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kookieskiwi · 3 years

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𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠

Pairing: Shuntaro Chishiya x Fem!Reader x Suguru Niragi

Summary: The borderlands were already dark, they made you numb to death so long as you survived. When you become the object of desire for two psychopathic and sociopathic men, one of which is your ex lover, you find it harder to drown out the emotions you’re feeling and demons you're facing. Do you give into the dark desires and madness? But...aren’t we all already mad here?

Warnings: Explicit language, sexual situations, murder, death, manipulation, psychoanalyses, drugs, alcohol, suicidal thoughts and tendencies, more to be added as I write.

Genre: Alice in Borderland, very dark romance, angst, smut, a little fluff if you squint

Rating: Whoever is mature enough to handle the warnings above but recommended to ages 15 and older. DO NOT read if you are triggered by any of the things listed above.

Word Count: 5k

[Taglist] @bonnyskies @mylifeisafxingmess @kasaikawa @mercipourleslivres @dragoneye01 @bubb1ee-gum@nocturne181 @somegirl29 @pajerita19 @ddaenysus @imagine-t-h-a-ttt @queentorresstuff @rebirth-of-destruction @celestiacq @ryreads @beeissleepy

A note from your author — I’m so sorry this took so long, I just got out for summer vacation after an extremely stressful year so I’ll be way more active now. I have decided (with much hype from @imagine-t-h-a-ttt ) to post this in parts so I could give y’all something in appreciation for dealing with me. Expect more soon!! (It might not be AiB exclusively but I will be writing more)

The borderlands was a place where anyone and everyone was alone for themselves when it came to survival. “It’s every man for themselves,” you’d often tell yourself after a game since you walked away, sometimes alone, and others didn’t. After participating in your first heart’s game you learned that, and it was forever engraved into your mind. When you were cruelly taken from the real world you were alone in your room after your nightly shift as an SDF officer. All of a sudden the lights went out whilst you were changing out of your uniform before a shower which you never got to take. Deciding to investigate the outage, you threw your uniform back on and unbuttoned the jacket revealing your black sleeveless undershirt while keeping your green cargo style uniform pants and combat boots on. After grabbing your knife and placing it into your thigh holster, you explored your neighborhood to find that everyone was gone, cars were randomly in the street as if they had been stopped out of nowhere, and you were in fact alone.

“What the fuck is this?” You whispered to yourself as you were pulling out your phone to contact your friends only to see that it was dead. “Fantastic,” you grumbled, rolling your neck to the side to crack it and relieve the tension. Venturing back to your home you thought over what this could possibly be; an evacuation drill? Maybe a nightmare? Were you daydreaming again? No, this was too real and too strange to be any of those things. You needed to get out of this area, inspect and observe other parts of Tokyo to see what was going on. You thought you could find answers before it turned dark since it was only morning so you rushed home to pack a few things before heading out.

While at home, you grabbed your backpack and in it you put; a change of clothes, three water bottles, pain pills and a few snacks as well as your phone and charger in case you could figure out a way for it to work. In a haste you also threw on your side holster which held your nine millimeter handgun and two packs of ammo for extra precautions. After that, you set out on your search of the city. The first thing you thought of was to get in one of those abandoned vehicles however even though they were full of fuel, they wouldn’t start. “So phones and vehicles don’t work, neither does anything powered by electricity. Great.”

With that newly found information, you stepped out of the vehicle and began the long walk across Tokyo. Along the way you inspected stores, homes and even government buildings but found no trace of anyone but yourself. Where did everyone go? It looked so desolate without the constant buzz of people around walking, the tourists, the neon billboards. Everything was...dead. You spent the entire day walking further into the abandoned city which was once lively yet found nothing other than a restaurant with food which you took the liberty to eat at.

Upon nightfall, you were looking for a place to stay when a billboard lit up drawing your attention to it immediately. “This way to the game arena,” it read with an arrow pointing to the left. Turning your head in that direction you saw an area in the distance brightened by lights while everything else was still surrounded in darkness. “Game arena?” You whispered in confusion. Looking around at your surroundings you didn’t see any other lights other than that building which looked to be about three blocks away. You followed the arrows leading you to the designated arena which looked to be a botanical tea garden from a distance. You slowly approached the building while keeping your hand close to the blade strapped on your thigh in case someone or something appeared. As soon as you stepped across the final set of stairs leading up to the entrance, a line of red lasers appeared and quickly turned blue when a sound similar to that of a confirmation resonated in the area. “What is this?”

“It’s the threshold of the arena.” Turning in the direction of the voice, you saw a familiar face step next to you with the same sound chiming at her entry. “Holyn? How did you get here? Are you okay?” You asked quickly before hugging her out of relife, you were more than happy to see a familiar face in this apocalyptic place. She was your childhood best friend, the only reason you hadn’t seen or heard from her in a while was because of both of your working lives.She hugged you back even tighter as she was feeling the same way you were, scared, alone and confused. When the two of you released each other she began explaining everything she knew to you as the both of you started walking into the garden.

“I got here a few days ago and since then, I’ve asked around to see what others know about whatever the hell is going on. No one knows how we got here or what exactly this place is but everyone is made to participate in games of survival. You must participate or you’ll die. After winning a game, you keep the phone you had and you’ll be supplied with a visa. The visa tells you how long you have until you’re out of time here which is why you have to participate in games to renew it before it runs out. You must win each game, there is no other way to survive if you don’t. Do everything it takes so you live and move on. Anything with an electric circuit board or IC chip does not work whereas analog equipment like radios work and so do older vehicles.” She explained quickly as more people came into view. Your mind fogged with all of the new information, it was so much to take in. Then you realized you were just thrown into a game of survival and like she said; you HAD to win to survive. “But-” you had just begun when she silenced you, “pretend you’ve been here and done this. I know you’re confused and probably scared shitless but just pretend.” She instructed as you both entered the arena and quickly added one thing, “I don’t want to continue playing after this, I killed someone Y/n.” But before you could respond she shook her head and you did as she said, silencing yourself and putting on the facade you had mastered over the years.

Upon entry, you almost immediately noticed the two groups of people to the right each containing about six people and consisting of both males and females and the other group of six men. Gauging their distance to and from each other you could conclude the individuals in each group had played together previously and probably had strategies to compete with. As you and Holyn approached the area the others stood around, you glanced down to the table in front of all of you. ‘One per person’ the sign read with approximately twenty phones laid out beside it. Each of you grabbed a random phone and stepped away from the table into your own spaces, you and Holyn sticking closely together. If everything with a circuit board was destroyed, then why did these phones work? In the middle of your questioning the phone screen lit up with the text ‘facial recognition in progress’ before switching to another screen as you looked at the others subtly to see they were looking around as well.

“Registration has closed,” the phone chimed causing each of you to glance down at the small screen. “There are twenty participants. Game: Queen of cards.”

“Rules,” the automated voice said, “After putting on the designated collars you will be divided into two teams, one team will be the Jacks while the other is the Queen of Hearts. Find the Queen of Hearts, take her phone and find the safe zone. If the Queen is not found, it is game over for the Jacks. If the Queen is found, it is game over for her.”

“Does this mean it’s one girl against the rest of us?” Holyn asked with a small crack in her voice, making hit her as a sign to be quiet and do exactly what she told you to do. The two of you grabbed the collars they had laid out on the table, placing them on your neck after close inspection. You needed to seem like you had done this before, the last thing you needed was to be seen as the weaklings or newbies. “It’s a Hearts game, of course that’s what it means. We are supposed to turn on each other and play with others minds. It makes sense.” A male with his arms crossed over his chest said. He had played before, you could tell. The group of men he came with looked like they had been here for a while based on their appearance and calmness towards the situation.

“What do you mean ‘It’s a heart's game’?” A girl who looked to be about seventeen asked. It was obvious she was new to this like you, however, you weren’t letting anyone know that. “When you see the game card, you know the type of game and the difficulty of it. Heart games are those of psychological torture and betrayal where you mess with your opponents or friends minds and emotions. Diamond games are ones of minds and intelligence, often including solving riddles or puzzles. Clubs are by far the safest there is given they are teamwork and unity games. Spade games are physical, they test your stamina and endurance. The number of the cards tell you the difficulty levels; one being the easiest and ten being the hardest.” Another man explained to the girls. You listened attentively while looking down at your phone noticing this was a six of hearts game. Hearts. There had to be a way to do this without betrayal. But before you could think of anything further you were interrupted by the phone which spoke once more.

“The Queen will have one minute to hide before Jack's time starts, but she wont know she is the Queen until Jack's time begins.” The feminine AI voice instructed once more. The girls were to be hunted by the boys and even if they weren’t the Queen the males wouldn’t know. Even if it was a best friend. You noticed when the others came to the same realization as you as one guy started profusely apologizing to a girl who was shaking. This is a game of survival. “So that means-”

“You girls better run.” It came from one of the men and said with a sinister smirk. All the guys had to do to ensure survival was take our phones and get to the undisclosed safezone. However this was more than that. You saw the weapons on a board in the distance and you knew you weren’t the only one who did. Without a second thought, you grabbed Holyn’s hand and ran as fast as you could to get the farthest from any other person, vividly aware of the knife you still had on your thigh. She quickly followed behind although she didn’t have much of a choice with your iron-like grip on her wrist. After running a sufficient distance from the others you ducked into the shrubbery and crawled towards a dark corner to hide from anyone’s sight. She sat across from you as you both tried to calm your breathing while keeping yourselves hidden from anyone who might pass by. The phone chimed again, “Hiding time is up,” the voice said while a new timer appeared on your phone. “Ten minutes,” it read. An alarm sounded throughout the arena echoing off the walls of the indoor tea garden. “The game will now commence,” you heard just before seeing your screen turn balck temporarily with your role on it.

“Thank goodness, I’m a Jack. You are too right?” Holyn asked as you turned off your phone and looked at her with a smile as her voice echoed in your mind, “you must win each game, there’s no other way to survive,” so you pushed away the dread in your chest and replied “me too.”

No. You were the Queen.

The two of you sat still for about five minutes listening to the shouts and screams of the others until you heard sets of footsteps coming in your direction causing the two of you to duck down onto your stomachs out of fear. In the distance you heard a feminine scream echo off the glass walls followed by shattering sounds and more screams of “I’m not her” or “It’s not me” followed by the sounds of struggles. “Come out come out wherever you are,” one of the men closer to you called. You could tell he was near and if you two didn’t move, he'd find you.”We found the safe zone but none of the girls were queens,” you heard one say, “damnit, if they were still alive they could help us,’ the other commented making your stomach drop. “We need to run,” who whispered to Holyn knowing those men would have no issue killing you to survive. “Three minutes remaining,” the time was announced but you could hardly hear it due to your pulse thudding in your ears.

“Now,” you called quietly queuing the both of you to jump up and run, but it didn’t go unnoticed by the men. “There they are!” One shouted followed by the heavy stomps of footsteps behind you as they set in on the chase. “It’s only the two of you, just give us the phone and you’ll live.” You ignored him and kept sprinting towards the place you knew there were weapons. Without another thought you grabbed two weapons and handed one to Holyn to defend yourselves with until she came to the realization you loathed. “You’ve been the queen this entire time!?” She shouted at you as the stomping sound got closer and closer. “I’m sorry! You said to do anything it takes to survive.” You responded with tears clouding your vision. Never in your life would you have thought you’d be choosing your life over your best friend’s, not when the two of you had gone through everything together. “Two minutes remaining,” the voice announced reminding you of your impending fate. Holyn looked at you with emotions you couldn’t decipher, but you saw the way she relaxed even if it was slight. Why was she glad you chose yourself over her?

“Come on, let’s hide.” She said grabbing your hand and this time, she was the one dragging you along. She veered off to the right pulling you behind a fountain and kept running until the two of you collapsed onto the ground. “Remember when you turned fifteen and we decided to sneak out?” she reminisced laying between your legs against your chest. “Yeah, our parents almost killed us, we were grounded for months.” you giggled despite the tears falling from your eyes. As memories of you both flooded your mind you acted without control and shouted, “Over he--” to let the men know your location but you were interrupted by her hand clasping over your mouth tightly to silence you as she yanked you backwards into the shadows. “Shh,” she whispered, calming you while you sobbed into her hand, “I want you to live on for me, okay? Beat this game, we both know you are the only one who can. I know you can. I’ll be helping you from above if I can.” She soothed laying her head on top of yours.

“One minute remaining”

The tears wouldn’t stop as you moved to hug her tightly, never wanting to let go. “I’m so sorry.” you choked out in between gasps for air. Everything was too much, too loud, time was moving too quickly, you heard the men rapidly shouting and searching for you two as you clung to your best friend. Everything seemed to be happening so quickly, the seconds flew by while you were holding the only person you had left before she was to die. “I’m not. Thank you Y/n, I wouldn’t have made it any further anyways, I’m glad I can help you move forward. Don’t let me die in vain.” She told you kissing the top of your head before roughly pushing you off to get you away from her. “Holyn!” You shouted trying to latch back onto her when suddenly the collar around her neck exploded and her blood splattered everywhere. Your eyes and mouth opened wide in shock at what you had just seen. You could feel the specks of blood all over your face and body while you stared at her now decapitated one lying in front of you. She had just died, and it was because of you, because you were selfish and confused all while being scared.

You didn’t know how long you stayed there in total silence until you just collapsed onto the cold, hard floor beneath your feet. The silence was interrupted by your blood curdling scream of pure agony that echoed throughout the enclosed building. Your head came into contact with the ground when you curled over your knees and screamed once again while grabbing at your hair and banging your forehead against the cement. Tears flowed out of both your eyes as you cried out in horror, unable to rid your mind of the events that just occurred. You screamed until your throat was raw and your voice hoarse, you could feel the clumps of hair you pulled out of your scalp as your fingers dug deeper into your skull and worst of all, you knew you were alone now.

For days, you were numb. Five days to be exact. You didn’t do much but sleep, cry, eat, walk aimlessly to a new location and then repeat it all again the next day. You couldn’t shake the immense feeling of guilt you felt when you woke each morning knowing Holyn wouldn’t because of you. It wasn’t until you played your next game, an eight of spades, that you snapped out of the haze your emotions put you in. During the game, you had to climb a tree fast enough to avoid the arrows being shot at you from below as the height the arrows were shot increased each minute as you ascended the tree. You were ahead of the others until one man decided to start pulling at your ankles to hold you back which eventually turned into him trying to make you lose your grip and fall. In the moment he yanked your body down, you almost completely lost your grip on the branch keeping you from falling. It was then that you realized you weren’t going to let Holyn die in vain, you’d survive and push through everything to honor her memory.

After that, the “acquaintances” you made between or during games never meant much to you because in the end, you could only count on and rely on yourself to ensure your survival. You stopped moping around and became the version of yourself you had always wanted to become, the one that allowed you to turn off your emotions and step away from your chaotic thoughts. You now lived for yourself and yourself only, but even then, you never killed anyone intentionally.

A few days passed by but you couldn’t tell exactly how long you had been in this hell hole. You only played games when it was necessary which was only about two days before your visa expired. After overhearing someone in a two of Spades game talk about a place called “the Beach” and the people there “knowing how to get out here,” you started observing those who played games when you didn’t. It only took a few nights to see the connection between the group of people who entered games with tag numbers on their wrists being the ones who walked out. After you played a couple games with people with the tags on their wrists, you were convinced they knew something about the strategy of the games. Lingering in the shadows, you watched the participants of the game walk out of the arena and head down the street while you quietly followed behind. You must’ve walked for five minutes before you noticed where exactly the group was headed; a vehicle. “But I thought..” you whispered to yourself in confusion seeing them jump into the four seater 1970 cadillac while you stood still in your hidden position wondering what they were doing. Upon hearing the ignition of the engine you remembered Holyn telling you only older modeled vehicles were able to work here, but where did they find fuel? Not once had you seen an operable fuel station. “There must be fuel at the beach, there has to be,” you thought to yourself, watching as they drove off which only made you more determined to find this place and get the answers to your questions. And with that thought in mind, you set out on a journey to find this so-called “beach.”

As the vehicle drove further from your sight, you started jogging in order to tail them to their location while still keeping yourself out of sight. You ran for around fifteen minutes before you saw a building in the distance, a building which had power unlike everything else in the city. Seeing the destination, you stopped running and took a while to slow your breathing and regain your energy. “So this is the Beach,” you sighed observing the structure and its surroundings. The building itself seemed to be four stories tall and included a large pool in front where people partied as if they weren’t fighting for their lives everyday. You approached a fence which seemed to outline the perimeter of the area and carefully leaned over it as if you were watching a child’s game. You saw the vast amounts of people give into the pleasures of ignorance while deafening music thrummed in the background, even from the great distance you were, you could slightly feel the vibrations of the bass in your chest.

“Ah who's this?” you heard a cynical voice ask rhetorically from behind you. At the sudden and unexpected presence you jumped, turning around and swinging your fist to punch whoever it was out of instinct. When your right hand came in contact with a face your left twisted to grab the knife you still carried on your thigh in a holster. Just as you grasped ahold of the handle one of the two people delivered a knockout-blow to the side of your head just behind your temple which caused you to instantly lose consciousness.

When you awoke you were sitting in a chair with your hands tied loosely behind your back onto the chair with what felt like a burlap bag over your head. You let out a small groan of discomfort feeling your head pulse due to your new injury, one you would have to repay later on. Upon hearing your groan, the bag was swiftly removed from your head allowing the bright lights of the room to flood your vision which hadn’t adjusted making you shut your eyes with a silent wince. After blinking a few times you get adjusted, you were finally able to scan your surroundings. In front of you stood a man with shoulder-length hair, blsck sunglasses, an open kimono and red swim trunks, to his left stood a man with buzzed hair, a black muscle shirt and green military pants who you instantly recognized.

“Aguni?” You asked with confusion seeing the man you used to work with. He was here too? You weren’t surprised he was still alive, the man was invincible when you worked with him. And just like back then, he was silent, he only gave a small nod of his head to you as a response before reassuming his statue-like stance. To his right was a man with silver hair, a white Nike hoodie and blue swim shorts who looked at you in an inquisitive manner with tired yet sharp eyes. Two women who had black hair were standing to his right and a man covered in tattoos stood further off to the side holding a sword long in length, possibly a katana. A few other people were staggered around the room but none of them seemed to be as ‘important’ as the few that you noticed immediately.

“Aguni-san? You know her?” The man in the kimono asked the latter with creased brows showing obvious confusion. “We worked at the SDF together. She was my partner before we were assigned to different segments, she’d be a good addition to the executives or militants.” He responded while putting in a good word for you. “Someone like her? An SDF officer? If you hadn’t told me, Aguni-san, I would have never known.” The man remarked crossing his arms over his chest while walking over to a desk which he leaned on. “What’s that supposed to mean?” You questioned with a scowl in his direction as your fingers fiddled with the ropes binding your wrists. You would be able to get out of them in a matter of minutes if no one noticed what you were trying to do, but it seemed the man in the white hoodie already noticed as he raised his brow in your direction with an impressed smirk on his stoic face. “A pretty, small woman like yourself...I would’ve thought you’d be tagging along with someone and not alone. Actually I would’ve thought you’d be dead by now, much less an SDF officer.” He commented with a wry smile fanning out all your cards which contradicted his statement.

“If my cards tell you anything, you should know you’re wrong,” you hummed, resuming your attempt to loosen the ropes. “Ah yes your cards,” he began while pushing himself off the desk and slowly pacing around the room, “we want you to become a resident at the Beach after seeing the cards you’ve gathered. And after learning of your pastime, you would be a great addition to the team either way.” Of course he would want you once he saw the games you had played, you were good at surviving meaning you’d also be efficient in getting him the rest of the cards. “And if I don’t want to become a resident?” You questioned poking the inside of your cheek with your tongue out of habit. You were doing just fine on your own and definitely did not need this place, however, it seemed like they needed you. Or they needed your cards more so than yourself.

“Well if you choose to stay, you’ll be able to get out of this game quicker. We have a theory that once we collect all the playing cards, one person will be able to go back to the normal world. And if you choose not to stay, well, you can walk away from here but we will keep your cards. We have gathered all the weapons in the city, we regularly gather rain water and food which the game makers seem to replenish once a week, you’ll be taken care of here.” He explained pausing directly in front of you waiting for a response. Did no one else see the problem with him? How he was manipulating everyone to get the cards under the false security that they’d get to leave too? Or was everyone here really THAT ignorant? “It seems like you take my cards either way hm?” You suggested in a hum cocking your head to the right slightly in question. “You’re correct. However, now you would be higher in the rankings and an executive after making such a great contribution and having the skill set you supposedly possess.” He told you in an attempt to persuade you into staying while adding a bit of sweetness to the word ‘contribution’. When you simply looked at him with a bored gaze, he sighed and continued speaking.

“If you decide to stay there are only three rules. 1) "always wear a bathing suit". This is to be sure no one is hiding any weapons which is why our militants don’t have to wear them if chosen to do so. Rule 2) "be free to live your life exactly as you wish including alcohol, drugs and sex" and the third and last rule: "death to traitors".” He enlightened you on the standards they lived by to help you make your decision. It didn’t seem like it would be a bad choice if you chose to stay here, you’d have food, shelter, and people you didn’t know in case you had to play another game of hearts.

“I’ll stay but I want my knife back, if I have to wear a bathing suit you’ll be able to see it anytime since I wear it on my thigh.” You compromised whilst completely freeing your hands from their bound position but still holding the rope to hide suspicions. You hated the fact you’d have to wear a swimsuit because your scars would be visible but if it meant you could have your knife, you’d be more than willing. Hearing a few chuckles resonate around the room at your demand you brought your attention to one of the men in the back of the room who had a bandage on his cheek and a black eye. It was easy to come to the conclusion that he was the one you punched earlier, and the thought of that made you smile with pride while looking at him.

“You are in no position to make demands, sweetheart,” he practically snarled at you. You hated being called sweetheart, it not only made you cringe but it infuriated you beyond measure. With a deadly glare, you let go of the rope and stood from the chair in a swift motion and threw the ropes at him without a word which said everything you needed to. However, just as he caught the ropes you could hear the door being slammed open followed by a voice which was all too familiar.

“The traitors are dead,” the unknown man announced in a tone of pride, kicking the door closed behind him. His voice instantly brought back memory after memory causing you to turn your head in shock in order to make sure you were hearing things correctly. The man you were looking at looked nothing like the one you once knew. This one had piercings on his nose and eyebrow while he sported an automatic rifle on his shoulder and a psychotic smile on his face. “Niragi?” You whispered in shock, still unable to believe your eyes. Was this the same boy you stood up for in high school? He looked so....different. What exactly happened to the sweet, shy boy you once fell in love with? “Y/N?” He questioned letting his mouth fall open the slightest but before he regained his composure. It was him, Suguru Niragi, the first and only man you’ve ever truly fallen in love with, but also the man who disappeared without a trace three years ago. You knew he had left you, it wasn’t hard to figure that much out, but you never knew why and quite frankly, you didn’t care anymore. You had moved on.

“Fantastic! Another one of our own knows this charming young woman, this will make things a lot easier. Niragi, you may take her to the locker rooms so she can change into some fitting attire then you can get her an ID bracelet and take her to her room.” The man who you noticed had a bracelet tagged 001, exclaimed with a clap of his hands as he was instructing Niragi to get you settled in. “She can do it on her own,” Niragi scoffed with a roll of his eyes which had you throwing your head back in a sarcastic chuckle. “I’ll take her,” someone insisted from the side. Glancing in the direction the voice resounded you noticed the short pale man with the silver hair stepping out towards you. He seemed oddly familiar as well but you couldn’t quite place it.

“That’s settled then. Now, my knife?” You quipped raising a brow at the ‘leader’ in the kimono just before someone came from behind you pressing a cold piece of metal to your throat while their other arm was holding your arms in place by your waist. The room went silent as everyone watched what was about to unfold in front of them, Aguni simply rolled his eyes with a sigh knowing what was about to happen. “You mean this knife?” The man teased, his voice was one you recognized from one of the two men that brought you to this place and all you wanted in that moment was to stab him for that. So, naturally, you settled for the next best thing. Pushing your head forward a little while trying not to move your neck, you watched Niragi’s expression as you threw your head backwards with all your force resulting in hitting the unknown man’s nose.

When the back of your skull came into contact with his face he immediately lessened his grip on you which allowed you to slip out of his grasp and take your knife from his hand. With your knife in hand, you grabbed his wrist, twisting it and bending his arm behind his back while your other arm placed him in a chokehold. You leaned in close to his ear as he was fighting your hold before pulling him back harshly, putting pressure on his windpipe, “Never, and I mean NEVER, touch my knife again. Got it?” You growled and if you were being honest, you would’ve intimidated yourself. You didn’t wait for a response as you pushed him forward only to watch him fall onto the ground with a soft thud. “Now,” you sighed looking up with a smile which could’ve been seen as both innocent or sinister, “let’s go,” you said slipping your knife into the holster on your thigh. The man with the white hair stepped forward with his hands in his pockets and came to your side, briefly looking at Niragi before turning his attention to you. “Let’s go, shall we?”

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lovenona · 3 years

Text

ON THE SACRED BONDS OF BROTHERHOOD.

synopsis; choso may be their beloved frat brother, but he’ll always be your brother first. (for the frat au collab.)

pairing; frat boy! choso x f! reader

contains; stepcest, dubcon (reader is under the influence but having a good time), extensive descriptions of knife play and blood play, marking (choso carves his name into you), oral (f! receiving), borderline yandere/possessive choso (he loves you A Lot), choso goes from mean to Soft, consumption and romanticization of drugs and alcohol, (1) use of ‘angel’, reader is afab and uses she/her pronouns, this is essentially all foreplay and ends before the fucking because i got tired, minors do not interact or perish

word count; 6.5k

the yard outside is clean, well-kept. there’s talk that the house’s landlord is a retired gardener who receives great joy from keeping up the hydrangeas and peonies along the sidewalk. it’s certainly award-winning, that front yard, with its colorful blossoms and plush bees circling the mailbox.

they’re so lucky, students bemoan on their way to and from class. i can’t believe the frat boys get to live there. i bet they don’t even know how lucky they are.

it’s a seemingly kind house from the outside – recently renovated with navy blue paint and white trimming, a large front porch and a few inviting windows. the place that omega lambda now calls home is, simply put, a dream. it sits just a few minutes from campus and it tells the street proudly, fondly, that there is no better place to be than here.

it’s true, in some respects, that omega lambda likes to see themselves as above the sweat and grime of their fellow frat brothers. they don’t spend their weekends “fucking and drinking” and tracking dirt across the carpet like animals. their fun is calm, refined: to be invited to a night with omega lambda means a night of smoke curling into the air, of gossip over olive-colored couches, of pills under tongues, of ease and relaxation.

it’s slower than the others, they say in the back of monday morning lectures, but no less extreme, no matter what those boys try and tell you.

i think i was tripping for days, the girl from psychology 101 boasted. whatever the fuck yuuji gets is strong.

such stories amaze you: and even as you stand on the sidewalk outside the perfect blue house, petunias curling inward with the evening breeze, you cannot believe they are real. it’s hard to imagine the face of your beloved stepbrother tied to these antics. it’s hard to imagine that the boy who used to come home every winter and summer with bloodshot eyes and a beat-up skateboard also swore a loyal, unbreakable oath of brotherhood to a band of boys you’ve never met.

it’s hard to imagine that your own stepbrother, choso, the one who taught you how to ride a bike and how to apply eyeliner and how to kiss without teeth, quite literally runs what has been dubbed the chillest fraternity on campus.

but yet, here you are, new to university, fresh-faced and eager, cowering outside the door of the omega lambda residence. your favorite skirt hovers around your thighs and you tug at the collar of your shirt, fiddle with the charm of the necklace choso gave you for your birthday a few years ago.

he’d invited you here almost immediately after learning that you and your roommate had tried your hand at partying with beta pi epsilon. naoya is trash, choso’s fervent texts read the next morning. absolute dick – don’t trust him. come hang out with us instead. he’d attached the address of the blue house along with a reminder to have a snack and take some medicine for your godforsaken hangover.

the message had taken you a little by surprise. choso’s always been sweet to you – doting, even, if you wanted a better word for it – but you hadn’t been sure how he’d handle attending the same university. your other friends all complain that they’d rather die than see their families; twins separate after orientation, brothers and sisters look the other way if they pass each other in the quad. you feared choso would be the same, that the omnipotent attention he gave you at home would completely dissipate the moment you moved into your dorm.

but his text reaffirms you, if anything. and although your roommate had opted to be wined and dined by the boy from calculus this evening, you don’t mind attending alone. her absence from your side only means you will be able to see your stepbrother without a distraction.

the music buzzes through the door as you knock and wring your fingers on the doorstep. should you just walk in? should you text choso and wait for him to fetch you? the ins-and-outs of frat etiquette cloud your mind until the door swings open and you’re met, face-to-face, with a young pink-haired man dangling a blunt from one hand and his phone, opened to his spotify playlist, from the other.

“hi,” you say, words foreign in your throat. “choso invited me?”

“oh, cool,” itadori yuuji says, shrugging his shoulders like he never would have questioned it. “come on in. you can put your shoes over there.”

while omega lambda is not packed from wall to wall as your night at beta pi epsilon had been, the various couches propped against the walls and surrounding the living room coffee table are nearly packed to the brim with the frat brothers and their guests. the air, hazy with smoke and desire and drinking, shifts and swirls as it curls around purple LED lights before fogging up the windows and disappearing up the stairs. it is warm here, easy, like dropping into the depths of a pleasurable dream.

“there’s drinks in the kitchen,” yuuji is saying, voice thick with his high, “and we’ve got some other stuff on the table, although you’ll have to pay yuuta for those–”

yuuji’s narration is cut off as a familiar figure crashes into yours, sweeping you into a hug so tight you fear your bones will snap from the pressure. choso smells like the cologne you bought him for his birthday, like fresh laundry and comfort; you breathe him in, deeply, and let yourself relax into the soft cotton of his black t-shirt.

“glad you could make it,” choso mumbles into your skin. he draws back slightly, drinks you in, your little skirt and your dainty socks that he’s always been partial to. he looks from you to yuuji, still vibing to the side with his playlist, and his eyes crinkle in what must be mirth.

“it’s good to see you,” you say.

“you saw me at lunch with mom last week.” choso smiles, the black line across his nose crinkling when his eyes light up.

“you get what i mean.” you tap his shoulder, lightly, as emphasis. the anxiety dissolves; it’s you, and him, like it’s always been. it’s your stepbrother choso who watches your shadow and wraps you up to keep the rest of the world at bay.

but the tender moment is broken when someone, a tall blonde girl with the aura of a lioness, calls out to choso to ask him for assistance. he looks at you, a bit forlorn, before telling yuuji to help you get settled in and making his way to the other end of the living room.

“yes, this way!” yuuji grabs your arm and drags you across the floor like you’ve known each other forever. “i make some fucking good drinks if i do say so myself.”

which, consequently enough, is how you find yourself losing your mind within the walls of omega lambda.

it’s not that you’re a virgin to the world of cocktails and lime and pills: it’s that you’re too sweet to know when to stop. it’s hard to tell yuuji no more, thanks when his face is so bright, when he and the strange, blue-haired frat brother mahito are asking you to try this and try that and to let us know what you think.

so you let yourself sway through the house, from couch to couch, listening to this mahito boy tell you about his latest philosophy courses as he dances cold fingers across your shoulders, listening to yuuji explain the very serious business of pulling an all-nighter without coffee, watching the LED lights shift from purple to blue and back again.

(you’re not sure where choso is. perhaps, in your altered state, he’s sitting just across from you and you don’t even know it. but you don’t mind, because his brothers get along with you just as well. you don’t mind, because you’re too drunk or too high to know any better.)

“and how are you doing?” a dark-haired man slides into the empty couch space next to you. arms littered with various tattoos and dark hair pulled back into a casual half-bun, he could have been your beloved choso had he not exuded such finesse, such arrogance, which choso could never be capable of doing.

“i’m alright,” you say, but you’re more than alright. the room is so warm and your brain is so fuzzy that you might melt into the couch if someone looked away for even a minute. “i don’t think we’ve met before? i’m choso’s stepsister.”

he simpers, a humid thing, one that coils around your eyelids and sets your insides alight. “ah! i’ve heard a lot about you. it’s nice to meet you.” he holds out a manicured hand; black nail polish glimmers in the dim light. “geto. i’m one of choso’s frat brothers.”

his handshake might take your soul with it. his hands are smooth, refined. you swear he can feel your quickening pulse as you introduce yourself. he watches you like you might be the only person in the room, like you might be the sweetest thing to have ever crossed the threshold. and filled with rum and liqueur and confidence you take it, gladly, because you’re young and the thought of university still puts stars in your eyes.

“so what are you studying?” geto is saying, prying you apart, picking through your history. he’s in his final year and you’re in your first and he knows all there is to know while you still have nothing. you latch onto him because he gets it, because he’s handsome, because you’re silly and desperate and drunk. somewhere along the way your thighs touch and his hand greets your shoulder and you think that you finally made it into his lap because mahito complained that the couch was too full.

geto smells like expensive cologne. you smell vaguely of lemons and shampoo. yuuji jokes with you from across the table and you like it, the way these brothers’ eyes fall on you.

so you spiral, further and further, into a daze you cannot escape from. you barely react to geto’s firm hand snaking up your bare thigh because you are too busy trying yuuji’s latest creation and asking mahito for more of whatever he gave you. it’s fun, it’s weightless; you feel beautiful, supreme, like the kind of college girl you’re supposed to be. you’re desirable, cute. you’re the girl to be in love with, the one who sets the scene.

those rumors were right. the party is certainly slower than the other frats you’ve visited, with more emphasis on sitting and vibing than on dancing and drinking games, but no less extreme. you’re so far out of your brain that you wonder briefly if it will ever be possible to come back down. maybe you’ll be her, on monday morning, the girl who’s still tripping.

“you know,” geto is saying, his breath eerily close to your pulse, a moment away from pressing a kiss to your cheek, your neck, “you should stop by more often.”

“yeah?” you hope you sound sexier than you are. “i’d love to–”

“excuse me,” choso’s voice cuts through your lazy fantasy like the sharp fall of a guillotine. “i’d prefer if you didn’t hit on my sister, geto.”

geto’s laugh reverberates against your back, your ears. his grip on you lightens immediately, and whatever words he’d saved for you die away. “i’m not,” he says, but his voice is too easy to be honest. “just keeping her company. right, sweetheart?”

you’re finding it hard to see straight. caught in this game of cat and mouse you find you can do nothing but sit lamely in geto’s lap and watch choso’s favorite necklace reflect the purple light. it’s only after a revolution around the sun you realize you haven’t spoken, that you’ve done nothing but hover, a lot of drunk and a little high and a little nervous, between one man and the other. you mumble a yes in affirmation but it’s clear from the tension that choso doesn’t believe it.

“oh, for fuck’s sake,” choso sighs. “come on, then. you’ve had enough for one night.” familiar arms lift you off the couch and you stumble, much like a baby gazelle, into the safety of choso’s chest. the room spins with the sudden change; you cling to him like a lifeline as you abandon the party to head upstairs.

of course, bedazzled out of your mind, you do not question when choso leads you to the end of the hallway and over the threshold of his bedroom. it feels expected in a way, safe, as if the party had always been meaning to end here. as if there was no other place you should be.

“so?” choso asks, casually, shutting the door behind him with a damning click. “did you enjoy being a little whore with my brothers?”

his words take a long moment to settle in your ears. you’re caught in the swirl of euphoria in your brain, the black t-shirts scattered across the floor, the small houseplant you once bought him seated on the windowsill. it warms your heart to see it there, after all this time.

“well?” choso demands your attention. he takes your jaw in his hand and lifts your eyes to meet his gaze. his silver rings, imposing and cool on slender fingers, burn into your heated flesh like embers. his eyes swim with distaste and you know it’s your fault, somehow, but when the walls tilt and your rationality fogs over, you can’t quite pinpoint why.

“i–” your words catch in your throat. it’s clear, from the darkness in his eyes, from the way his nails dig into the soft flesh of your jawline, that anything you say to defend yourself will be futile. it’s choso’s world, you’ve always known, and even now, you’re merely living in it.

“i invite my sister to see me, because i miss her,” choso’s words nestle themselves deep into your bloodstream, settling amongst the brandy and wine, “and she chooses to spend the night bending over for my brothers. how do you think that makes me feel?”

it’s a look you know: a look that has haunted you for hours and days, a look that you know better than any other. it’s the look that guides the hand between your legs at night and the look you recreate in your mind’s eye when your vibrator just isn’t enough. you’re crumbling already, like sand beneath his touch.

“i’m sorry,” you say to him, but the words are soft and whispered things, shy beneath the weight of your own guilt and disappointment. “i didn’t mean to–”

“no,” choso admonishes. he steps closer, guiding you backwards until his bedsheets brush the backs of your knees. “of course you didn’t. you’re still too dumb to know what you’re doing.” his voice, evenly condescending, hardly matches the gentle brush of his fingers as he moves to cup your cheeks. you close your eyes against it, savoring the shivers he sends across you body with every heartbeat, every movement. “still need your big brother to keep you in check.”

you do not respond: he does not intend for you too. instead choso presses you back until you fall onto his bed, crawling over you to cage your body beneath him like a predator and its prey. your brain falters with the sudden movement, with the lateness of the hour and the depravity of your position, but you can do nothing but look at him with your helpless doe-eyes while something saccharine pools in your belly.

“look at you,” choso says. “high out of your damn mind. good thing i caught you when i did. who knows what would have happened.”

you believe him, you do, especially when choso dips his head to kiss you and demands your subservience. his tongue licks the aftermath of your cocktails from your lips and claims the expanse of your mouth, your teeth, your sanity. you let him take you, body and soul, even when you’re clamoring for air and freedom. there is no safety but choso’s lips, flavored with his cinnamon chapstick, no sacred home but the warmth of his mouth.

“there’s my girl,” choso breathes, nose brushing against yours as he pulls back for air. “going to be good for me now? going to make it up to your big brother?”

he doesn’t wait for a response; fingers dance along the silk of your blouse as he undoes each button, one by one, letting his fingers dip slyly against the newly exposed expanse of your collarbone and your chest and your stomach. you make no move to stop him, caught somewhere between choso’s aura and reality and time.

(and maybe in another life you would have stopped him. maybe in another life you would have been ashamed. but it’s choso, your sworn protector and god among men, and you would be a fool to try and stop the one who knows best. he is safety, protection. who knows what would have happened if he hadn’t taken you away when he did.)

“is this new?” choso asks, studying the curve of your bra as he rests against your hips. “who are you trying to impress?”

it’s thin lavender lace, choso’s favorite. your face warms at the observation and you turn your head away, nestling among the sheets, as if you could escape choso’s eyes: but his fingers still trace the material and you can still hear him breathing and you know he will never look away.

“i just got it,” you answer, humbled and mildly humiliated and certainly a little fucked up. the words are slow and imprecise as you stumble over your own tongue. “i wanted to…treat myself.”

choso’s exploratory hands move from your bra to the waistband of your skirt. “could’ve just asked me,” he says earnestly, intently. “i would’ve gotten it for you.”

your affirmative hum is lost when choso mindfully pulls your skirt down your legs and discards it somewhere in the shadows of the room. he says nothing of it, of the thin fabric or the way it flattered you just right. perhaps he is jealous of it. perhaps he does not want to remember the way his brothers looked at you when you wore it, the way geto’s hands caressed the places no other man should go.

“they match, i see,” choso gestures towards your underwear. terrified and knowing and aware that you’re growing damper with each passing minute, you press your thighs together. “they’re cute.”

“t-thank you,” you whisper. “i… i got them for you. your favorite color.”

he smiles, a precious and glorious thing, a smile that causes flowers to grow and birds to sing. you electrify at the sight of it, blissful only when he is.

“i’d hope so,” choso says, “because i don’t think i could take it if this was meant for someone else.”

he reaches over to the nightstand while his words claw through you. choso smells like cinnamon and safety and pleasure; your heartbeat quickens as his t-shirt brushes against you, as your world collapses into nothing but choso’s profile, his butterfly hair-clips and his glowing skin and his power.

when choso settles back over you, resting against your thighs until you think you might die of it, something silver and shiny rests in his palm. you’d recognize it even if your eyes were closed, if the room were so dark that you couldn’t see if you tried. a searing and insatiable sensation lodges itself in your veins; it is fear personified, it is anticipation of a behavior you cannot even name.

choso twirls his beloved switchblade deftly between his well-manicured fingertips. it reflects the low-light of the room. it calls out to you, the beautiful and dangerous thing, a siren’s song that promises both your misery and your fortune. choso’s face is relaxed, serene, as the envy and the fury seemingly melts away from him and leaves only a disinterested vessel behind.

he lets you study it, lets you study him, and you know he’s pleased when he can feel your thighs tense, when you try so damn hard not to let choso know just how affected you really are. he shifts, grinding gently against your pelvis as he moves, causing you to bite your lip in a desperate attempt to surpress the gentlest of moans.

“well,” choso says, disregarding the state he’s slowly working you into. he shifts down your body and runs a lackluster hand across the lacy expanse of your underwear. shivers pierce your navel, silver rings poison your skin. it’s all you can do to watch him, his heartless eyes and his casual form, as his thumb prods at the place where you underwear crosses your hip. “let’s get these off. i’d hate to have anyone else see you in them.”

you feel the blade before you see it. cold, unfriendly, it rests against the gentle skin of your hip, a killer ready to take a life. a humiliatingly choked whine is out of your mouth before you can swallow it; your gasp reverberates throughout the room, the sound of one who knows they’ve lost a fight.

“choso–” you breathe, but you don’t know quite what it is you’re asking him for.

he doesn’t answer immediately, opting instead to tease you further with the blade as he presses it against you until goosebumps rise in chorus. your fingers curl in on themselves, desperate for purchase, while fear and longing hum everywhere in your being.

“don’t worry,” choso says. “i’ll buy you more. now be good and stay still.”

you want to writhe, to lash out and squirm beneath the intensity of the moment, but you fear choso’s disappointment more than you crave such release. your big brother choso has never been afraid to hurt you: to pierce the skin where it hurts, to draw blood where he means it. if you move, the blade will move with you. you know this as you know every scar choso has left behind.

it’s agonizing, this pace. choso’s tongue peeks out from between his teeth as he works with the ease of a great master. it’s like watching paint dry, like waiting for grass to grow or continents to shift. he cuts away at the expensive lingerie you bought just last weekend like he has all the time in the world, like he does not care if the sun rises and you are still crying beneath him.

(and he does it, you know, because you’ve never been one to be patient.)

“choso,” you whine, drawing his name out, long and frustrated, as if in song. “go faster.” your legs twitch in protest and the blade comes ever closer.

“no.” choso does not even spare the kindness to look at you, his beloved little sister. “stop whining.”

the rest of your complaints lodge in your throat. you fear disobeying him, so you grip the comforter like a lifeline, exasperated tears pooling in the corners of your eyes as the blade cuts through your clothes and ghosts across the bare skin beneath. it’s embarrassing, really, the way you can feel yourself becoming more and more desperate the further choso drifts away from you, the more he refuses to indulge.

you wonder if he can sense the arousal on you, feel it, smell it, even, like you’re nothing but his own little plaything in heat.

after an eternity, the blade finally cuts through your panties with a satisfying rip. the torn fabric sits pitifully against your hips, a reminder of your own subservience, until choso peels it away from you with enough condescension to move you to tears. the cool air of the room hits your thighs, your cunt, like a ghost who’s taken up residence beside you.

blissfully unaware of your feelings, choso studies the remains of your ruined underwear, the thin fabric and the obvious stain of your arousal. locking eyes with you, he bring it to his nose for a brief and pleasurable inhale before he discards it somewhere on the other side of the room.

“there we are,” he says, as if he hadn’t just smelled yourself in front of you. “now no one will ever know about it but me.”

“choso,” you whimper, hot. it’s a gift and a humiliation to be beneath him like this, to shake with need and yet to be denied it, to ask for something, for anything, in a voice so unabashedly loud that anyone who passes by the door might hear it.

he ignores you, again, and turns his attention to your bra as it flutters against your fervent chest. you watch with wide eyes as the blade comes closer, closer, dancing against your ribcage and sending ice into your lungs until it slices through the front of your bra, down the center of your chest, like the thin fabric was made of nothing but water.

“get rid of this,” he says; you listen. with quick and quivering fingertips you shimmy your way out of the delicate material and toss it over the side of the bed faster than the speed of sound. choso, pleased with your obedience, intently traces the curve of your breasts, thumbing your nipples until you find yourself arching into his touch.

(choso, you mumble, eyes falling shut at the feeling. still, as always, he does not listen. he draws his hands away.)

it kills you, the way choso’s eyes possess you, own you, dictate the movement in your bloodstream. it’s akin to being pulled along on marionette strings, a puppet of choso’s own design, made to dance for him and him alone.

it’s the prize he deserves, your big brother, to own you and protect you, body and soul.

it’s that very intensity which moves you to misty tears, which causes your hands to fly out to meet him against your better judgement. choso lets you pleasure yourself for a moment with the texture of his t-shirt and the outline of his shoulders before brushing your hands away like unnecessary flies.

“did you whore yourself out like this when you went to naoya’s?” choso prods. the patronization lies beneath feigned and genuine curiosity. there are no inflections, no signs of anger. this is how your big brother gets you, every time: it’s the neglect, the disinterest, that breeds your guilt. “are you really so easy for every boy that comes your way?”

you shake your head and wish you could bury yourself further into the bedsheets. no, never. try as you might the first-year college boys here just haven’t been enough, the older ones too preoccupied with better cunts to look your way.

“just because those guys are my brothers,” choso continues, shifting further and further down your body, spreading your legs until he can fit himself comfortably between them, “doesn’t mean i have to share everything with them.”

“i’m sorry, choso,” you try again, “i’m sorry. i don’t want anyone else–”

“that’s right,” choso interrupts. “you don’t need anyone else. no one is ever going to love you the way i do.”

the way your big brother does, his eyes say, but he doesn’t have to voice it. you already know. it’s true that no one knows you better than choso does. no one understands your limits and your desires the way your brother has for as long as you’ve known him. no one knows how to caress you when you cry, how to run their tongue across your lips to silence you when you’re too eager. it’s always choso. it’s always been choso; but sometimes you’re just too much of a fool to see it.

the blade, cool and demanding, presses against the soft flesh of your thigh, just below the hip. you twitch in surprise at the sensation and curl your toes to quell the ache in your cunt. it’s slick, weeping; you can feel it, the arousal, as it pools and pools and drips quietly onto the comforter.

“choso, what are you–” you ask, breathily, pitifully, but choso’s quick glare reduces you into obedient silence.

he licks the cinnamon chapstick on his lips. a stray hair falls across his eyes and kisses the dark line across his nose. he is love and danger, a cocktail of possession and surrender. “i think,” choso says, the words slow and thoughtful, “you need a reminder of who loves you the most.”

a strangled cry escapes your lips when the blade pierces your skin just enough to draw blood. the sting travels up through your spine and fogs up your senses, causes your cunt to weep in horrible anticipation. it hurts, it does, the first cut, but still you find yourself waiting for more of it, more, in terror and lust and love.

“choso–” you cry, a misty tear escaping out of the corner of your eye, but the call is met by another stroke, longer this time, drawn out, until your knuckles clutch the bedsheets so tensely they might as well turn to stone.

“stay still,” choso admonishes amidst the burn of it. “you’ll hurt yourself.”

as if you were the one in control. but you listen, obediently as always, and the alcohol from earlier combined with the need in your chest mixes together until your body is as taut as a desperate wire, until you no longer have control of yourself or your limbs. the knife cuts easily, choso’s hands as steady and precise as ever. you can feel the blood dripping onto his sheets like a series of hot tears.

it’s too much, all at once. it is a fire which destroys you, which renders every coherent thought into ash and causes you to sob nothing but drawn-out cries and pleads of choso’s name into the dark bedroom. he has you just where he wants you: pliant, dumb, obedient. if he asked you to fetch him a star, you would have asked him which one he needed.

choso’s tongue darts between his teeth as a steady hand continues its masterpiece. you sob unabashedly in reply with every stroke, with every flex of his fingers as he works his blade against your tender skin. and yet, as the pain grows, so does your need for something, for anything, for release; with every aching minute your cunt grows hotter and lonelier and emptier between your thighs.

you crave something, anything, choso, perhaps even more than you wish for air.

“there you go,” choso says, just as you release another cry so piercing there’s no way even yuuji wouldn’t have heard it. “all done.”

you sit up on your elbows to peer down at the masterpiece below your hip. smeared with blood, aching and raw from the blade, the word CHOSO spreads across your upper thigh in an uneven but heartfelt script. it makes you dizzy, this marking, this sign that no one owns you better than your sacred brother does. you wonder if it will leave a scar, if it will heal; and even more so, you wonder if choso will merely rewrite it, again and again, until every cell in your body knows that you are nothing without him.

you say nothing; a whine escapes your lips as your eyes flit from the mark to choso’s eyes, dark and possessive, as he looks back at you.

“you like it?” he asks, once again the sweet thing, the doting one.

“yes,” you whisper back, never one to lie to your perfect big brother.

but you cannot hide the insatiability. choso notices the way your thighs twitch from the intensity, the way your cunt drools and your eyebrows furrow because you cannot relieve this ache on your own. you’re helpless, entirely at his mercy. choso tilts his head with a soft and unreadable simper at the sight.

“you’re really worked up, huh?” he pretends your distress is not blatantly obvious. he twirls the bloodstained knife between his fingertips for a moment before bringing the flat edge of the blade against his lips in a somber kiss. “this little thing’s got you down bad, i see.” he flashes the switchblade at you like a diamond. you watch, entranced, as choso slides his tongue across the metal until any traces of your blood disappear into his mouth.

your belly’s on fire. the switchblade shines with choso’s spit and he smiles, your blood on his tongue, while he prods your legs apart, further, until you’re entirely open for him with nothing to hide. you whine lowly as choso’s eyes flicker between your eyes, dazed and helpless, and the slick on the bedsheets.

“choso,” you repeat. “please, help me.” your eyes are wide and your voice is small and you crumble beneath the weight of your own needing, of your own body working of its own volition, of the high that collapses all over you.

perhaps it’s the way you call for him, your big brother, in your time of need. perhaps it’s the way choso can never really deny you, even when he feigns disappointment or rage or neglect. he’s bound to you, your protector, and you can see in the way his eyes soften ever so slightly that choso will not deny you this request.

“sure thing, angel. let me clean this up for you.” choso’s voice is generous as he bows his face towards your hips with the reverence of one before the altar. he leaves no room for your answer. an eager tongue swipes across your thigh and laps at the blood which pools there. his movements are indulgent, refined, as he holds your legs open with intimidating palms and drinks you in like medicine.

“choso–” you gasp, unable to look away. his eyes flit back to meet yours in reply but he continues his ministrations, slow, teasing, as he ignores your cunt entirely and licks at the fresh wound until it’s finally, sacredly, clean. your newly beloved CHOSO glimmers with his spit when he pulls away. he smiles at you then, praying over your hips, lips stained red with your blood, with your being.

“i may be their brother,” choso gestures towards the door, to the party which must still rage below, “but i’m your brother first, and now you’ll never forget it.”

the words are followed by his tongue on your inner thigh, fervent this time, as he travels downwards, downwards from his name on your leg until his nose is a breath away from your clit. you thrust your hips towards him impatiently and he accepts it, gratefully, burying his face deep into your cunt like he’s searching for gold. choso lavishes your clit with plump lips and an eager tongue, drawing the bud into his mouth and kissing it until you cry, until your legs tremble as they ensnare him in your garden.

“choso–” you’re crying, voice transcendent throughout the frat house, his favorite song. there’s a tongue prodding against your hole and a silver ring on your clit and you lose yourself within it, within choso’s breath on your folds and the fire which erupts into chaos.

when it comes to pleasing you, choso does not require air. he refuses to resurface as his tongue explores every inch, as he laps away at you with the passionate abandon only an older brother can provide. what you need, he needs, and what you desire most, choso is always willing to provide. he holds you steady as he works so you cannot escape him. he forces you into stillness as he abuses every sacred inch of your cunt, as he works you into a frenzy with his fingers and his tongue until you can think of nothing but wanting to cum.

and then, then, at the precipice of pleasure, choso pulls away. you pause as you catch your breath, heartbeat like an earthquake, and recollect your shock. why has he stopped? where has he gone? you’re about to sit up, to feign sobriety, to demand what the matter is, when something cool and smooth presses against your clit.

choso’s cheek rests against your inner thigh as he presses the flat edge of the switchblade against your cunt. it’s cold and dangerous and sublime and you cannot help but think of the way it could ruin you, that if you shifted or choso wanted it everything could end here, now, forever. and it is this fear, coupled with the coolness of the blade suffocating your clit, with the alcohol in your bloodstream, that sends you into a place from which you may never return.

the orgasm is as violent as a hurricane. the moment you tense and begin to quake with a strangled sob choso replaces the blade with his tongue and rides you through it, coating his lips with your cum and swallowing the vibrations and heightening the sensation until you are tortured by it, by the sting of pleasure and overstimulation and want.

(“that’s it,” you think he says into your skin, but your ears ring too loudly to know. “cum for me, just like that.”)

it takes some time for the waves to recede and for your body to become still again. with a head comprised of of jelly and limbs made of water you lie still, panting, as choso nonchalantly licks your slick from the switchblade with a hum and gingerly sets it back down on his dresser. you watch as he slides the belt out of his jeans and tosses it into the dark room, as he hovers above you like an angel and its lover.

“better now?” he asks against your parted lips. you nod. he kisses you, deeply, a kiss made of iron and cum and blood, tongue swiping across your teeth before he draws the air from your lungs. your vision swims when he plants a kiss on the tip of your nose, your cheeks, your forehead, between your eyebrows. he plants his love until there is nowhere left untouched, until you are buzzing with the security only your brother choso can give you.

“yeah,” you mumble back to him, content, satisfied. even the sting of his name on your body is a pleasantry now.

“good.” choso wipes the perspiration from your brow. his jeans scratch against your pelvis, and it is only then that you finally register his cock, hard and eager, waiting patiently for its turn. it is only then that you realize choso’s lesson is not yet over, that your brother’s desperate need has only begun.

“now,” he purrs, gently, lovingly, “can you show me how much you love me?”

(as always, forever, you do. you show him your love, endlessly, even when the party ends and the house falls eerily silent. you show choso everything, all of it, loyally, just as he asks, with an only you, choso, and a no one else loves me like you.

because although choso offers his love to the brothers downstairs, he will always, forever, be your brother first, til death do you part.)

#tw incest #tw dubcon #tw knife play #tw blood play #tw marking #tw yandere #choso smut #choso.#it's dark in here #it's hot in here

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watchmegetobsessed · 3 years

Text

TO LOVE AND BE LOVED - Part Four (Harry Styles)

a/n: happy TLABL day!! can’t believe we are already on part 4! im not sure if part 5 will be the last part, im still very much writing the rest so we’ll see! thank you so much for all the love you’ve been showing the series, i love reading your reactions! feedback is very much appreciated this time as well!

pairing: CEO!Dad!Harry X Reader

warning: mentions of death, cheating and divorce

word count: 11k

SERIES MASTERPOST masterlist

You wake up feeling like you’ve been hit by a truck or at least consumed a whole bottle of tequila. Your head is pounding and it’s probably with all the crying and stress, so you are quick to take some pills to ease the pain. Sitting on the edge of your bed you stare ahead of you blankly, trying to gain power to start the day.

Though today is Sunday, so you are not working, you’re still worried to face Harry after whatever it was that happened last night. What were you thinking, kissing your boss out of the blue? And what was he thinking kissing you for the second time? It kind of feels like a dream, but you know it really did happen.

You try to stay in your room as long as possible, avoiding to face Harry, but soon enough you can’t postpone it any longer, because you are starving. Peeking out of your room you hear voices coming from downstairs and as you reach the stairs you recognize not just Harry’s and Izzy’s voice, but Niall’s as well.

Arriving downstairs you see Niall and Izzy sitting on the stools at the kitchen island while Harry is cleaning the dishes after their breakfast probably. He is wearing a pair of light-washed jeans and a black hoodie, the sleeves bunched around his elbows. He looks so casual and yet just looking at him makes your heart skip a beat. You are in some big trouble.

Niall spots you first and he perks up waving in your way happily.

“Good morning, Y/N!” he beams, his accent sounds so comforting in such a stressful moment, for some reason.

“Hi, good morning,” you breathe out. Harry turns around, his eyes fall on you and a shiver runs down your spine. He just looked at you and you already want to run away and hide in your room a little longer.

“Morning,” he greets you with a nod before turning back to the sink to finish the dishes.

“Daddy and Uncle Niall are taking me to the park! We are picking Yara up too!” Izzy shares the news with you excitedly.

“Oh, that sounds great!” you smile at her, giving her cheek a gentle pinch before moving to the fridge.

“Do you want to come?” she invites you and your eyes immediately flicker over to Harry who looks at you the exact same time, making your stomach drop right away.

“Um, I have some work to do, maybe some other time,” you smile at Izzy, grabbing yourself a yoghurt and a banana before shutting the fridge closed.

“So how was yesterday?” Niall asks and you freeze. Does he know what happened? Did Harry tell him about last night?

Niall sees your frightened look to which he shoots you a confused one.

“The wedding, Harry told me earlier you had a wedding yesterday.”

“Oh, it went… fine,” you nod shortly, peeking at Harry who is now staring down at his feet awkwardly. This was starting to get painfully ridiculous, the two of you dancing around each other, pretending like you weren’t down each other’s throats just a few hours prior.

“Alright, let’s leave, we need to pick Yara up in twenty,” Harry claps his hands. Izzy jumps off the stool and takes Niall’s hand as they all head out of the house. “We’ll probably have lunch somewhere and then go grocery shopping, so we’ll be away for a while,” he informs you without looking your way before leaving without even waiting for any reaction from you.

Yeah, this was straight up the most awkward conversation you’ve had in a long time.

“Here, Izzy. Play some games on my phone!” Niall passes his phone to her with a sweet smile, but Harry smacks his bicep.

“What are you doing? She has enough screen time already!”

“Yeah, but I needed her to be busy so I can ask you what the fuck was that in the house.”

Harry curls his lips into his mouth, his eyes glued to the road ahead of him as he tries to come up with a good answer, but he knows he could never fool his best friend.

“Don’t stop, even if she is busy with the phone,” Harry scolds him, glancing at Izzy through the mirror, but she doesn’t seem to be listening to them. Niall rolls his eyes, but lets his words uncommented. “Besides, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Oh, you exactly know it. You and Y/N were like scared little bunnies around each other. She looked like she was about to faint any moment when you looked at her.”

“Maybe she was just tired,” he shrugs, but Niall laughs at his weak attempt to fool him.

“Now tell me the real reason, I know something happened.”

Harry chews on his bottom lip, debating whether he should come clean or not, but he knows Niall won’t leave him until he finally tells him so he is not left with many choices.

“We kissed.”

“What?!” Niall snaps, a little louder than Harry expected, his voice makes him flinch. “Sorry, that was a little too dramatic, but what the fuck? Why were you keeping this from me?!”

“Because I knew this is how you’d react,” Harry mumbles under his breath. “And… I don’t think it will ever happen again.”

“What do you mean?”

“The whole thing was a mess,” Harry sighs. “She came home late, pretty upset because she met with her ex at the wedding.”

“The one that cheated on her?”

“Mhm. The dude was an asshole and… she was crying in the kitchen when I came down. We sat on the couch, talked, I tried to calm her down and all that and then… she kissed me.”

“Wait, she kissed you? Wow, she’s got balls!” Niall laughs.

“Yeah, but it was, like, really short and she pulled back, shocked at herself for doing it. I think it was just all the emotions that got her a little confused. But then she tried to apologize and… and I kissed her.”

“What?! Oh my God!” Niall’s mind is blown and he doesn’t even tries to hide his excitement hearing the news about last night. “Was there tongue?”

“Jesus, Niall!” Harry scowls. “I’m not sharing the details with you.”

“Okay, but was it like a solid, short kiss or you guys went right at it?”

Harry doesn’t answer, but it tells enough about the situation and Niall can’t help but whistle as he claps his hands.

“Stop acting like a horny teenager, Niall,” Harry growls rolling his eyes at his friend.

“So you guys snogged, what’s the matter with that?”

“It got awkward. We just pulled back and I think we both were pretty shocked about it and… she just stood up and said that she is going to bed. End of story. And then you were there in the morning, so… yeah.”

“Tell me why the hell we are heading to a playdate then when you should be talking to her?” Niall asks, arching an eyebrow at Harry.

“There’s not much to talk about. It just happened in the heat of the moment, that’s all,” Harry shrugs, but deep down he knows it’s a blatant lie. At least on his side.

Unlike you, who fell asleep right away, Harry spent about an hour lying in his bed wide awake, not able to think about anything else but your lips on his. He replayed the whole thing in his head about a million times, he was starting to feel ashamed of it, but he just couldn’t stop.

Your abrupt leaving left him puzzled and he thought long and hard about why you felt the need to run away. The only thing that made sense to him is that you regretted it the moment it happened, that it really did just happen in the heat of the moment so Harry thought it’s best to act like it didn’t even happen.

“Please don’t be an ass and just… talk to her. We both know we can never know for sure what a woman thinks about. You can’t just assume and think that your assumption is one hundred percent right.”

“I find it funny that you’re such an expert in this stuff, but you haven’t had a stable relationship since like, we finished college,” Harry scoffs as he takes the corner and starts driving down the street to Yara’s moms’ house.

“Me not having a relationship doesn’t mean that I’m not good at them. It’s a choice,” Niall smirks.

“Yeah, whatever.”

“But back to the topic, you wanted to kiss her, right?”

“I mean, yeah? It kinda threw me off as well, but it was… nice.”

“Please don’t refer to a kiss as nice again,” Niall gags, but Harry just chuckles at him. “A kiss is hot, passionate, pant tighteni—“

“Okay, that’s enough!” Harry cuts him, earning a cackle from him.

“Just talk to her, don’t be a pussy.”

“I really do need better friends,” Harry mumbles under his breath as he pulls up to the driveway.

You really didn’t feel like staying home alone in that big ass house so you invited yourself over for an early dinner to your mom’s. You haven’t been over since the little fiasco with Trevor so you thought it might be a good idea to spend some time with them. Trevor said they’ve been trying to keep the fighting down to the minimum and not let it turn into a screaming match, so your speech worked after all.

It’s past three o’clock when you leave, no sign of Harry or Izzy and you feel like they won’t be back for a while either, so you lock everything up and head out.

You have a genuinely good time. It’s obvious that your mom feels guilty about her past behavior and is trying to lure you into forgiving her, though you already did that. But you’re happy your little speech worked. At least Trevor can have his peace now.

After dinner your mom disappears in her room and then returns with a nicely wrapped box and you sigh, rolling your eyes.

“Mom, I told you I don’t need gifts.” You give her a look. Your birthday is coming up next week, but you were never the kind to celebrate. You never felt comfortable with all the attention and fuss birthdays come with, so you’ve always liked to keep it down. These past years you didn’t even ask for anything, though your parents never listened and this year doesn’t seem like an exception either.

“Oh hush. You can’t expect me not to celebrate my baby!” she shakes her head, sitting back to the dining table. “And besides, I didn’t pay a dollar for it,” she then adds and now you’re curious what she got you.

Removing the lid of the box you peek inside and your lips immediately part as you see the stack of polaroids inside.

“I know how much you like old photos and when we sold Grandma’s house back in August, I found these in my old room. I got a polaroid camera for graduation, just in time to take tons of pictures of you,�� she explains with a soft chuckle as you start going through the pictures from when you were born and the next few years. Whenever you are done looking at a photo you hand it to Trevor so he can take a look at them too.

“Are you sure you don’t want to keep these, mom?” you ask glancing up at her over the stack.

“I took out a few for myself,” she admits with a sneaky smile. “You can have the rest, I know how much you love these stuff.”

“Thank you, mom,” you smile at her, hugging her from the side, feeling touched by this gift.

It’s nearing eight when you arrive back home, the lights are still up and if you had to guess you’d say that Harry is trying to tire Izzy out enough to put to bed, as usual. Walking in, your guess is proven right, the TV is on in the living room while Harry is sitting on the couch, Izzy all over him in her pink pajamas, playing around with his hair like she always does.

“Hi Y/N!” she calls out happily when she spots you.

“Hi Sunshine, did you have a good time today?” you ask with a soft smile.

“I did! And guess what!”

“What?”

“Yara invited me over for a sleepover!” she beams, clearly ecstatic about the invitation.

“That’s amazing!”

“What’s that?” she curiously asks pointing at the gift box in your hands. Harry turns to see you, his eyes falling on the box as well.

“Oh, it’s a gift I got from my mom,” you explain, stepping closer.

“Is it your birthday?” she questions, knitting her eyebrows together.

“No, not yet. But it will be next week,” you admit with a soft chuckle.

“Really? Are you having a birthday party?” she gasps, getting way too excited already. Harry eyes you without a word, holding Izzy by her hips so she is not losing her balance standing on the cushion of the couch.

“I’m not, sorry. I don’t like having birthday parties,” you pout at her apologetically.

“Oh, okay. Can I see what you got from your mom?”

“Izzy, don’t be nosy,” Harry warns her, but you just smile at the curious girl.

“Sure,” you nod, joining them on the couch. You sit on the opposite end than where Harry is, Izzy in the middle as she watches the box in awe. You set it down to the cushion and take the lid off, revealing the stack of photos.

“What are these?”

“They are called polaroids. They are old pictures, taken with a special camera that kind of prints the picture out right away,” you explain to her as she takes the first photo from the top, a picture of your mom holding you as a newborn. She was so young, practically a child herself, yet her pride was undeniable, it shone all over her face. You spot Harry looking at the picture as well over Izzy’s shoulder, still keeping his silence.

“Who are these people?”

“That’s my mom and that’s me as a baby. And… this is my dad,” you hold up another photo that features your dad.

“They really were young when they had you,” Harry speaks up for the first time, surprised by the photos.

“Yeah, they were.”

“What are you going to do with them?” Izzy questions, dropping the photo back into the box as she leans back to lie on Harry’s chest.

“Not sure yet. I might make an album from them,” you shrug. “I really like polaroids, I love that they are one of a kind.”

Izzy nods, though you’re not sure she understood what you meant by that. Fidgeting with her fingers she pushes down a yawn and Harry takes that as a good sign.

“Alright, time for bed, Love. Say good night to Y/N.” He picks her up as he stands from the couch. Izzy waves at you smiling with tired eyes.

“Night-night, Y/N,” she singsongs as Harry carries her towards the stairs.

Putting the pictures back into the box you head into your bedroom too, feeling like the time when you and Harry talk about what happened yesterday will never come. It’s pretty clear that he doesn’t want to acknowledge it, so you’ll just let it slip. It happened just in the heat of the moment, didn’t mean a thing, you better forget about it.

After a speedy shower you are getting ready to just go to bed, read some and have a relaxing evening, something you didn’t have the luck to have the day before. But right as you’re about to make yourself comfortable in bed, there’s a knock on your door.

“Hey,” you breathe out as you open it and find Harry standing in the hallway.

“I hope you weren’t sleeping already.”

“No. Come on in,” you invite him inside and he walks in. As he awkwardly stops in the middle of the room you realize he hasn’t even been in here since you’ve moved in. He takes a look around, examining what you’ve done with the room and you feel thankful you decided to put your laundry away just yesterday, so no dirty underwear is littering the floor anywhere.

“How can I help you?” you ask with a soft smile.

“I, erm… I just wanted to clear some things,” he starts, clearly feeling nervous about the conversation and that makes the two of you for sure. Nodding you let him know that you’re waiting for him to carry on. “What happened yesterday…” he starts and your breath gets caught in your throat. “You were very emotional, a lot happened and it was a very confusing moment probably for the both of us. I really like working with you, I’m very happy with the way you’ve been taking care of Izzy and I would hate to ruin it with anything.”

You can feel your stomach dropping even though you were bracing yourself for this version of the situation. It was very likely that Harry would want to keep things professional, like before, but it still makes you feel like shit.

“I’m sorry for stepping over some boundaries, but I really hope that… we can put it behind us and that we can move on.”

He is using his business tone. It’s the same tone he used with Sarah and his assistants and now he is using it to talk about the kiss that happened between the two of you.

“Sure,” you answer quietly nodding. “Moving on sounds… great,” you nod, forcing a smile to your face, but it couldn’t be more fake.

Harry nods as he runs his tongue over his lips, looking around a little awkwardly now that it’s been discussed.

“Alright, then… good night, Y/N,” he nods in your way before heading towards the door.

“Good night, Harry,” you mumble after him as he walks out and closes the door behind him.

As soon as you are on your own, you let out a shaky breath, falling to your bed, lips trembling as you try to even make out what you’re feeling. Because part of you is glad he didn’t make a fuss about it and you didn’t lose your job, that’s great news. But another part, which is vehemently bigger than the first one is upset and sad and… disappointed?

You were hoping it meant something for him, you wanted him to want it, to feel the same craving for you as you feel towards him, because you haven’t really stopped thinking about what his lips felt like against yours, what it was like when his fingers dug into your thigh, how it sent a shiver down your spine when his tongue met yours.

But this conversation just made it awfully clear that he wants nothing to do with you. And it hurts probably more than it should.

Harry doesn’t get too far from your door when he feels the all too familiar pain in his chest he has been forced to live with these past over three years. It’s like something is gripping his heart and lungs in his chest so tight, even breathing is a hard task.

Rushing into his bedroom he closes the door behind him and slides down to the floor as the tears flood from his eyes. The past twenty-four hours have been rough on him, the guilt has been growing immensely since he let himself slip and give in for his desires and eventually kiss you.

It’s not that he didn’t want it. Because he’d be lying if he said it meant nothing to him and that he hasn’t been craving it these past weeks.

But his guilt, this evil little voice in the back of his head wouldn’t let him enjoy it even the slightest.

How dare you kiss another woman after your wife? Are you insane? You don’t deserve to feel this way with anyone else. Not when you were the reason your wife ended up dead!

Heartbreaking sobs escape from his chest as he pushes himself up from the floor and heads into the bathroom. He strips out of his clothes leaving them all in a pile on the marble tiled floor before he steps into the shower and lets the hot water pour down on him, almost burning his skin, but he doesn’t change the temperature, as if he was trying to punish himself. His salty tears mix with the water as he stands still, chest heaving as his vivid memories from that night come crashing down on him all at once.

“Are you giving me the silent treatment now? Really?” Harry sighed at his wife when she failed to answer his question about the whereabouts of his sweatpants. Maggie sat on the bed with the recent maternity book she’d been reading these past days, not even paying her husband a look at his question.

“Mags, for fuck’s sake, I’m not in the mood to play this game right now,” Harry sighed in defeat. Maggie looked up at him, closed the book slowly and put it aside to the bedside table.

“So the question of expanding our family is just a game to you?” she asked calmly, but her anger and disappointment in her husband was soaking through her tone.

“You know that’s not what I’m talking about.”

“No, you are not talking about anything, because you refuse to have a fucking conversation with me!” she retorted, letting all her bottled up anger out that’d been boiling inside her.

“I already told you that I can’t think about having another baby right now. Izzy is only six, I’m in the middle of a huge project, I don’t have the capacity to think about having another baby, Maggie. I thought I made it clear, why are you still onto me then?”

“Because it’s not something we can put aside for too long! I don’t want to have another baby when I’m in my mid-thirties, but if we go with your plan, we won’t even have another one!” Maggie jumped to her feet, pacing the floor back and forth next to their bed as Harry stood with his hands on his hips, getting irritated that they were fighting over the same thing again.

“I never said we can’t have another baby, but why can’t we wait a little? When Izzy is older and more independent? Do you have any idea how hard it is to take care of a baby and a toddler? It’s a fucking nightmare!” Harry growled rolling his eyes.

“So our family is just a pain in the ass for you?” Maggie questioned, folding her arms on her chest and she was really getting on Harry’s nerves, twisting his words completely.

“That’s not what I said!” he snapped. “All I’m asking for is you to be a little patient and give me some time!”

“I don’t have time, Harry! I want it as soon as possible!”

“Why are you so fucking difficult?” Harry groaned, running his hands through his hair. “Why can’t you wait just… one year at least? Is that too much to ask?”

“And is it too much to ask to focus on your family? We are supposed to come first!” she turned it back around and Harry was not having the dirty games she was playing, putting all the blame on him when she could have been a little more understanding as well. He was feeling like his opinion was put aside and didn’t matter at all.

“You do come first, you don’t have the right to question that.” Harry pointed at Maggie, his blood practically boiling at this point.

“Then why do I feel like work is always more important to you?”

“What are you talking about? You know I’m home as much as I can, but we still need the fucking money, Maggie! Or how do you plan on paying the bills of this fucking mansion?!”

“I don’t need a mansion! I just need my family and that’s all!” she argued, but Harry rolled his eyes at her.

“Well you seem to enjoy this mansion a lot when you sit by the pool and watch movies in the fucking movie theater in your own home!” he snapped back feistily. “Stop acting like I don’t do shit for our family when I work my ass off to provide the best possible life. And all I’m asking for in return is some fucking time before we bring another baby into the picture!”

“You are so fucking unbelievable,” Maggie shook her head as she marched past him, walking away from the fight that just grinded his gears even more.

Just as Harry was about to go after her, he heard the faint crying through the baby monitor. Groaning he headed into Izzy’s room and as he took her out of her crib, he heard the front door open and shut.

“Aw, baby, I’m sorry, did we wake you up?” he cooed, hugging the crying little girl to his chest who clung onto him immediately. Even at such a young age, Izzy was already a daddy’s little girl.

Soon her cries died down to just little hiccups as Harry soothed her, patting her bum and back gently as he moved around the room. Holding Izzy in one arm he grabbed his phone with his free hand and typed a message to his wife.

Harry: Where did you go?!

Maggie: I’m going over to my sister’s. Don’t wait up, might get home late.

Harry couldn’t help but roll his eyes. She called him out for running away from the conversation, but when they were finally talking about it she just decided to disappear when it didn’t head in the direction she wanted, seeking comfort at her sister, as always.

He managed to lull Izzy back to sleep, putting her back to her crib before going back to the bedroom. As time passed by and he calmed down more and more he wished Maggie was home so they could talk about it without jumping at each other’s throat. There had to be a compromising way to solve the situation that would be fine for the both of them.

Harry: Please come home and let’s talk about it.

Maggie: So you can bite my head off again?!

Harry: Mags, please. You have to understand my point of view too!

Maggie: I understand it, but I don’t agree with it. And you don’t seem to understand mine…

Harry: I do, but there are more things to consider. Please come home, I don’t want to have this conversation over the phone!

Maggie: Okay, I’m heading home now.

Harry put his phone down to the nightstand with a long sigh, already tired from everything that happened that day and he knew this conversation would be a hard one too, but they needed to be on the same page when it came to their family.

It was late getting late and Harry grew a little more restless with each passing moment. Paisley, Maggie’s sister lived about thirty minutes away from them and it’d been forty minutes since she sent her last text. At first he figured she maybe stayed and talked for a little longer with Paisley, or stopped for some fast food which he knew she liked so much whenever she was upset, but when an entire hour passed by he was getting worried.

He kept sending her texts that didn’t even get delivered and when he tried to call it went straight to her voicemail. Harry was losing his shit so he decided to call Paisley to see if she knew anything about her.

“She hasn’t arrived home yet?” she asked, clearly surprised.

“No, and she is not answering my calls and texts. When did she leave from yours?”

“A long time ago. Almost right away when you texted her to go home.”

“Fuck,” Harry breathed out, anxiously pacing the floor as he held the phone to his ear. “Okay, can you please call your parents in case she went there for whatever reason? I’ll try her friends.”

“Yeah, sure. Let me know if you got a hold of her,” Paisley told him before they ended the call.

Harry was scrolling through his contacts, trying to decide who Maggie would go to first in this situation and just as he was about to call the first person, his phone started ringing with an unknown number.

“Hello?” he answered the call unsurely, his heart beating fast in his chest as he stood in the middle of the room.

“Mr. Harry Styles?” a male voice asked on the other end.

“Yes, it’s me. Who am I speaking to?”

“I’m Officer Field speaking. You were listed as the emergency contact for your wife, Margaret Linn Styles.”

Blood rushed out of Harry’s face faster than he could even process what was happening. He stood completely frozen, his hands were getting clammy as he started sweating as if he just ran the marathon.

“What happened?” he asked weakly, barely even finding his own voice.

“Mr. Styles, I have bad news…”

Harry makes his way down to the entertainment room, walking like a zombie, only thinking about the bottle of vodka that sits in the minibar down there. Following his skin burning shower he tried to go to bed, but his head was starting to spin from everything that’s been swirling in his mind and he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop it if he didn’t numb himself somehow. Unfortunately, his only way of doing it has been drinking, nothing seemed to help him the way alcohol did and though he knew he should never solve any of his problems with drinking, he still couldn’t help himself sometimes. When the pain was growing immensely, taking over his whole body, he chose the easiest way to get rid of the guilt or at least stop himself from… feeling.

Grabbing the bottle from the mini fridge he snatches himself a glass as well, not drinking straight from the bottle at least, and plopping himself down to the couch he pours a generous glass, drinking it without any chaser.

He winces as the alcohol burns down his throat, but at least it’s a different kind of pain, that takes the focus away from the one he is feeling in his chest.

One glass chases the other and since he is not particularly used to the heavy drinking, he is more like the ‘let’s nurse this pint for an hour’ type of guy, the raw vodka kicks in pretty quickly.

But he is not the only one who can’t fall asleep tonight.

You tried everything in your power to end your misery and finally fall asleep, but your mind and body was plotting against you and made you toss and turn until you couldn’t take it any longer. Making a good cup of tea seemed like a good idea, so you headed down the kitchen.

As you round the corner after the stairs and you’re about to walk into the kitchen, you notice how the lights are on down in the entertainment room. You stop in your tracks and try to think back if anyone was there before you went upstairs, but you don’t think it was the case.

You figure since there are only two adults living in the house, it must be Harry down there and right now, facing him doesn’t sound like a good idea, so you decide to leave him be, but that’s when you hear the voice of some kind of glass breaking, followed by a heavy accented cursing and it changes your mind right away.

“Harry?” you softly call out as you walk down the stairs, not sure what to expect down there. He is crouching down, his back in your direction as he is trying to get the pieces of the broken glass up from the floor, but he is too disoriented to succeed in the task and it’s obvious that an injury is deemed to happen sooner or later.

“Harry, you’re gonna cut yourself!” you warn him, and walking over to him you pull him up from his squatting position and when he looks at you is when you realize that he is drunk out of his mind.

“Y/N, oh shit, did I—Did I wake you up?” he slurs, knitting his eyebrows together as he tries to focus his vision on you.

“You didn’t, but let me just—Why don’t you sit down for a moment while I clean this up, huh?” you suggest, pulling him towards the couch, making him sit. He falls to the cushion like dead weight, letting out a tired sigh while you rush to get a broom and a dustpan to get rid of the broken glass on the floor as fast as possible before someone cuts themselves.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he breathes out closing his eyes.

“It’s okay. I’ll just clean it up quickly,” you assure him, getting down to business.

“Not about the g-glass. Well, about that as well…”

“Then why are you sorry?” you ask, as you sweep the shards onto the dustpan and throw them into the closest trashcan.

“About being… a pain in the ass,” he hiccups.

“You are not a pain in the ass,” you chuckle softly as you sit beside him.

“I am. I fucked things up,” he nods with a painful expression all over his handsome face.

“What do you mean?” You know you shouldn’t make him talk in this state, but you can’t help your curiosity. It seems like drunkenness makes his tongue run wild and you are desperate for the tiniest crumble of information about what’s going on in his head.

“I just… I kissed you,” he breathes out, his eyes popping open, but he is staring at the ceiling, not you.

“And?” you ask, trying to act cool, though your pulse is rapidly increasing.

“And I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Oh.” You lick your lips and try not to show how much that hurt. But even drunk, Harry notices the disappointment in your tone. His glassy eyes snap over to you and his face falls right away.

“That’s not how I mean it!” he gasps, reaching for your hand and you’re surprised by the sudden physical touch, but it feels kind of nice, so you let him hold your hand between his arm palms. “It’s not like I didn’t enjoy it, because fucking hell, it was amazing!” he bluntly tells you and you can already feel the heat crawling up your neck.

“Really?”

“Yes!”

“Then why did you tell me all of that in my room just earlier now?”

Harry pulls his hands back and moves his arms across his face, covering his eyes as he slides down the couch, his legs spreading out in front of him. He lets out a shaky whimper and seeing him like this worries you a lot. Harry is always in control, he has never let him fall apart like this before.

“Because… I don’t deserve to feel this way,” he confesses, confusing you even more. What is he talking about?

“Why wouldn’t you?”

He shakes his head under his arms, biting into his bottom lip as he inhales deeply, like he is trying to keep something inside, something you shouldn’t know about, but now you are desperate to find it out.

“I’m a fucking mess,” he breathes out, letting his arms fall to his sides, but he keeps his eyes closed, shutting you out in a way. “I don’t deserve to have these feelings,” he repeats again and it appears he is more likely talking to himself, rather than to you.

“Harry, what are you talking about?”

“I can’t tell you. I can’t tell you, because if I did, you’d never be able to look at me again.”

Now he is crying. Tears are rolling down his cheeks and his lips are trembling and you’ve never seen him in such a vulnerable state and quite frankly, it scares you. You knew him to be a strong and stable man, but now he resembles a frightened little boy, so lost in this big world.

“I’m pretty sure it’s not that bad, Harry.”

“It is,” he winces, as if it’s causing him physical pain to even talk about it.

“Harry…” You breathe out and moving closer you place a hand on his knee, giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. He turns to face you, his eyes all watered and glistening, he looks so heartbroken, it almost pains you as well.

“Promise me you won’t see me as a monster,” he whispers.

“I-I promise,” you nod, already bearing yourself for the worst, judging from the look on his face.

Taking a deep breath he looks around, as if he is making sure no one else is listening. Then his eyes fall down to his hands in his lap, he fidgets with his fingers, his tongue running along his pink lips before he takes a deep breath and speaks up again.

“Maggie’s death… It was all my fault. I fucking… killed my own wife.”

His voice dies down at the end of the sentence, staring into the void, completely zoned out as you sit beside him, shocked at his words. This was not exactly what you were expecting him to say. Harry starts sobbing again, the hot tears running down his cheeks as he starts crying and panic sets in you. He is so out of his own world, you have no idea what’s happening to him. Rushing over to the mini fridge, you grab a water for him, thinking it might help him at least after all the alcohol he has consumed.

“Here, drink some water,” you softly tell him, taking the cap off as you hand him the bottle. He takes it with a shaky hand and raising it to his trembling lips he takes a few small sips. “Harry, what do you mean it was your fault?” you ask, knowing well you probably shouldn’t push it, but you can’t just ignore what he said.

“Exactly what I said,” he sobs shaking his head vigorously. “It was all my fault, I was a fucking coward and that’s why she died! I could have stopped her! I should have gone after her!”

He is not answering you, not entirely. He is speaking thoughts that have been planted in his head a long time ago and they seem to be on repeat whenever he is feeling down. As much as you want to get more details out of him, he needs to rest, especially because he is working in the morning.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed, H,” you tell him as you stand up and reach out for him to help him to his unsteady feet. It turns out to be a little harder than you expected, but you manage to get him up from his sitting position, and throwing one of his arms over your shoulders you start to walk him up towards his bedroom.

“You fucking hate me now, don’t you?” he slurs, his other hand reaching out towards the wall to steady himself a little more.

“I don’t hate you, Harry.”

“But you think I’m a monster, right?”

“I’m not sure I know enough to think anything about you. This is a conversation we should have when you’re sober,” you suggest and he huffs.

“M’sorry for getting drunk in the middle of the night.”

“It’s alright. But I think you’ll have a mean headache in the morning,” you tease him as you finally reach the upstairs and head down the hallway towards his room.

“You’re a fucking angel, Y/N. You know that?” He just keeps talking and talking and you find it funny how different he is from his reserved and quiet self in this state.

“Am I?”

“Yeah. You are. You are so good to my daughter and to me as well… I really don’t get why your fucker ex cheated on you,” he huffs and you can’t help the smile that tugs on your lips. “What was his name? Kyle?”

“Keith,” you correct him.

“That fucker, Keith!” he spats making you laugh as you push his bedroom’s door open and walk him inside finally. “I bet he had a small dick.”

“Why does that matter,” you chuckle, making him sit on the edge of the bed.

“Because guys with small dicks are always out of touch with themselves. They think they are just better than everyone for some reason.”

“Do you have any scientific research to prove that?” you tease him as you push him down, tugging him under the covers, like a little kid.

“No, I just… know shit,” he sighs, his eyes falling closed the moment his head rests on the pillow.

“Alright. You can tell me more about what else you know when you’re sober. Now get some sleep, because you have work in the morning.”

You make sure he lies on his side as he hums his response. Reaching down you brush his messy curls out of his forehead as he breathes out harshly through his nose, probably about to fall asleep any moment.

Tapping on the screen of his phone on the nightstand you make sure that he has set up his alarm and you see the little alarm clock icon at the top bar so you are just about to walk out when you turn back around.

Seeing how he pushed so many things down inside of him, you’re not convinced he’ll be willing to give you the answers you are looking for. You’re afraid he might talk himself out and give you some kind of bullshit answer, so reaching for his phone you sneakily take his thumb and open the device, all whilst he doesn’t even move an inch.

Scrolling through his contacts you find Niall’s number and send it over to yourself before deleting the message so you leave no trail behind. You set the phone back to his nightstand and head out finally, going to bed as well, right after sending Niall a quick message.

Y/N: Hi! It’s Y/N, I got your number from Harry’s phone. Can you come by sometime tomorrow? I need to talk to you about something.

When you come down in the morning it’s pretty obvious that even though Harry had his alarm on, he snoozed one too many times and now he is in a rush, trying to get everything done and leave on time.

“Good morning,” you greet him and Izzy upon walking into the kitchen. Harry’s head snaps up from the half-made breakfast in front of him and judging by his expression, he more or less remembers what happened last night. “Rough morning?” you ask teasing him to ease the tension.

“Uh, yeah. Woke up a little late,” he nods, finishing up Izzy’s sandwich just the way she likes, without the crust on before handing it over to her. Izzy grabs the plate and marches over to the dining table, quietly munching on her food while Harry quickly tries to make himself a coffee, but he is a hot mess, still in his night clothes when he is supposed to leave in about ten minutes.

“I’ll make you the coffee, go and get changed,” you offer, taking over the machine.

“Oh, thank you,” he nods and for a change, he doesn’t try to argue with you, he just disappears upstairs.

You make his coffee just as he likes and leave it on the counter for him before joining Izzy at the table with your own breakfast. She is babbling about how excited she is for her piano lesson today, because she’s been practicing a lot lately. When Harry appears again he is dressed for work, but still looks a little disoriented.

“Hey,” you softly say as you join him in the kitchen.

“Hey, thank you for the coffee,” he nods, moving around the kitchen.

“No problem. How are you feeling?” you ask, hoping you’re not crossing any boundaries. Harry opens his mouth to answer, but then closes, probably not sure how much he should share, though he didn’t have too much problem with that last night.

“I’m… A little hangover, but I’m… fine,” he nods shortly. “Y/N, about last night, I—“

“We can talk about it later, okay? Don’t stress about it.” You give him a reassuring smile and you can tell he is sort of relieved he doesn’t have to have this conversation right in this moment.

“Thank you.”

“No worries. And I’ll clean up in the kitchen, don’t be late,” you smile at him warmly. You can tell he wants to protest, but he also knows he is running late so he doesn’t have much choice.

“Thank you, I’ll… see you later.”

Storming over to Izzy he presses a kiss to her forehead before grabbing all his stuff and leaving.

Niall texts you back not long after breakfast that he is free to drop by when Izzy is having her piano lesson. You carry on with the morning as usual, trying your best not to dwell on everything that happened last night.

Just as Rosaline and Izzy get settled for the lesson you hear a car pulling up outside and a few moments later the doorbell rings through the house.

“Let’s get one thing straight, is it a booty call?” Niall questions right away as you let him inside.

“It’s good to see you again,” you chuckle, shaking your head at him.

“So no sex is gonna be involved?” he smirks and you know he is just teasing you.

“No, sorry to disappoint.”

“Oh, you can never disappoint me, darling,” he winks at you before walking into the kitchen to serve himself a drink. “So why did you need to see me so desperately?”

“Well, I know I shouldn’t be discussing this with you first, but I feel like I need to know some basic information that Harry might not give me so I thought you could help me out.” Niall nods as he pours himself some soda and joins you at the kitchen island, sitting on the stool next to you. “I uhh—I need to ask how much Harry shared with you about… about me—and, um what—“

“Save the stuttering, I know you two kissed,” Niall cuts you off and you breathe out in relief that you don’t have to be the one breaking him the news.

“Oh, okay,” you nod with an awkward smile. “Yeah, so that happened. And last night he and I had this conversation how we should just keep our relationship professional and all that. We both went our own way but then later I found Harry down in the entertainment room, drunk and basically having a meltdown of some sort.”

“How drunk was he?” Niall asks, knitting his eyebrows together.

“Pretty drunk. He broke a glass and he was… crying and talking about a lot of stuff.” Niall takes your words in as he inhales deeply, just nodding for you to continue. “He started telling me how sorry he was for fucking things up and he was a mess, like a huge fucking mess. Then he told me about how he shouldn’t be feeling the way he does, because he doesn’t deserve it…”

“Jesus…” Niall shakes his head, probably already knowing where this is heading.

“And then he told me that his wife’s death was his fault. That was… pretty intense.”

“I can imagine.”

“I know I have to talk to him about it, but I’m really afraid he might shake it off, but it seems like he is having some serious issues and I wouldn’t want things to get out of hands. That’s why I thought I would talk to you, maybe you know what to do or how to approach him with such a sensitive subject.”

“Yeah, I get it. It’s nice of you for being so considerate,” Niall nods, scratching his chin. “Alright, I’ll tell you what I know, but please also let him tell you if he decides to share it with you.” You nod and turn all your attention to him. “I didn’t find this out until about two months after Maggie’s death, but apparently, the night she died they had a fight. Maggie had been nagging Harry to have another baby, but he wanted to wait a little longer, until Izzy is older so they don’t have two babies at the same time. Harry said they had another big fight about it, said some pretty nasty things to each other before Maggie just stormed out to go over to her sister’s. She made it there, but… never made it back home.”

A shiver runs down your spine at the thought of how devastating it must have been, losing your partner after an intense fight without ever making up.

“Understandably, Harry completely lost his shit. For weeks he was barely functioning and we all knew he was grieving, but we didn’t know that he was blaming himself for what happened. When he wasn’t getting any better we somehow convinced him to go to therapy which luckily helped him immensely, but he stopped going a while ago. I thought he got things straight in his head about this whole Maggie situation, but I guess he is still hung up on that.”

“What about the drinking, did that happen a lot?”

“Not that I know of. I mean, yeah, he got wasted quite a few times, but only at the beginning. I don’t think you should be afraid that he might turn into an alcoholic. I think he is just really struggling right now because of the conflict he is having because of you.”

“Because of me?”

“Yeah, he is clearly very confused about his feelings for you and he has convinced himself he shouldn’t feel this way towards anyone ever, but then you came,” he chuckles softly giving you a knowing look.

“Niall, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” you breathe out, worry and fear slowly taking over your judgment.

“First and foremost just… be patient with him, okay? This is genuinely the first time he has taken an interest in anyone since Maggie and I think he has already taken some big steps, which is a good sign. Try to talk to him and be open, but don’t push him. I know it can be really annoying when he keeps things, but let him tell you everything at his own pace.”

You nod, understanding the importance of not rushing Harry into anything. Just because you want to get over the awkwardness of the current situation, you can’t push him over his own boundaries.

“Okay, I’ll try to do that,” you nod taking a deep breath. “Thank you, Niall.”

“Oh, and don’t let him give you the ‘you work for me, we shouldn’t be doing this’ bullshit alright? He’ll try to make it out to be some kind of business, but it’s not. He needs to get himself out there and I genuinely think you’re the right person to help him with that.”

His words touch you and you’re not even sure how to react. Niall is clearly someone who stands close to Harry and if he thinks that you and him should give it a try, that must mean something. You can only hope that Harry will come around and think the same at one point.

Izzy gets a little fussy by the end of the day and it takes a lot of persuading to get her to bed in the evening. Harry arrived back home on his usual time and because it’s been such a hot day outside, he took her out to the pool. The problem with that is that Izzy never wants to get out of the water, so when Harry said it’s time for dinner she threw a bit of a tantrum as Harry brought her inside and her mood didn’t get any better later either.

You spent most of your night in the living room just watching TV and working on your laptop, updating your schedule for the upcoming weeks and doing some editing. Harry stays upstairs with Izzy for a long time when her bedtime comes and you figure she is still a little moody, but then you eventually hear his footsteps approaching. Harry pads his way into the living room and joins you on the couch. When you glance over at him you know he is trying to find a way to start the conversation you both know you need to have, so you put your laptop aside and turn your attention towards him.

“Y/N, I’m really sorry about last night. I’m honestly so terribly ashamed you had to… see me like that,” he starts, clearly nervous to bring it all up.

“It’s fine, happens to everyone,” you assure him and it’s the genuine truth.

“It’s not a regular occurrence, really. I usually know my limits and try to stay within them. I’m really sorry for making you uncomfortable.”

“Harry, don’t worry about it,” you tell him again with a warm smile. “We can get past it. I think what we really should talk about is… what you said. Do you remember what we talked about?” you carefully ask.

“I do…” he nods, awkward diverting his eyes away from you. “I’m sorry I told you all that in that state, I didn’t… I didn’t mean to just pour it all on you so suddenly.”

“It’s alright.” “No, it’s not,” he protests shaking his head. “I dropped a bomb on you because I couldn’t deal with my own problems the right way, and it’s not okay. So please, just… accept my apology.”

“Okay, I accept it,” you nod.

“And about the whole thing with… What I told you about Maggie…”

“Just know that you don’t have to talk about it now if you don’t want to. I’m happy to listen whenever you are ready to, but I’m not trying to push you.”

“I know and thank you for that, but I feel like… I owe you an explanation,” he admits and you nod, happy that he is willing to talk instead of closing himself off entirely. “The day Maggie died, we got into this huge fight and she ran off to her sister. It was… a whole mess, we both said things we clearly didn’t mean and I texted her, tried to get her to come home so we could talk things out. That’s when… she was on her way home when it happened and… I still feel like it was my fault.” His voice dies down at the end, just like it did last night when he was talking about her. It clearly left a deep scar on him that’s still not entirely healed and you can’t blame him.

“Everyone keeps telling me that it wasn’t, that it was just all one big coincidence, but all I can think about is that she would still be here if we didn’t get into the fight and I didn’t piss her off so much she felt the need to leave.”

“There was no way for you to see what would happen, Harry. It’s not like you did it on purpose, you had no power over the drunk driver or where Maggie chose to drive home. It really was a coincidence.”

“I know, I mean… I understand, but somehow, my mind keeps telling me that it was my fault.”

“Have you thought about… getting professional help?” you ask, trying to be polite and cautious on the topic.

“Actually, I just called my therapist today to see if… she can fit me in for some sessions,” he admits and you’re surprised at how great he is dealing with the matter. “I feel like I might need some guidance again, before things get out of my hands.”

“That’s great! It really is good to go a bit ahead of problems.”

“Yeah. About us…” he exhales nervously, his eyes meeting yours and you can tell this is the part that’s got him the most anxious. You take this as your queue to take over the conversation.

“Harry, I’m going to be honest with you,” you start and he nods, chewing on his bottom lip. “I… I have feelings for you. You haven’t been the only one making realizations,” you add with a soft chuckle, that brings a smile to his lips as well. “I know that the situation is not quite ideal, but it’s not impossible. But I just want you to be honest with me, do you have feelings for me?”

The conflict is clearer than daylight in his eyes as he is trying to figure out what to say and you really hope he isn’t gonna try to mask his feelings.

“I do,” he then admits and it’s like a giant rock has been lifted off your chest and shoulders. “It’s just… I’m not sure how to deal with it.”

“That’s alright,” you tell him. “Let’s just… take it slow. We’re not in a rush, we obviously have a lot to figure out and that’s completely fine. The pace is completely up to you, I know that you need to get a lot of things straight in your head and I can wait, okay? I’m not going anywhere, I really like where we are now and… I just hope that we can move this forward whenever you feel comfortable with it.”

Harry stares back at you for a moment like you’re some alien creature. Like what you just said wasn’t normal or even human and that’s quite heartbreaking, because somewhere along the way he managed to convince himself that he is not worthy of the most basic decency.

“I-I can’t ask you to wait around while I figure my shit out, that’s not—“

“You’re not asking me, Harry,” you smile at him softly. “This is my decision.”

His eyes are shifting between yours and he is most likely looking for any sign of doubt or qualm, but there’s none, you genuinely meant everything you said.

“So, where does this leave us?” he then asks and you shrug your shoulders.

“Everything goes on like it used to and… whenever you are ready to take a step, just… let me know.”

You can tell he is filled with questions, but he just nods with a weak smile and leaves it at that. This will be a bumpy ride, but at least you are more or less on the same page now.

You haven’t been a big fan of birthday celebrations. You just never understood the big fuss about it, throwing a party for surviving another year? Seems a little weird. This is why you never treated this day any different.

The morning starts off as usual, only that you wake up to a few texts from friends and family, wishing you a happy birthday. Your mom has sent you a whole damn paragraph about how you made her life complete and it wouldn’t be the same without you in it. She does that every time, gets a little too sentimental about it, but you guess it’s because it reminds her of getting old herself as well, which is a sensitive topic in her book these days.

It’s a Sunday, so a day off for you. Coming downstairs you find Izzy and Harry sitting at the dining table, already having their breakfast as usual, but when she sees you, she jumps in her seat in excitement.

“Good morning, Y/N!” she beams with a wide smile, buzzing more than she usually does.

“Morning, Sunshine. Slept well?” you ask as you pour yourself some cereal and join them at the table. Izzy nods and then peeks at her father as if she is trying to hide something with him from you.

“Daddy, can we do it now?” she asks in a whisper, but it’s not quiet enough for you to not hear it.

Your eyes lock with Harry’s over the table and the butterflies in your stomach start dancing around right away when you see the tiny smirk tugging on his lips.

It’s been almost an entire week since your conversation with him and things finally seem to get in place for now. Harry had his first session with his therapist on Wednesday and though you can tell he is still trying to find his own boundaries, he doesn’t worry as much about the situation as he probably did before. He isn’t walking on eggshells around you, unsure how to act. More or less it’s the same as it was before the kiss, but there are tiny little things that still make it different. Stolen glances, lingering touches and sweet smiles are making your days more colorful now and it’s gotten you all giddy and… happy.

“What are you two plotting, huh?” you ask, pointing at them with your spoon before digging into the cereal. Izzy glances at Harry one last time and when he nods shortly, she turns to you and throws her arms in the air.

“Happy birthday, Y/N!” she cheers as Harry reaches over to the chair next to him and pulls up a box from under the table, handing it over to Izzy so she could give it to you. “This is for you!”

“You shouldn’t have gotten me anything!” you gasp, truly surprised by the gift. You were not expecting it at all.

“It’s not a birthday without gifts!” she giggles excitedly as she hands the box over. You push your cereal bowl to the side and set the gift to the table in front of you. “Open it!” she urges you, her little hands curled into fists as she watches your every move, as if it was her who just got a present.

Your eyes meet Harry’s green ones over the table once more and he is watching you with a small smile, probably enjoying that he could surprise you.

You pull on the bow on the top and then carefully take the wrapping paper off until the box is revealed underneath and you gas as soon as you realize what this is.

“Oh my God!” you breathe out in disbelief as you take a better look at the gift. Harry didn’t just get you something, he actually listened to what you were saying and remembered that you’re a big fan of oldschool cameras and you have a special love for polaroids. And now, in front of you in the box is your very own polaroid camera, something you’ve been really wanting to buy for yourself for a long time, but you just never got around to actually do it.

“Do you like it? Daddy said you’d really like it!” Izzy asks with big eyes, watching your reaction.

“Oh, I love it!” you breathe out, feeling all mushy and melted from the gesture. Izzy climbs over to your lap, hugging your neck. You wrap your arms around her in a bone crushing hug and you’re so thankful for having them both in your life.

Izzy sits on your lap as you get the camera out of the box and figure out how to work it. She then hops off your lap and poses for the first ever picture taken with your new favorite camera.

“But it’s blank!” she furrows her eyebrows when the photo comes out.

“Because you have to wait for it to develop. It’ll show up in a few minutes,” you smile, setting the photo down on the table.

Izzy sits in her seat, excitedly waiting for the photo to develop and in the meanwhile you join Harry in the kitchen where he is washing the dishes. He spots you and turns the tap off, turning to face you as he dries his hands off.

“You shouldn’t have gotten me anything,” you tell him softly, but really feel touched by the gesture.

“No, but I wanted to. Do you really like it?”

“I love it!” you chuckle in disbelief. How could he think you wouldn’t like it?!

You move forward, aiming for a hug out of instinct but then stop yourself, not wanting to cross any boundaries, but Harry notices the motion and for your surprise, he wraps you in a warm hug on his own. You melt against his hard chest, your nose buried into his shoulder as your arms circle around his waist.

When you lean back, you both keep your arms around each other, eyes meeting and you realize just how close you are to each other. Without even knowing, your gaze flickers down to his lips and you’re dying to kiss him, to feel them again, but you don’t move, wanting to keep your word about letting him set the pace.

But what you didn’t expect is Harry leaning down and capturing your lips in a sweet, innocent kiss. It’s so different from the last time, that was a hot mess, but this one… this is light as a feather but still makes your stomach somersault as you taste his lips, cupping his face in your hands.

“Daddy! I’m thirsty!” Izzy calls out from outside and it kind of ends the moment. Harry pulls back and when you look at him you see that his eyes are still closed. They flutter open a moment later, finding your gaze and you look for any kind of regret or fear in them, but they are nothing but shiny.

“Just a moment, baby!” he answers her, a small smile tugging on his lips as he leans down and pecks the corner of your mouth again before his hands fall from your waist. “Happy birthday, Y/N,” he breathes out before grabbing a bottled water and heading back to Izzy.

You bring your fingertips to your tingling lips as you take a moment to really process what just happened and you can’t push down the smile that spreads across your face. Harry finally took the first step and now you can’t wait to see what’s coming next.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

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amor-immortalem · 3 years

Text

You’re Important to Me part 4

Part 1 | part 2| part 3

Genre: angst/comfort

———————————————————————-

Chat: Troublemaker (affectionate)

Lucifer: Come home immediately. We need to talk.

Mammon: bout what? If its one of your shitty punishments. Think I’ll pass.

Lucifer rested his head on his desk letting out a groan. The second-born was frustrating him to no end. However, the first-born supposes he’s made him this way from everything he’s put him through. Picking up the pill bottle, he rolled it in his hand and watched as the contents slid from one side to the other. He placed them in a locked door in his desk as he thought about how they had been this close to losing yet another sibling.

A soft rapping on the office door pulled his attention back to the present.

“Enter,” he sat up straight as the guest joined him. It was Levi.

“Do you think Mammon still loves us. I-I’ve really been thinking about what’s been going on….. about our family. What if he leaves us? We lost Lilith. I-I don’t want to lose him too…” The Avatar of Envy’s voice quaked. Back when they were angels they were once close- almost even closer than the twins.

“I’m sure he does, Levi.” His response was hollow words. If Lucifer was being honest, he didn’t really know how Mammon felt about them currently. If he were the one in Mammon’s shoes, he would absolutely despise his brothers.“He’s currently refusing to come home, however. It’s likely that he knows what went on today and that’s why he broke up with the human we all know he cherishes so deeply. He didn’t want us to know.”

“I knew it! He hates us and never wants to see our faces again.”

“Leviathan, I never said that.” Lucifer’s voice was stern. “Please calm down before you throw yourself into a panic attack. He has to come home eventually, and we’ll all talk then- if not tonight then definitely tomorrow morning. For now, maybe you should go play one of your games. If you’d like I could join you to help take your mind off this whole debacle.”

Levi nodded his head slowly. “ I would appreciate that….. Actually, I had made this rpg specifically to play-test with Mammon but if you wanted to….we could play it together.”

“That’s a wonderful idea, Levi.”

Finally deciding to make his way home, Mammon pushed open the heavy doors to the house. The last thing he wanted to do was face his brothers right now. He already anticipated their reactions. The teasing and mocking that would be thrown his way- there wasn’t any escape for him now, was there? At least no one was here at the moment- that much he could be greatful for.

As he made his way up to his room, the demon made sure to avoid the places he knew his brothers would frequent at this time of night. Once there, he slipped inside and tossed the bag of clothes he had modeled in today from the top of of the stairs into the walk in closet with practiced precision. When he turned his head, he saw her small, blurry form just lying there on the couch.

“Why’re you in here? Ya got a room if your own dontcha?”

“I just….. sorry. I pushed too hard, didn’t I?” Arella’s voice sounded hurt. “It was just that I thought this might be the only place I could go and you’re brothers wouldn’t come looking for me. I’m still really angry with them. Not that they would anyway, not with how I screamed and yelled at them earlier...”

“And Lucifer didn’t kill ya on the spot? Its a miracle you’re alive after that.” He let out a chuckle. “I can’t tell if you’re incredibly brave or just plain dumb.”

“Maybe both…..” Arella sighed, “I… um… I’ll go back to my room now.” As she stood and made her up the staircase, he could feel the sadness radiating off of their pact mark.

“‘Rella, wait.” He grabbed her by the arm. “Don’t go. I don’t mind if ya stay…. We should talk about earlier, okay?”

He watched as she nodded a small frown on her face. Now that he could see her more clearly, he noticed the puffy eyes and tear tacks streaked down her cheeks. Now he just felt worse.

“I was thinkin’ real hard about this morning and I’m sorry for what I said earlier.” He started, “I don’t… I don’t really think we should break up…. I know you were just trying to help. That you were worried and scared for me.”

“I was…. Can I tell you something?“ she asks as he nods. “Seven years ago, I lost my little brother and then six months later my mother to suicide. One to cyber bullying, the other because she was so consumed with grief from the loss of a child that she saw no way to go on…. Do you know what was like….. to find their bodies? To realize you could have helped them if you had just paid attention and seen the warning signs? It still affects me to this day….They were the only blood related family I had left until I had found a new family here in the Devildom with you and your brothers. A-and then when you were saying all those things last night, I- I flashed back to the night I had found my brother but instead of him it was you and I-I-”

Mammon pulled the human tight against his chest in what could have been a bone crushing hug if he wasn’t careful and she buried her face in his chest. Her body shook with with muffled sobs.

“I’m sorry. I was running my mouth without thinking ‘bout what that might do to everyone- worst of all you….” He leaned down, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I wont say things like that ever again. No matter how I’m feelin’.

He walked her back towards the bed, letting her get in as he went to go change into some more comfortable clothes for sleeping. He joined her in bed shortly after, pulling her close as he wiped the stray tears from his cheeks. Arella moved closer so she could lay her head on his chest listening to his heartbeat, her crying reduce to quiet sniffles and hiccups by this point.

“Ya know, I think you just wasted your breath when you were yellin’ at my brothers earlier…. I think to them, I’ll just always be the family screw up. I’m already dreading the teasing I’ll get tomorrow at breakfast….”

“It had to be done, though. I think I managed to set them all straight….If you could have seen the look on their faces when I lost control of my temper and fried all the electronics in the common room or when I commanded Asmo to sit so hard he crashed face first into the floor….”

“Wait…you did what?” He quirked an eyebrow as he stared down at her before breaking into a soft laugh, “Ya really are something else, Hon, ya know that? I’ve never met someone who would fight for me like this before- who would call my brothers out on their bullshit.”

“Only because I know you don’t deserve to be treated this way…. You… you deserve good things and to be treated well by the people who you love most.” She yawned as she stretched out a little more in his embrace. “And because I love you and I would be lost if anything were to happen to you.” Her eyes were starting to slip closed.

“I love you too, babe.” The demon hummed as he started to card his fingers through her hair. As soon as he was sure she was out like a light he pressed his lips to the crown of her heard once more.

“Thank you for being here on my worst days, for being my little ray of sunshine down here in the dark.”

Once the morning came around, most of Mammon’s brothers gathered in the common room. They were awaiting the entrance of the Avatar of Greed as it was nearly breakfast time.

Lucifer had figured Mammon would be avoiding them as if they had the plague, so he instructed Beel to drag him in here by any means necessary. They all knew he was successful when they heard Mammon let out a surprised yelp and the clattering of a bowl against the floor.

“C’mon, Beel, Let me go!”

“Not until we all talk.”

“Talk? What’s there to talk about? I didn’t do nothin’ so let me go!’

Both demons soon entered the dining room as the sixth-born sat his older on the couch facing all of them, holding him down by his shoulders so Mammon couldn’t escape despite how he squirmed and tried to wiggle his way out of Beel’s grasp.

“Mammon, stop struggling.” It was a request from eldest, a chance to cooperate. “We all have some words we’d like to say to you.”

Mammon froze at that statement. Here it came: all the ridicule and teasing. He wanted to run. He was the second strongest of them, maybe if he tried hard enough, he could shake his little brother off and get away. What good would that do him though? His brothers would just corner him later anyway so maybe it was just best to get it over with now.

He looked towards his brothers’ blurry figures, a million different thoughts rushing his head. He couldn’t tell their expressions from this distance but they had to be smiling, right- ready to laugh at him any minute now. His body tensed as he braced himself for the harsh sting of their words.

“Mammon, we’re sorry,” Asmo was the first to speak up after a short moment of silence, “We love you so much even though we suck at showing it.”

“You did so much for us after we fell,- you still do a lot for us even now,” the seventh-born picked his head up from the table,“And I don’t think we ever told you how much we all appreciate it…. If it weren’t for you, I don’t even think we would still be a family… don’t forget, you’re the one who kept us all in line when Lucifer would lock himself away in his office back then.”

“I know we act like you’re just a burden to us,” Satan started, “but I think all of us would agree that life would be so boring without you here.”

“Yeah, I-I mean who else would take the time to play games with me when I’m down in the dumps?” Levi asked.

“Or risk getting strung up from the chandelier to get me the food that I want from the human world?” Beel cut in.

“Or compliment me on my outfit or hair no matter what form I choose to take for the day. Or is always there to hype me up when I’m having a bad day? Hell, you even gave up the position of DevilStyle’s cover model just for me! Honestly I think you might be the best big brother out there.”

“We know about all the things you’ve done in secret for us- the things you don’t take credit for,” Lucifer smiled softly, “I’m proud to call you my brother for that. We love you and while you may make some poor life choices from time to time, our lives just wouldn’t be the same without you.”

Mammon looks at them in a daze. Was this really happening? His brothers were…. Apologizing? To him of all people? This had to be a dream. There was no reality in which his brothers really cared about him. The second-born pinched the skin on his arm. That’s what you did to check if you were dreaming, right?

Harder, harder he pinched until the spot was sure to bruise. It wasn’t until Beelzebub placed his hand over his that Mammon realized he wasn’t dreaming. This was reality.

Tears welled in his eyes as he processed the words he just heard. One tear fell down his cheek soon followed by another then another until eventually the demon let out a sob.

“Th-This ain’t real! It ain’t!” The second-born yelled, his body shaking as he sobbed harder. “I’m still dreamin’. I-I gotta be! None of this is real…”

His brothers moved to embrace him- first the sixth-born, then the eldest and then the youngest. One by one, the rest of their brothers followed suit until the seven of them all somehow managed to end up on the floor in one giant cuddle pile, his face pressed into Lucifers as they allowed their brother to cry out all the tears he’d been bottling up for all these centuries.

It seemed they were going to be there a while- Good thing Lucifer had called Diavolo to tell him they wouldn’t be attending RAD today. That this was a more important matter to attend to.

“This stops today, Lucifer announced to his siblings once Mammon had stopped crying. “From today on, the six of us will make a conscious effort to change the ways we’ve talk to and treated you.”

“And if we get too out of hand, feel free to put us in our place,” Belphegor chuckled. “We can be blockheads from time to time.”

“The point is,” Asmodeus sighed as he hugged his brother a little tighter, “We all messed up big time. We just want to make you feel loved and appreciated again- like you’re an important part of this family.”

“We lost Lilith.” It was Beel’s turn to speak. “We’re not losing you too.”

Mammon smiled at his brothers’ words. Finally, he had thought, finally they were showing their true feelings to him after all these centuries.

“Thanks guys…..” the demon’s voice sounded cracked and strained from all the crying he had done earlier. “Even after everything that’s happened I wouldn’t trade y’all for the world. I love you guys.”

A chorus of ‘I love you too’s sounded from the group of demons as another family hug commenced. Eventually, as hours passed, one by one, they had all fallen asleep, each with a smile on their face and still huddled together.

Arella eventually found them in that state. With a soft smile she grabbed the blanket they often used for movie night and draped it over them heading back to her room so she wouldn’t disturb them.

———————————————————————-

Taglist: @gallantys

Masterlist 2

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bumblesimagines · 3 years

Text

Green Thumb

Part 8

Request: Yes or No

Sam and y/n had more development than y/n and Wanda lmao

You crossed your arms as you entered the room, glancing at the older man. You shared a look with Sam and Wanda, taking a seat in between Sam and Vision. You licked your lips, leaning towards Sam.

"What's this about?" You asked quietly, gaze flickering to Tony who sat in a corner.

"If I had to guess.. Probably about what happened in Lagos." Sam replied, glancing at Steve and Natasha. You frowned, looking at the Secretary of State.

"The world owes the Avengers an unpayable debt." He began, gaze sweeping over everyone in the room.

"You have.. Fought for us, protected us, risked your lives but while a great many people see you as heroes, there are some who would prefer the term 'vigilantes.'"

"And what word would you use, Mr. Secretary?" Natasha asked, studying the older man. You looked back at Tony Stark, making brief eye contact with him. It felt like an intervention. Or a teacher scolding their class after they made the sub cry.

"How about dangerous?" You frowned, looking forward when you heard his words.

"What would you call a group of US based enhanced individuals who routinely ignore borders and inflict their will wherever they choose and who, quite frankly, seem unconcerned about what they leave behind?" Mr. Secretary asked, looking over the small group in disappointed. You'd hate to admit it, but he had a point. The citizens of Sokovia were left to find new homes and the people of Lagos had to fix what had been destroyed. Mr. Secretary stepped to the side, looking at the screen. Videos began playing of all the times the Avengers caused destruction and most likely death. Wanda looked away, growing uncomfortable as the aftermath of the Lagos incident played. She already felt guilty enough about it. She had told you many times how she wished it would've gone differently. Steve noticed, frown deepening.

"That's enough." He called, watching the screen turn off.

"For the last few years, you've operated with unlimited power and no supervision. That's a decision the governments of the world can no longer tolerate." Mr. Secretary told them, hands clasped behind his back. You frowned, brows furrowing slightly.

"But we have a solution." Mr. Secretary took a book from his bodyguard, stepping forward and handing it to Wanda. Wanda picked it up, looking it over.

"The Sokovia Accords.. Approved by a hundred and seventeen countries." Wanda slid the book over to Rhodes so he could take a proper look at it. You looked at Mr. Secretary as he walked around the table.

"It states that the Avengers shall no longer be a private organization. Instead, they'll operate under the supervision of The United Nations Panel, only when and if that panel deems it necessary."

"That's such bullshit." You whispered. Mr. Secretary turned towards you, cocking a brow. Natasha let an amused smile slip while Sam covered up his snicker with a cough.

"The Avengers were created to make the world a safer place." Steve spoke up before he could address you.

"This is the middle ground." Mr. Secretary said, walking to the front again and facing everyone.

"The Accords will be ratified in a couple days." Steve turned towards Tony, earning a silent response.

"I'll leave you to discuss."

"And if we come to a decision you don't like?" Leave it to Natasha to say what was on everyones' minds. Mr. Secretary paused as he approached the door.

"Then you retire." He answered plainly. You watched him leave, picking up the cup of water infront of You You went to take a sip but it turned to ice before you could drink from it. With a small huff, you placed it down.

"That's new." Natasha called with a small smile, hoping to ease the tension in the room. You stood up, leaving the meeting room and heading to the lounge. The others followed, taking more comfortable seats on the couch. A debate quickly started between Rhodes and Sam while Steve looked through the Accords.

"Have you two thought about starting a debate club?" You asked, tapping the frozen water a few times before it finally turned back to normal water. Natasha let out a small snort, chuckling as she shook her head.

"I have an equation." Vision announced, stopping Rhodes and Sam. They turned towards him.

"In the eight years since Mr. Stark announced himself as Iron Man, the number of enhanced people has grown and during the same period, the number of world ending events has risen."

"So, it's Starks' fault?" You asked, leaning back in your seat with a tilted head. Tony scoffed from his spot on the couch, rolling his eyes.

"I'm saying, there might be a causality. Our very strength invites challenge, challenge insights conflict, and conflict... Breeds catastrophe. Oversight is not an idea that should be dismissed."

"I wish I understood half of what you said." You muttered softly, running your finger the leaf of a plant beside the seat. Natasha turned towards Tony, watching him.

"You're being uncharacteristic non-hyper verbal." Natasha pointed out softly as he looked at her with a deep sigh. Steve looked up from the Accords.

"It's cause he already made up his mind." Steve said, earning a small eye roll. Tony slowly sat up, rubbing the back of his head.

"Actually, I'm nursing a headache." He muttered as he stood up, walking towards the coffee machine. He poured himself some coffee and grabbed a bottle of pills before sighing and placing down a device. He showed an image of a young man.

"Oh, that's Charles Spencer, by the way. A great kid. Computer engineering degree, 3.6 GPA, had a floor level gig for the fall. He decided to spend his summer building sustainable housing for the people in Sokovia." Tony said, obviously agitated as he looked over everyone. You wondered why he now cared for the people who were injured during attacks.

"He wanted to make a difference although we'll never know cause we dropped a building on him while kicking ass." Everyone stayed silent as he spoke. You watched him take a pill, drinking it with the coffee.

"There's no decision making here. We need to be put in check. Whatever form that takes, I'm game. If we can't accept limitations, we're no better than the bad guys."

"Tony, when someone dies on your watch, you don't give up." Steve closed the Accords, looking at Tony with a frown.

"Who says we're giving up?"

"We are by not taking responsibilities for our actions. This document shifts the blame." Steve voiced his opinion, shrugging lightly.

"Steve, that is dangerously arrogant." Rhodes spoke up, shaking his head. Steve turned towards him.

"This is the United Nations we're talking about. It's not the world security counsel, it's not S.H.I.E.L.D, it's not HYDRA-"

"But it's run by people with agendas and agendas change." Steve pointed out as you rubbed your forehead, sighing softly. Both sides had good points but you sided with Steve. The team was obviously divided.

"What do you think, (Y/N)?" Vision asked, looking at you curiously. You licked your lips, gaze focusing on Tony.

"I'm curious as to why you care so much about this Charles guy. You've had, what was it? Eight years as Iron Man to care about the people who get hurt? Why now? Cause you realized one of those people could become the new you? Would you care this much about Charles if he had been a typical guy? No degree, no plans for the future, just a normal guy working a normal 9 to 5 job and just trying to make it through the week. I agree with Steve. What if something happens and they don't send us to help because it doesn't go with their agenda? People get hurt cause you've never set up a system to help after these things happen. You're a fucking billionaire, Tony. Make a company that's designed to help people get back on their feet after the Avengers bulldoze through cities." You said, legs crossing as you looked over everyone else. Steve gave a small nod, glad you were seeing his side. He checked his phone, abruptly standing and announcing he had to leave. You and the others watched him go in confusion.

"To answer your questions, I do care about normal people." Tony said, arms crossing. You let out a soft groan, leaning back in the couch.

"I'm sorry, what are you? Twelve? Didn't you turn twenty this year?" Tony cocked a brow, watching as you rolled your eyes and stood.

"Yeah, I did turn twenty. Surprised you knew considering you've never particularly liked me."

"Well, first impressions are everything and you did try impaling me with a branch."

"Maybe I should've."

"Alright, boys, let's calm down." Natasha called, placing a hand on your shoulder. You turned and walked towards the steps, heading down to your room at the facility. You entered and plopped down on the bed, running a hand through your hair. You tapped your foot on the ground, fingers going to the root bracelets in an attempt to relax. Wanda opened the door, closing it behind her and sitting beside you.

"What's wrong?" She asked softly, staring at you in concern. You weren't one to snap at others so quickly.

"There's so much going on. The Accords, my fucking powers, the sudden change in Nat and Tony, you possibly getting into trouble cause of the Lagos incident.. That could've been me." You breathed out. Wanda frowned, brows furrowing.

"No, it wouldn't have."

"I shot fire out of my hands and turned water to ice without meaning to. They're getting unpredictable." You looked at her, grip on the roots tightening. Wanda's gaze flickered to the window, making you turn. Part of the window was covered in a thin layer of ice.

"And that just proved my point."

"You're an incredible person, (N/N). Have faith in yourself. You'll gain control of them sooner or later. You have beautiful powers that could change and heal the world." Wanda pointed out gently, having you rest your head on her shoulder. She softly began to hum a lullaby. You didn't understand the words but her soft voice proved to be soothing.

"Thank you."

~~~~~~~~~~

"Why'd you call me again?" You asked, toying with the strings of your hoodie as you looked around the cafe. You had planned on taking a nap and watching a new show on Netflix but it seemed like Steve had other plans for you.

"Because I trust you and need your help." Steve replied, fixing his baseball cap as he tried avoiding eye contact with civilians.

"Really?" You asked softly. Steve nodded, offering a smile. He licked his lips, nodding to the tv. You turned, looking at the news. You really didn't have to considering what they were showing was right down the street.

"Your friend?" You looked back at Steve with a tilted head.

"We gotta find him before anyone else does." Steve said. You nodded, watching him. Steve had been desperately trying to find his friend, Bucky, since the attempt on Furys' life.

"I'll go in alone. We don't want to seem threatening or set him off by going in as a trio."

"(Y/N)? Being threatening? He can't even scare a baby!" Sam said in amusement, shooting you a playful grin.

"Right back at you, bird boy."

"I'm sorry, who here is named after the top bird of prey?" Sam asked, leaning forward slightly as Steve let out an amused sigh.

"Oh, I didn't know you were named after eagles." You responded, smiling in triumph when Sam huffed lightly.

"Come on, you two." Steve chuckled, leaving the cafe and heading down the sidewalk.

"I don't trust Stark." You told them, arms crossing. Sam glanced at you as Steve turned into an alleyway.

"Not surprised considering the little fight you two had."

"I think he had Vis keep an eye on me and Wanda. I snuck out while he was with Wanda in the kitchen." You told him, frowning.

"Firstly, I'm an adult-"

"That's questionable."

"-And secondly, he's not my dad." You took off the hoodie as Steve unlocked a car parked in the alleyway, giving Sam the duffle bag with his outfit. You looked at your phone when it buzzed, seeing texts from Clint.

Clint

Heard you had a fight with Stark

Clint

You're officially an Avenger now

You smiled softly, chuckling softly at the texts. You waited for the guys to finish changing before taking the earpiece from Steve. The apartment building had been nearby so you and Sam headed onto the roof while Steve entered.

"How well do you think this will go?" You asked Sam, looking for any sign of law enforcement.

"Wanna bet?"

"How much?" You looked at him, giving a small grin. Sam looked up at the sky for a moment, thinking it over.

"30 bucks. I bet this will go to shit and this dude will escape."

"I bet we'll get into serious shit but this dude will either come with us or get caught." You replied. Sam stuck out his hand, nodding. You shook it, chuckling softly. You turned your head, noticing movement.

"We've got company, Cap."

"They're approaching from the south." Sam added, attention focused on them. You heard Steve begin to talk to someone, watching the cars pull in and get ready. You turned your head, hearing the door to the roof open.

"Shit." You whispered, letting Sam pick you up and lift you into the air. You could hear the fight going on inside through the earpiece.

"Should we help?" You asked, glancing up at Sam.

"No clue." Sam replied, watching Bucky jump from the apartment onto the roof of another building. You noticed someone running at a high speed, jumping up onto the roof and knocking Bucky down.

"They have cat ears." You mumbled, pushing Sam's arms away.

"Deal with them." You motioned to the German police force on the roof, hoping down onto the roof. You raised your hand, a root shooting out and grabbing the strangers arm, refraining them from clawing at Bucky. Bucky turned his head, making eye contact with you. Your eyes widened when the man grabbed the root, using what felt like super strength to toss you off the roof. You quickly used a root to grab onto the side, breathing out a sigh of relief. Sam took care of a helicopter before flying by to grab you.

"Thanks." You breathed out, holding onto him as he followed the chase. Steve, Bucky, and the cat guy went into one of the tunnels. Sam flew in once there was an opening, trying to help Steve with the cat guy. You huffed when the cat guy grabbed Sam's ankle, pointing your hand at him and shooting a strong gust of air. The cat guy lost his grip monetarily but quickly grabbed on again. Bucky threw up an explosive so Sam quickly stopped, flinging the guy off him. Sam landed, walking past the rubble. You sighed, raising your hands as you and Sam were quickly surrounded by cops.

"Mom's gonna kill me." You whispered.

"That's what you're concerned about?" Sam asked, glancing at you in disbelief.

"We're getting arrested, (Y/N)!"

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troubatrain · 4 years

Text

taxi - j. markstrom

a/n: i swore on my life i started writing this and then hours went by and it was done. by the way, aside from this song i still have yet to chose any players for the rest of this series and the google form is open for suggestions (it’s linked below) but anyways, i need to start by saying this got super personal for me and this showcases some of my own experiences with my own mental illness, and not everyone experiences those things the same way and i just want to remind everyone of that before they read! also, i definitely suggest listening to the song while reading it because it just feels right.

i need to tag @danglesnipecelly because k wrote a matty fic and in turn i’m legally required to write a marky fic

part of my lovely little lonely series

tw: mentions of depression, mentions of post-partum depression

“...and in the backseat, when you asked me, is the sadness everlasting? i pulled you closer, looked at you and said love, I think it is...” - Taxi - The Maine

Jacob wasn’t sure when things had gotten so bad.

You were doing better, and Jacob even thought you were doing better than before. You’d been going to therapy again regularly, less of Jacob forcing you to go for his sake and more of going by your own will. You were back on your meds, but even you admitted they felt like they might have been working this time around now that you found the right fit. The adjustment to your new surroundings in Calgary seemed to be going smoothly, spending time with Annica and Elias like you weren’t constantly battling with your own demons.

But god you were.

Jacob honestly thought you were braver than anyone he’s ever known. You met a few years back, when you used to throw on a smile just to walk out the door and Jacob was just starting to make a splash in Vancouver. He was the only person who seemed to notice you in the large crowd you were who was mingling with a few of his teammates. He knew you were something special in that moment, and he’d tell you everyday until you started to believe it. What he didn’t know at the time was, you’d just gotten diagnosed with depression and you were tackling it on your own. Not a soul knew about the days you couldn’t wait to sleep because it was the only time you were able to turn your brain off. They didn’t know about the mess in your apartment that was so embarrassing but you still just couldn’t clean it. And they definitely didn’t know about the long drives where you just thought about never coming back.

Jacob didn’t know these things for a while, but when the signs became clear, he tried his hardest to understand. He came over and cleaned your apartment when you were at work, shrugging it off when you asked him what prompted him to do it. Jacob made sure you were taken care of on days he knew you weren’t able to do it yourself.

Then the east coast road trip happened.

Your relationship was new, and you hadn’t told him what was going on even though it was becoming incredibly clear that he knew. Jacob has always been patient, and you always joke it’s because he’s a goalie, but the truth was that his heart was bigger than him. You called him, teary eyed while you sat on a park bench in the middle of Vancouver and told him you couldn’t do this anymore. At first he thought you were talking about him, maybe he’d overstepped a line he shouldn’t have, but it was clear you meant life. It was just too much, and Jacob knew it was time to push talking about it.

So you did, you laid there in the bitter cold on that bench until the sun came up and talked to him about your mental illness. You talked about your therapist who you’d been seeing but you were honest about the appointments you skipped. You talked to him about the full pill bottles in your bathroom because you didn’t want to take them but you didn’t want anyone to notice you weren’t picking up prescriptions. He was calm, listening to your words and not reprimanding you on the stall in your recovery.

Everyone moves at their own pace Y/N, you can move like a turtle if you want to and I won’t tell you to hurry up and get better.

Jacob never pushed, but that didn’t mean he didn’t educate himself. He read and read and read, everything he could on how he was supposed to help

you. He took classes, he listened to talks and he’d even attended meetings with other people who were in his same position. He wanted to understand, and he did his best to. Jacob did this because he loves you, and he wanted to make sure that was never going to be something you could question.

So that brings him here, standing in your shared bathroom while he counted how many pills were left in that orange bottle and he just knew the math wasn’t going to add up. Jacob runs a large hand over his face, rubbing his temples while he spun out about how this could be his fault. Maybe he should have stayed in Vancouver. Was the change too much for you?

“Babe?” You call out, leaning against the bathroom door and looking at him sadly. Your voice was soft, it always was, like Jacob being in distress was more important than the hell he’d seen you go through.

“Have you been skipping days?” Jacob asks, never with an accusatory tone. He learned that lesson, watching you shrink at his words when he asked if you’d been in bed all day. You start to utter an apology, Jacob raising his hand at you to stop because you didn’t owe him one, “Why didn’t you call?”

Tears were welling up in your eyes, your lip quivering while you tried to find the right words. Jacob didn’t look mad, he wasn’t - he was feeling guilty. He promised you, if you called it didn’t matter if he was in the middle of a game, he’d be there as soon as he could, “You need to be with your new team-”

“Fuck my new team,” Jacob scoffs, shaking his head and opening his arms to you, “You think I’d want to spend any more time with Elias than you?”

“No, I just,” You sigh, pushing a piece of your hair back that seemed to just fall back into place, “I didn’t want to be a bother, you need to be with these guys all the time and how can you do that if you’re worried about me?”

“I can do that because I want to do it,” Jacob reminds you, pushing that same piece of hair back where it belonged, and it stuck, “I don’t feel like I have to worry about you, I want to.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier not to?” You ask, wrapping your arms around Jacob’s waist and pressing your head into his chest. His heartbeat was steady, he was steady.

Jacob was the most stable thing you had in your life. You couldn’t figure what you’d done to experience unconditional love like that, a person to care for you so much that they would do anything to make you happy. He calmed you on the days you needed most and he never pushed you harder than he thought you needed. Turtle speed. He always called it that, but he’d rather see you move slowly to get better than throw on another fake smile.

“My life wouldn’t be easier if you weren’t in it,” Jacob hums, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, “Do you want me to set out your meds for the week? In that little container I got you?”

You nod, making a promise to yourself to take the step in getting better. Jacob reminded you constantly, you can’t do this for him, you needed to do it for yourself - he was just helping. He was always going to help.

***

You seemed better.

Jacob swore you were actually doing okay, the little check ins he was doing was working and when he got back from his next road trip - nothing seemed wrong. You were standing across Johnny’s house, laughing along with Annica and a few other girls and Jacob knew that laugh was a real one. This was good, seeing you out laughing and smiling.

“So, when is it going to be time for you?” Annica asks, her hand running over your ring finger, “Marky has to be thinking about having a few running around soon.”

You wish it hadn’t set you off. It was a simple question anyone would ask a couple who’s been together this long.

Children was a conversation you weren’t ready for. The thought terrified you, not because you didn’t want to have them, it was the post-partum talk. You knew the risks, all of the things that could happen after and you didn’t want to stomach that. What if you weren’t enough for your kids? They didn’t ask for a mother who couldn’t get out of bed sometimes let alone take care of them, and you’d be insane to think that was a healthy way to raise a child.

Jacob’s eyes remained on you while you rushed out of the house, fiddling with your hands and shaking your head. That was your tell, and Jacob excused himself immediately, chasing you out of the house. His hands grab your cheeks, steadying you for a moment and wiping the tears from your eyes.

“She asked me when we were going to the marriage and kids thing and,” You ramble out, closing your eyes and shutting your mouth. Jacob knew where you were going with this, it was fear he had too. It was the reason there was a ring in one of his coat pockets at home that’s never been opened because he was waiting for the right time. He’d wait forever if he had to. You were the one there was never a doubt about it.

“We don’t have to talk about it right now,” Jacob sighs, knowing this conversation was far too heavy to be had in public, “But, you’ll never be alone, I’m never going to leave, I’m never going to pressure you into anything. When you’re ready I will be too, but I don’t care how long it takes.”

“What if it’s too late for kids?” You whisper, the fear that Jacob could tell you he’d wait forever but you’d seen him with kids, he was made to be a father.

“We can adopt, foster, whatever you want,” Jacob assures you, the idea of having children never had to be biological to him, “Chucky asked me if we were looking to adopt the other day…”

You let out a laugh, looking and pressing your lips to Jacob’s. You couldn’t thank him enough, not like he’d ever let you, but he was so good. You leaned your head on his shoulder, watching Calgary pass you by while Jacob hums to the radio next to you in the cab to get home.

“You think I’ll always be like this?” You ask, a question that could have been for either of you.

“There’s always going to be bad days, but you’re never going to be alone on them. I promise.”

“Turtle speed?”

“Turtle speed.”

#jacob markstrom #jacob markstrom imagine #nhl imagine #nhl imagines

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static-fanatic-1 · 4 years

Text

Yandere!All For One x Fem!Reader

Warning: Non-con, Fingering, Kidnapping, Mentioning of stalking, Spooky gift giving, Reader has a powerful healing quirk activated by bodily fluids (it’s important).

Word count: 7.3k

~~~~~

You nervously bit your lip, twiddling your hands and fingers to relive the anxiety creeping up your spine. Recovery Girl, the healing hero that decided to take you under her wing, decided it would be good idea for you to meet a colleague of hers to get some physical training. It was an important thing that you needed to learn despite your quirk.

The slender yet short woman took a weary glance at you. "Calm down (y/n), you have no reason to be nervous."

You jumped at the sound of her voice. "I-I know, what if they don't think I'm worth training though?" You've always been self councious of your quirk. Though it was insanely powerful, mainly for other people, it turned you into a physically sickly person. To simply put it, what you thought was not worth training.

A disappointed sigh left her lips. Recovery girl, still not looking her age as of yet, was a short woman with dark black hair, peppered with more white streaks than her natural color, dressed in a bun with her usual hero look going on. "Gran Torino won't push you too hard, besides he's training Toshinori! You know him right? The third year who's really strong?"

A slight blush tinted your cheeks. "Uh, y-yes ma'am!" God you hated it when you became a stuttering mess, especially when that specific third year was mentioned. Ever since you bumped into him in the halls you couldn't shake away your growing crush. It was totally embarrassing. Even your classmate, Enji Todoroki, lightly made fun of you for it.

Ms. Shuzenji lightly chuckled at your reddened expression. "Gran Torino said he would meet us in one of the gyms after school hours. Since you're a first year and you don't have your provisional license yet, we aren't supposed to train you off of school grounds." She further explained.

"When I get my license will it be alright for me to train off campus? Or could he just take me in for hero studies?"

"Technically you already are under hero studies because I'm training you, and because I'm a teacher I can't allow you to train off school grounds." The two of you turned a corner, now face to face with the large door separating you two from the racket going on on the other side. Both of you exchanged a confused look before opening the doors.

From what you were witnessing, you probably shouldn't have agreed to working with Gran Torino.

The yellow blur flew from floor to ceiling, and wall to wall just to slam his feet into the poor boy's body. Each attack seemed more painful than the last as he desperately tried to keep up with his sensei.

Toshinori paused, as did Gran Torino, and excitedly straightened his stance. With a finger pointing in your general direction his face lit up. "Your that first year I bumped into! Gran Torino you should have told me who-!"

His spat was quickly cut off by a pair of feet slamming against his ribs. The blond flew across the gym and into the concrete walls, dust fuming around his now hunched over form. "Don't get distracted, Toshinori." Torino scolded.

The average height hero turned, now facing the two female across the room. "So this is (l/n)? Nice to meet you." He said with a slight wave.

Recovery girl tapped your shoulder and motioned to the suffering boy, telling you to heal him without using her words. "Pl-pleasure to meet you too, sir." Quickly nodding in both of the hero's directions, you scurried over to the third year you unfortunately developed a crush over.

"Um, Toshinori Senpai, are you hurt?" 'What am I saying? Of course he's hurt!' Your flustered mumbling almost went unnoticed.

"Yeah, yeah, probably broke a rib... again." His blond hair framed his smiling face, the overly joyous expression only bringing you more concern.

"Again?! Here, let me help." You wrapped your arms around his form and lifted him into a seating position, doing your best to keep him upright. "Alright so this might be weird, but, are you okay with kissing me?" You twisted your face in a sad excuse for guilt.

Toshinori found it funny, but unexpected none the less. "K-kiss you?!" His face burst into a deep red blush while his words came out as coughs.

"Y-Yeah! I mean or lick you, whatever floats your boat I don't judge."

Gran Torino wondered over to the youthful hero. "So she's the healer? The one you wanted me to train alongside Toshinori right?"

She nodded and turned to look at her addresser. "Her healing is stronger than mine, and there are no repercussions on the person she uses it with. If the two of them get to know each other they could be an amazing team."

"Healing stronger than yours huh? How does it work?"

"Bodily fluids like blood and saliva." Shuzenji paused, letting the information sink in before continuing. "Her quirk has been used in ways it shouldn't have been used."

Gran Torino furrowed his brows and looked at the two students. Toshinori already looked much better than before. His skin seemed healthier, pained expression replaced with a bright red face, and the blood smeared on his mouth being wiped away like a memory. Still, he soaked in the new information as he watched the students embarrass themselves.

"Does she know about one for all?"

"No, but she's trustworthy enough to tell, eventually at least."

"Alright, alright, I'll train her."

~~~

After a few months of training under Gran Torino and Toshinori, you had grown a little bit stronger. At least as strong as you were able to get. Toshinori on the other hand made a lot more progress, his training also getting far more intense than you will ever be able to handle.

Enji tapped your shoulder, bringing you back to reality. He gave you a disappointed yet concerned look. "You need to focus, I don't want to help you with History again."

"Ah, sorry, sorry." He scoffed and grabbed his stuff to leave the classroom. "Wait for me!" You yelped, quickly stuffing your things in your bag to chasing after him. "Your legs are too long!"

The two of you wondered into the cafeteria and settled in your seats. You shuffled things around in your bag as Enji started to eat, you could feel him watching and judging you. "What?"

He slurped up his hot soba, taking his time before he decided it would be okay to explain his judgement. "You have been training with that third year huh? Yagi, isn't it?"

"O-oh! Um, yeah. Toshinori, he's been helping me get stronger despite my quirk's draw back." You shifted in your seat under his intense glare.

"And?" He pressed on.

"Oh you know, he's helping me learn how to fight and get physically stronger. Nothing too special. Why do you ask?"

A certain blond revealed himself, his bright smile almost blinding as he smacked his tray on the table next to you. "Hey (y/n), Todorok-kun!"

You jumped and covered your reddening face with your hands. "Ah! Hello Toshi-senpai!"

Enji glanced between the two of you, both of you have been rather close lately and the redhead was developing theories that have been plaguing his mind. "That's why I ask." He pointed to your bright red face.

Toshinori almost spat out his water when he glanced at your red face. "Woah! Todoroki-kun, it's nothing like that! Haha!"

"Y-Yeah! We're just training!" You spat out.

Enji just gave you a look, but overall decided against pressing further. Instead he sighed and glared at the third year.

You couldn't blame him though, Toshi was easily considered as strong as the pros, and Enji wanted to be on top of them all. He most likely saw him as competition.

You lightly laughed and tapped Enji's shoulder. "Don't over think it. Besides let's be honest, I need a lot more help than you do." You have the redhead a delicate smile, still he kept his condescending look.

"Don't you have to do chemistry homework you skipped?"

"Oh shit! That's next period!" You yelped and began the homework you skipped last night.

"Geez, I remember chemistry, I really struggled with that one." Toshi exclaimed, leaning back with his cheeks stuffed with pork cutlet and rice. "I can't help you with that one, (y/n)-chan."

"Don't worry, I'm surprisingly good at math and science. It's the other subjects I struggle with." You stuffed your face with your food as you quickly solved the problems on the sheet. "Enji actually helps me with the other ones, I help him with chemistry and maths."

"I don't need your help." Todoroki snapped back.

"Sure." Came out your muffled sarcasm. "Do you want me to check your homework?"

There was a slight pause, Toshinori placing his hand over his mouth to stop his growing laughter.

"Yes."

~~~

That was the beginning of the three of you. Toshi quickly climbed up the ranks as the number one hero. He left for America for a while, but kept in touch with you as you finished school and tried to make a name for yourself.

Enji quickly surpassed you, but he still stayed your dear friend. He found an organization and followed behind Toshi, climbing up the ranks and making a name at the early age of twenty.

They were strong, powerful, and you were everything else. Weak. The only thing you had going for you was your quirk, and even then it was taxing on your body.

You joined a smaller hero agency and continued developing your quirk. With your skill in chemistry you learned you can convert your bodily fluids into pill form. Though they don't work as well, it allows you to give people a full heal without loosing yourself.

Though you never seemed to be as lucky as you hoped. The hero you had come to know and trust abused your kindness, his other sidekicks finding it funny to stuff you full of their cocks and use you as a toy.

You never felt so humiliated and destroyed in your entire life. What started as a simple conversation drastically changed into the hero's using your quirk as an excuse to do as they pleased. They even threatened to ruin your career as a hero if you told anyone... but you just couldn't keep quiet.

That night you drove away, tears streaming down your reddened cheeks as the horrid feeling and taste lingered. You drove all the way to the current number nine's house and knocked on his door at 2:48 am. He lived alone, still focusing on climbing up the ranks to be number one.

Despite not seeing him in months and thinking you were only a distraction, he let you in.

Enji held you close as you sobbed and told him what happened, your words chocking on your cries. He let you clean up and stay for the night, as you didn't feel safe alone anymore. You slept on the couch that night, unbeknownst to you Enji called up Toshinori.

The three of you met up the next day to expose the so called heroes that defiled you. Without Enji and Toshinori, you wouldn't have been able to tell anyone, that or you would never be the hero you've always wanted to be.

You constantly look back on that day. You couldn't help but appreciate what your two friends did for you, especially when you are reminded of them. You would give anything to help them. Anything.

You joined All Might in his quest for heroism, becoming his sidekick and healing people he saved. He loved working with you, and you loved working with him. The spark between the two of you was obvious from the beginning, and as the two of you worked together the spark only grew.

You left for a while though, a well-known hero asking for your help in America. You bought a small apartment and began your own.

~~~

"Wait... what? He-he's...." You voice cracked, hand lightly tracing the bow on the flat triangular box on your bed. Smooth wrapping providing false comfort over the situation over the phone. Gran Torino's gruff, pained voice echoed in your ears and in your brain.

"Toshinori needs your healing, that or I'm afraid it will be the end of the Symbol of Peace." You shivered at his words, turning your back to your bed to sit down. Your hands rubbed your face and eyes from stress, not just from Toshi's conditions but the strange gifts you keep finding in your house. "Recovery girl already stabilized him, but your healing should finish the job."

"I understand, uh, I'll book a ticket-"

"Don't, we already bought a private plane ticket, we don't want the media to get involved." Gran Torino finished, sighing behind the screen. He must be feeling the same things you were feeling; stress and anxiety. Despite the stress he continued, giving the details of the flight he bought.

"Alright, alright. I'll get some pills ready and pack. Take care." He lightly chuckled, probably nodding behind the screen, before ending the call.

You dropped you phone on your bed and sighed. The hand that was tracing the wrapped gift paused over the red satin bow. A sense of dread crawled up your spine making you shiver.

You wanted to throw the thing away and let it rot in your dark closet, but after finally deciding to open the other ones up you decided that wasn't a good idea. Whoever has been sending you the few gifts wanted something you were too afraid to give.

Yesterday you opened the first gift, one with a purple bow and silver wrapping paper, and found a beautiful sun dress with a letter. At first you thought it was a fan, after all it wasn't too strange for you to find fans who gave you gifts like this, so you ignored the red flag of finding it on your temporary apartment door step.

But when you glanced at the letter, your blood froze. Written in fancy cursive, penmanship you could easily call perfect, was an alarming letter about compliments you could dismiss as a little strange. That was the second red flag.

The next few gifts had letters as well, each one more descriptive and alarming than the last. One described how entertaining it was for you to be so close to the number one hero All Might, and how the sender would enjoy taking you from him.

So when you found another gift, this time wrapped in a red bow with dark grey wrapping, you wanted to puke. You debated opening it up to save yourself some sanity and stress, but you were more afraid of the repercussions of not seeing what's inside.

With shaky breaths and an even shakier hand you unveiled the mystery box. You never felt so much dread in your life until you saw what was under the letter.

A gorgeous, obviously expressive set of black lingerie brought bile into your throat. Clasping your hand over your mouth you tried to swollen the nasty mixture as you continued your investigation. The set was lacey in a sultry way, seductive like it was meant for a lover to wear on their honeymoon.

You hated it, you feared it.

Especially the letters, you still didn't know who sent them but that only made you more afraid. So you read it, maybe you would know who was sending you these things, maybe you could get them arrested and save yourself the stress while you go heal Toshi.

'Dear (y/n) (l/n),

I consider myself a patient man, one that will wait until the time is right. I wish for you to wear the gift I have given you, it would greatly please me to see you in it when I come for you. So save yourself the pain-'

You stopped and gagged, crumpling up the carefully written letter and throwing it across the room. Anxious tears streamed down your face as you violently shook.

Their going to come for you? Why? When? Where? Here? No no no, not here. You'll be off back home in Japan, away from this sad apartment and away from the creepy stalker.

You glanced over at the lingerie, should you wear it? What would they do if you didn't wear it? Are they watching you now?

Once more you shivered, this time taking the lingerie and holding it close. You were terrified of the consequences so you decided to wear it. All you had to do now was get some pills ready and pack for the plane ride. So stop stressing.

~~~

You held your bags close, the satchel with your quirk infused pills even closer. Your anxiety was spiking, more so than it has ever before. You wore half of your hero costume, having on the white lab coat, jaw guard, and belts with sleeping syringes you created yourself. Usually you have heels with a dress shirt and pencil skirt, but instead you decided to wear something more comfortable. So you wore grey sweat pants and a black tank top under your white coat.

Grey and white mountains littered the horizon while vibrant greenery and large trees rose high into the sky. You exited the small plane and wondered over to Gran Torino. A solemn expression decorated your features as you met up with the group.

Gran Torino, Sir Nighteye, and Tsukauchi waited for you, Tsu being the only one to smile back. "Hey, Witch Doctor are you ready to head out?" Tsu wore a white dress shirt and black slacks with his favorite brown trench coat over his shoulders.

Gran Torino and Sir Nighteye wore their full hero costumes despite the long ride ahead.

Your smile widened ever so slightly as you nodded. "Please, call me (y/n). And yes, I have the pills if he wants to go that route, it should be more than enough to heal him all the way." You lifted up the satchel and waved it around.

They knew how your quirk worked, bodily fluids. So they understood how people in the past took advantage of that, so they were a little surprised when you mentioned giving All Might a choice. They didn't mention it though. "Could-can you... tell me about Toshi?"

Gran Torino grunted before waking to a few cars nearby. "His stomach was pretty much gutted, he's hanging on a thread thanks to Recovery Girl. He would've died otherwise."

Nighteye looked away with an uncomfortable expression. "If he-he didn't hold on for so long...." He mumbled away without wanting to finish his sentence.

"He'll be fine," Finished Tsukauchi. "He is fine, he just needs some help getting better."

You listened to the policeman, his enthusiasm seemingly forced and full of anxiety. "What happened to him?" You asked again, this time with more force.

They all stayed silent as they continued walking to the cars, so you stopped. "L-listen, I know why it might be hard to talk about, but-but I would like to know. There-there has been some crazy shit happening lately, and you said he was injured a few days ago? It just-just seems too... too coincidental? I guess?"

Tsukauchi turned to you with a worried expression. "Like what? Why haven't you told any of us?"

"I was-it is just-just a stalker but... I'm scared, you know? It started four-five days ago and it just seems too coincidental." You lightly laughed at yourself, your hands rubbing up and down your arms to try and calm your riled up nerves. "Never mind, I'm-I'm just stressing out. Maybe...."

Nighteye adjusted his glasses and peered into your soul. "Why would it be coincidental? What else happened?"

"There-there were letters. Letters with information only a few people should know about." Your body curled in on itself. "Some things about Nana, and you guys, and Toshi. Just a bunch of mumbo jumbo that has me scared."

Tsukauchi placed a hand on your shoulder. "Let's talk about this in the car." His delicate smile helped put you at ease, so you nodded and continued. "And if you really are worried maybe Nighteye can look into your future?"

The tall, suit wearing man scoffed as he entered the passengers seat. "I'm not exactly okay with something like that."

"It would help." You meekly said, getting into the car. The men took a nice long look at you, how you shivered and stared with a furrowed brow. It was like you were playing out scenarios of all the bad things that could happen to you. "But I understand-!"

"You look pathetic like that." Nighteye shifted in his seat as Gran Torino started the car. "I'll do for you, but you can't change what will happen. I've tried."

You shyly smiled at him and nodded your head. "That's fine with me, I just want to mentally prepare myself, ya' know?"

"That's a good idea, Witch Doct-I mean (y/n)." Tsu corrected himself and shifted next to you.

"Right, thanks guys." You and Sir looked into each others eyes, a small shiver running up your spine as his left eye turned into a purple-black storm.

All four of you waited as the car sped through the Japanese wilderness. The large green trees provided shade and small rays of sunlight peeking through. The road was long and curved on the side of the mountain you were descending. It was peaceful, calm... too calm.

The thick air was interrupted by a gasp, Nighteye's calculating eyes shifting to the sunroof of the small car. His body was rigid, his face twisted in growing fear. "Stop the car!"

Gran Torino smashed the breaks causing the car to screech and dangerously swerve to a stop. "Whats-?!"

He couldn't finish his sentence before a large, swirling purple mass emerged from nothing before the group. A large hand emerged, a rocky face following behind.

"Get our of the car!" Sir Nighteye screeched, grabbing Gran Torino and pulling him out with him. Tsukauchi dashed out and joined the others against the cliff side.

You unbuckled and reached for the door handle, but you were too late.

The large figure fully emerged and smacked his hand against the car, knocking it off the steep cliff side and into the mass of trees below. You screamed and held your body as close as possible, the car shoving you every which way. Glass shattered, metal crushed against itself, you hit your head so much you could taste the blood in your mouth.

A loud crash echoed through the forest floor, bird and animals fleeing to a far away safety. You coughed, trying to drag your body out the broken window next to you.

Your arm shrieked in pain, it must be broken, you thought. Still you refused to be a sitting duck. You clawed your way out of the car, praying all of your things are in one piece.

Gran Torino appeared in front of you and helped you out before hopping away. The giant from before jumped down beside the car, the ground around him crumbling under his feet. "Everything I do is for my master." The giant chanted his mantra, his eyes glueing to your form with heart stopping ferocity.

Nighteye fell from above and slammed his feet against the giant's head, knocking him off his rhythm.

He grunted and stumbled into a tree, trampling the plant in the process. He took the broken tree and rips it from the ground just to chuck it back at Sir Nighteye.

"Watch out!" You swallowed your blood and spit to heal yourself just enough to get into the fight. You shoved your support mask over the lower half of your face, letting it pierce through your skin so you can drink your blood. "Torino! Make sure Tsukauchi is okay, I'll go for Sir!"

"Get in and get out!" Quickly you two split up.

You dashed over to Sir Nighteye and pulled him from the colliding tree. You drank your blood and building saliva to slowly heal your wounds, your broken arm mending itself enough for you to use it.

The tree burst into splinters. Sir found his footing and pulled you behind another tree. "Are you okay?" He asked, holding you close while looking at the giant behind him.

"Yeah, yeah. What did you see in your vision? We'll get out right?"

Sir Nighteye bit his bottom lip. He didn't know what he should do, tell her and give up or try and fight fate. "That's not important right now." He commented calmly, but internally he was at war.

He saw your future, one where you were taken after everyone else was too hurt to fight back. Gran Torino would jump in to try and save you, Tsukauchi begging for you be set free from the cliff side. Gran Torino would be caught and killed when he tries to save you, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Sir Nighteye almost debated letting you get caught just so the rest of them could get away unharmed.

You glanced at him before pulling the two of you were crushed by the giant. "Focus Sir! We need to group up with Torino and Tsu. This guy is really strong."

"We can't take him on." He blurted out.

"What do mean?" Your voice came out shaky, the giant already on his way to fight you two again. He trudged over and loomed above you and Sir, growling as he swiped Sir Nighteye away. The giant had a hint of a smile of his face when he gripped your form in his iron like grip.

You jolted in his hold and fumbled with your hero costume to pull out the syringes, all of them. Quickly you stabbed the giant's neck and pumped his system with five of your homemade concoctions.

Gran Torino grabbed Nighteye before he slammed against a tree, carefully putting the fading man on the ground. Torino stared up at your thrashing form, but before he could rush up to help you a hand tightly gripped his forearm. "Don't, if you go you'll die!"

Nighteye's grip tightened once he heard Tsukauchi scream from above.

"We can't let them take her, she's the only one that can heal Toshinori!" Gran Torino argued, thrashing away and dashing to save you.

The giant wobbled from the potent amount of drugs in is system, but it didn't stop him. A new purple portal formed in front of the two of you, and a newfound vigor was found in the giant. "Gran Torino!" Your voice echoed with unadulterated terror.

You could see him coming to help you, but you could also feel the giant prepare an attack against your friend. If you were taken Toshi wouldn't get the drugs, Gran Torino would get seriously injured if he got too close. You didn't want to see that happen, so you grabbed the satchel and threw it as hard as possible at Torino, smacking him against the face and knocking him to the ground.

The giant trudged into the portal with you over his shoulder, leaving your hero buddies in the ruined forest. He kneeled down and swayed from the drugs, letting you fall to the ground below him.

A man of purple mist and a dress vest walked over, his misty hands clamped over his front. "Witch Doctor," he addresses," I would appreciate it if you followed me."

You bit your lip, still being looked over by the giant man behind your hunched form. You wanted to ask a question, to yell and scream and thrash until they were too annoyed to keep you alive... but you were too afraid to even try.

Was this the man sending you the letters? Was this the legendary All For One Toshi warned you about? "Who-who are you?" Your voice betrayed you and cracked under your fear.

Yellow eyes evaluated your own (e/c) ones. The mist man in front of you seemed to be figuring out what happened to the woozy giant behind you, but you couldn't tell in those yellow voids of his. "My name is Kurogiri, now, follow me." His tone shifted into a more violent one.

You shivered under his gaze, a figure showing up beside him. A judgmental figure at that, short with large goggles and a mustache. Though this new addition discarded you with a quiet mutter under his breath.

Kurogiri finally had enough waiting and grabbed you by your wounded forearm, making you cringe as he pulled you through the dull halls of the facility. The environment was filled with dark greys, bright blues and a metallic shine. "Where are we going?"

"You are going to heal my master."

You didn't need to hear anymore before understanding what was going to happen. You pulled your injured arm from his grip, wincing at the pain, and ran as fast as you could.

Sadly you didn't get as far as you would have wanted. A purple portal swept you off your feet, making you fall into a new room entirely. Your body slammed against the hard floor without mercy.

Kurogiri sighed and stepped through a portal he made for himself, once again dragging you to your feet. The room was dark, but clean and barren none the less. The sounds that echoed through the room was that of a breathing machine and medical equipment.

"You may leave, Kurogiri. I'll take it from here."

A haunting voice shook you to your core, it was deep and threatening, yet mocking and intrigued. The man of mist turned on his heels and left, closing the portal behind him. Your heat beat loudly in your chest, suffocating and causing you to hyperventilate.

The voice boomed with laughter, a strained sound complimenting the 'wrrr's of the machines. "You have no reason to be afraid, (y/n)." The hands gripping the floor violently shook, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. "Now come here."

His mammoth sized hand stalked out of the darkness covering his body, tempting you to take it. You could see the underlying of his mouth, bright white teeth gleaming in mockery. "I suggest you don't keep me waiting, I've been patient enough." He added.

Your feet acted on their own volition, moving you closer to the shadowed figure. He could probably hear your uneven breathing from the bed he sat in. Once you stood beside the bed, tears streaming down your cheeks, he roughly grabbed your wrists and pulled you on top of him. Your legs straddled his hips as he sat up, a sigh escaping his barely visible lips.

"I must confess, (y/n), I've had my eyes on you for quite sometime." His mocking tone brought more tears to fall. "At first I was going to take you after I killed Nana, just to torture All Might some more. Then I learned of your quirk and wanted it for myself, but it wouldn't exactly be useful if I took it would it?"

His mammoth hands wrapped tightly around your wrists, forcing them to cup his cheeks around his sickening smile. "I asked a question." His voice shifted into a scolding tone, his hands slipping from your arms to your waist.

"N-no, it wouldn't."

All For One's smile widened at your scared tone. "Are you scared?" He mocked. "Where's that smile All Might preaches, huh?" You jolted in his lap as his cold hands touched the flesh of your hips. He snickered at your skittish reactions. "You are much cuter up close, you know that?"

Submit or fight back? You tried that a long time ago, fighting back, and it made everything so much worse. You were afraid, terrified of fighting back against this man. Were you afraid of death? No, you never thought yourself to be, but maybe you were wrong. The suffocating feeling of him staring you down like prey made you think he was death itself. And that made you fucking terrified.

His humming and hands sliding your shirt up brought you back to reality. "Wa-wait!"

He grumbled and stopped. "Go on."

"I can heal you another way! It'll hurt less but-but it'll take a little longer." You stutter to try and save your skin, but the never faltering smile he gave told you it was all for not.

His hands also proved that theory. They roamed up your tank top, tapping each finger against your skin for more insult to injury. "You're so sweet, worrying about me. I'm sure you already know who I am, don't you?"

You nodded and tried to shift away from the man's touches. He groaned at the friction down below. Time stopped when you heard that noise, a meek squeak emitting from your throat. He mockingly laughed at the sound. "I'll take that as a yes."

He started to take off your clothes, gently, slowly, layer by layer. Shivers and tears shocked your body, you hated it, but you were too afraid to even think about fighting back. Pieces were thrown to the stone floor, your hero costume being stripped from you.

All For One's grin widened more than you thought possible. "You wore the lingerie I bought for you. I'm flattered." His hands cupped your covered breasts, the thumbs tracing the lace. You held back a mewl when he undid the clasp and started kneading the mounds. Forefingers and thumbs tweaked your nipples, pulling and pinching the sensitive flesh.

Your hands stayed glued to his face, the tips of your fingers grazed mauled flesh but quickly pulled away. The man below you noticed, chuckled, and forced your hands onto his mauled face again. "This is what your precious All Might did to me, cruel isn't it?"

A shiver ran down your spine at the odd sensation he forced in your finger tips. Calloused hands dragged down your waist to your panty line, pulling the clothe to the side. His thick finger ran up your slit, collecting the small amount of fluid that had built up. He returned it to his lips and dragged his tongue to lap up the liquid pleasure.

All For One shuddered and groaned at the taste. the man could feel your quirk taking effect, the burning sensation already taking hold the more he tasted. Animalistic pleasure grabbed him by the throat, his lips crashing into your own. He wanted more of that sweet taste, the taste that would heal him back into completion over and over and over again.

He wanted you, all of you.

Saliva mixed in both of your mouths as his tongue slipped past your lips. He groaned and tightened his already iron grip on your hips, your bones creaking under the strain. You meekly shrieked when he bit down on your bottom lip, sucking and drinking the blood.

The wound quickly healed up so he kept his assault, biting and sucking and drinking the blood. Your hands slid to his clothed chest, trying to push off.

All For One wasn't having it though, he stripped himself of his suit jacket and dress shirt and pulled your form closer to him. His clothed groin strained in his pants, you could feel it prodding your nether regions. One hand snaked into your (h/l) (h/c) hair to keep your lips locked with his, the other hand cupping and rubbing your sex.

You accidentally moaned into the kiss, earning a amused groan from your captor. The man let go of your bruising lips to listen to your cute mewls. His hands sped up, using the base of his palm to rub your clit as one of his thick fingers entered the sex.

He mercilessly pumped the finger, curling and prodding at the spongy spot inside you. Your legs trembled around him, hands sliding up to his shoulder for something sturdy to hold. You hated how pleasurable this felt, you hated how it was him who made you feel like this.

"St-sto-ah-p! I-I-!" He chuckled at your meek attempts, his lips crashing into your neck and biting harshly. "Gah!" You could feel the blood drip down your collar bone before being lapped up. All For One added another finger and scissored around to stretch you out.

You could feel the rumbling of his throat, the tightening and tensing of his muscles, all from your bodily fluids. Your own wounds lightly healing, leaving black and blue bruises in its wake.

He added a third figure, stuffing you full. His palm roughly hit your clit with each intense thrust. Your toes curled, stomach tensing. You could feel your release emerging, and he could tell. "Go on," He moaned. "Don't hold back."

Your legs clamped around his hips as your pleasure reached its peek. Throwing your head back you loudly moaned into the abyss of the dark room. Your release hitting like a truck as you shivered.

All For One laughed as he licked his fingers clean, both groaning from the taste and the pain shooting through his healing body. It was strange how his head tingled and burned as it healed. Arms wrapped tightly around your form, glueing you to his chest as you came down from your high.

As you sunk lower in his lap, sweat face against his chest, you could hear the light echo of his belt buckle being undone. Your pleasure foggy mind didn't follow the sound, only wanting to soak in his warmth and go to sleep. You squirmed around his movements until something hard rubbed your clit.

Hands gripped your hips harshly, lifting you up suddenly just thrust you balls deep onto his hard cock. You screamed and clawed at his shoulders, drawing a small amount of blood.

You never felt so stuffed in your life, his cock pressing in all the right places without giving you any extra room. His head pressed against your crevix, prodding at your womb. Your slick helped ease the pain but his massive size kept you writhing under his grip.

All For One's rigid breath echoed like a dark mantra to your pained squeaks. He lifted you by your hips and slammed you back down.

You strangled out a moan with each deep thrust. The hard cock jabbed your insides to make you see stars, your body warming up to the abuse. You gasped every time his head pushed against your entrance of your womb.

Your breasts bounced, the liquid between your thighs drenching his dress pants, and the friction between your legs riding you closer to the edge of ecstasy. He thrust his hips to meet yours as he lifted you up and kept pushing you back down with feverish force. Each thrust bumped painfully your insides, pushing farther and deeper.

"You're not a virgin are you? Has All Might fucked you like this?" All For One's tone changed from the usual mocking to seething hatred. "Has he marked you like this? Ravaged your cunt until he had you screaming?" He lifted you all the way to his tip and slammed you down hard.

The head of his cock pushed through your crevix and into your womb from his force. You shrieked from the painful feeling, but the sadistic sensation pushed you over the edge.

Your walls clamped tightly around his length and gushed liquid pleasure on his lap. The man loudly groaned when your walls sucked him deeper. He kept going, thrusting and pushing deeper, faster, and stronger.

The liquid from your body twisting his flesh back to its original state. It hurt like hell, you could tell as his large hands crushed your hips like grapes. Fat tears streamed down your reddened cheeks, sobs echoing through the mostly empty room.

All For One's thrusts quickly became sloppy, obviously chasing his own release. "He's been replaced, I'll fill you up and mark you as my own! He'll never see you again, I'll make sure of it!"

Hot ropes of white spilled into your womb effectively making you see stars. Both of you tensed and shook at the force of the orgasm. Your third climax tore into the last of your energy, making you pass out from sheer exhaustion.

All For One released his tight hold on your hips, eyeing your form with a deranged smile. Bruises lined your neck, collarbone, and hips. Your quirk would heal them a bit, but you would need time to allow them to fully heal.

The dangerous man, on the other hand, was healed to the point where he wouldn't need the breathing machine to live. He wasn't healed all the way, that would only happen after a few more sessions, but it was a start.

His gaze fell on your soft features, no longer perturbed by his actions and instead twisted into a delicate serenity. You looked peaceful blissfully unaware of what he had in store for you, not that he minded.

~~~

You shift in your sleep, scrunching your nose at some unknown pain down below. A plush pillow rest below your head, and almost acted like a chain keeping you down. Despite the comfort, you forced yourself to get up. Groaning, you threw off your covers and stretched out like a cat. Wincing from the pain and sitting up in the overly warm and soft bed.

You took the opportunity to soak in your surroundings. The colors were warm, a dresser parallel with a door on the opposite side of the room. Everything looked meticulously placed and expensive. The room was large and had a door off to the side, probably the bathroom, with a pair of sliding doors, most likely a closet, and an archway leading to another room.

You stumbled out of the bed and limped around the room. A mirror on the wall revealed what you looked like. Hickies littered your neck and collarbone, your once broken arm wrapped in bandages to help it heal. A lavender colored nightgown draped just above your still shaky thighs. You winced and lifted it up, more bandages around your bruised hips.

He was rough, that was something you could remember. You probably didn't heal him all the way either, that must be why he kept you alive.

You jumped and turned in the direction of some new noises. Heavy footsteps echoed through the room next over so you peeked behind the archway to see who decided to show up.

All For One slipped off his large dress shoes with his back to you. You could kill him, couldn't you? The man's back was facing you, all you needed was a blade or blunt object. You glanced around the room but found nothing, then again you had the feeling he already knew where and what you were doing.

"How did you sleep, (y/n)?" You swallowed the lump of spit in your throat as you gripped the archway. "Hm?" He peered over his shoulder, the sickening smile that haunted your nightmares stretching across his thin lips. His head was still mangled, but it was now healed into a large, clean scar.

"Why am I here?" You asked.

He turned to fully face you and stepped nearer, his bulky form looming over your frail body like a veil. His hand moved to your cheek, caressing the flesh in an all too intimate act of affection. "I think you already know the answer to that." He mused, dipping to let his lips graze the shell of your ear.

You shivered.

"You're mine."

#yandere mha #yandere bnha #Yandere all for one #Yandere all for one x Reader #Yandere bnha x reader #Yandere mha x reader #toshinori x reader #Yandere shigaraki #Yandere shigaraki x reader #yander afo #Yandere afo x reader #yandere smut #mha #bnha

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the-last-cuddlebender · 3 years

Text

Blood In A Blacklight

Katara has a criminal empire to run, a family to protect, and plenty of shadows from the past who want to tear it all down.

Part 1: The Wind Howls (1/2) - She has him back, and everything should be perfect now, but it’s not. She’s more worried than ever. And she hasn’t slept in days.

********************************

A/N: Mafiosa!Katara and Gaang™ gang because I want it and am willing it into existence. Basically took “Sokka and I, we’re your family now” and made my take on a bending-mafia-families AU lmao

Words: 1,748

********************************

Katara punished her book for the weather and nearly tore it when she flipped the page. The words blurred again. She glared, hoping to become a firebender and burn a hole through the damn thing.

The door opened without a knock, and the frame of her vision shook, bordering on crimson. Mercy was still a foreign concept, and nearly ninety-six hours awake had mutilated her ‘moral code’ into watery dough. A few twitches of her fingers closed her hand around veins and arteries, but her bending recognized her intruder’s old blood and fresh wounds before she could register why her power wasn’t listening. It was worse than a tranquilizer. Worse than chloroform in a black alley. Aang’s heartbeat pinned her to her seat and ripped out her fangs like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Katara remembered that time was a thing that would still pass whether or not she kept breathing. Fresh rain met the wall of windows behind her. Her thumb dragged over the ear of the page. She crawled into the dull thump of his heartbeat and sank into her chair, hiding in his rhythm like it was a cave.

The soft click of the door startled her like it was a strike of lightning, stuttering her breath and rallying her instincts to probe for the nearest skein of water. She shifted, impatient for him to be closer, waiting for enemies to burst from the shadows.

She re-read the same paragraph until he limped — badly, on the left side — to her desk. He paused, thinned Katara’s sanity, and sat in one of the leather chairs across from her. His silence filled the room with static. The full moon taunted her with power for all the wrong problems. The storm put a distance of hisses and low rumbles between them, bleating her pulse against the drums of her ears.

“What are you doing?” Aang gently asked.

Katara propped her head on her fist, her voice like paint peeling from the side of an old ship. “I’m reading.”

“You’ve been staring at that page for seven minutes.”

“I’m reading slowly.”

“You’re sulking.”

She almost looked up. “I am not sulking.”

“And now you’re lying.”

Something made a spark, and Katara slammed her book, still open, on her desk. “I am not lying.”

Her almost-shout did things that the thunder could only dream of, but before Katara could retreat, Aang leaned forward, onto her desk, mirroring her posture and leaving inches between their faces. It brought the smell of the wind in his clothes, and his element tickled her frayed hair from her cheek. His presence was warm. In every way. Warm hues, warm feelings, warm heartbeat, warm memories—

It took longer for the crimson to leave her vision this time. The thin wound wasn’t the worst, but it was the most noticeable, crawling across his face and over the bridge of his nose like a comet touching from beneath one eye to under the other. It was a bleach-white horizon that his eyes sat just above, but what he leveled her with didn’t allow her the freedom to consider her to-kill list in detail.

Katara had been shot, captured, tortured, ransomed, and used as a bartering chip far more times than she dared to remember, but even oceans would part for the look that Aang gave her when she tried to dance around the truth with him and win. She scowled, not that it helped her. Intensity clouded his eyes in a smokescreen, and grey irises darted in short, sharp glances that wouldn’t have been noticeable if he was any further away.

Katara’s finger itched to turn the page. Aang’s breathing had been steady, but when he exhaled again, closing his eyes, it took the strength out of his shoulders and kicked her in the chest.

“You promised you would stop looking into this.”

Katara snapped the book shut and set it aside. “I told you to stay away from the hospital.”

“I had to see her. And you went there, too.”

He didn’t mention a name, but still, Katara’s nails dug into her hands and threatened to draw blood. She seethed, but her fire didn’t phase him. Always him. Only him. Even in her office she was powerless.

Lips pulled into a tight line, she took a calming breath and held it, waiting for it to start working. Aang didn’t look away. His smokescreen was looking more like a storm and shone lightning like steel blades clashing.

She knew what her glare did to good men, and she knew it didn’t work on him, but she looked away all the same. Her eyes found the book, and the pins and needles from her held breath suddenly became the cold gasps of a child who couldn’t run fast enough. She saw the splintering of ancient wooden doors and the darkness that spilled from them. She felt the ice of new irons and the strain they put on growing bones.

And the screams. There should have been screams…

Katara blinked and was back in her office, greeted by the sheets of bullets on her windows and the warm heat of Aang’s attention. She looked at him. He was the same as her gaze had left him.

She didn’t mean to sound so defeated, but she was so tired of losing. “What were you thinking, Aang?”

“Katara, you’re scared and angry and hurt and I get it, but you don’t have to save me anymore. I’m right here.”

“I can’t sit by and do nothing. If I don’t fight for you, then no one will.”

She had seen men recoil from a bullet through the heart, but Aang caught himself just before the stage of crumpling to the ground. His gaze dropped, staggering to her necklace and then to her desk. “…I guess you’re right.”

Katara scrambled to pick up his pieces. “That’s not what I—”

“I know.” He splayed his palm, pretending to read the lines. “You didn’t mean it.”

Lightning lit up the room, like a picture being taken. Katara combed back her hair, fiddling with her low ponytail, and gave up trying to keep her empty hands occupied. “Can you just—” She grabbed the air like she could hold onto the problem. “Can you just promise me that you won’t do something like that again? Please?”

It was the closest she had ever — ever — come to begging, but Aang kept his eyes on his palm. “I can’t do that.”

“Yes, you can.”

“I’m not one of your goons to boss around,” he said, still without looking up, though his brow furrowed with a small crease.

“At least they know their limits. None of this would have happened if you had just let me handle it. This is my family, and that includes you, whether you like it or not.”

“I don’t belong to you.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“Then why are you still here?”

“Because you need me, too,” he said, with a soft voice that could shake a stadium. “And I might just be a speedbump to knock you on your ass and make you think twice before you do it anyways, but you’re my family too.”

The silence yawned, hissing with a thick but fine sheet of rain. If it weren’t for her desk, Katara would have hugged him. Probably. Doubt opened a pit in her belly, and her throat threatened to seal shut. Instinct and intuition went to war and left her with the sinking feeling that touching him would just prove how far away he was.

Aang still didn’t look up from his hand. Katara tried to find the right words and, more importantly, how to say them, but all she could manage after so many years of lying was a tender inflection of his name. “Aang…”

“They made me forget your face,” he said, deflating like saying it out loud finally made the scars real. His voice was watery, broken on the last vowel, and took a sledgehammer to Katara’s chest. “And now you…” He gestured. “Now you’re there and I’m here and…” The word died. He paused, then dragged his eyes up to hers. “You think of them when you look at me, so I see them, too. They scare me. And now you scare me. And I don’t want to be scared of you because I don’t want to stop looking at you. But it scares me. A lot.”

“I…Aang, I’m sorry—”

“I know. I know,” he said as he stood. His eyes roamed her empty desk, trying to find something of hers and settling on the book, which broke what was left of him. “…You didn’t mean it.”

Katara stood, but the desk was still in the way. “Aang, wait—”

“I'm going to take a walk to…,” he trailed, more in his own thoughts than in her office. “…I’ll get Zuko so you don’t worry.”

She should have gone after him. She should have done something, but her legs were pillars of cement. The door bled fluorescent yellow light into her twilight and took him, in his red and orange robes from across the world, with it.

Something cold crawled out of the old attic of where her heart was supposed to be. It cracked, weaving thin white scars — like his — in a web across her vision. She braced herself on the desk. There was nowhere to hide. No heartbeat. Not even a wound to distract her with its pain. She closed her eyes and bared her teeth and wished she had the strength to cry without him. Just this once, without him. She was so full and so empty and on the verge of combustion—

Something broke, something small, like a cornerstone, and Katara plopped into her chair. She breathed just like he taught her and eventually rubbed her face. Her bones ached. Everything ached. She was so tired of losing. She just wanted to sleep without knowing that she would wake up, still stuck in her worst nightmare.

Thunder growled above the city. Katara picked up the book. It was blurry, no matter how much she blinked. She dragged her nail over the scuff marks, feeling the minute pilling of old leather like a topographic map of the past.

Aang’s absence reminded her why she was reading, but she wasn’t sure if she could anymore. The book took on the weight of a planet, her arms even moreso.

Realization dawned slowly, like a dog attack in slow motion. The thought was a shadow bleeding out of the tall grass to fill her stomach with ice.

She peeled open the pages, praying to whoever would answer.

It burned. It burned like fire never could. It ate her away from the inside out, like cinders consuming a dry leaf in the time it took to blink.

The raindrops became smaller, like a mist, and gently brushed the windows. Standing was a miracle, but Katara dragged her feet around her desk, falling into Aang’s chair.

It was warm, like his shadow always was. She crawled into the footprint his life left behind, imagining his heartbeat in the hug of plush leather and the smell of salt and sand that reminded her where home was. Katara told herself to breathe and sank into the reasons why. Her legs curled beneath her, like when she was a girl, back when she wore her mother’s dresses to imagine herself a hero and not in three-piece suits to mask bloodstains.

She read the book slowly, from the beginning again, trying to love even the words that hurt. When lightning struck, she held it closer, trying to protect it, even though she knew that she couldn’t.

********************************

Don’t know if I described it well enough, but Aang’s ‘scar’ (quotes because it eventually seals up into a thin line) is supposed to be like the bottom arch of the Yu Yan archers’ tattoos.

#Kataang #Aang #Katara #avatar the last airbender #ATLA #mafia au #madame writes #Blood In A Blacklight

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ateezmakemeweep · 4 years

Text

richboy!yeosang (part 2)

word count: 5k

fluff, smut (tw: mentions of abortion)

(part 1) (miniseries masterlist)

“did you just puke again?”

you look up at yunho from your spot on the couch, bags under your extremely unamused eyes as you nod your head lazily.

you warned him not to come over in the first place today, that you didn’t wanna get him or mingi sick since you’ve spent the past few days still vomiting and feeling like shit.

but he insisted, not wanting you to spend the day alone and cooking for yourself when you didn’t feel your best.

yeosang had stayed home with you for two days but had to get back to his classes, you all but forcing him out of bed in the early morning hours this week.

“yes,” you whine, a pout on your face as he smooths down your messy hair. “which is why you shouldn’t be here!”

he only rolls his eyes as he fixes the blanket over you, claiming he’s immune to all illness before tucking you in like a child and going off to the kitchen to check on the soup he’s making.

you let out a sigh as you hear yunho humming softly, sprawling out on the couch and stretching your aching bones. you thought for sure you had some sort of stomach flu, a slight fever and vomiting along with just pain all over.

but it’s been almost a full week now of waking up and feeling like this, irritation starting to settle in because it feels like you’re never gonna get better.

it makes it even more frustrating that, in the mid-afternoon and nighttime, it seems as if you’re getting better, just for everything to start all over again.

“that’s odd,” yunho hums softly when you tell him that, carrying your bowl of soup and a package of crackers that makes you hold back a smile.

he side-eyes you when he sees your lips twitching, flicking your head gently and gesturing at the food he just cooked for you.

“have you gone to the doctor?”

“you know they freak me out,” you mutter, slurping the soup and humming when the warm broth hits your tongue; if there’s one thing you learned about yunho over these college years, it’s that he’s a great cook.

“this is good.”

“thanks,” he smiles softly, watching closely as you slurp down the broth.

this is a meal he makes for mingi every time the boy isn’t feeling well and, while he knows his boyfriend is secretly wimpier than you, he always looks more...sickly.

pale and sleepy and barely able to lift the spoon into his mouth; but then again, it could be his fiancé being a baby and wanting to be doted on.

“that made me feel better,” you smile happily, getting up from the couch slowly to wash your bowl and spoon before yunho can.

the boy notices and narrows his eyes, following you into the kitchen quickly and leaning against the counter.

“you know, it’s weird that it’s only in the morning,” yunho says inquisitively, “and that yeosang didn’t get it in that first twenty four hours.”

“i know, right, i was thinking the same thing,” you admit, dapping the sponge with dish soap as you clean out your dishes.

“maybe it’s some kind of, like, food poisoning? me and yeosang got that sushi place a few nights before this all-”

your apartment door opening causes you to peek out into the hallway, a tall and annoyed mingi making his way to you; the boy seems even more disappointed when he smells the familiar scent of yunho’s soup.

“did you save some for me?”

“are you sick?” yunho asks, smiling softly when mingi pokes him in the arm. “what happened? why do you look so annoyed?”

“because halloween isn’t for another week and people are already coming into the bars dressed up and shit. if i had to serve one more person covered in a poorly cut white sheet, i was gonna scream.”

you and yunho side eye each other with a smirk, one of mingi’s many complaints about being a part-time bartender the amount of sociable people. but the job works for him despite his less than amused attitude, his withdrawn, mysterious personality and handsome face responsible for his hefty tips.

“what are you guys gonna be? pirates again?” you ask, a wide cheeky grin on your face; for the past three halloweens, they haven’t strayed from their favorite costumes.

“pirates again,” mingi mocks immaturely, his head turning toward you before he does a double take. his hand on your face causes you to stop washing your spoon, eyebrows pulled together as you look at him in confusion.

“what?”

“you look weird,” mingi says bluntly, turning your face side to side. your mouth drops open as yunho smacks him in the arm, coming to your defense and saying that you’ve been sick for the past few days.

“yeah, you asshole! i’ve been puking my guts out all morning, excuse me for not looking my best.”

“even more reason for you to go to the doctor,” yunho chimes in quietly, the icy look you throw his way causing him to smile sweetly.

“but i start to feel fine by the afternoons,” you whine, pulling your face out of mingi’s grasp belligerently. “i have a feeling they won’t even help me.”

“you still have to go, babe,” yunho says softly, running his hand through your hair gently. “that doesn’t sound normal. especially since it’s almost been an entire week.”

you let a sigh as you turn off the sink, wiping your hands on your pants before promptly (and immaturely) stomping back to the couch. it’s in your pursuit to throw yourself back down on the cushions that mingi grabs you before you can, gazing down at you with a wide-eyed expression.

“what?” you whine again, the slightest hint of exasperation in your tone; he’s starting to freak you out.

“has yeosang gotten sick?”

you shake your head.

“and it’s only in the morning?”

a confused nod.

“and you’re just nauseous and puking?

another confused nod, about to ask him what the hell he’s on about before his next question causes your stomach to drop.

“is your period late?”

the question makes you still and you’re faintly aware of yunho’s choked gasp in the background, thinking back to the last time you had your period.

you wrack your brain for the answer but can’t quite remember, pushing down the panic that’s threatening to rise as you start to piece things together.

your skin’s been clear, you haven’t had cramps, your boobs don’t hurt... but even so, that wouldn’t be possible, right?

you’ve been on birth control since high school. there’s no way that’s why your period is late, school just started up and work is stressful.

you’ve been stressed since summer ended, not used to the new routine of life.

there’s no way that the 99.9% effectiveness rate is gonna fail you out of everyone in the world. especially when you’re pretty good about taking it, when you take it everyday around the same-

“holy fuck. it’s late, isn’t it?”

“mingi, shut up! she looks like she’s about to puke again.”

you don’t even realize that you’re panicking until you look up at them and see them watching you carefully, yunho soft and sympathetic while mingi is shocked and almost disturbed.

“i-it’s because i’m stressed,” you say, voice sounding like you’re on the brink of a mental breakdown; the denial and hope is all too evident.

“i have a lot more assignments now for school and work’s been crazy. i’m just stressed and i’m... i can’t be-”

“the pill isn’t always effective, y/n...” yunho says gently, his voice soothing and sweet but doing nothing to calm you.

“yes it is,” you squeak, your eyes wide and hands shaking as you watch the two giant boys looking down at you. “i-it’s 99.9%...”

“they say it’s probably only 91% effective...” mingi says, yunho letting out a scoff as he drags mingi back against his body.

“you’re not helping at all,” he growls lowly in his fiancé’s ear, the dark-haired boy turning around and looking over his face.

“she has morning sickness, yunho, how could this not be-”

“it’s not morning sickness! i can’t be pregnant!”

the thought didn’t even cross your mind, not in the slightest. why would it? you’ve been safe and careful and actively trying to prevent this.

“y/n, it’s okay,” yunho says, making his way over to you slowly.

your heart starts to pound and tears are threatening to burn the back of your eyes, shaking your head frantically as you look between the two boys.

“why is it late? i didn’t- i didn’t even notice. or think about that. oh, my god.”

you throw your head in your hands and yunho’s quick to plop down beside you, putting his arm around you gently before pulling you into him.

he breathes quiet reassurances into your ear for a few silent moments, his scent clean and nice and you try to focus on it surrounding your nose and calming you.

but it does nothing of the sort.

because yeosang’s scent is always the thing to calm you, sweet and familiar and reminiscent of your home that’s mixed with whatever festive candle is burning at the time.

but what would yeosang think about this current situation, knowing that you’re really entertaining the idea that you might be pregnant with his child?

“what would yeosang say?” you blurt out, your head snapping to see mingi now a few feet away from you.

you’re suddenly consumed by how fucking eerie this all is, just a little over a month ago talking with yeosang about your future kids. but he had made it clear it was far into the future, the same way you did.

you never ever thought the future would be only weeks later.

“he said he wanted kids in the future. but the future future! we even said you guys would have kids before us and would need a lot of practice! holyfuck, no. i can’t be pregnant, i can’t be-”

“y/n.”

mingi’s knelt between your legs before you can pass out from lack of air, his face relaxed and eyes looking up at you softly. you swallow the lump in your throat as he exaggerates his breathing, in and out, as he rests his hands on your knees.

“mingi, i can’t. what if i’m actually-”

“stop.”

his voice is deep and gruff as he shakes his head, ignoring yunho’s gaze piercing into his face. your eyes start to well up with tears the more he looks at you, the sympathy in his gaze making you even more uneasy.

“mingi,” you whine but he only shakes his head again, squeezing your knee as he begins to talk.

“we’ll go get a test, okay? all three of us. together.”

“and what if it’s-”

“we’ll deal with whatever result when it happens. but for now, we gotta figure it out first.”

mingi can see the fear behind your eyes so he rubs his hand over your knee soothingly, eventually helping you up and out of the house with yunho.

there’s a slightly tense silence as you guys walk down the block to the nearest pharmacy, trapped between the two boys who bump your arms and occasionally graze your hand affectionately.

you looked over the tests in a daze, your shaky hand reaching to pick out a pack of five as you tried to brace yourself for whatever the result was gonna be.

“i can’t do it.”

“you have to, y/n. how else are we gonna know?” mingi asks you through the door an hour later, the white stick in your hand as you try to force yourself to pee on it.

it’s one thing to pee in a cup at the doctor to make sure all is well but doing it to find out if your life is about to change forever? that’s a lot more daunting to do, let alone on five of them.

“just do one first, then we can go from there,” yunho says gently, his kind, soft-spoken voice not even helping you at this point.

“i can’t!” you cry out, tears pricking your eyes as the white test wobbles in your hand.

“you gotta try, babe,” yunho says softly, mingi biting his tongue as he resists the urge to stomp in there and demand to help; his fiancé must know it too, if the chastising look he throws his way tells him anything.

“she’s scared, mingi,” yunho mumbles softly, squeezing his fiance’s arm affectionately.

it’s one of the many, subtle ways he’s learned to calm mingi down over the years, whether it be when the boy is an anxious fit or ready to bite someone’s head off.

“i know she is but she could not be pregnant,” the tall boy rationalizes, placing his hand atop yunho’s absentmindedly. “so she’s just freaking herself out for nothing.”

“you’d freak out too if you thought you were pregnant.”

“okay, well no shit,” mingi deadpans, a laugh bubbling from yunho that has a smile lighting up the usual grouchy boy’s face.

“why are you guys laughing!” you yelp, whipping open the door to reveal yourself with tears brimming in your eyes. “this is no laughing matter!”

“can you just piss already?” mingi asks snippily, yunho pinching his arm and mumbling for him to get you some water before looking at you encouragingly.

his hands cup your face gently, eyes soft and sympathetic as he looks you over.

“i know you’re scared, y/n, but the quicker you can go, the quicker you’ll have the results and know for sure.”

“yunho, if i’m pregnant, what am i gonna-”

“then you’re pregnant and we’ll figure out what to do next,” he says with finality, his thumbs stroking over your cheek gently. “but you could also not be pregnant and just be stressed with everything, like you said. we won’t know until you pee.”

you let out a noise between a huff and a laugh, looking at him with a frown before taking a deep breath and braving the bathroom once again.

it takes you a few moments, getting the urge to urinate as you place the stick between your legs but eventually, you have it in the sink and you’re gripping the counter tightly.

never ever did you think in a million years you’d be in this situation during your junior year of college, hunched over a sink in your ritzy, city apartment waiting for the results of a pregnancy test.

you have to imagine yeosang never pictured this either, the kids he planned to have in his adult years way after college coming to him nearly 10 years early.

tears burn your eyes as you picture telling him, lucky to not have the financial burden of raising a child but instead...everything else. the way one’s life and relationships and mindsets truly change after becoming a parent.

using the word parent to describe you and yeosang doesn’t even sound right.

how are you supposed to do this? tell him and think it over and make decisions about this when most days, you two can’t even decide what you wanna eat.

you both still have so much left to do with your young adult lives, finishing school and getting jobs and maybe traveling to the top ten countries you guys decided one night at two a.m.

could you do all of it with a baby? could you guys survive it at all? is this something yeosang would even consider despite being-

“y/n? did you do it?” yunho’s soft voice calls, the eerie silence within the bathroom making the two giant boys panic right outside.

they get their answer when you open the door and stare at them with a terrified expression, wide eyes and a wobbling lip that immediately causes mingi to pull you into him.

you crumble against him as you bury your face in his broad chest, only slightly aware of yunho petting the top of your head calmingly.

the apartment is silent despite the honks and bustle of the city outside, all three of you breathing slowly and calmly as you inhale the smell of mingi and yunho’s combined scents; you think it has something to do with them sharing clothes more often than not.

the silence is broken when you three hear a beep from a few feet away, your head snapping up and back toward the bathroom as mingi mumbles a low “shit.”

yunho sneers at him before walking over to you, giving you a knowing look as tears well up in your eyes.

“it’s okay,” the dark haired boy promises, firmly believing that no matter what the result is, it’ll all eventually be okay.

“you look first,” you beg, voice barely above a whisper.

you can’t bring yourself to look at it yet, knowing that there’s a 50% chance your life is about to drastically change.

you need the last few moments of pure panic before you either become so relieved and overwhelmed with gratitude or start to panic 100 times more.

“are you sure?” yunho asks apprehensively, now feeling a bit of fear pull in his own gut.

“positive,” you say, your face falling just as mingi snorts, “it might be.”

“mingi,” yunho mumbles warningly just as you snap your head in his direction.

the death glare you send his way nearly makes him smile, if the mood wasn’t so tense and yunho wasn’t glaring at him and you weren’t four seconds away from finding out if a fetus is about to start growing inside you.

“please look before i start to puke again.”

yunho looks over your face one more time before letting out a sigh, walking into the bathroom and looking down at the white stick in the sink.

he feels his heart drop into his stomach immediately, tightening his hold on the marble countertop as he swallows. mingi notices the way his adams apple bobs and feels his own eyes widening, squeezing past you as you watch the scene unfold in front of you.

mingi places his hand on yunho’s arm as he peers over the boy’s shoulder, a gasp leaving his mouth that immediately causes tears to spring to your eyes.

and it’s when your best friend looks at you with a flood of different emotions swirling in his eyes, you already know what the result is.

the same result as the other four tests you took afterward, a total of five positive pregnancy tests right there in your bathroom sink.

you’re not sure how long you cried into your hands as you slumped onto the couch, sobs wracking your body and shaking as you tried to come to terms with it.

because the prospect of your life changing wasn’t the only scary thing, yeosang’s reaction and your parents wasn’t the only scary thing; the journey of the pregnancy itself was fucking terrifying.

watching and feeling your body change and going through an ordeal every woman describes as something so incredibly painful. you’d already been puking and having body ache thus far, and you know things are only gonna get worse.

even after your cries eventually stop, your face red and eyes sore and nose full of wet snot, the boys next to you are still silent. you almost think they expected the results to be negative, not to go back and check again and again and again for the two tiny pink lines displayed on the screen.

“i’m scared.”

it’s the first thing you say to break the silence after god knows how long, mingi looking to you just as yunho reaches out and holds your hand in his. they were lost in their own little world too, wondering how you’re gonna handle going through this and what yeosang’s response will be.

they know he loves you and will be by your side no matter what but it’s still a hard situation to grasp. being young and scared and faced with the challenges an accidental pregnancy creates.

“what are you gonna do?” mingi asks softly; you know the situation has gotta be bad, because you don’t know if you’ve ever heard his voice this sweet talking to anyone besides yunho.

“i don’t know,” you say, voice barely above a whisper as the last remaining tears burn the back of your eyes. “i just...i don’t know. i’m so fucking scared.”

“well do you wanna...keep it?” mingi asks, yunho’s head snapping to the side as he looks at him. “you have options, you know.”

"i know,” you tell him softly, licking over your lips nervously; you never thought in a million years this would be a predicament you were in. “i don’t know if i could do that. i’m scared... but that seems scarier to me. and i still have to tell yeosang.”

the two boys don’t comment as you sit there with your thoughts, your leg starting to bounce nervously as you think about telling yeosang this news; this kind of announcement should be happy and joyful and exciting, you feel bad by the sheer terror pulsing in your veins.

“i have to tell yeosang,” you repeat, yunho and mingi looking you over as you start to think aloud. “what is he gonna say? what if he gets mad?”

“he’s the one who did it, how the fuck is he gonna get mad?” mingi growls, the semi-like, hate relationship with the boy coming out; he doesn’t think yeosang will react like that but he knows if he does, he’ll for sure crack his head open the way he intended to in the library back in high school.

“he’s not gonna be mad,” yunho assures, side eyeing mingi before he places a hand on your shoulder. “he’s probably gonna be just as scared as you.”

and you think if yeosang came home later that night in a good mood, you would’ve seen that yunho was right.

but the second your boyfriend got in the door, you knew he wasn’t okay. his face was pale and sunken and he looked utterly defeated, hair messy from the downpour of rain and just an overall look of exhaustion over him.

“work is driving me fucking insane, babe, it’s like they don’t know i’m still in school,” he tells you over dinner, his fork viciously stabbing into a piece of chicken.

“i have a hundred different things to do and they’re being assholes because i asked for one fucking extension. i’m just about ready to tell them to go fuck themsel- are you okay?”

he looked up from his food to see you staring down at your plate of noodles, completely untouched as your eyes train blankly on the white take out bowl.

“baby?” he hums lowly, his hand touching yours causing you to jump slightly. his eyebrows pull together slightly as he looks over your face, looking for any visible signs of stress or upset. “what’s wrong? do you not like it?”

“oh, no, no,” you laugh out humorlessly, bringing your fork down to swirl a few noddles before popping it in your mouth. “sorry, i’m just sleepy. yunho and mingi came over today.”

“ahh, tired my sick girl out, huh?” he teases, a frown on his face as he places the back of his hand on your head. “how’d you feel today? i hated leaving you.”

it takes everything in you not to burst into tears on the spot, your stomach twisting painfully as you shrug your shoulders at him.

“fine,” you mumble, “threw up a few times, then felt better. the same thing.”

“you gotta go to the doctor, love,” yeosang says, wiping at the corner of your mouth where a small speck of sauce lay. “i know you hate them but this is weird. especially since i feel fine.”

you only smile softly at him and nod, stomach sinking again after he adds on, “well, apart from being worried about you and so fucking annoyed with work. i know hwa’s mom got me the job but, shit, i’m about ready to be a real dick.”

“don’t do that,” you chastise lightly, smacking him in the arm playfully. he only chuckles in response, the tenseness in his eyes from the moment he walked in slowly disapating.

you can’t mention this tonight. you have to wait until his stress is minimal and news of his baby won’t be the thing that puts him over the edge.

“congratulations, you’re almost seven weeks pregnant!”

the words didn’t surprise you when you went to the doctor three days later, mingi’s hand in yours with a horrible pit in your stomach.

it felt wrong to be here with anyone who wasn’t yeosang but yunho and mingi had begged you to go, stressing your own personal safety as well as ensuring you didn’t somehow get five false positives.

and over the next few days, anytime you’d try to tell yeosang, something always came up and prevented you.

work and school still stressing him out, his coworkers inviting you guys to dinner, you passing out while he was still in the shower because apparently the first trimester is doing you so dirty already.

“you have to tell him soon, babe,” yunho said a week after that doctors appointment, holding back a laugh as he remembers the horror that crossed his fiance’s face when everyone thought he was the proud father to be.

“have you told him yet?” mingi asked two weeks later, back from a vacation with yunho where they couldn’t help but worry about you and yeosang.

his eyes widened and he covered his face with his hands when you shook your head no, his loudly spoken “what are you waiting for!” echoing through the small coffee shop.

“keep your voice down!” you snap, smacking him from across the table as you shoot him a stern look.

“y/n, it’s almost been a month and he still doesn’t know he’s gonna be a dad,” the boy whispers now, even though yeosang’s across the city at work and there’s only a few other people in the store right now.

“he’s been stressed about work and school and there just... hasn’t been a right time,” you reason weakly.

because even though that is the truth, he has been stressed and news of this would surely add on to it, you also know that telling him would make this all feel too real.

put it out in the world that you’re pregnant and he’ll be a father and you’ll both have to start making decisions based around those facts; are you both ready for this discussion?

you don’t feel ready. you feel more scared about this than you’ve ever felt in your entire life

“there might not ever be a good time, y/n,” mingi says softly, understanding why you’re scared but also knowing, despite his own feelings toward the boy, that yeosang will love you no matter what.

“and even though he’s a fucking dick, he loves you. and he wouldn’t want you being scared and dealing with this alone.”

tears prick your eyes because you know what mingi’s saying is right. and you guess if you’re gonna be terrified and stressed out, you might as well be together.

but your stomach nearly sinks that night, yeosang’s arm around your shoulder as you both watch tv, when he lowers the volume and begins to speak.

“baby, can i ask you something?”

you turn around and peek up at him, his eyes soft and curious and it makes your heart pull in your chest that even you can see the love reflecting in them.

“hm?” you hum as you look at him, warm and comfortable in his hold; because as far as stress and ways to relieve it go, you two usually fuck until you forget it.

but you haven’t felt right in the mornings and get sleepy by night, something you know yeosang had to have noticed and is too sweet to call you out on.

“are you... is everything okay?” he asks, his arm rubbing at your shoulder gently. “i feel like you’ve been out of it these past few weeks.”

he noticed the week you were sick but chopped it up to just that, feeling gross and drained and he completely understood it.

but then it seemed as if you started to avoid him completely, pushing away when he’d try to deepen a kiss or mutter that you weren’t in the mood when he sank to his knees at your bedside.

“and i don’t know... you seem a little distant,” he mumbled lowly, his hand slowly reaching up to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. “i just wanna make sure everything’s okay.”

you think maybe it’s a little bit of everything that makes you promptly burst into tears. his sweetness and the starting of hormones and the guilt of keeping this secret from him for far too long.

“baby, what happened?” yeosang mumbles, his heart sinking the second he sees the tears well in your eyes.; he wasn’t sure what happened or what was wrong but he knew it had to be something.

you can only sniffle as you bury your face in his chest, shaking your head as you just cry and cry into him.

you’re faintly aware of his hand running through your hair, lips against your head as he takes deep, calming breaths.

“please tell me what’s wrong,” he says after a few moments, pulling your face out of his chest so you can meet his gaze. the look in your eye is one he’s never seen before and he doesn’t know what to make of it, wiping wetness from your cheeks as he looks at you pleadingly.

“c’mon, my love. talk to me,” his deep voice begs, a tiny sob leaving your mouth as you shake your head again.

“you’re gonna be mad,” you whimper out, knowing that you keeping this from him for this long was so fucking stupid; but you’re scared and you know he’s gonna be too, especially given his.... upbringing.

there are just so many factors that are making all of this ten times scarier.

“i won’t, baby,” he tells you gently, a pout on his lips as he looks down at you.

he’s not used to seeing you this upset, he hates seeing you cry and in any sort of pain since, for the past few years, you’ve only ever cried because of stupid, cheesy movies.

but you can only look at him with a blank expression, both of knowing very well how short his fuse could be.

“when do i ever get mad at you?” he corrects, a tiny smile breaking out across his face when you sniffle and your face scrunches up.

he doesn’t know what you’re about to tell him, or what could be so scary and upsetting that you’re breaking down like this, but he knows that when it comes to you, he’s wrapped around your finger.

and nothing you tell him could ever be that bad and panic-inducing.

“i’m pregnant.”

part 3

tag list: @mirror-juliet @toffee-hwa @valhoez @miatsubaki23

#yeosang #yeosang fluff #yeosang angst #ateez #ateez fluff #ateez angst #yeosang imagines #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #yeosang scenarios #ateez series #yeosang series

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maraudersbutmuggle · 3 years

Text

The New Year's Speech

Content Warning: Anxiety, Panic Attacks, Slurs for Autistic People, Drugs, Violence and Homophobia.

December 31st, 2013.

Hard breathing, Sweaty palms, Intense heart beating. Regulus wasn't sure if he could handle the stress. He hated speaking in public. Even presentations in class made him anxious. And now, Orion wanted him to be there, in front of family and friends. And give the classic New Year's Eve Speech with him.

It was a tradition for the Heir, President of The Black Empire to do it. And Regulus would be the Heir once he graduated. It was his duty, now that Sirius was gone. And Regulus didn't know how.

You left me a fucking burden, Sirius. Regulus thought.

If he didn't calm down, Regulus might pass away. He took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. Immediately Regulus began humming his favorite melody: Chopin's Nocturne Op 9 no 2. And his fingers moved according to the perfect keys, even if he didn't have a piano in front of him. And as soon as he did so, the music began playing clearly inside his mind.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

All was interrupted by a knock on the door of his bathroom.

"Regulus, sweety" Walburga called "The guests are arriving"

Surely Chopin felt anxious before performing, like Regulus did. That's what Regulus liked about him.

"Coming mother" he yelled back.

"Quickly Regulus!" Walburga snapped "You're the star of the night!"

"The star..." Regulus murmured.

Regulus knew someone who was the actual star. And he wasn't here.

******************************************

"There's a champaign fountain and a wine fountain. I feel like I am in heaven"

That was the first thing that Barty Jr. said as Regulus climbed down the stairs.

"I'm ready to get wasted" he added.

"I find the feeling of wasted very unpleasant"

Regulus had had very bad experiences when it came to alcohol.

"How about some pills?" Barty murmured, patting his pocket.

Those Regulus liked. It was as if all his problems, worries and bad thoughts disappeared for a little while. He felt light, and relaxed, a pleasant and funny feeling went through his body. And he laughed. A lot.

"I have to give a speech with my father"

"That's a bummer..."

"Regulus..." Barty was interrupted by his father.

Mr. Crouch was a short, chubby man with a mustache. Both Crouches were very different, physically speaking. Well Barty had his father's green eyes. That was all. Regulus had learned that Barty looked like his mother.

Mr. Crouch shook Regulus' hand.

"What a fine young man you had become" he said "Your father must be proud"

"Not really" Regulus whispered. He was only telling the truth.

And Barty Crouch Sr. laughed.

"What a funny, lad"

"Bartemius!" Orion came into the entrance, with his big smirk on his face, the one he used for visits and important investors.

"Orion..."

"Welcome..."

"Hello Bartemius" Walburga greeted.

"Walburga, lovely as always" Mr. Crouch said.

"Where's your wife?"

Barty snorted but none of the adults noticed. Regulus raised an eyebrow.

"She had another compromise" Mr. Crouch said nervously "I hope there's no inconvinience. She said she was quite sorry to miss this"

"Yeah, she is probably slut dancing with one of her yoga instructors" Barty whispered in Regulus' ear.

"Please come in" Orion smirked

"Yes..." then he grabbed his son's arm, quite hard and whispered something in his ear.

"What drink would you like?"

As the adults went inside, Barty let out a loud groan.

"What did he say?" Regulus asked curiously.

"That I should behave otherwise he will disown me and send me to a reformatory in Switzerland"

"Because you poured red painting on yourself as a protest?"

It had been an scandal. Bartemius Crouch had planned a big party for the anniversary of his designation as Lord Chancellor. Barty had been pissed. Maybe drunk and a little high. Always seeking attention because none of his parents gave it to him. So he walked into the room of the party with a can of paint. Red paint. As blood, he said. And poured over himself screaming FUCK THE MONARCHY.

Regulus was surprised his friend wasn't sent to Switzerland by now, since his father literally worked for the Monarchy.

"Don't worry, Reg" Barty said looking around, hands in his pockets "I had something worse planned for tonight"

Regulus was frigthened. Sometimes Barty reminded Regulus so much of Sirius. Always wanting to cause trouble. Even if there were bad consequences.

"Switzerland is bad, Barty"

Regulus was getting quite nervous again. It had been enough change with Sirius leaving. If Barty left too, Regulus wouldn't know how to handle Hogwarts. It had always been Barty and him.

"Please don't do anything stupid" Regulus begged "Mother and Father had been planning this for months and..."

Regulus found himself panting. And Barty cupped his face in between his hands.

"Hey relax" he said looking into Regulus' eyes "I won't do anything"

"Okay..." Regulus nodded, taking a deep breath.

"We're both going to do something" Barty smirked taking a step back. And Regulus' eyes widened "Have bloody fun"

**************************************************

But the party wasn't fun. It was in fact pretty boring. Discreet couples dancing. People in small groups talking. Waiters serving. The only thing that Regulus was enjoying was the classic music. At least it was helping him relax.

"I'm bored" Barty groaned, scrolling through his phone "We can always use our little pills..." Barty smirked raising an eyebrow "Please?"

Regulus considered it.

"I can't" he sighed. The speech was important. And that made Regulus very anxious "I'm going to the loo" he stood up.

Regulus' fingers were trying to move remembering Nocturne. It was a relaxing mechanism. And it was involuntary by now.

Then he heard crying noises through the halls. And someone else whispering. Regulus tried following those noises. And then he found them by the stairs. His two cousins.

It was Narcissa who was crying. Her makeup all ran. And Bellatrix was trying to comfort her. Regulus didn't know she could do that.

"He begged me another chance..." Narcissa was whispering "And I saw him there... He seemed sorry..."

"Are you joking?" Bellatrix whispered back "Lucius is a twat. Don't you dare getting back with him, Cissy. You deserve better than that faggot..."

"What's going on?" Regulus interrupted concerned.

Narcissa cried even harder when she saw her cousin.

"Nothing Regulus, we're fine" Bellatrix said.

"How can you be fine?" he answered "Narcissa is crying. You were talking about Lucius..."

Narcissa sobbed even harder, shaking her head.

"Is he gay?"

"Seriously Regulus" Bellatrix groaned "Why don't you medle into your own things..."

"I just want to help"

"Well you're not helping at all, dumbass" Bellatrix spat "She's worse now that you're here. Don't you see?"

Narcissa cried maybe apologetically.

"Did Lucius cheat on you because he's gay?"

Regulus remembered his brother and Lupin at The Tower that night. How Lupin said he loved him. And they held hands and kissed.

"Shit Regulus!" Bellatrix yelled "Are you dumb? Don't you see she's hurting?"

Sometimes Regulus had a hard time understanding something was rude or someone else's feelings. He had been diagnosed with Autism since he was 8. But something that Regulus detested was being called dumb. Especially because of this.

"I'M NOT DUMB! YOU CRAZY WITCH!" It had been something that Sirius had called Bellatrix many times.

"How did you just call me?"

"WITCH!"

And Regulus ran away from there, very pissed.

**************************************************

Pills. Regulus took many pills daily. For many things. But the kind he needed at the moment were different. He would do anything to relax for a while. The speech. His family. How Orion and Walburga had introduced him to many people at the party. And he tried to be "normal". His brain was wired differently. Small talks irritated him. Those were a waist of time. Asking him how he was doing in school, if he had a girlfriend, how big and handsome he was. What was the point? Regulus almost asked them that, but Walburga was making sure to shut him up.

"I reckon your brother is having more fun than us"

Barty and Regulus had managed to grab some cups of wine thanks to Samantha. And were sipping them discreetly. Well, Barty was.

"Mmm?" Regulus asked, as his fingers moved imitating the keys of the current piano tune.

Barty showed him his phone. Regulus blinked at the picture. It was a picture of Sirius and his friends. Potter, Lupin, Pettigrew, Evans and other three girls, including Dorcas from his class. They were all dressed up. And making faces to the camera.

"I don't want to see that"

Regulus played nervously with his hands. He felt such rage towards Sirius at the moment. He was relaxed, having fun with his friends, probably in his new house, with his new parents and his new brother. And Regulus was bored, and nervous, and anxious. And he didn't want to be the fucking heir. But Sirius didn't give a toss about that.

"Barty..." Regulus said "I need those pills"

Barty grinned "I thought you'd never asked!"

************************************************************

Regulus smirked. Because he didn't give a toss about anything anymore. All he knew was that he was relaxed. And that he enjoyed that.

".......Although he only played 30 public concerts in his life, five of these were in Britain during an ill-fated visit there for seven months in 1847. For a sickly man with tuberculosis, the wet and windy weather of Scotland and England was hardly going to be good for him. He did, though, play for the new Queen, Victoria and Prince Albert; the Queen, who rarely spoke to anyone, actually spoke to him twice...."

Regulus was lying on top of the piano next to his father's studio. His piano, the one he used. And Barty was lying on the carpet.

"Okay..."

"....The visit to Great Britain very nearly killed Chopin and he was eventually helped back to Paris in November 1847, when the fog and cold weather had descended on London, by his traveling companion, Leonard Niedzwiedzki. He’d written to his friend in Paris, ‘One day longer here and I won’t just die – I’ll go mad’. He was taken to the train station by John Broadwood, the piano builder, but Chopin suffered a seizure on the train. He survived this but was dead within a year...."

"I don't have bloody clue of what're talking about" Barty said "But I love you, man"

"I don't think I can love someone" Regulus answered "Not like Lupin loves my brother. Or Narcissa loves Lucius"

"Whoaah..." Barty stood up "Lupin and your brother, what?"

"I saw them snogging at The Rapunzel Tower" Regulus confessed "And then Lupin said he loved my brother. He didn't say it back though... He started panicking..."

"Your brother is gay?" Barty started giggling for a reason.

"Yeah. I reckon Lucius too"

"Lucius Malfoy?"

"I don't understand why am saying all of this. I swore not to say a word" Regulus continued "Did you know my mother and father cheat on each other with different people? They just don't know. Just like your mother dances with random blokes. It just the way it is. And I haven't kissed anyone since your cousin. I don't want to though. Too much exchange of saliva..."

"Regulus! Fuuuuck....." Barty began giggling

"Do you think is weird?"

"What did you take?"

"I don't know, Barty" Regulus said "I just took a bunch of red pills"

"Red?"

Regulus turned to look at him.

"Fuck..."

"What?"

Barty was grabbing the little bottle of pills from his trousers.

"I think you took my father's calming down pills" Barty snorted "Side effects with too much consumption, a compelling urge to tell the truth. Truth Serum..."

Regulus started giggling for a reason.

"You didn't take those?"

"Nop, I took another bunch" Barty snorted.

And they both began giggling like idiots.

"REGULUS!" Walburga bursted into the door "What are you doing here? I was looking for you everywhere"

"Oh hi, mother" Regulus sat down "Barty and I were just..."

"Chatting!" Barty interrupted "Just chatting"

Walburga raised an eyebrow. She seemed annoyed.

"Your father speech is up next..." Walburga said "He specifically wanted you there"

"I don't want to give that bloody speech, mother"

Walburga was taken aback by her son's words.

"Well I don't give a toss about what you want" Walburga said, grabbing his arm "It's your duty... Let's go" she sniffed him "Tell me you didn't drink, Regulus. You know that's bad for you"

"I didn't drink, mother. I just..."

"Drank too much soda" Barty interrupted. Walburga turned to look at him confused "That thing is full of sugar"

Regulus was confused, He had the urge to tell his mother what he was up to. But Barty kept shaking his head.

"Anyway, let's go" Walburga dragged Regulus to the party.

**************************************

Regulus wasn't nervous. He was happy. Actually he was smirking like a fool next to his father and his mother. So relaxed. The lights looked beautiful.

"Well I hope everyone is having a good night" Orion spoke to the microphone "I am honoured to host this special party for family and friends. Walburga and I put on so much effort preparing this..."

It wasn't true, they didn't give a damn.

"Another year had gone by and many things had happened. Good and bad. But let's take the good ones. Because those are the important ones..."

Wow. Regulus thought. Orion could convince anyone.

"The Black Empire keeps growing and progressing thanks to the help of investors, workers, and clients. I couldn't be happier. Walburga, darling, why don't you speak about the progress we had done..."

"Of course, darling" Walburga spoke, with the same fake smile "We've grown this year building more than 40 buildings across the country and selling over 3 billion products..."

Regulus zoomed out concentrating on the squares in the ground. If he looked hard enough, the squares kept changing colors.

When Regulus blinked back to reality, Orion was speaking again.

"I would like to give a mention to my son Regulus, who hopefully in the future, would do better than his parents" he snorted "He is a brilliant boy with many capacities. Regulus, would you like to say a few words?"

Regulus saw Barty shaking his head vehemently. And Regulus found it funny.

"Yes, father" Regulus took the microphone "I don't have fucking clue of what you just said. I was looking at the floor"

There were a few murmurs and giggles amongst the crowd. Orion and Walburga tried to keep smiling.

"I haven't notice the floor before" Regulus continued "I just counted 563 black squares and 489 white squares. I guess we have more black because we're the Blacks" Regulus giggled "Anyway I'm didn't want to speak. I only did it because I have to. I have to be the heir. Because my brother was disowned. He was supposed to be here today. But no, he abandoned me" Regulus sighed "He abandoned us. All because my parents couldn't stand him being gay..."

There were a few gasps and murmuring. Some had their mouths wide opened. Cygnus and Druella were amused. And Bellatrix was furious.

"My brother doesn't like Lupin back. Maybe he is not gay. I guess we never talked about it" he shurgged "I don't understand why this family hates gays" Regulus continued "My uncle Alphard was one. And he was tossed aside. But it's kind of unfair because Lucius Malfoy is one too and he's here with us..."

Most of the heads turned to look at Malfoy seating in the back. He looked very pale as well as Narcissa.

"I don't know what I am" Regulus said "I don't like anyone like that. And I feel uncomfortable that my father bought me a suite so that I can have sex with girls when I don't want to..."

"Enough!" Orion took the microphone away. Then he laughed nervously "That was... I apologize. My son and I are so close. We play each other pranks" Orion grabbed his son's neck "It was all a joke...To amuse you... Roll the music...." upbeat music began playing, and many people bought the story people they were laughing "This party was getting pretty boring, ha?" Orion smiled "Very funny, Regulus. You have sense of humour. Let's hope you get serious in the office" Orion joked "Regulus is willing to be our Heir. And he is compromised"

********************************************

Orion served himself a large glass of whiskey. Blazer off. Regulus and Walburga were sitting across his desk in his study. Everyone was very silent.

Orion gulped down his drink. And then tossed to the ground the glass so furiously, it broke into a million pieces. And Walburga jumped.

"It wasn't his fault" Walburga began "It's that Barty boy. He is always provoking him. I'm pretty sure he drugged him"

"It wasn't Barty!" Regulus protested "It was myself. I made that decision"

"Regulus, stop defending him"

If Sirius would've done it, he would surely be dead by now.

"I knew it" Orion finally nodded, mostly to himself "I knew your son was too stupid and weak to be the heir"

Regulus trembled at his words. The drug effect was done by now. He was back to his anxious self.

"EXCUSE ME?" Walburga yelled "My son is perfectly fine!"

"YOUR SON IS A FUCKING PUSSY!" Orion yelled back "He is weak, he is a puss... At least Sirius had guts. Regulus needs to be a man"

Regulus' eyes filled with tears. But he couldn't cry. All he could do was poke his nails.

"So you buy him suites so he can fuck girls?" Walburga snapped furiously.

"He needs to be a fucking man!" Orion screamed "Not a puss like your faggot brother. Not like your other son!"

"YOU ALWAYS BLAME ME!" Walburga yelled hysterically "SIRIUS WAS YOUR SON AS WELL"

Sirius is alive. Sirius is alive. Sirius is alive. Regulus thought. Why are they talking like he is dead?

"So what? You fuck women all the time to be a man too?"

"Wally..."

"DON'T TOUCH ME" Walburga cried "It is your fault that you cannot have an heir... Your fucked up genes..."

Regulus couldn't control his breathing anymore. He was panting. His heart felt like it was getting out of his chest. He couldn't breathe properly. He was dizzy and shaking. Not even his exercises and mechanisms worked.

"SEE WHAT YOU DO TO HIM" Walburga yelled, and kneeled in front of Regulus "It's okay, sweetheart"

"See? He's a fucking puss" Orion snorted.

"He is autistic"

"Your son is dumb and sick, Walburga..."

Walburga grabbed the whiskey bottle, ready to hit her husband. Regulus was trying to control himself. It was impossible.

"Hit me, Walburga!" Orion dared "HIT ME!"

Walburga dropped the bottle now with tears in her eyes. Orion sighed.

"Darling..." Orion tried to approach but Walburga backed away "We're just nervous and stressed..."

"Fuck you" Walburga murmured.

"I'll come back to the party" Orion walked to the door "Regulus, you need to man up. You're the fucking hope of this family. Okay, son?"

Regulus couldn't even answer if he wanted. He couldn't speak. He was terrified.

Orion closed the door behind him. And Walburga bursted into tears.

"I'm sorry, mother" Regulus cried too.

Walburga hugged him tightly. And all that Regulus could think was that Sirius had provoked this. He left his mother and brother to the hands of Orion, the monster. And he didn't even care anymore.

#marauders era #marauders #muggle au #marauders muggle au #the noble house of black #regulus black #autistic regulus #barty crouch jr #sirius black #orion black #walburga black

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gwynposting · 3 years

Text

Justice (Ch. 1)

This is the start of an alternate ending for Cyberunk 2077, focused around Judy as she tries to help V rid herself of the relic without also shedding her soul in the process.

AO3 Link

The feigning scent of nicotine clouds leftover from the trapped remnants of Maiko’s cigarette sent itching pulses of desire through V’s body. The activation throughout her body startled and scared her. She didn’t smoke. She hadn’t puffed a stick in her life and yet she eased into it like she was sitting in a favorite chair. More than once had she caught herself reaching for a cigarette from Evelyn’s pack before swiping the inner thoughts of Johnny away.

The clack of Maiko’s stilettos began to fade into the background, “Maiko, hold up. Give us a lift?” Roxanne called out.

“Only if you don’t talk to me,” Maiko responded bitterly, “I feel a migraine coming on.”

She’s not the only one, V thought to herself. It almost felt like the cigarette fumes had been a trigger for it - like her brain was trying to associate the smell to memories that she’s never experienced before, that never existed. Flashes of seething bitter hatred and insecurity and jealousy pulsed through her veins came and went.

It took the breath out of her, and V had to brace herself with both hands to remain upright.

“Oh shit,” Judy said as she siddled besides V, “I’m scared, V.”

Judy looked down to her lap before continuing, “Speakin’ of gratitude… stuff I’m askin’ you to do, well - usually comes with a price tag, I know. You wanna help, I get that. But I’m more’n happy to pay your fee in full.”

V shifted her weight to her right arm so she could wave Judy away with her left, “C’mon Judy, you serious? Out of the question.”

“Bu-” Judy tried to make her case.

“Ah ah ah,” V tutted, “Not… not a word,” dizziness began to set in - her head began to swim and V found it difficult to even complete a sentence. She tried to provide a smile of assurance, but by the expression on Judy’s face, she wasn’t buying it.

“You okay V?” Judy reached out and placed a hand on V’s knee.

V looked up to meet Judy’s concerned eyes, which she could only meet with her own - unfocused and strained. “Don’t worry ‘bout me, just a long day.”

“How ‘bout I call a cab then,” Judy soothed.

“Preem,” V replied, before placing both hands on her knees and trying to lift herself up from the couch. “Thanks -” she began before what felt like electricity shot through her nervous system.

V clutched her head in agony as if it would stop the cosmic force tormenting her from using her skull as a sharpening stone. Every scrape and slice caused by another memory overwriting her brain, another one of her memories lost to time as one more of Johnny Silverhand’s took its place.

RELIC MALFUNCTION DETECTED

V’s legs gave out from under her. She reached out for the couch’s siding to fall back onto.

But she was far too weak to support herself, and her legs began to give out from under her until she collapsed on the cushion below.

“V? Are you okay?” Judy’s voice sounded distant.

She barely even heard Judy. She was breathless, her heart raced. She was staring down the barrel of Dexter Deshawn and he had just put a bullet through her skull.

“V?” Judy’s words became more desperate, “Talk to me.”

It sounded like V was underwater and all she could hear were the muffled desperate cries of Judy, until finally Judy reached out and shook her shoulder.

“V,” Judy stressed, “please.”

But as quickly as the searing pain shot through her body, it soon dissipated. Yet she continued to stare forward, past Judy and into the distance - she still stood down the barrel of Deshawn’s .22.

“S-sorry to scare you like that,” V attempted a smile. Her cheeks were a deep scarlet, whether flush from the pain moments before or from the embarrassment of having Judy bear witness to one of her episodes.

“W-what the fuck, V,” Judy’s voice had a hint of shakiness, “are you like… sick?”

“Something like that,” V said with a gruff. She still felt in a sort of daze, her muscles struggled to keep herself upright. “How much you wanna know?”

Judy tilted her head, “Only what you want to, V. I just want to know if you’re okay.”

V looked off to the side before her eyes rested upon her lap, “Well,” V said with a choke that even caught herself off guard, “Might have bad news for you.”

She attempted to look Judy in the eye but faltered under their piercing worry, “You know the heist that Evelyn hired us for, the relic I was gonna klep?”

“Couldn’t forget that in a million years,” Judy said somberly.

“I’ll spare you the gritty details but… in short the chip we stole’s stuck in my head. The chip is keeping me alive, but it’s also slowly killing me.”

Judy seemed taken aback, “You bein’ serious?”

“Sounds like a lot, I know. Truly wish it was all bullshit, believe me.”

“Fuck,” Judy muttered under her breath, “Anything at all you can do?”

“One can hope,” V withered.

Judy gave a sad smile, “It’s late, you’re tired. You can crash here for the night if you’d like,” Judy gave a reassuring pat on the knee to V.

V could only nod in return, “Thanks, Jude.”

Judy stood up and walked back to her room while V took the opportunity to kick off her boots and lay down on the couch. There wasn’t a pillow to lean on, but V couldn’t care less - she was already half asleep by the time her cheeks touched the couch.

“I got some pillows and a blanket for -” Judy cut herself off as she saw V fast asleep on her couch, arms splayed out and face straight down. She couldn’t help but smile, “Pssh, fuckin’ gonk.”

Judy shifted her weight to the balls of her feet, creeping up to the sleeping merc. With as careful a touch as she could, she cradled V’s head in one hand as she slipped a pillow underneath. She then took the blanket and splayed it atop her body.

Judy looked down upon V’s form and found it hard to take her eyes away. To see such a force of nature so vulnerable, so…

Adorable…

It sent butterflies to the pit of Judy’s stomach.

But in the same moment those butterflies turned to boulders, sinking within as she felt the gravity of the emotions within - vulnerability.

Of course she’s fucking dying, the dark thoughts appeared in Judy’s head. And while they were immediately beaten back down by conscious thought, she wasn’t able to push down the underlying fear that she’d open herself up to someone once more, only to lose them to the inevitable grind of Night City’s heel. But her mind was no more hostage to her first impulse as she was to her second - there was an ever present war taking place within her.

How could I be so selfish? She’s fucking dying and I immediately make it about myself.

Judy hadn’t even realized she’d reached for the pack of cigarettes in her pocket until her other hand failed to locate her lighter. Deciding she didn’t want to bother having a fight with herself on a nicotine-deprived brain, she waited until she was back on the roof of her building, lit cigarette in hand, staring out to the NC skyline.

Is it too much to ask for just one thing to go right, she asked herself.

Yet Judy quickly reminded herself, You’re acting like she’s your girlfriend already.

Judy cursed herself at even the thought - she didn’t even know if V was even into women. She took a heavy draw from her cigarette before flicking it off the balcony.

***

Judy’s gaze lingered on V’s sleeping form. Maybe she was looking a bit too close - her eyes focused on a couple strands of hair drooped over V’s face. She had the overwhelming desire to sweep them back over the merc’s ear, but ultimately decided not.

“Goodnight, V.”

***

Sharp cracks raced through the air. Although used to the familiar tenors, V shot up in an instant - her hair raised on end, breath rapid, and heartbeat racing. More gunfire sprung forth, followed by the screeching squeal of rubber against pavement. The gripping roar of motorcycles soon began to fade into the streets of Kabuki.

V clutched her chest as she tried to calm herself down. She was fine.

For now.

But as the adrenaline began to fade, the throbbing headache leftover from last night’s attack took its place. V groaned in pain as she began to feel her own heartbeat through her head.

“Mornin’, sleepyhead.” Judy called out.

V turned to see Judy in the kitchen making breakfast. She tried to match the energy Judy was bestowed but could only manage a pained half-smile. “Helluva alarm clock.”

“Things have been getting hot between Maelstrom and the Tyger Claws lately,” Judy sighed, “it doesn't help that I live on the border of their territories.”

Judy paused what she was doing and instead took a mug from the cupboard and filled it with coffee from the pot. She also grabbed a pill bottle and doled out a couple in her hand and brought them both over to V.

“Coffee and,” she held out her hand for V, dropping its contents into her hand, “ibuprofen. And I hope you like ham.”

“Wow,” V replied, “thanks, Judy. And yeah, I love it.”

“Least I can do.” Judy said with a smile before returning to the kitchen.

Least I can do, she repeated in her thoughts.

V tossed both tablets in her mouth and washed it down with several large gulps of coffee. The scalding liquid coating the inside of her mouth was the least of her concerns, she needed caffeine inside her ASAP.

When Judy was finished, she brought over a fresh ham sandwich. V took it and scarfed it down, only to blush as she realized what a messy eater she was being.

Wiping her lips clean, she looked up to see Judy sitting on the couch a ways away looking vaguely concerned, “Sorry I uh, freaked you out last night.”

“Does that happen a lot?” Judy asked.

V rubbed her neck, not wanting to lay it all on Judy at once, “It’s not usually that bad.”

“C’mon, V. Cut the shit. What’s really going on?”

“No gettin’ around this, huh?” V asked, but really it was more a statement of fact, knowing Judy.

Judy gave a half smile, but it gave away her underlying fears and doubts, “I’m worried, V.”

Something deeper pierced V, she couldn’t pinpoint it. All she knew was she couldn’t deny Judy this request, “You want the long version, then?”

“Call it a thanks for breakfast,” Judy smirked.

“Might want to get comfortable then. Because well, shit, where do I begin?” V thought for a moment before continuing once more, “So, my choom and I, big guy named Jackie, tangled with this hotshot fixer, Dexter Deshawn.”

“He’s the one who put you in contact with Evie?” Judy asked.

V nodded, “Mhm, as well as make us run some errands,” V said with a scoff, “but anyways, the job was to hit Konpeki Plaza, right? Klep some biochip that the son of ‘Saka was stealing for himself.”

“Which is why you came in for the braindances,” Judy affirmed.

“Exactly. But the job went wrong, as you know. I lost Jackie getting out of Konpeki. And…”

“...and?” Judy said, softly, not wanting to sound too impatient.

“I died, Judy. I fucking died.” V shuddered at the thought.

“Are you… are you joking right now?” How are you alive?” Judy leaned forward in disbelief.

“Remember that chip we were stealin’? Well, the container got busted when we were escaping. The next best place to store it was hooked into one of our brains, apparently. Jackie took the honors initially but… well….” V shook her head, “So I slotted the shard in myself after Jackie died.”

“I’m sorry, by the way. Truly,” Judy soothed as she scooched closer across the sofa so that she was now in touching distance between V.

V could really only offer a smile of acknowledgement in return, for she felt nothing but agony when she looked inward. “Guess the biochip was my saving grace - Dexter Deshawn double crossed me, put a bullet in my skull. I died then. But the craziest part is that the chip restarted my brain, god knows how much later. And I woke up to find myself in a junkyard in the badlands, covered in filth in debris.”

“J-Jesus fuck, V.” Judy’s voice hitched, “But I guess you made it out, all things considered.”

V nodded, “Got back only to realize I had the engram of a terrorist in my brain - Johnny Silverhand.”

“Woah, woah,” Judy waved, “engram?”

“Think of it like some digitized psyche, like if someone downloaded your entire brain and saved it to memory. His psyche is on the chip inside me.”

“Okay okay, so like the ‘Saka commercials just… just in your brain.”

“Yeah, something like that. But I guess when it restarted my brain, the chip began erasing me and writing in Johnny.”

“Fuck,” Judy stuttered. “So you’re becoming Johnny Silverhand?”

“Yeah,” V’s voice cracked, tears began to form on high cheekbones. “In a few weeks’ time, I’ll be someone completely different. I won’t even exist.”

Judy instantly moved to V’s side and wrapped an arm about her, pulling her close. “I wonder what it’ll be like to die for a second time,” V pondered dryly.

“Is there really nothing you can do?” Judy almost pleaded.

“There’s a few leads. I’m waiting to hear back from a fixer that can put me in touch with the Voodoo Boys, and I still need to look into finding the lead researcher for the biochip.”

“Ok,” Judy breathed deeply, “Alright. Then you focus on that, okay? And listen, I know you said you’d help out with Clouds but this is your life on the line here, V, I’d completely understand if you back out.”

“I said I was helping Judy, and that’s final.”

V’s assuredness sent a shiver down Judy’s spine - her unwavering voice, despite cracked with emotion moments before, her steadied eyes, still reddened from irritation and tears yet firm in their conviction, and the almost offended expression on her face to even suggest that she’d go back on her promise.

“Then... keep me posted? About how it goes... If you want,” Judy stumbled over her words. “I want to help if I can.”

“Of course, Judy. And thanks,” V smiled in appreciation.

Even the slightest gesture made Judy’s heart flutter. This gonk will be the death of me.

#cyberpunk 2077 #judy alvarez #judy x v #female v #v x judy #Justice2077

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whump-town · 4 years

Text

Heart Attack

This one goes out to whoever said “death. this is how i confess love”.

I will write the other fic as well

Warning: Major Character Death (rip my favorite big old idiot)

The initial weakness in his left arm is not noteworthy. The deep ache, daggers shooting from the inside of his wrist to the clavicle, are sadly not either. Chronic pain is just a part of his daily life and after the ugly, deep scars Foyet left on his forearms, not even simple movements are free. He’s always assumed Foyet put them, the long slashed scars that look nearly self-inflicted, there just for show, claiming him perhaps but certainly to maim. Doesn’t matter right much now, all he knows for certain is that it hurts and there’s nothing he can do about it.

It happens so frequently that it nearly slips his mind-- as much as pain can but what he really means is that the coffee in his hand slips. He’s standing in the kitchen, contemplating taking an Advil to at least dull the pain enough to better concentrate on the book he’s been trying to finish since Friday. “Fuck.” His left hand just releases the mug. He liked that mug. Advil it is.

His days pass in quiet contemplation. Just him and these beige walls. He misses the days that were filled by Jack’s toddling steps, rampant little footsteps, and happy squeals of delight. Coming home to the sound of some new band Jack’s conjured up and is going to torture him with for the next week until he moves on to the next. He misses Emily and Dave and having drinks on his couch. Being forced to go to Dave’s for family dinners and Emily coming by, uninvited, of course, to eat his ice cream and make fun of his documentaries.

Now he’s alone most of the time. Well, unless Jessica coming by to count to his pills counts. He doesn’t really think it should but she means well. Someone has to make sure he doesn’t just die on them but would they even notice?

Not immediately, not for a while.

Maybe if something strange happens on a case but those calls come less and less frequently. No one needs his specific knowledge. Emily is becoming an assured leader and she doesn’t even call him to fuss about the idiots that he hired and left her to deal with. He and Dave don’t really talk anymore. The best he gets, these days, is a quick update if someone gets hurt just so that he doesn’t worry if it pops up on the news.

Jack is off at college now. Hotch can’t blame him for being fairly radio silent but it does give him something to work with every few weeks when Jack does remember that he exists and sends a thousand-odd texts his way.

So, if he just… died no one would notice until Jessica’s Thursday visit. Even then, she’s just here to look at the pillbox he leaves on the counter for her easy access. She just checks what she has to and leaves. Life goes on.

As he’s crouched on his kitchen floor, mumbling very inappropriate and obscenity-ridden things, he feels that lightheaded fog encroach. Something that he really only knows from other encounters, one that he doesn’t associate with immediate danger. He takes a fist-full of medication each morning and roughly two list lightheadedness as a side-effect. While a dangerous fallout of Foyet’s stabbing is this strange platelet problem that messes with his iron. So while he sits for a moment and breathes through the feeling of his body trying to give out on him he assumes this problem is what it always is: his awful health.

He gets the coffee cleaned up with a towel but leaves the towel over the broken bits of the mug. The cartilage in his knees saw better days roughly twenty-years ago and by the time that the coffee has been contained, he can hardly stand the pain in them. So, guiding himself with a hand on the counter (then leaning on the wall and using a kitchen chair and so on and so forth until he gets to the couch) Hotch limps away from the kitchen.

He’s never been so thankful for his habitual manners as he sinks into the cozy couch and finds his heated blanket already plugged in and sitting on the lowest heat. A fire hazard? Yeah probably but if this damned blanket kills him one day then so be it. He finds some background noise in a nature documentary about penguins and closes his eyes, waiting for the blanket’s heat to soothe his old bones.

Despite how far he’s pushed himself down into the blanket, his body breaks out in a cold sweat. His chest tight and arm throbbing or maybe stabbing-- he can’t tell the difference right now just blinded by the pain. Blind and so stupid and as he sits up, shaking he’s shivering so hard, he knows what’s happening.

Haley used to dismiss his fears with soothing promises. She wouldn’t let something like this happen to him. They’d get old together “so old we start to wish one of us would just die and get it over with but every day I’ll turn over in our bed and find your craggy, old face right beside me and I know I’d still love you so much it hurts”. But Haley died before she even turned forty and he’s spent too many birthdays and anniversaries alone to know she couldn’t have meant that.

Drunk, vulnerable with the recent loss of Haley and the sudden return of Emily he’d admitted to this fear. Not just dying alone but of dying like his father-- a hated bastard on the outside with no family and no loved ones. To paint the wall with the horror in Dave and Emily’s face could stand as a solid reminder that he is loved but those faces mean nothing. The way that Emily had hugged him that night is nothing. Despite their assurances, he can feel his heart skipping beats. Painful kicks, each one.

He is alone. Gasping as he struggles to fight off his anxiety and crying through the agony ripping chest. Alone. Curled down into himself to try and find some comfort.

He manages to call 911. As he’s blinking tears from his eyelashes there’s a moment where the only number he can think of is Garcia. For years her number was his emergency number and now … He’s still thinking about her when the operator picks up but he’s losing his functions so fast. Settling back on the couch, using what’s left of his energy to tuck his feet back under his black he does his best to stay awake and hum in response to questions.

He thinks about Garcia. She’s always there, he finds, in his mind and every accident he’s had. Even during Boston despite the fact that she just joined the BAU. She’s always there and he wonders if she’ll appear this time. Talk his ear off about David Bowe but hold his hand tight enough that he never has to question if she’s really there.

Heart attacks hurt a lot worse than internal bleeding but he’d, personally, still put it under being actually stabbed.

He doesn’t hear the paramedics arrive or even feel the IV being placed in his arm. Though unconscious, he gives the faintest whimper of discontent as he’s lifted and pulled away from the couch. Not given the chance to brace for the cold winter air of March in Virginia just moving and moving fast.

“Agent Hotchner?”

He groans, turning his head from the penlight shining down in his face. Though he moves his face, he can’t escape the tight pressure across his ribs. Constricting tightly. The agent bit catches him by surprise-- he’s been “Mr” now for some time. Very few people still throw the “agent” in there.

“There you are--”

The sirens make it hard to hear. His hearing has been going for some time but if there’s one thing he can take from this encounter it might be that he should invest in the hearing aids he’s been putting off for a while now. He blinks up at the woman talking to him. Gently pumping a blood pressure cuff around his bicep and calling his name when his eyes slide back shut. He does try to stay awake but he’s in a lot of pain and he’s tired. Even retired he doesn’t get much sleep.

He’ll have to remember to tell JJ that. She’s always worried about his sleep schedule (or lack thereof) and thought, or rather hoped, his retirement would bring him the chance to finally catch up on two decades’ worth of lost sleep. She’ll be disappointed but not surprised.

It’ll give him a reason to reach out, to talk with them.

“Stay with me, Agent Hotchner.”

The world rocks and something that taste like plastic is placed over his face, wrapped around the back of his head.

“Deep breathes, you’re doing just fine.”

The cold air hits his sternum and his eye fly open, panicking as hands touch his bare skin. Oh, God. Foyet. I have to stop-- someone much stronger than him grabs his wrist. Two hands push his shoulders down into the gurney and he can’t fight. Can’t move.

“Agent Hotchner,” someone tries to calm him. “We’re trying to help you. I understand you’re in a lot of pain--”

He wants to go home. Away from the cold and the hands that keep touching him. “Dave?” he pants, turning his head and searching through the hazy mess of people. He cries softly, tears stinging his face as they slide down his face. He wants to recognize one person, to know one of the hands belongs to someone he trusts. Dave is okay. He likes it when Dave touches him. It’s calming and reassuring and he wants someone to call Dave. “Please,” he whimpers, curling his legs as he feels someone tear the worn fabric of his jeans. “No. No.”

He’s confused and he’s in pain and he wants all these people to stop touching him.

“Aaron--”

No, no he doesn’t like that. He cries out, failing to dislodge the hands as he kicks out. All his height, all the power he’s spent decades learning to command is useless. “I want to go home,” he rasps desperately. He can’t move, anymore. They’re holding him down and he can feel the drugs pumping into his arm. Too cold and too fast and it all hurts. Why are they hurting him?

“Just stay with us, Agent. We’re almost done and then--”

For the first time in nearly twenty years, all of his pain just is gone. He feels nothing for a blissful second. Around him, there’s a panic. The machines attached to him frantically going off as his heartbeat goes from rampant, wrong to gone. The pain comes back suddenly, sharper than before, and he turns his head with a moan as his lungs contract painfully. He coughs, rasping as his chest heaves.

He slips back under the haze but this time the pain stays.

He chokes as they try to intubate, fighting weekly but he’s too far gone to even move away from the touch anymore. Dave isn’t there. He wishes Dave were here. Dave always cups the side of his head, speaking in soft Italian that he’s never managed to pick up. But it’s soft and gentle and Dave. Garcia doesn’t hold his hand-- she always holds his hand. There’s not the soft scent of lavender that comes in with the hard rain that is Emily Prentiss. No one to jostle him for his carelessness and then crawl up into the bed with him. Reminding him of memories he’s nearly forgotten of when they were just kids.

No Jack.

Jack’s at college.

He comes in at 9:45 a.m.

By 10:15 a.m. there’s a doctor over his chest. A nurse makes quick work of trying to get a hold of a medical proxy. There’s a kid, he has a son, but there’s no contact information listed for him. She gets voicemail twice from the numbers that are listed.

Jessica is in a meeting. Her phone is on silent. It wouldn’t have mattered if she’d had her phone. He’s thirty minutes away and his heart gives out only twenty minutes after he arrives at the hospital.

Dave is in Seattle, sitting in a puddle of rainwater and trying to contain his anger as Luke changes a tire on the SUV. His phone is too wet to work. He won’t get the news until nearly two hours later when he and Luke arrive back at the precinct. Emily will not cry for nearly a week after she gets the news. She tells Jack.

The doctors assure them that there was nothing they could have done. It was a freak accident. They always knew this was a possibility, an outcome that was very real with the amount of damage done to Aaron’s heart. It’s been broken so many times… And standing in that hospital, shivering under the intensity of the air conditioning and the white burning paint, they are left with the burden of knowing he protected them tell the very end.

But they never reciprocated that care.

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #criminal minds fanfiction

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emospritelet · 3 years

Text

Twisted Fate - chapter 25

Last time, Belle had the baby, and Neal and Gold had a conversation that made Gold suspect that there might be a connection with his long-lost son

[AO3]

Gold opened the door quietly, peering inside, and found Belle just beginning to stir. She ran her fingers through her hair with a yawn, struggling to sit up and wincing, and Gold hurried to her side, adjusting pillows and helping her use the buttons to change the bed position. She settled back against the pillows with a relieved sigh, sending him a grateful smile.

“Painkillers have worn off,” she said. “I feel like someone ran me over in a ride-on lawnmower.”

“Do you want me to call the nurse?”

“What time is it?”

“Almost six.”

“Oh, they’ll be around soon, I should think.” Belle yawned again. “They keep checking up on me. Is Gideon still sleeping?”

Gold peered into the bassinet, where Gideon was sound asleep, and smiled broadly.

“He is indeed,” he said. “Emma, Neal and Henry are outside, by the way. Perhaps we should wait in the cafeteria until he wakes up.”

“No, it’s fine, let them come in,” said Belle. “He’s due a feed soon anyway.”

“Okay.” He turned back to the door, and glanced over his shoulder. “You look beautiful, by the way.”

“Liar.”

He crossed his heart with a forefinger, and she smiled.

“Flatterer,” she amended, and he grinned as he went out.

Henry was bouncing on his toes in excitement, barely held back by Neal, and he was first into the room, followed at a somewhat more sedate pace by his parents.

“Hey Belle!” he chirped. “How are you? Mom said you’d be tired. Do you want me to read you a story?”

Belle smiled at his enthusiasm, but shook her head.

“Not just now, thanks Henry,” she said. “I had some sleep, so I won’t have any trouble getting more of it. No need for stories.”

“Hey, Belle.” Emma bent to kiss her cheek. “You look good. How are you feeling?”

“Pretty tired, to be honest,” said Belle, squeezing her hand. “You told me it would be hard work, and you weren’t wrong.”

“Worth it though, right?”

“Oh yeah.” Belle smiled as Neal bent to kiss her in turn. “I can’t believe he’s really here.”

“Is that the baby?” asked Henry excitedly, and peered into the bassinet before wrinkling his nose. “He’s so small!”

“You were that size once,” said Emma.

“Was I all pink and wrinkly like that?”

“Even pinker and wrinklier,” she said, and laughed as he pulled a face. “He’ll fill out, just like you did. Getting born is hard work.”

“We’ll be playing in the park with him and taking him for ice cream before you know it,” added Neal, and Henry grinned.

“When will he talk?”

“Probably not for a while,” said Belle. “But you can talk to him. It would be good for him to hear different voices.”

Henry bent over the bassinet again.

“Hi Gideon,” he said. “I’m Henry. My mom and dad are friends with your mom and dad. I wanted to bring you some toys, but Mom said you were too small to play with them, so we’re gonna look for something else.”

“I’m sure he’d love that,” said Gold, from his position at the foot of the bed. “You’re welcome to come over and play with him any time, Henry. And to read him stories from your book, if you like.”

“Maybe he’ll turn into as much of a bookworm as his mama,” suggested Neal.

“I may have to get new bookshelves, in that case,” remarked Gold, and they shared a grin.

Henry gasped then, straightening up and looking around. “He grabbed my finger!” he said excitedly. “His eyes are open!”

Gideon began to grumble, and then to cry, and Gold quickly went to the bassinet, lifting him out and hushing him gently as he rocked back and forth, one hand gripping his cane as he cradled his son in the crook of one arm. He was smiling, a soft look in his eyes, an air of contentment Belle had rarely seen around him. It was nice to see him happy, she reflected. For a moment she imagined how things could be for them in the future; a loving family, with good friends around them. Perhaps a sibling for Gideon, when the time was right. She suspected Gold would want more babies. She smiled at the thought of him with two small children clinging to his legs as he tried to get around the pawnshop.

“Belle.” Neal’s voice jerked her back to the present. “You awake?”

“Sorry, miles away.” She smiled, shaking her head. “What were you saying?”

“I said Gideon kind of reminds me of Henry when he was a newborn,” said Emma. “I guess babies all look the same, huh?”

Gideon started to grumble again, one arm waving.

“I think he either needs changing or feeding,” she said, and Gold nodded.

“Changing, I think. I can do it.”

“Thanks.” Belle settled back against the pillows with a sigh. “I think I need to take it easy for the next few days.”

“And so you shall,” said Gold sternly. “You’ve done quite enough. Let me take over for a while.”

“No arguments from me,” she said, and yawned widely.

Neal and Emma exchanged a look, seeming to communicate without saying a word.

“Look, we should probably go, you guys look beat,” said Neal, and Emma nodded.

“But we just got here!” protested Henry.

“Yeah, and having a baby is a lot of work,” said Neal, ruffling his hair. “Belle needs her rest. “We’ll go pick out some toys for Gideon for when we visit again, okay?”

“Okay, cool!”

“And we’ll come over in a couple of days, give you guys a chance to settle back at home with him,” Emma added. “I guess you want to get out of here as soon as you can, huh?”

“God, I can’t wait to get home!” sighed Belle, letting her head roll back against the pillows. “It’s hard to get any rest at all in this place.”

“I’ll have you out of here as soon as the doctor says it’s okay,” said Gold, and she sent him a wan smile.

“It’s Dad’s birthday tomorrow,” put in Henry. “Belle, can he have a joint party with Gideon next year?”

Belle laughed, and glanced across at Gold, whose expression had changed abruptly. He was looking surprisingly solemn, his eyes downcast.

“Well, I guess we can think about that nearer the time,” she said. “Happy birthday, Neal. I got you a gift, but it’s in the kitchen.”

“Ah, save it for when we come over,” said Neal, waving a hand. “Makes the fun last longer, right?”

“Right.”

Gideon broke into a wail at that point, and Gold wrinkled his nose.

“Definitely needs changing,” he remarked, crossing to the changing mat.

“I think that’s our cue to leave,” said Neal, and bent to kiss Belle again. “See you later Belle. Enjoy being a mom, okay?”

“I already do,” she said, grinning, and kissed him back before turning to hug Emma and then Henry. “Thanks for coming. Sorry I’m such a party pooper. Next time I see you I’ll be much better, promise.”

“Just rest and relax, let Alex take care of you,” said Emma. “Oh, and ice packs really help with the pain. You’ll want some of those.”

“Hmm, can’t wait for that experience,” said Belle dryly, and grinned. “See you in a couple of days. You too, Henry.”

She flopped back against the pillows as they trooped out, calling goodbye to Gold. He waved them off before turning back to Gideon, who had been stripped of his dirty diaper but was still crying. Belle watched Gold clean him up and prepare a clean diaper. He did it quickly and efficiently, dropping the dirty one in the waste and opening the drawer where the baby clothes had been placed and pulling out a pile of clothing in soft shades of white, yellow and lilac. He picked through the sleepsuits before choosing one in yellow. Gideon wailed when he put it on, but Gold picked him up and hushed him, speaking soothing words as he rocked him gently. Gideon’s cries grew quieter, fading to snuffles and then to silence, and Gold kissed the top of his head.

“There’s my boy,” he whispered, and Belle wanted to hug them both.

“It’s time for his feed,” she said. “I’ll take him.”

Gold nodded, carrying Gideon over to her and letting her take him. Belle opened up her nightdress, cradling Gideon in her arms as he latched onto a nipple, and Gold watched them for a moment, that tender look back in his eyes.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said softly. “Both of you. I’m very lucky, Belle.”

She smiled, reaching out to squeeze his hand, and he turned away to tidy up the baby clothes. Belle gazed down at Gideon as he suckled, her heart swelling with love for him.

“Did you speak to your father yet?” he asked, with his back to her, and she sighed.

“Yeah, I called him this afternoon.”

“And what was his reaction to having a grandson,” he asked, his tone very even.

“He actually sounded quite cheerful,” she said. “I showed him Gideon over the phone so he could say hello.”

Gold made a noise that might have been anything from approval to irritation.

“He says he’ll come and visit,” she added. “Maybe next week. Is that okay?”

“Of course,” he said, in that same even tone. “He should see his grandson.”

There was silence. Gold put Moe French from his mind almost immediately, replaying his conversation with Neal over in his mind. Things that Emma and Henry had said slipped into the memory, adding to the picture he was forming. The picture that couldn’t possibly be true. Vaguely, he could hear Belle speaking, and glanced around.

“I’m sorry?”

“I said I hope the nurses don’t take too long with those painkillers,” she said. “I pressed the button, but I’m not sure it’s working.”

“I’m sure it is,” he said. “D’you want me to track someone down?”

At that moment the door opened and a smiling nurse came in, file in one hand and a plastic cup with pills in the other.

“Here we are, Belle,” she announced. “Time for your meds. How are you feeling?”

Gold tuned her out as he turned back to his task of rearranging the drawer of baby clothes. It didn’t especially need it, but having a task to concentrate on was helping him to calm the stream of his thoughts and fears before they became a raging torrent that would drown him. He barely heard the nurse leave, but then Belle spoke again.

“What was that?” he asked, and heard her sigh.

“I said I can’t wait to be back in my own bed,” she said.

“Mmm,” he agreed.

“Are you okay?” she asked then. “You seem very distracted.”

“I’m fine,” he said automatically. “It’s nothing.”

“Alex…”

“Seriously, it’s nothing,” he insisted.

“Alright.”

A moment of stillness, the only sound the tiny noises Gideon was making as he fed. He could tell that Belle was waiting for him to speak, no doubt watching him out of the corner of her eye as she pretended that all of her attention was on Gideon. Gold went on folding the baby clothes, taking time to place the sleeves and smoothing out the creases with sweeps of his hands as he wrestled with the tangle of thoughts and emotions in his mind.

“Neal has the same birthday as Bae,” he said eventually.

“Oh, really?”

“Yes.” He hesitated. “He’s the same age, too.”

“That’s - quite a coincidence,” she observed.

“Yes.”

More silence. He placed the folded clothes carefully in the drawer and closed it, turning to face her, his heart thumping anxiously.

“What do you know about his parents?” he asked, and Belle shrugged.

“Not much. I know his mother moved over here from England, and that she left him with Social Services when he was seven.”

Gold reeled backwards a little, as though he had taken a blow to the chest. There was a dull pain like a fist, pushing against his heart and stealing his breath.

“What was her name?” he asked numbly, and Belle shook her head.

“I don’t know, I’m sorry.”

“And - and where did she leave him, exactly?” he asked. “Which Social Services?”

“I don’t know. He never went into that much detail.”

He nodded, beginning to pace back and forth, his heart thumping.

“Did you say she moved here from England?”

“Pretty sure that’s what he said. I - I could be wrong, it was only a comment in passing. He doesn’t really talk about her.”

“And his father?”

“He never knew his father. Doesn’t even know his name.”

He nodded again, his pace quickening. It was as though the pieces of a puzzle were sliding together, locking into place with an echoing sound deep in his brain. Belle turned her head, catching his eye as he passed and making him slow.

“Alex,” she said gently. “Please talk to me.”

“I - I don’t know what to say,” he protested, pacing rapidly. “I’m still trying to make sense of all this.”

“You think - you think you could be his father?” she whispered. “You think he’s Bae?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I mean the dates fit, but... I don’t know.”

Belle watched him pace, his limping stride brisk with agitation, his jaw tight. He shook his head, spinning on the toes of his shoes to face her.

“It can’t be true, can it?” he demanded. “I mean it’s - it’s not possible!”

“It does seem like a hell of a coincidence,” she said. “But there again fate’s a funny thing. Imagine if I hadn’t called you that day. Or - or what if we hadn’t had angry sex in your shop that time?”

He gave her a tremulous smile at that, leaning in to stroke Gideon’s head.

“Much as I hate remembering the way I acted back then,” he said. “I wouldn’t change the outcome for anything.”

“No, nor would I.”

They shared a smile, and Belle reached out to squeeze his hand.

“I suppose it’s a simple enough thing to settle,” she said. “You could ask him about his mother and what he remembers of her. What he remembers of his father, if anything.”

“Yes,” he said. “I suppose I could do that.”

“You two have already talked a little about it,” she added. “It wouldn’t be an unusual question to ask.”

Gold hesitated, pulling away from her to pace the room again before turning back, his expression uncertain.

“What if - what if it is him?” he asked.

“Then I guess it’ll be an adjustment,” she said. “For both of you.”

He nodded, still pacing, head down. After a moment he glanced up.

“It would mean Emma would be my daughter-in-law,” he said. “And - and Henry would be my grandson.”

“You’re a pretty hot grandpa, if that’s what was worrying you,” she teased, and he shot her a look that was part amusement and part anxiety.

“If it’s true,” he went on. “It’s gonna turn their lives upside down as well as ours.”

“Well, maybe,” she acknowledged. “I guess it’ll take some time to deal with. Neither of them had parents, and Henry has no grandparents, and then all of sudden it’ll be like we’ve all got more family than we know what to do with.”

Gold rocked back on his heels.

“Gideon would be Henry’s uncle,” he said, looking stunned, and Belle giggled.

“Now that would take some getting used to.”

“God…” He shook his head, his pace quickening, the cane tapping. “I don’t know how to feel about this. Do I have the right to just swoop in and change everything for them?”

“Alex…”

“He must have changed his name at some point,” he went on, gesturing in agitation. “Perhaps he doesn’t want anything to do with his past. Perhaps he’ll hate me. I - I don’t want to cause a rift with him when he’s been such a good friend to you.”

“Alex, if he’s your son…” She shook her head. “You’ve been looking for him for years! He’s spent all that time thinking he was unloved! He deserves to know that at least one of his parents wanted him!”

“It doesn’t mean he’ll want to have a relationship now, though, does it?” said Gold, a desperate edge to his voice. “Oh Belle, what if he won’t talk to me? What if he shuts me out?”

Belle took his hand again, her gaze steady.

“I can’t promise things will go the way you want,” she said gently. “But it would be better to know one way or the other, wouldn’t it?”

He nodded.

“Yes,” he said quietly. “One way or the other, knowledge is always preferable to ignorance.”

“Then you’ll talk to him?” she asked, and he heaved a breath before nodding.

“I’ll talk to him,” he said. “At least then we’ll know.”

#fic: twisted fate #rumbelle fic #rumbelle #my fic

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rancoeur-the-unfortunate · 3 years

Text

Pills (Chapter 29)

(Hello everyone, Rancoeur here. I know it's been a while since I last updated this book and I am truly sorry about that. But it's been so long since I've seen Zim or have even read fanfics about it. So in a way I sorta fell out of love with it. This doesn't mean I'm going to stop updating this though. This book is a monument to how my writing has evolved over the years and is my pride and joy. I will finish it, even if it kills me. It will be awesome and I can't wait for it. Thank you for reading this and please accept this 3300-word chapter as my apology. I know it's a little short and I did want to add more stuff to it but then it just looked bloated and I didn't like that. I hope everyone is staying safe out there. Have a nice day.)

Monday morning, Dib slowly got out of bed and stretched as his alarm clock rang. The boy rubbed his eyes softly before grabbing his glasses from the nightstand and put them on his nose after turning off the said clock. He glanced outside, noticing the dark clouds coming in, and sighed.

"Already looks pretty gross out there," he muttered to himself before he started to get dressed for school.

Honestly, it felt weird to sleep on a bed after sleeping in a tent for a week. Aside from just being comfier it kinda felt... lonely. Like someone was missing.

The boy shook his head as he slid on his coat and began the trek downstairs to greet Gaz and his father. Another rare day of eating with the Professor.

"Hey dad, hey Gaz," he smiled a bit and went to the fridge to grab some juice. When he grabbed what he wanted he pulled back and shut the fridge, only to find his dad right behind him holding a new device to his head. He reeled back in surprise, "dad?!"

His dad smiled at him and waved him off, "no need to worry son, I was just testing out this new invention I'm making on you. Says here your serotonin levels are higher than usual. You must be in a good mood!"

Dib gave his dad a nervous smile and laugh before backing away to the table where his sister was eating with one hand while simultaneously playing her new game with the other.

"Yeah, you haven't mumbled about killing Zim all morning. What's wrong with you?" She spoke between bites of cereal.

"I don't know, I guess I'm just too tired to think about killing Zim," Dib shrugged as he poured himself a bowl.

"That's bull and we both know it. You talk about capturing Zim in your sleep, I can hear it in my room," Gaz tossed a glare his way before going back to her game.

Dib rolled his eyes, "whatever." He muttered as he began eating.

Still, he couldn't help but feel a strange sensation in his chest.

Zim tentatively stepped out of his home. The Dib had told him that the skool children had already forgotten about the drugs, but he still felt fear. Like there were still eyes following him as he marched down the sidewalk. A feeling of uneasiness seemed to wash over him.

Eventually, the blocky, grey building came into view. A few children were loitering about, waiting for the bell to ring. Not wanting to draw attention to himself, Zim just sat on a bench and waited alongside them. Only observing them slightly.

Humans were weird on Mondays, Zim had no idea why though. Something about that particular day of the week seemed to drain all of the energy from the weird meat bags. One kid looked like he was about to fall on his face from exhaustion.

Down the street, he spotted the Dib and his little sister. A part of Zim was fearful. Now that everything had gone relatively back to normal, would Dib go back to trying to expose him?

When the two entered the skool's grounds, they separated. Gaz went to sit on the steps, playing her video game. While Dib glanced about, when he looked his way, the human... smiled at him.

Causally Dib stepped closer and closer until the two were only a few feet apart. There was a moment of silence between them, both of them just staring at each other. It was obvious they both wanted to say something but neither knew how.

Eventually, Dib sighed and spoke a little quietly, "hey uh... can I sit here?" The boy gestured to the spot on the bench next to Zim.

Zim looked surprised for a moment before he crossed his arms and looked away with his usual snark before quipping a quick, "you may."

Dib chuckled to himself, "same old Zim." He said as he sat down beside the green alien.

With that, the two sat in silence once more, the two of them just looking down at the skoolyard. Humans shuffling about like zombies, waiting for something to happen. Eventually, Zim slumped out of his uptight posture and looked down in his lap, fiddling with his thumbs.

It was Dib who once again broke the silence, "so, what evil plan is it this time?"

Zim looked up at the human in surprise, "eh?"

"You know, to take over the world and all that?" Dib smirked and leaned close, "or did you forget your mission."

Zim immediately perked up and sneered in disgust, "of course not! And to answer your first question. WOULDN'T YOU LIKE TO KNOW!" He shouted that last part accidentally as he pointed an accusatory finger at the boy.

Dib just laughed, clutching his stomach as Zim tried to regain his composure. Zim couldn't help but giggle to himself slightly.

"In all seriousness," Zim started once the two had calmed down. "I don't know... I know I have a mission. But at the same time, that mission was given to me by them." Zim found himself glaring at his own hands. He clenched them into fists.

"It feels so strange, to have a purpose one second only to realize that purpose was only given to you to get you out of the way. And now that I see past all their lies I... I don't know. I have no idea what I should be doing, or what my purpose is now or what I'm even still doing on Earth." Zim sighed and closed his eyes, he knew Dib was looking at him, either pitying him or laughing at his distress.

Instead, he felt a hesitant hand on his shoulder. Zim looked up at Dib who was giving him a comforting yet awkward smile before pulling his hand back and sitting properly.

"If we're being truthful right now I guess I'll be straight with you," Dib spoke as he laid back on the bench and looked up at the sky. "The main reason why I wanted to help you was because I was hoping you'd leave once you realized what your mission was." Dib hummed to himself.

"But now that you're off your drugs and ready to leave... I..." Dib paused, "Don't get me wrong, I still hate your guts." He huffed but then frowned, "but the thought of you leaving now... it just doesn't sit well with me." Dib admitted.

"Funny how the one I considered my worst enemy could become someone I might even call my..." Dib paused again and looked at Zim with an emotion ZIm couldn't decern, "friend."

Zim stared at Dib in complete silence, 'friend?' Dib smiled slightly before going back to looking at the cloudy sky.

Three minutes passed before Zim opened his mouth, "Dib I-" Before he could finish the ever-piercing sound of the bell rang, cutting him off. Simultaneously, Zim was both annoyed and grateful for the interruption.

"Well I guess we'll finish this talk some other time," the human spoke grabbed his bag, and got up. "I'll see you later Zim," Dib gave one last smile before waving goodbye and walking away towards the school building.

It was then that it hit Zim, he'd never seen Dib smile so much before. The boy seemed genuinely happy in Zim's company. It felt so strange, a foreign feeling, a feeling he hadn't felt since, "Skoodge."

Suddenly it felt like all the air had left Zim's respiratory organs and he fell to his knees on the ground. Tears were building in his eyes until eventually, the dam broke, and he started sobbing loudly. Trying and failing to gasp for air. His cardiac spooch felt like it was being squeezed like a stress toy. It hurt and Zim was just figuring out why.

All alone in the Skool courtyard, Zim was crying. Crying like a long-forgotten smeet. Eventually, the Irken just laid down on his side curled into a ball. How could he? What was wrong with him?! How could he have hurt Skoodge like that?! His best friend! His partner! His mate!

How could he have hurt someone so close to him, so one who had seen him at both his best and his worst?

The tears wouldn't stop.

Eventually, his thoughts went back to Dib, the human who even despite their mutual hatred for one another still sought to help him. To get him off those horrid drugs and saw him as a... a friend.

Suddenly it felt like time itself had stopped. A friend.

Zim had a friend. Quietly the little alien stood up and whipped his eyes. He found himself staring up at the sky, just as Dib had. The clouds seemed to have gotten darker, it was likely going to rain soon.

He should probably get inside-

A hand came out from behind him and covered his mouth roughly, cutting off his thoughts as he went into a panic. That was before it all went dark.

"So uh... what is it exactly?" Tallest Purple asked a hand on his chin as he inspected the strange being before him, keeping his distance of course.

"A Murthen, my Tallest, female, foot soldier class." The Doctor spoke, his back upright and arms tucked neatly behind his back as he gave a quick bow.

They all stood on the bridge of the Massive. The two Tallest were near the controls while the Doctor and his captive stood at the other end of the bridge. Behind the Doctor stood Skoodge, the little Irken was practically sweating bullets as he clutched Raz's egg. He kept his mouth shut, but every time he even glanced at the Murthen or her collar it felt like another ton of weight was added to his shoulders.

"A Murthen?" Tallest Red gave a confused and disgusted look at the blue figure, "ok...but what's it doing on our ship."

"I believe she will be a great help to our mission to subdue Zim. Despite her lower rank, she is incredibly capable and has experience in both war and combat.

"I mean, so did Tak," Tallest Purple crossed his arms.

The Doctor actually laughed and it was the most haunting thing anyone in the room had ever heard. "Oh, my Tallest, Raz here, is certainly no Tak, trust me."

"I don't even trust the way you just said trust me," Purple muttered in the background as Tallest Red stepped forward.

"Murthen, Murthen where have I heard that name before?" He squinted his eyes at Raz as Tallest Purple stepped behind him, "was it a planet we conquered."

"I assure you my Tallest, Murth most likely will never be claimed," the Doctor hummed.

'He seems so sure of himself,' Skoodge thought.

"Why's that?" Tallest Red asked skeptically.

"This is why," the Doctor spoke as he raised his hand and snapped his fingers.

Before anyone had any idea what was going on, Raz raised her arm, showing a previously concealed weapon. She aimed it at one of the foodservice drones and fired and a blue beam-like laser shot out.

"AHHHHHH!!!" A scream ripped through the room as the service drone fell to the floor, the donuts he was carrying, splattering beside him. He had been shot in the lower abdomen and was clutching his melting chest in a frenzy. He was quite literally melting on the floor. Eventually, he fell silent as he collapsed on the floor, smoke coming off his body.

The two Tallest jumped back in fear, "WHAT IN THE US WAS THAT?!" Purple screamed.

"Show them," The Doctor gestured to the two with his head.

Raz held out the gun, displaying it in front of the two leaders. It was small and compact, not unlike the blasters the Irkens used. This one however was silver with a grey handle, on the sides of the round barrel were tempered glass that displayed a blue liquid.

"This is just a ground soldier-grade weapon. Yet it has the capabilities to destroy Irken armies. It's filled with a chemical compound known as H2O aka water. Due to our solubility when an Irken comes in contact with it, we tend to melt. However, that's not everything. The water is also mixed with a compound only found in Murthen waters, it is known as Gr4F8 aka Blue Gix. Mixed with water it lowers the boiling point to room temperature and creates energy in the form of light and heat. This creates the beam you just witnessed. This gun alone could destroy our entire empire and that's not even half of it." The Doctor nodded toward Raz and she lowered the gun.

"This is the kind of weaponry that can be expected on Murth, that is why we can not conquer it yet. I'm sure with a bit of studying we could find a way to make ourselves immune to this but until then. We'll just have to leave Murth unconquered. At the moment, however, I believe we should get back to the topic of Zim."

"R-right right, Zim," Tallest Red stuttered, trying to keep his composer. "Are you sure she's fit for the job?"

"Oh my Tallest, you have no idea," the Doctor smiled that irksome smile of his.

"Zim won't know what hit him."

The rest of the discussion seemed to fade out for Skoodge as he stared, wide-eyed at the dead Irken before him. He had just been shot, no warning, no nothing. He was just doing his job and he was shot and then forgotten about. Like his life meant nothing.

Already some of the cleaning drones had come over, collecting the body to be disposed of. Most likely going to be tossed out of the airlock like trash.

Skoodge looked to the egg in his hands, little Mur. Every time he looked at her he just felt more and more guilty. Her carrier was being controlled against her will and he was the cause of it.

Now he had to carry her around, an actual burden on his shoulders.

"Alright then, I guess it's settled, we'll be leaving the quadrant in a few hours to start heading for Earth," Tallest Red's voice cut into Skoodges thoughts and he felt panic run through him, that means they'll be leaving Murth and Raz's family.

Before Skoodge had a chance to voice his concerns, the Doctor was already leaving with Raz in tow.

Quickly Skoodge ran after them, once they were out of the bridge and in one of the Massive's many hallways he spoke up, "Doctor! What about the egg! There's no water on the ship!"

"Your pretty good at stating the obvious," the doctor hummed, not even bothering to look at him.

"B-but-"

"Look Skoodge, I already told you. If you want the egg, you can keep it. But that makes it your problem, not mine," the Doctor growled, getting agitated by the shorter Irken's nagging.

"But Doctor!"

Suddenly the Doctor spun around and pointed glaringly at him, "no! I'm tired of hearing your squeaky insignificant voice!" He shouted, "one more word out of you and I'll reveal the secret about your lack of pills to the Tallest!"

At first, Skoodge was terrified but one look at the child, strapped to his chest and he was quick to shoot a glare of his own. "And reveal yourself?! Fat chance!"

"Oh please! you don't think I don't already have the Tallest under my thumb?!"

Skoodge paused and stared up at the Doctor wide-eyed, "what?"

"You heard me, I've had them on my drugs since day one! I have nothing to fear from them. Just like I have nothing to fear from you! You short, intolerable, idiotic, service drone!" The Doctor raised his hand to smack Skoodge only to collapse to his knee in pain. He grimaced and gripped his right leg in pain, a new bump already showing through his pants.

"Damn it!" He snarled and began to roll up his pant leg, showing the ugly lump on his calf. To even the Doctor's horror, it seemed to be splitting off into two.

"Damn things are getting worse," he muttered to himself and looked to Skoodge expectantly.

Almost on instinct, Skoodge pulled out 4 syringes from his pac only to pause before approaching.

"What the hell are you doing, help me!" The taller Irken demanded.

"No! I will do no such thing until we return Raz and her egg back home!" Skoodge demanded himself.

"And ruin your chances of taking over the control brains and getting Zim back?" The Doctor sneered, gripping his leg tighter now.

"The ends don't justify the means, Doctor!" Skoodge snarled.

"Fine," the Doctor stammered out, already looking out of breath from the pain. "W-with friends like you, who needs enemies," he growled and snapped his fingers, and Raz, who had been standing beside him stoically this whole time, tackled Skoodge.

The scariest part wasn't those sharp webbed fingers, or those strong four arms, no it was those cold eyes. Raz looked completely dead on the inside like she was just a body heading the commands of something that wasn't her. It was terrifying.

She was quick and strong as he pinned his arms and legs down before grabbing the needles from his hands and kicking him away once she got what she was after. Not even bothering to be careful about her egg, thankfully Skoodge used his own body as a shield for the fragile thing.

After that, she knelt before the Doctor and began to siphon out more of that green stuff from the lumps. She managed to get one of the lumps to go down but it seemed the remaining two syringes weren't enough to lessen the larger one. Only reduce it, as Raz got up to get more from Skoodge she was stopped by the Doctor standing up.

"Leave it, this will do for now," he hissed as he pulled his pant leg back down, hiding the bump. "And you," the Doctor glared at Skoodge.

"You're lucky I'm far too busy right now to deal with you. I do however have this to say," he looked down on Skoodge the lighting making him look absolutely terrifying. "If you pull that again, I'll make you watch as I dissect that egg." With that threat, the Doctor turned around and left Skoodge on the floor, Raz following obediently behind him.

Skoodge felt sick to his stomach like he was about to throw up. He clutched the egg tightly, trying desperately not to cry. How was he supposed to go on? He needed to save Zim, but at the same time, just the thought of abandoning Mur and Raz left Skoodge feeling sick.

"Oh, what do I do," Skoodge held up the egg, staring at the little Murthen inside as if she could give him an answer. What worried Skoodge was just how developed she was now. Her four arms had all formed and little pink and purple spots decorated her body, soon to make the pattern of one or both of her parents. Her eyes were slightly open now too. Revealing dark purple eyes.

"Oh Mur, you're going to hatch soon aren't you?" Tears started to form in Skoodge's eyes, "and your carrier won't even be there to witness it." Skoodge covered his mouth with one hand as he scooted to press his back against the wall in revelation, "and it's all my fault."

"I'm a monster," he whispered in horror. Just as he was about to break down, crying. Skoodge felt a shift in the egg and looked down at the little Murthlet inside. She had moved her hands from the clutched position they had before to the shell of the egg. She had just placed all four of them there and it completely mesmerized Skoodge. Four little blue hands with little webbing in between, even tiny little claws on each finger.

Skoodge felt a small blush form on his face in surprise before a small smile crept onto it as well. He placed his forehead on the shell, ignoring the slight burning sensation it caused, and smiled.

"I know I've hurt you and your family. But I swear on my life, I'll keep you safe, I promise."

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