I could give them screenshots of the texts!”

He grinned, you couldn’t see it through the face covering but you practically felt it in his voice.

“So you think I’m ‘built,’ huh?”

You merely rolled your eyes.

“By the time they even get the warrant for your phone, everything will have been wiped clean, kiddo.”

The man had a point. You mumbled a “whatever,” looking at the bathroom then at him.

“So, are you gonna let me…you know. Alone, preferably?”

He turned away wordlessly, leaving you dumbfounded. ‘Was he just…going to listen to you…?’

“By alone, I meant completely. There’s no windows or anything, can’t even really escape.”

You saw his form tense, before relaxing once more, already walking out.

“You lock the door and I start firing. Clear?”

“Crystal.”

Breakfast was next, being blindfolded and having to eat whatever an assassin made you was not…ideal. But, it was your fault anyway, ‘who the hell had told you to contact an extractionist instead of waiting for CPS like a normal person!?’

The chair that Red had plopped you on was stiff, possibly wood but you couldn’t tell, all you knew was that you wanted to get back to bed as soon as possible.

And judging by the rummaging you heard, he was possibly busying himself behind the counter. ‘Now what was that smell?’ You sniffed a little, it was sweet and almost cinnamon-y, maybe pancakes? The savoury scent of meat cut through the sweet cloud, possibly bacon. Well, at least you would have a good meal, poisoned or not.

The soft thud of the porcelain dish being set in front of you was weirdly loud in the otherwise quiet dining room, you could feel the steam from the pancakes and meat rising up and warming your face. The only question was: ‘How were you going to eat?’

“Red?”

“Hm?”

“I can’t really eat with the whole blindfold thing, you know.”

“I’ll feed you.”

“Wait, what?”

“You heard me.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to just take this off?”

“Remember what I said earlier?”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

Despite the frustration you felt, it soon dissolved once you felt a warm weight on your lap, the plate now having moved from the table to your thighs. You held onto it instinctively as he supposedly knelt down, judging from how his arms rested against either side of your legs.

The familiar clink of cutlery was heard, maybe he was cutting up the pancakes?

“Do these have syrup?”

“Yeah.”

“How much?”

“Just enough.”

The first bite was nearly heavenly, though you supposed any food was after having been hungry for more than twelve hours. The cakes were fluffy, warm and sticky as you chewed, taking your time with each bite. And the bacon? Perfectly salted and crispy, washing away the sugar from your taste buds.

You were entirely dependent on his guidance now, parting your lips each time he said “open,” waiting for another bite of your meal. It didn’t take long that way, usually had you been able to eat yourself you would’ve taken a lot longer, but then again. It seemed Red was efficient both at work, and at home.

Soon enough, the plate was being kept away and another glass of water being poured down your throat. You swallowed dutifully, your bottom lip brushing against his thumb from where he held the cup.

“Thank you for breakfast.”

“Yeah, don’t mention it…”

The silence that followed was palpable, and painfully so. ‘Maybe he was just as socially awkward as any other guy? Being a mercenary probably meant you didn’t get out much, huh?’

You clung onto his shoulders as he picked you up once more, snuggling into his warmth as he started to walk. It wasn’t like you had anyone else to talk to, or even interact with, so why not just settle for what you had?

The walk back upstairs was short, and soon you were being lowered onto the soft mattress, pliant as you sunk onto it. The covers were still warm from when you’d first gotten up, thick against your fingers yet it was still so cold.

The bed dipped underneath Red’s weight as he sat down next to you, hand flailing a little as you tried to find him, nuzzling closer. You felt him stiffen right as your head rested on his stomach, poor guy probably wasn’t used to being touched a lot.

“It’s cold.”

“I can get another blanket.”

“We already have…” you felt around the bed, trying to get a sense of how many there were, “three blankets! There’s barely any space to move.”

“But you said you’re cold.”

“Yeah, which is why I’m holding you.” You patted his arm just to emphasise your point, ‘gosh his biceps were big, maybe a little larger than your head.’

He waited a few seconds before holding you closer, one hand going to cradle your head against him whilst the other rested on your back. ‘This was nice, it’d been a very long time since you were held like this.’

You moved around a little, trying to get comfy before pressing your cheek against his collarbone.

“Red?”

“Yes?”

“Do you know how to reload a pistol?”

“I mean…it’s kinda part of my job, kid.”

“Right, sorry. Is it like James Bond?”

“Sometimes.”

“Woah. Do you also have a Bond girl?!”

“I used to?”

“Was she pretty!? What was she like?! How was it working together? Was she nice or mean!?” You could hear your voice increase in pitch with every question you asked, never miss an opportunity to hear about drama.

“Pretty, yeah sure. But nice, I don’t know, kid. Depended on who you were, I guess.”

You deflated, already feeling a soft pout start to form.

“Redddd, come on. Spill!” Maybe whining wasn’t the best persuasive tactic, but it was sure to annoy him into giving you what you wanted.

“I’m being serious, there’s nothing to spill.”

“Sure there is! You just don’t trust me!”

The pause that followed told you everything you needed to know.

And honestly, you understood. Deciding not to press any more, you let your hand trail up from his chest to his cheek, poking it. Now why was that so funny, you didn’t know. Maybe it was the thought of him making a face that got you. But, that momentary joy died down soon after, your hand automatically falling back.

‘Right. The Protection Services. They were probably at your house by now.’

You felt tears begin to form, even against your closed lids, that all too familiar anxiety filling you, guilt and something akin to shame forming in the pit of your stomach. You wanted to throw up, you wanted to run away, you wanted everything to just stop. For once.

“Kiddo? What’s up?”

“Nothing, nothing.” You sniffed, your free hand rubbing against your chest. It was a habit you developed over the years, one that never fully went away.

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I miss my parents. And, I know I’m not supposed to or whatever, but I’m so so scared. What if this gets out? It goes on their record, are they still gonna be employed? What about the other stuff?”

You hated yourself for how much you cared, it wasn’t like they were mean all the time. Once you’d gotten a little older, it had…improved.

You laughed together, they gave you money for makeup and stuff, they let you hang out with your friends. So why were you still struggling? Why were you still so goddamn hurt?

“Oh, kid. Look, I get it, okay. I’m not going to act like I understand everything you’re dealing with, but I want you to know you’ll be okay. There’s nothing getting through me that’s gonna hurt you. Okay?”

You didn’t move away as he pulled you in closer, your face against his skin as a few fat tears descended your cheeks, even through the blind.

“Red?”

“Hm?”

“Can you get my bunny? He’s in my bag.”

He was moving immediately, the mattress no longer dipping as you heard the very familiar pop of your bag being unbuttoned, followed by a soft rustle and his footsteps. You smiled immediately as you felt your sweet bunny in your arms, hugging it closer. You didn’t understand how you’d ever slept without it.

The comforter moved as he got back in beside you, pulling you close once more.

“There, you got Bunny. Now, sleep.”

Two weeks passed by easily, and somewhere in the middle, you stopped keeping count of what day it was. The routine was the same, let Red wake you up, go to the bathroom, eat whatever he fed you and nap. Or sometimes, he’d let you sit on his lap whilst he worked, the familiar staccato of his computer keys lulling you to sleep anyway.

Weirdly enough, it was nice. That particular night, he’d just fed you dinner, something with buttered pasta and the crispest chicken you’d ever had. The man was a surprisingly good cook.

You’d been propped against the couch, tracing circles on the velvet fabric when he spoke up:

“You know, kid, you remind me of myself when I was your age.” The dishwasher lid clanged shut, the rattle of the grates inside echoing.

“My parents weren’t great, you know. Dad was in and outta jail, he was an angry drunk. And my mom…she suffered more than she should’ve because of him. She OD’d when I was, I don’t know, maybe a little younger than you. Spent the next year on the street, before Bruce found me.”

“Bruce?”

“Yeah, he’s my adoptive dad. Found me trying to steal the tires off his car, and instead of handing me over, he took me in. Taught me most of what I know.”

You stayed silent for a moment, trying to imagine what he would've looked like, just as scared as you were now.

“I’m sorry you had to deal with that…”

“It’s fine, kid. Been a long time, anyway.”

“Do you and Bruce still hang out together?”

A few long moments passed before he replied.

“Nah, we…we had a rough patch. Things got better after a while, but it’s not the same.”

“Can I give you a hug?”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

You felt around for the edge of the cushion, gripping it as you tried to get up and hobble over when you heard his footsteps pattering towards you instead.

“Kid, you’re gonna fall. Here,” and he was wrapping you up in his arms, something you happily melted into. Your face now pressed against his stomach and your hands around his back. You could smell his cologne now, something warm…with leather, and citrus?

“Red?”

“Mm?”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

There wasn’t a reply, just the imperceptible tightening of his grip around you. And you took it.

You lay in bed, later that night. Usually you would’ve been watching TV, maybe scrolling obsessively through your phone, but it was kinda hard to do either with being temporarily visually impaired. So, you let yourself hang out with Red, not like there was much of a choice. He was on top of you, your hands carding through his hair as he rested his face against the crook of your neck.

The strands were soft, so easily brushed through. ‘What colour would they be? Maybe red? A bright ginger, or perhaps even black? He sounded like his hair was dark, as weird as it was.’

There was one particularly dry section, right in the front. Felt like bleach, or a bad dye job with how straw-like it was.

“Oh, did you bleach this part?” Your fingers gently tugged at the sect. Wrong move, his hand was around your throat in an instant, squeezing until you saw spots against your eyelids.

“What the fuck? Can you see through the mask? Did you see me?”

You tried to gasp, to no avail, your hand patting at his back furiously as you tried to form words.

“No! No I ca-I can’t! Stop!”

He let go, the pressure in your chest easing immediately as you inhaled deeply. There were tears spilling down the corners of your eyes now. You felt a calloused finger brushing your cheek, his hand shaky against your face.

“ ‘M sorry, thought you could see me.”

You didn’t say anything, simply going back to playing with his hair.

You didn’t sleep, not even hours later when he’d turned off the lights and lay down next to you, you tossed and turned a little, but it seemed like rest simply wasn’t going to come that night. After all, you sat around all day. Nothing really tiring to knock you out.

You flipped over to his side of the bed, reaching out only to feel his back facing you. ‘Oh.’ Usually, you’d be squished next to him, or holding his head against your chest. You shuffled closer, both hands pressing against his cold skin. Red had a habit of kicking the comforter off, and then shivering the entire night. You felt around for the edge of the fabric, pulling it up over the two of you.

It seemed like every inch of him was scarred, each mark holding history from a past you didn’t know about, one he wouldn’t share. You let your fingers trace over every bump, every ridge that made him who he was. His breath was unsteady, you froze just for a minute before he fell back asleep.

Sighing, you pressed the tiniest kiss to the spot on the back of his neck, all before turning away again. ‘You should let him sleep, long day for the both of yo-’ Suddenly, there was a familiar pair of arms twisting around you, dragging you closer. You felt your lips turn up in a smile, nuzzling your face against the crook of his neck.

The all too familiar schedule continued, ‘how long had it been now? A month? Maybe two?’ You learnt more about him than you thought you ever would. Underneath the mask, and the excessive weaponry, he really was just a guy. Okay sure, he hadn’t let you take the blindfold off, nor did he let you venture outside, or even have access to your phone, but you could hear him. And that was enough.

Red would sometimes read you excerpts from whatever book he had on his nightstand, usually a re-read of something by Austen, maybe the occasional science-fiction, or even more rarely, modern romance. Although he’d snap the book closed whenever the scenes got heated and you swore if you touched his cheek, you could feel a slight warmth blooming under the skin,

You sighed softly, preparing yourself for what you were about to ask him in just a few moments. The warmth of the shower steam still clung to you as you sat, perched on the edge of the mattress whilst he rubbed the floral lotion you asked him to buy all over your calves. ‘Maybe this was too soon? It couldn’t hurt to wait a little longer, righ-‘

You cleared your throat, too late to back down now?

“Yeah?”

“I was thinking…is there any chance you’d let me take the blindfold off? I think we’ve already established that I'm not gonna escape.” You chuckled, but even to you it sounded hollow, brittle like it could shatter any second.

The silence that followed stretched, and warped around you both. Leaving you to stew in the aftermath of your words.

“No.”

“What? Why? It’s been so lo-”

“I said no, kid. Drop it.”

“Whyyy? Red, come on! I want to see again! This can’t possible be good for me, you know that!”

“Keep it up, and you’re going back.”

You froze, the words barely on the tip of your tongue. ‘No, no, no, you couldn’t go back! Not there…not again’

The stairs had creaked and whined under your combined weights as he’d dragged you up, even through the fabric you could feel the light dimming. The shove was harsh, knocking you to the damp wood floors as you tried to move away, palms scraping against the tiles. He was faster, dragging you by the ankles until you were stuck, chained to something on the wall.

He’d left you there, the thick wood door closing with a final thud. It’d been terrifying, the sounds the wind made at night, howling. Like the noises came from all directions and you were powerless to fight it, nor see it.

‘How long had it been?’ The hours had long stopped mattering then, until you heard the lock click open. He was back, wrapping you up in an old sweater, carrying you down with hushed apologies muttered against your hair. Asking you to promise you wouldn’t make him mad again, wouldn’t let him torture you so…

You came back, the slight squeeze against your thigh reminding you of where you were. ‘Right.’

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t ask me again, kid.”

You stayed quiet for the rest of the time he spent rubbing cream all over you, not speaking up even as he tugged one of his shirts over you, not even when he bundled you up as always, pulling the covers up. You weren’t sure if you wanted to speak to him at all, but then again, not talking had the same consequences as yapping too much.

You tried to keep yourself awake as you lay against his chest that night, fingers curled around his shoulder. It was quite the challenge to cry when your eyelids were pressed closed, but somehow you did. Your throat lumping, the drops soaking the folds and the strays sliding down to the corners of your lips.

Apparently, he hadn’t been as deep asleep as you’d thought. The sounds of your sniffles against his chest waking him up.

“Sweetheart?”

“I’m- I’m sorry.” You were wailing now, the tears escaping freely as you felt your composure break just a little more with each sob.

“Shhh kiddo, it’s okay. Shh, sleep.”

You could feel him sitting up, gently rocking you as if you were some toddler. ‘You hated this, you hated him, you hated yourself for how stupid you’d been. So fucking stupid!’ Yet here you were now, stuffing your face against the warm skin of his neck, tongue darting out to lick a small stripe up.

He shivered involuntarily, his grip on you going lax for just a moment. You’d been doing this a lot, turns out, if you just gave yourself over he was a lot calmer.

The first time had been accidental, your lips against his thumb whilst he gave you your water, the press of your chest against his back when it got too hot to cuddle yet neither of you could stay away from the other for very long, and finally, those seeming innocent brushes of your lips against the scars he had. You hadn’t meant anything, really, but he’d taken it anyway.

A quick flip, and you were on your back, squirming underneath him as he tugged your nightgown down. His lips were hot and wet as they wrapped around a pert nipple, sucking it purple and midnight blue. His hands trailed lower, and lower, tugging down the waistband of your panties as he…

You breathed in the scent of his shampoo, you both used the same one now. Your hands were already reaching for the drawstrings of his sweats, eager to ‘make it up to him.’ ‘Maybe then he wouldn’t tell you off tomorrow about the blindfold rules, maybe he wouldn’t send you back up again.’

You swallowed thickly as you reached the edge of his boxers.

‘This would be a very long night.’