#my man is used abused and held prisoner all his life and is desperate to do anything to escape then gets the villain treatment. fuck you

[coffee-bat]

been going back around resident evil again and fuck i'm STILL pissed about how they wronged my boy :(

[ijustmissyouraccenths]

I Want To Kill Her (Part 2)

Au where Y/N and Harry are neighbors who find out their spouses are cheating with each other.

Based off Fortnight by Taylor Swift

Part 1

CW: Smut, cursing, unprotected sex, emotional abuse.

Word Count: 10,085

The months following the gut-wrenching discovery of Teddy's affair were a chaotic storm of emotions and turmoil. The idea of my spouse, the person I trusted most in this world, being unfaithful was unbearable. But without any concrete evidence, doubt enveloped me like a thick fog, suffocating me as I struggled to regain my footing. Though I desperately wanted to believe he wasn't cheating, the blatant signs and whispers from those around us made it impossible to deny the painful truth.

Rage and heartbreak battle within me as I struggle to forgive Teddy, to find a way to salvage our relationship. But each attempt is met with the painful memories of his infidelity, burning like acid through my veins. I'm terrified of losing my British citizenship, my sense of identity and belonging, if I leave him. And even worse, I dread the thought of calling my family and confessing the truth - that not only did Teddy betray me with another woman, but in some sick twisted way, I am also to blame. My family adored him like a son, and he gave me a life beyond my wildest dreams. How could I ever reconcile these conflicting emotions?

Harry's sudden decision to divorce Rosie sent shockwaves through the once peaceful fortress of their home. In just a week, he had packed his bags and walked away, leaving behind a cold and empty shell that was now up for sale. As new potential buyers roamed the halls, I couldn't help but feel a sense of betrayal from Harry's abrupt departure. The last time I saw him was in a dingy motel room, where we spent a desperate night together before he vanished without a trace. His disappearance was calculated and cruel, fueled by his seemingly endless wealth and power. Meanwhile, I was left with nothing but uncertainty and the option to return home to Florida. But Harry's resentment only grew as I hesitated to make a final decision. He wanted me to walk away with no regrets, but real life is messy and complicated - far from the neat and tidy ending he desired.

I was trapped in a prison of a house, held captive by a man who claimed to love me but had truly only created a tangled web of chaos and pain. We forced ourselves into therapy every week, desperate to salvage something from the wreckage he had caused. But even after all the sessions, I still felt like I was drowning in the suffocating grip of his selfishness. It was never enough, and I could feel my sanity slipping away with each passing day.

Evenings rolled into nights and days blurred into months. Each moment seemed agonizingly long as I begged time to fly quicker, to wash away the stale taste of betrayal and deception from my existence. The house that once echoed with laughter and love now felt eerily silent, its walls whispering Teddy's betrayal during the quietest hours. My heart ached in ways I never knew possible, each pulse a reminder of the pain he had caused. 

In a bid for relief, I threw myself into cooking elaborate meals, organising closets, watering the drooping plants Teddy had once loved. Yet every activity was tainted with the memory of him - his laughter rings in my mind as I repeat chores we used to do together. It was a desperate plight to keep myself sane amidst the storm that threatened to break me down.

Teddy's unfaithfulness took its toll on my spirit, but Harry's abandonment shattered me entirely. I played over our last night together again and again in my mind. There was something feral about that night; lust mixed with desperation and an underlying tone of finality. He left without any explanation, disappearing like a ghost only leaving behind the faint scent of his cologne and a raw wound that refused to heal.

The cracks were beginning to show. Laughter seemed forced, smiles rarely reached my eyes. The weekly therapy sessions felt more like an interrogation than relief, talks of my own explicit night replaying session after session. Hours spent scrutinizing every detail of our dysfunctional relationship only amplified my misery. Every shared secret, every stolen glance, every whispered promise – all now seemed meaningless and distorted under the harsh scrutiny of reality.

In the end, it was not Teddy who broke me; it was me who had allowed myself to be broken by him. My judgment clouded by love hindered me from seeing the man he truly was – a master manipulator cloaked in charm and charisma. The truth was painful to accept but liberating in its own cruel way. I was no longer in denial. I was no longer the woman who would bend over backwards to accommodate the whims of unfaithful men. I was stronger than my heartbreak, stronger than their deceit. And most importantly, I learned the toughest lesson of my life – not all love is meant to be cherished; sometimes, it's better left discarded.

As I sat in the therapist's office, the stark white walls closing in around me, my voice cracked as I attempted to verbalize the turmoil within me. "I just don't understand how it got to this point," I admitted, tears threatening to spill over.

Dr. Richards leaned forward, her gentle gaze meeting mine with empathy. "It sounds like you've been through a lot of pain and betrayal," she said softly. "But remember, healing begins with acknowledging the truth."

I nodded, wiping away a stray tear that escaped down my cheek. "I know, but it's so hard to let go of everything that was once so real to me."

Dr. Richards offered a kind smile. "It's okay to feel that way. It's all a part of the process." She paused before continuing, "Have you considered what you need to do to move forward from this?"

I took a deep breath, the weight of the question settling heavily on my shoulders. "I... I think I need to start by forgiving myself for allowing this to happen. For not seeing the signs sooner."

The words hung in the air between us, heavy with unspoken pain and regret. Dr. Richards reached out and placed a comforting hand on mine. "Forgiveness is a powerful tool, both for yourself and for others," she said gently.

I closed my eyes, trying to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm me. "But how do I forgive someone who shattered me into a million pieces?" I whispered, my voice barely audible.

Dr. Richards' voice was steady and reassuring as she replied, "Forgiveness doesn't mean forgetting or excusing their actions. It means releasing the hold they have over your heart and mind."

As I sat there, grappling with the weight of forgiveness, a million thoughts raced through my mind. Dr. Richards' words lingered like a balm on my wounded soul, but the path to healing still seemed daunting.

"I understand that forgiveness is crucial, but how do I even begin to untangle the mess he left behind?" I asked, my voice wavering with uncertainty.

Dr. Richards leaned back in her chair, her expression thoughtful. "It's a process, one step at a time," she said gently. "Start by acknowledging your pain and allowing yourself to feel it without judgment."

Tears welled up in my eyes as I nodded, the emotions swirling inside me threatening to spill over. "It's just so hard to let go of the anger and hurt," I confessed.

She nodded in understanding. "Anger is a natural response to betrayal, but holding onto it only prolongs your pain. Remember, forgiveness is not for his benefit, but for yours."

Her words struck a chord deep within me, resonating with a truth I had been avoiding. "I want to move forward, but I don't know where to begin," I admitted, feeling lost in the sea of my own emotions.

Dr. Richards reached for a tissue and handed it to me with a gentle smile. "Start by being gentle with yourself," she advised. "Forgiveness is a gift you give yourself, a release from the burden of carrying someone else's actions."

I took the tissue gratefully, wiping away my tears as her words sank in. "I never thought of it that way," I murmured, feeling a glimmer of hope amidst the pain.

She gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. "You are stronger than you realize. Forgiveness is not about condoning what he did; it's about setting yourself free from his grip on your heart."

As I sat there, enveloped in Dr. Richards' compassion and wisdom, a sense of peace washed over me. The road to forgiveness may be long and arduous, but with her guidance and my own resilience, perhaps one day I could truly let go and embrace the healing that awaited me.

The following weeks were a whirlwind of emotion, a rollercoaster of highs and lows. I spent many sleepless nights replaying old memories, wrestling with anger and regret. But with each passing day, the burden on my heart felt lighter. I began journaling my thoughts, pouring out my hurt into ink instead of letting it fester within me. And despite the painful contents, there was a strange sort of relief in seeing my emotions spelled out on paper.

"Writing can be therapeutic," Dr. Richards had suggested during one of our sessions. "It provides a safe space to confront your feelings, as raw and as tumultuous as they may be."

Within the quiet sanctuary of my mind and the solitude of my room, I started to delve deeper into myself; into the wounds that had been inflicted upon me and the ones I had unknowingly inflicted upon myself. The process was painful but cathartic. For each tear that fell onto the pages of my journal, there was a tiny piece of pain and bitterness being released.

Days turned into weeks, and slowly but surely, I found myself becoming less consumed by his betrayal and more focused on my healing. I started attending group therapy sessions where I met others who bore similar scars – our shared experiences bound us together in a circle of empathy and understanding.

In those group meetings, I realized that pain was universal but so was resilience. Listening to others narrate their journeys of recovery ignited a spark within me. I saw mirrored in their stories my own strength and determination to rise above the ashes.

One day, while looking at myself in the mirror after another group therapy session, something remarkable happened. Staring back at me was a woman who looked familiar but different—a stronger version of myself; a survivor. My reflection no longer showcased the woman betrayed by love but instead revealed a woman who had found strength amidst despair.

“I am not just a victim,” I whispered to my reflection, the words filling the room with a newfound determination. “I am a survivor.”

The following week in Dr. Richard's office, I found myself recalling this moment with a sense of pride. "I am starting to see changes," I admitted, a small smile tugging at the corner of my lips.

She returned my smile, her eyes filled with warmth and encouragement. "Change is a testament to your strength and resilience," she responded. "You're embracing this journey with courage, learning to forgive not just him, but yourself as well."

Her words felt like a beacon of hope guiding me through the foggy path of recovery. While the pain still lingered like an unforgotten ghost, each day it seemed less potent than before. I was indeed learning to forgive—forgive him for his betrayal and forgive myself for my blindness to his deceit.

As our session ended, I left Dr. Richards' office feeling lighter than when I had come in. With every step away from her office and every step towards home, I was journeying farther from the woman who had allowed herself to be broken by betrayal and closer to the woman who had found strength in her own resilience.

Journaling had become my safe haven, a place where I could pour out my deepest thoughts and emotions without fear of judgment. But that sanctuary was shattered when one day, in a rush to make it to therapy on time, I left my journal open on the bed. My heart stopped when I returned to find Teddy holding it, his eyes scanning the pages filled with my most vulnerable moments. In an instant, my privacy was invaded and my trust was broken.

The tense silence in the room shattered as Teddy's furious voice pierced the air, causing my heart to skip a beat. I watched helplessly as he held my journal in a white-knuckled grip, his eyes scanning the pages with growing anger. "What the actual fuck is this?" he bellowed, his face contorted with rage.

I stood frozen, my mind racing to find the right words to diffuse the escalating situation. "Teddy, please put that down," I pleaded, my voice barely above a whisper, but he ignored me, his expression dark and menacing.

With a sharp intake of breath, I lunged forward to grab the journal from his hands, but he deftly sidestepped me. The tension crackled between us like electricity, each heartbeat echoing in the turbulent silence that enveloped the room.

"You've been writing about our sessions? and Harry?" Teddy's voice was laced with accusation, his gaze burning into mine with searing intensity.

I felt a surge of defiance rising within me as I squared my shoulders. "It's none of your business," I shot back, my tone sharper than intended, but I refused to back down in the face of his intrusion.

His jaw clenched as he took a step closer, his towering presence casting a shadow over me. "None of my business? You've been documenting our private moments, our struggles! How you also fucked the neighbor?" His voice rose with each word, reverberating off the walls like thunder in a storm “As if that little fucking photo he sent while fucking you, my wife, wasn’t bad enough”.

I could feel my own anger building, fueled by his violation of my privacy. "You have no right to invade my thoughts like this and last I checked, you were the one who started cheating," I retorted, the words dripping with resentment and hurt.

The atmosphere crackled with tension as we stood locked in a battle of wills, neither willing to yield ground. The air grew thick with unspoken accusations and grievances left festering beneath the surface.

"You think you can just hide behind your journal and play the victim?" Teddy's voice was laced with contempt, his eyes boring into mine with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine.

My fists clenched at my sides as a surge of defiance coursed through me. "I am not playing anything! This is my way of coping with everything you've put me through, let’s remember who started this mess," I shot back, my voice steady despite the turmoil raging inside me.

His laugh was harsh and bitter, cutting through the charged atmosphere like a blade. "Coping? Is that what you call it? Writing about how I've destroyed you? This is pretty much a sex book." His words were like daggers aimed straight at my heart.

The room seemed to shrink around us as we faced off in this battle of words and wills. Every breath felt heavy with unspoken truths and buried emotions that threatened to erupt like a volcano on the verge of eruption.

"I trusted you," I whispered hoarsely, tears stinging at the corners of my eyes as the weight of his betrayal bore down on me like a crushing weight.

Teddy's expression softened for a fleeting moment before hardening once more. "Trusted me? Look where that got you," he sneered, a cruel twist to his lips betraying the depths of his callousness.

The walls seemed to close in around us as the fight escalated into a tumultuous storm of emotions and accusations. Each word exchanged felt like a blow to an already fractured foundation that threatened to crumble under the weight of our shared pain.

The rumble of thunder outside echoed the turmoil inside as our voices rose in a crescendo of anger and hurt. The room pulsed with an energy so charged it felt as though lightning might strike at any moment, igniting a fire that would consume us both.

"I'm tired of being your punching bag," I declared, my voice firm with newfound resolve.

Teddy's face contorted with fury. "You think you're innocent in all this?" he shot back, his words like venom dripping from his lips.

The air crackled with electricity as we faced off in a battle neither willing to concede. It was a clash of egos and emotions, each word exchanged fueling the fire burning between us.

"I won't be silenced by your guilt-tripping," I retorted, my voice cutting through the charged atmosphere with precision.

Teddy's eyes blazed with rage as he took a step closer, his breath hot against my skin. "Guilt-tripping? You've been playing the victim since day one," he accused, his voice dripping with contempt.

The room seemed on the verge of imploding as our tempers flared and our voices clashed in a symphony of discord. It was a battle of wills and wounded pride, each unwilling to yield ground in this war of words.

"You'll never own up to your mistakes," I accused, my voice tinged with frustration and anger.

Teddy's fists clenched at his sides as he glared at me with unbridled fury. "Mistakes? You're the one who shattered everything we had, we could’ve come back from this. You didn’t have to fuck the first guy you saw!" he roared, his words echoing off the walls like thunder on a stormy night.

The fight raged on like an unrelenting tempest, each word exchanged adding fuel to the fire burning between us. The air crackled with tension as we stood face to face in a battle that threatened to consume us both.

“You know what? I’m done,” I seethed, my voice rising to a fever pitch. "I'll find a place to stay and it sure as hell won't be here!" My fists clenched at my sides, nails digging into my palms as I glared daggers at the person in front of me. The fury coursing through my body threatened to consume me, but I welcomed it, fueled by sheer determination to escape this toxic environment.

I took a deep breath and tried to steady my shaking hands as I dialed Bella's number, she was the first close friend I had made in London. The phone rang for what felt like hours before she finally picked up.

"Hey, Bella. It's me," I said, trying to keep my voice steady despite the turmoil raging inside of me.

"Hey, what's up?" she asked, her voice filled with concern.

"I need a place to stay for a while. Can I crash with you?" I blurted out, not wanting to beat around the bush.

Bella didn't hesitate. "Of course! What happened?"

"It's a long story," I replied, tears threatening to spill from my eyes again.

"Don't worry about it. Just come over whenever you're ready," she said reassuringly.

I thanked her and hung up the phone before splashing some cold water on my face in an attempt to compose myself. Taking one last look at myself in the mirror, I unlocked the bathroom door and made my way back to the living room.

Teddy was nowhere in sight, probably still seething from our argument. I quickly grabbed my backpack and stuffed some clothes and toiletries inside before heading out the door.

The fresh air outside helped clear my mind as I made my way towards Bella's house. As much as I wanted to stay strong and not let Teddy get to me, his words still stung like open wounds.

I couldn't believe how things had escalated so quickly between us. We used to be inseparable, but now it seemed like we were nothing but strangers living under the same roof.

My thoughts were interrupted as I arrived at Bella's house. She greeted me with open arms and led me inside as Bella and I settled down on her cozy couch, surrounded by the warmth of her living room, she handed me a mug of hot tea. The familiar scent of chamomile filled the air, soothing my frayed nerves.

"So, spill it. What happened between you and Teddy?" Bella asked gently, her eyes reflecting genuine concern.

I took a sip of the tea, feeling its comforting warmth seep into my bones. "It's just... we had another one of those fights about the cheating. The same patterns repeating over and over again. I don't think we can fix this anymore," I admitted, feeling a heavy weight lift off my chest with each word spoken.

Bella nodded knowingly, her empathy palpable. "Sometimes things reach a point where they can't be salvaged, no matter how much we try. It's okay to walk away if it's for your own well-being," she reassured me, her words like a balm to my wounded spirit.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I gazed at my friend, grateful for her unwavering support. "I just feel lost, you know? Like I don't even recognize myself anymore in all of this chaos," I whispered, the vulnerability raw in my voice.

Bella reached out and squeezed my hand reassuringly. "You're not alone in this. You have people who care about you, who want to see you happy and thriving. And remember, sometimes in letting go, we find the strength to rebuild ourselves," she offered with a gentle smile.

Her words resonated deep within me, a glimmer of hope flickering in the darkness that had clouded my heart. I wiped away the tears that had escaped and mustered a small smile in return.

"Thank you, Bella. For everything," I expressed sincerely, feeling a sense of gratitude wash over me for having such a supportive friend by my side.

The early morning light blazed through my window, a stark reminder of the emptiness that awaited me. With a heavy heart, I resolved to find a job, anything to fill the void left by my crumbling marriage. But even as I searched for employment opportunities, my thoughts kept drifting back to Harry. My desperation to know how he was doing gnawed at me like a festering wound, but there was no way to reach out and ask. As I sat in silence, I couldn't help but imagine the different path my life could have taken if I had chosen Harry over Teddy. The image of us together haunted me, a cruel reminder of what could've been. But now it was too late, and there was no turning back from the pain and regret that consumed me.

My fingers danced across the keys of my laptop, typing and retyping cover letters and resumes. The monotony of each hopeful submission echoed the emptiness in my heart, seemingly endless echoes spiraling into a void. To distract myself, I brewed a strong cup of coffee, the familiar smell offering an odd comfort in the chaos that was now my life.

As the day wore on, my efforts bore no fruit. Each potential employer remained a stranger to me, their responses automated and cold. As darkness began to creep into the room, a sense of defeat washed over me and I closed my laptop with a sigh.

I poured myself another cup of coffee, this time opting for the solitude of the balcony to nurse it. The city below shimmered with life just as it always did, indifferent to the turmoil of one seemingly insignificant inhabitant. Despite the layers of concrete and glass that separated us, I felt strangely connected to those anonymous lights - distant beacons in the abyss.

A haunting melody wafted up from somewhere far below, a soulful duet between an old saxophone and an even older piano. The notes danced through the fragmented night air, weaving stories of love lost and found again. Each note was a phantom whispering bittersweet tales into my ear.

Just then, an unexpected sound cut through my thoughts - the shrill ringtone of my phone nudged me back into reality. My heart clenched as I saw Teddy's name flash across the screen. He hadn't called since our fallout; what could he possibly want now? Nervously biting my lip, I answered it. On the other end of the line Teddy’s voice trembled with an emotion I couldn’t quite place; regret perhaps—or was it desperation?

My heart raced as I hung up and blocked Teddy's number. It was a small act of defiance, of reclaiming control over my life. But in that moment, it felt powerful.

I took a deep breath and leaned against the balcony railing, feeling the cold metal press against my cheek. It was a reminder that I was still here, still alive despite the pain and chaos swirling within me.

But even as I tried to convince myself that cutting off all contact with Teddy was for the best, doubts crept into my mind. What if he really did want to talk? What if he wanted to apologize and make things right?

I pushed those thoughts away, refusing to let them cloud my judgement. I couldn't afford to let him back into my life, not when I was finally starting to move on.

With new determination, I went back inside and resumed my job search. As midnight approached and exhaustion began to take hold, I allowed myself a moment of weakness and checked my email one last time.

A spark of hope ignited within me as I read the email from my job recruiter. It informed me that there was a hiring event happening downtown tomorrow and I had been invited to attend. My heart raced with excitement - this could be my chance to finally land a job.

I quickly confirmed my attendance and began mentally preparing for the event. As much as I hated the thought of going out into the world and facing potential rejection, I knew it was something I had to do.

The next morning, after meticulously picking out an outfit and rehearsing what I would say, I set out for downtown. The bustling streets were a chaotic blend of people rushing to work and tourists taking in the sights. As I walked among them, a sense of anonymity washed over me - just another face in the crowd.

Eventually, I reached the building where the hiring event was taking place. After taking a deep breath, I stepped inside and made my way towards the designated area.

The event was packed with job seekers like myself, all eager for a chance at employment. Despite my nerves, I felt emboldened by their determination and pushed forward to talk to employers.

One after another, I introduced myself and handed out resumes with practiced ease. Some showed interest while others dismissed me without a second glance. But instead of feeling defeated by rejection, I soldiered on with renewed purpose.

Hours passed in this manner until finally, just as hope began to wane, someone took notice of me. It was an HR rep from one of the top companies in town, Pleasing.

My heart pounded as I realized this could potentially lead me down the path to seeing Harry again. But I quickly pushed those thoughts aside and focused on the present moment.

The HR rep from Pleasing seemed impressed by my credentials and asked me to come in for an interview the following day. I couldn't believe it - this was exactly the opportunity I had been waiting for.

As I walked out of the hiring event, my mind raced with excitement and nerves. Part of me couldn't help but wonder if Harry still lived in the area, but I quickly shut down that line of thinking. It didn't matter - all that mattered was that I had a chance at a job.

The next day, I arrived at Pleasing's office early, dressed in my best professional attire. The receptionist greeted me with a smile and directed me to the HR department.

I shook myself out of my reverie as the HR rep called me into their office for the interview. Despite my nerves, I answered their questions confidently and highlighted my experience and skills.

As the interview progressed, I could feel the HR rep becoming more and more impressed. The questions became increasingly challenging, but I faced them head-on, demonstrating my knowledge and quick decision-making abilities. 

Slowly, the discussion moved on to my potential role in Pleasing and how I saw myself contributing to the company's future. Here, I outlined a comprehensive plan that included innovation, team synergy, and a commitment to meeting corporate objectives. The HR rep listened attentively, occasionally interjecting to clarify or probe deeper into my responses.

The interview concluded on a positive note and I was told that they would get back to me in a week's time. As I left the building, I felt a sense of accomplishment but there was also an underlying excitement - the possibility of crossing paths with Harry and being able to leave Bella’s to find my own flat.

A week passed in a blur of anticipation and anxiety, each day inching closer to the call from Pleasing. When it eventually came through, my heart skipped a beat. They were pleased with my performance during the interview and wanted me on board.

And so began my journey with Pleasing - a journey that was filled with arduous tasks, demanding projects, and incredible opportunities for growth. The work environment was fast-paced but rewarding, pushing me to work harder each day.

One afternoon, a couple of months into my role at Pleasing, I saw him from afar. It was Harry - my former neighbor and one night stand. He looked just as I remembered him: sharp-witted and focused in his tailored suit, there was an air of high authority about him.

My heart raced as I watched him stride through the office, making his way towards the executive level. Memories of our time together flooded back to me - the late nights he spent on top of me, the way he felt, the way he touched me, how he smelt expensive.

Lost in my thoughts, I suddenly realized that I needed to find a way to meet with him. But how? As a junior employee, I didn't have easy access to top executives like him.

Determined not to let this opportunity pass me by, I approached my manager and asked if there was any way I could have a meeting with Mr. Styles. She gave me a skeptical look but promised to see what she could do.

A few days later, she called me into her office with a smile on her face. "I spoke to Mr. Styles' assistant and they have agreed to give you 15 minutes next week," she said excitedly.

My heart skipped a beat at the thought of seeing Harry again after all this time. But what would I say? What would he think of me now?

The day of the meeting arrived and I nervously made my way up to the executive level. As soon as I stepped into Mr. Styles' office, my nerves disappeared - it felt like no time had passed between us at all.

As I cautiously entered his dark office, my heart pounded in my chest. The scent of tobacco and whiskey filled the air, mingling with the intense aura emanating from Harry's piercing green eyes. I could feel his gaze burning into me as I made my way to a chair by his desk.

"Y/N," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "I saw the name and couldn't believe it was you, bloody hell."

A chill ran down my spine at the iciness in his tone. Memories flooded back of our tumultuous past, the love and betrayal that had torn us apart. But now, standing in front of him again, I couldn't deny the powerful pull that still existed between us.

"Harry," I managed to say, my voice barely above a whisper. "It's been a while."

He leaned back in his chair, studying me with an intensity that made my insides churn. "Indeed it has, Y/N," he remarked, his eyes never leaving mine. "I must say, I never expected to see you here."

I shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, feeling the weight of unspoken history hanging between us. "I didn't expect to be here either," I admitted, my voice tinged with a hint of regret.

He raised an eyebrow, a flash of something unreadable crossing his face. "And yet fate has a funny way of bringing people back together, doesn't it?"

I nodded, feeling a mix of emotions swirling inside me - longing, apprehension, and a spark of unresolved desire. "It seems that way," I said softly.

Harry leaned forward slightly, his expression softening imperceptibly. "Tell me, Y/N," he began, his voice quieter now. "What have you been up to since we last crossed paths?"

I took a deep breath, trying to gather my thoughts amidst the whirlwind of emotions his presence evoked. "Well," I started hesitantly, "I've been working here at Pleasing. It's been challenging but rewarding."

A flicker of interest sparked in his eyes. "Impressive." He paused for a moment before continuing, his tone contemplative. "And what made you seek out a meeting with me today?"

I met his gaze squarely, steeling myself against the vulnerability creeping in. "I wanted to reconnect," I confessed quietly. "To clear the air and maybe... find closure."

Harry regarded me thoughtfully for a moment before speaking again. "Closure," he echoed softly. "Perhaps that's something we both need. And Teddy?"

My eyes drop to the ground, avoiding his penetrating gaze. "It's a messy situation, but I had to leave. I've been crashing at my friend Bella's place until I can scrape together enough money for a divorce."

His voice drips with insinuation and I feel my skin prickle with unease. "Oh, how convenient," he sneers. "I knew eventually you would come to your senses, although I thought our night together would have been enough to break you free." My stomach churns at his words.

The atmosphere in the room grew heavy with unspoken tension as their words hung in the air like charged lightning bolts ready to strike.

"You had no right to think that one night could define me or my decisions." I spat.

Harry's eyes flashed with a mix of surprise and something darker as my words cut through the tension between us. "And what right did you have to enter my life again after all this time, Y/N?" he countered sharply, his jaw clenched in frustration.

I squared my shoulders, meeting his challenging gaze head-on. "I didn't come here seeking your approval, Harry," I retorted, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside me. "I came for myself, to find closure and move on."

He leaned forward, his expression unreadable as he studied me intently. "Closure," he repeated, the word hanging heavily between us. "Is that truly what you need? Or is there something else driving you here?"

A flicker of vulnerability crossed my features before I could stop it, and I felt exposed under his piercing scrutiny. "Maybe it's both," I admitted quietly, feeling the weight of years of unresolved emotions pressing down on me.

Harry's gaze softened slightly, a hint of understanding creeping into his eyes. "I see," he murmured, a touch of regret coloring his tone. "Perhaps we both have demons to face before we can truly move forward."

I nodded slowly, acknowledging the truth in his words. "Maybe so," I agreed, a sense of resignation settling over me. "But facing them together might be easier than doing it alone."

Silence enveloped us for a moment, broken only by the sound of our breathing mingling in the charged atmosphere of the room. Finally, Harry spoke again, his voice softer now. "I never stopped thinking about you, Y/N," he confessed quietly. "Despite everything that happened between us."

My heart clenched at his words, memories flooding back with a force that left me breathless. "I never forgot you either," I whispered, a bittersweet ache settling in my chest.

A myriad of emotions played across Harry's features - longing, regret, and something else I couldn't quite decipher. "Then perhaps we owe it to ourselves to confront the past and see where it leads us, Pleasing has a nice legal plan I can lend to you for a divorce." he suggested tentatively.

I met his gaze, seeing a glimmer of hope reflected in those intense green eyes that had once been my undoing. "Maybe we do," I agreed softly, a sense of anticipation stirring within me.

I stood outside the courtroom, my heart racing with a mix of nerves and anticipation. Today was the day I had been waiting for - the day I could finally end this marriage and start a new chapter in my life. But as I took a deep breath and stepped inside, my eyes were immediately drawn to the sight of Teddy sitting at a table with his lawyer, confidently flipping through some papers.

Next to him sat Rosie, her perfectly styled hair and expensive outfit standing out like a sore thumb among the drab courtroom surroundings. She smiled smugly in my direction as if she knew something I didn't, and suddenly all my confidence wavered.

My lawyer squeezed my hand reassuringly as we walked towards our side of the court, but I couldn't help feeling like an underdog in this battle. How had Teddy managed to go back to Rosie so quickly while still begging for me just a few weeks earlier? And how long had this been going on?

As we began the proceedings, I listened half-heartedly as their lawyer presented their case - painting me as an unfit wife who refused to support her husband's successful career. The lies stung, but I held back from speaking out.

It wasn't until it was my turn to speak that I found my voice. My lawyer had prepared a strong case for me - highlighting all of Teddy's infidelities and emotional abuse throughout our marriage. As I spoke about his controlling behavior and manipulation tactics, Rosie's smug expression faltered.

But when it was time for Teddy to speak, he denied everything with such conviction that even I started doubting myself. His words were smooth and calculated, painting me as an unstable woman who couldn't handle his success.

I felt my anger bubbling up inside me - how dare he twist the truth like this? But before I could say anything, Rosie jumped in with her own version of events. She talked about how supportive Teddy had been during their brief affair, and how I was just a jealous ex who couldn't move on.

As Rosie spoke, her words felt like sharp knives twisting in my chest. The betrayal and deceit were too much to bear, she was the one who was sleeping with my husband. I clenched my fists, trying to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm me. But then, a familiar voice cut through the tense atmosphere.

"Objection, Your Honor!"

I turned to see my lawyer standing up, his expression firm and determined. "These allegations are baseless and unsubstantiated. My client has provided ample evidence of Mr. Teddy's infidelity and emotional abuse. I request that these false claims be stricken from the record."

The judge nodded solemnly, looking at Teddy and Rosie with a steely gaze. "I will not tolerate false accusations in my courtroom. Stick to the facts."

Teddy shifted uncomfortably in his seat, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. Rosie, on the other hand, remained composed, a smug smile playing on her lips.

"I have evidence that will prove my client's case, Your Honor," she declared confidently. "I request permission to present it."

The judge nodded again, signaling for Rosie to proceed. She stood up gracefully, producing a stack of papers from her briefcase.

"These documents show that Mr. Teddy was out of town on the dates in question," she began, flipping through the pages with ease. "He could not have been at the locations alleged by Mrs. Y/N."

I felt a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Could it be true? Had I been mistaken all along? Her proof was just texts from Teddy to her saying he was out of town. Which proves nothing, if anything it was more incriminating.

But then, just as doubt started to creep in, a sudden realization hit me like a bolt of lightning.

"Your Honor," I interrupted, my voice trembling but resolute. "I have proof that Mr. Teddy and Ms. Rosie colluded to fabricate alibis and deceive me. They were working together against me all along."

The courtroom fell into stunned silence as I presented the evidence that exposed their treachery. Teddy's face drained of color, while Rosie's mask of composure finally cracked.

"I-I can explain," Teddy stammered, but it was too late.

The judge slammed his gavel down with finality. "Case closed. Divorce granted in favor of Mrs. Y/N. You are to pay her a monthly settlement of alimony."

As I walked out of the courtroom, a weight lifted off my shoulders. It was finally over - the lies, the betrayal, the manipulation. I could start anew with a sense of freedom and clarity.

And as I glanced back one last time at Teddy and Rosie, their faces twisted with defeat, I knew that justice had been served. 

Waiting outside of the courtroom was Harry with a grin, he did a sassy wave to Rosie and Teddy.

"Congratulations, Y/N," Harry said, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and kissing the top of my forehead. "You did it."

I couldn't help but smile, feeling a sense of relief and satisfaction wash over me. "I couldn't have done it without you, Harry. Thank you for everything."

"Always, love," he replied with a gentle smile.

As we walked out of the courthouse hand in hand, I couldn't help but feel grateful for having Harry by my side. 

"I'm so glad this is all over," I said with a sigh, leaning into him as we reached his car.

"Yeah, me too," he agreed, unlocking the door and helping me inside before making his way to the driver's seat.

As we drove away from the courthouse, I couldn't help but feel a sense of closure. My marriage may have ended in betrayal and deceit but now I was free to move on and start over.

"So what's next for you?" Harry asked as we drove through the city streets.

“ I think we should celebrate.” I looked at him with a playful smile.

"Celebrate?" Harry raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. "And what did you have in mind for this celebration, Mrs. Y/N?"

I grinned mischievously, leaning over to gently tap his knee. "Oh, nothing too wild. Maybe just a quiet dinner for two at a cozy little bistro."

"A quiet dinner, hmm?" Harry's smirk grew wider. "And what about later, when we're no longer 'quiet'? Any ideas for that celebration?"

"Well," I purred, eyeing him up and down playfully. "That all depends on how good of a date you turn out to be."

"I'll have you know," he countered confidently, "that I'm an excellent date."

"Oh really? And what sort of things do excellent dates do to impress their partners?" I challenged him with a teasing glint in my eye.

Harry chuckled softly before leaning closer to me. "I believe the key to impressing you, love," he whispered against my ear, sending shivers down my spine, "lies somewhere between your pasta and your dessert."

"And exactly how do you plan on pulling that off?" I asked skeptically but with undeniable curiosity piqued within me. 

"Oh," he smirked wickedly as he brushed a strand of hair away from my face. "I'm sure I can come up with something...tasty."

We arrived at the bistro and Harry led me inside, his hand resting on my lower back. The smell of freshly baked bread and spices filled my nostrils as we were greeted by the friendly hostess. She guided us to a cozy booth in the corner of the restaurant before handing us each a menu.

As we perused through the options, I couldn't help but feel grateful for this moment with Harry. Despite the chaos that had been my life recently, he was there to make me smile and forget about all my worries. I was grateful to be able to be like this with him.

"You know," Harry said, breaking the comfortable silence between us, "I haven't had a proper date night in ages."

I smiled at him. Soon after the waiter came to take our orders and after much deliberation, we settled on sharing a few appetizers and ordering our own entrees. As we waited for our food to arrive, Harry reached across the table to take hold of my hand.

"I'm proud of you," he said sincerely, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze. "You handled everything with grace and strength."

I felt tears welling up in my eyes at his words. It meant so much to have Harry's support and encouragement through everything I had been going through.

"Thank you," I replied softly, unable to find any other words to express how much his words meant to me.

Our food arrived shortly after and we dug into our dishes with enthusiasm. We laughed and joked as we shared bites of each other's meals, savoring every moment together.

After dinner, Harry insisted on treating me to dessert at a nearby ice cream shop. We walked through the bustling streets hand in hand, enjoying each other's company in the warm summer night.

As we sat on a bench outside the shop, enjoying our ice cream. 

My voice trembles as I stare at Harry, regret and guilt weighing heavily on my chest. "I should've left Teddy that night after the motel," I confess, tears welling up in my eyes. "But I was scared. Scared of losing my residency, scared of facing my family's disappointment. I thought I could endure it for a while longer, or that he would be the one to leave first." My words choke in my throat, coming out as a desperate plea for forgiveness.

"I'm so sorry, Harry," I continue, my voice shaking. "I never meant to hurt you or lead you on. I was just...lost and confused."

Harry's expression softens as he takes in my words. He reaches out to brush away a tear that falls from my eye.

"You don't have to apologize, love," he says gently. "I understand why you stayed with him. But I wish you had told me sooner."

The guilt bubbles up inside of me, threatening to drown me in its heavy weight. How could I have been so blind and selfish? How could I have hurt someone who cared?

"I'll make it right, Harry," I promise him, wiping away the tears from my cheeks.

Harry's eyes light up with hope as he grasps my hand tightly.

"We'll face this together," he says firmly, determination evident in his voice.

And just like that, the burden on my shoulders feels a little bit lighter knowing that I have Harry by my side.

"It's okay," he whispers soothingly, kissing the top of my head. "You did the right thing.”

We finish our ice cream in comfortable silence before heading back to Harry's flat.

"Can I ask you something?" I say, breaking the silence.

"Of course," Harry replies, squeezing my hand reassuringly.

"Why did you never tell me your feelings before?" I ask, feeling a little hesitant.

Harry pauses for a moment before answering. "I didn't want to pressure you or make things awkward between us," he admits. "I wanted you to be happy and if that meant staying with Teddy, then I accepted it. So I left, I couldn’t see you in that situation."

Tears prick at the corners of my eyes as I realize just how selfless and understanding Harry has always been despite his hardened appearence. He truly cares.

"I'm sorry for being so blind," I say softly.

"It's okay," Harry reassures me. "We all make mistakes."

My heart was pounding as we entered the safety of his flat, my senses heightened by the lingering scent of his cologne. Our fingers traced each other's as he deftly made two cups of steaming tea, every touch sending sparks dancing up my arm.

"Would you like a touch of cream?" Harry asked seductively, a teasing smile playing along his lips. His sultry voice sent trepidating waves through me, igniting an insatiable desire that twisted in my belly.

The sight of him leaning casually against the kitchen counter, bathed in soft light, stirred a primal need within me. I watched as he poured a dash of cream into my cup. The way it swirled and mingled with the dark liquid mirrored our own dance - two intricate beings melding to form something far more tantalizing. 

"Thank you," I murmured, accepting the warm mug from his hand. My fingers brushed against his, eliciting a delicate shiver that rippled down my spine. "I couldn't have asked for anyone better..."

As we navigated our way towards the plush sofa, our bodies brushed together, the heat between us flaring like a bonfire on a cold night. The taste of our shared dinner still lingered on our tongues as we sipped on our teas; notes of cocoa and warm spices cascading over our taste buds.

He leaned back onto the couch, pulling me with him until I was nestled comfortably against his side. A silence fell upon us as we enjoyed our drinks; comfortable and yet teeming with an unspoken promise of what was to come.

"There's no rush," Harry purred into my ear, allowing his fingers to trace lazy circles around my wrist. His hot breath fanned out across my heated skin, setting off tremors beneath my flesh. "Let's just enjoy this moment."

His words washed over me like scalding water, igniting a yearning that threatened to consume us both. I finished my tea swiftly, setting the empty cup on the coffee table before turning back to Harry.

"Harry," I breathed out, staring into his deep emerald eyes. They were dark with desire, a mirror of my own want. "I want you...now."

With those words, our evening took on an entirely new flavor - one more intimate and fervently carnal than the most decadent dessert. And as I let go of all inhibitions and allowed myself to drown in Harry's love- the guilt and fear felt like distant memories.

Where there had been tears earlier now blossomed laughter and sighs of pleasure, echoing off the walls of Harry's flat. The heat between us couldn't be contained within mere cups of tea. It was a passionate flame that ignited every sense, searing through every inch of our bodies as we began to explore each other with newfound fervor and desperation.

The room seemed to shrink as my words echoed around us. I could feel myself growing wetter by the second, my heart pounding in anticipation of what was to come. Without another word, he stood up and pulled me close, our bodies pressing tightly against each other.

My hands found their way to his strong shoulders, digging into his skin as he claimed my lips once more. I moaned deeply into the kiss, tasting the tea we just drank on his tongue as he explored every inch of my mouth. His hands traveled down my back, over my ass cheeks, until they reached the hem of my dress.

I gasped as he lifted me off the ground with ease, carrying me towards the bedroom. My legs wrapped tightly around his waist, pulling him closer still. As we entered the room he kicked the door shut behind us, locking us in together.

As he backed me towards the bed, his cock growing hard, he paused to look down at me. His eyes dark and hungry as he took in the scene laid out before him. "You look so fucking sexy like this," he growled out, his voice rough with desire. I moaned in response, my fingers curling into the sheets beneath us as he lowered me onto the mattress.

His lips trailed hot kisses down my jawline and across my collarbone before moving southward. He nipped at my sensitive flesh while his hands explored every inch of my body, tracing patterns around my tits through the lace fabric of my bra. My breath hitched as his warm mouth hovered over my nipples, making them stand at attention.

"Please," I whispered, arching into him as he teased one of my hardened nubs between his fingers and thumb. His tongue circled around it before finally drawing it into his mouth, sucking on it with such force that I cried out in pleasure.

He pulled away slightly, looking down at me with a smirk that made my stomach do flips. "I'm going to fuck you so good, baby girl." His eyes bore into mine as he slowly undid his pants, revealing his already hard cock straining against his boxers. My mouth watered at the sight of him; all 8 inches of thickness glistening with pre-cum that reflected the light in the room.

I reached up to grab his shirt, pulling him down towards me as I wrapped my legs around his waist again. He groaned into the kiss, deepening it as he lowered himself onto the bed between my spread legs. His teeth grazed against my bottom lip before trailing hot kisses down my neck and chest.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath as he reached behind me to undo the clasp holding together my bra. It fell away from me revealing puckered nipples begging for attention which he eagerly obliged by taking one into his mouth while pinching the other between two fingers causing tiny whimpers to escape from deep within me. 

His lips trailed down my stomach, stopping momentarily to press kisses to my belly button before continuing their journey south. I shivered with anticipation as his fingers hooked into the sides of my lace panties, pulling them down and off of me in one swift motion.

He took a moment to admire me, spread out before him, completely exposed and vulnerable. His gaze traveled over every inch of me, causing goosebumps to rise on my skin.

"God, you're beautiful," he murmured, before diving back in between my legs. His tongue flicked against my clit sending shockwaves of pleasure through me. I gripped onto the sheets tighter as he continued to tease and lick at my most sensitive spot.

I could feel myself getting closer and closer to the edge, his expert mouth bringing me to the brink. Just when I thought I couldn't take it any longer, he pulled away with a smirk on his face.

"Not yet," he said huskily, crawling back up towards me. He kissed me hard on the lips while positioning himself between my legs. I felt his tip brush against my entrance and I lifted my hips in response.

The room around us was hazy from the scent of our arousal, and I couldn't help but feel like I was in a dream as he continued to tease me. With every lick and nip, his touch sent shockwaves of pleasure through me. My body arched off the bed in response to his expert ministrations, my breasts pressed against his strong chest.

"You taste so fucking good," he groaned, his voice dark and rough with need. His hands slid up my thighs, teasingly close to my aching desire before moving away again. It was driving me crazy!

"Please," I begged him. "I can't take much more."

He chuckled deep in his throat, the sound sending shivers down my spine. "Oh, you think you can handle me?" He leaned down and flicked his tongue gently over my clitoris again, making me gasp in surprise at the intense sensation. "We'll see about that."

I couldn't believe how turned on I was by his dominance. As he continued to tease me, I imagined what it would be like to fully submit to him—to let him take control of my body and pleasure me however he saw fit. It was terrifying yet exhilarating all at once.

It felt like hours (or maybe just minutes?) before he finally eased himself into me, filling me up with his thick cock. I gasped at the sudden intrusion but moaned in delight as he began to move slowly inside me. Every thrust sent violent shudders through my body as we found our rhythm together—his hard and demanding possessions; mine willingly given submission underneath him amidst silk pillows and warm blankets scattered across the sheets beneath us.

I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into me, wanting more, needing more. His hands gripped onto my hips, holding me in place as he continued to thrust into me with increasing speed and force.

I could feel the pleasure building inside of me, growing and swelling until it was almost unbearable. My nails dug into his back as I cried out his name, consumed by the intensity of our union.

He leaned down and captured my lips in a fiery kiss that only added fuel to the fire burning between us. Our bodies moved together in perfect synchronization, reaching higher levels of ecstasy with each passing moment.

The bed rocked beneath us as we gave into pure primal desire. He was an unstoppable force, taking everything from me and giving it back tenfold.

"Fuck," he groaned against my lips, his voice thick with need. "You're so tight."

"Oh, God," I moaned, my toes curling against the sheets. "Don't stop."

He didn't listen to me of course; instead, he continued to pound into me relentlessly, driving me towards the edge again and again until I couldn't take it anymore. My orgasm crashed over me like a tidal wave, consuming every ounce of my being and leaving me shaking in its wake. He followed close behind with a muffled groan as he spilled himself inside of me. He collapsed on top of me, both of us gasping for breath as we came down from our high.

We lay there tangled together for a few moments before he rolled off of me onto his side. He pulled me against him, his arm wrapped tightly around my waist.

"Wow," I finally managed to say.

We lay there panting for several minutes afterward, our heartbeats echoing in our ears above everything else around us.

Finally, he disentangled himself from me and collapsed next to me on the bed, both of us spent and covered in a sheen of sweat.

"Fuck," he breathed out as he ran a hand through his damp hair.

"That was..." I trailed off unable to find the words to describe the intensity of our union.

He let out a bitter, exhausted chuckle laced with satisfaction. "I swore I'd never marry again, but if this is what life could be like on a regular basis, I may have to reconsider," he muttered through gritted teeth. The thought of committing himself again brought a surge of both fear and longing, but for the first time in years, he felt alive.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the landscape, he turned to me with a mix of vulnerability and determination in his eyes. "I never thought I'd find someone who could make me question my own convictions," he said softly, reaching out to gently touch my hand.

I looked back at him, her own eyes filled with understanding and a hint of mischief. "Maybe it's time to rewrite those old promises," I suggested, a smile playing on my lips.

A sense of peace settled over him as he realized that maybe, just maybe, he was ready to take a chance on love once more. With a hopeful heart and a newfound sense of purpose, he whispered, "Maybe it is." 

As the last rays of sunlight slipped beneath the horizon, their eyes locked and they both felt an electric current surge through their bodies. It was a sign that their journey together was just starting and would be filled with endless twists and turns, but they were ready for the challenge.

[fixfoxnox]

Something In The Orange - Part 11

Summary: Price and Roach come up with a plan to take down Makarov

Warnings: Major Character Death (Fake), Mentioned Past Child Abuse, Makarov

Note: I am also posting this fic to my Ao3 if you would prefer to read it there!

Word Count: 8.3k

"Cause there's hurt and then there's pain

One comes and goes and the other brings chains for your

Feet and your hands, but its not up to you its what the demons demand

And your face it tells all, you hide your emotions just to comfort the fall"

"Comfort the Fall" - Evan Honer

“Why does Makarov know you?”

Roach held his hands out in a placating manner, “Just, let me explain,” he paused, trying to find his words, “It’s going to sound crazy, I’m going to sound crazy.”

Price readjusted his grip on his gun, “Talk. Don’t lie.”

Roach nodded and took a moment to gather his courage. He could only hope that Captain Price would hear him out rather than shoot him immediately after he spoke. “Makarov and I know each other from a previous life.”

Price tilted his head, “You were someone else before you were Gary Sanderson?”

Roach shook his head, “No when I say a previous life, I mean that literally. We both died, and we were both reborn here, our memories intact.”

There was a moment of silence between the two. Roach watched Price’s face carefully, hoping for any sort of slip that would give him an idea of what the other man was thinking. His heart jumped into his throat when he saw Price readjust the gun. “You expect me to believe,” he stopped for a moment, as though he didn’t understand what he was hearing, “That you were reborn? And that’s how you know Makarov.” He took a step towards Roach, “That’s bullshit.”

Roach held his hands up further and made another desperate plea, “It’s true! My friend, Paul Jackson, he was reborn too.” He took a few more steps away from Price, “I knew you, and the others. In my first life.” Price stopped at that and, after it became clear that he wasn’t going to get shot yet, Roach continued, “I was on the 141 in that life. Except when I was on the team, it was led by Soap.”

“Soap?” Disbelief was clear in his voice and Roach almost laughed at the look on his face. 

“Soap was on a team with you and Gaz in the SAS before the 141 formed.” He slowly lowered his hands, “You guys were on the hunt for Imran Zhakaev. You thought you killed him back before you were captain, turns out he lived. Gaz died during the hunt for Zhakaev.” Price’s face twisted into a look of pained surprise and Roach knew he was trying hard not to imagine this world's Gaz being killed. “You and Soap were recruited by Shepherd to start the 141. You recruited Ghost. I was a recommendation for a temporary mission. Operation Kingfish. It was the first time we went after Makarov.”

“How does this lead to Soap of all people being placed as the head of the 141?”

“You were captured,” Roach took a step closer to Price, feeling calmer now. “Taken as a prisoner. Soap was placed in charge when you left. My entire time on the 141 was spent hunting for Makarov.”

“But you died,” Price lowered his gun slightly, “How’d you die?”

Roach hesitated, “Shepherd.”

“He betrayed the team again?”

Roach nodded, “Ghost and I were killed,” he hesitated for a moment, “Makarov said that you and Soap killed him to avenge us.” 

Price nodded slowly, “That seems like something I would do.” After a moment of silence, he lifted his gun back up fully, “It’s a nice story. How do I know it’s true?”

Roach tried to think of what he could do to prove himself to Captain Price. The only thing that could come to his mind was information. He would have to tell Captain Price something that the man didn’t think he knew. He hesitated for a moment before deciding to just jump in, “Your Captain when you were a Lieutenant, his name was Captain MacMillan.” That had Captain Price stepping back slightly. As Roach was a lower rank than Price, he had no access to the man’s file and shouldn’t have known the information. 

“Alright,” Price muttered, “One point to you. What else?”

“You were SAS before joining special forces. You have a Russian Special Forces friend named Nikolai, he’s a pilot.” Roach was suddenly thankful for the fact that he hadn’t met Nikolai in this life yet. It helped to prove his case. “You and Kamarov worked together on a joint op in Russia, that's why you’re so friendly.”

“How do you know these things?” Price lowered the gun again.

“Because,” Roach sighed, “You told me. In my first life.”

There was another moment of silence between the two before Captain Price sighed and returned his gun to his holster, “I can’t believe I actually believe you about this.” Roach let out a sigh of relief.

“I can’t believe you believe me either,” He crouched to the ground, using the movement to get his bearings now that he didn’t have a gun pointed in his face, “God no one’s ever believed me outside of Jackson, and he only believes me because he went through the same thing.”

“You’ve told others before?”

“Doctors,” Roach explained, “Child psychologists that my parents took me to when I was younger. It’s not a very pleasant thing to be in the body of a child but have the mind of an adult.”

Price was silent for a moment, allowing Roach to take several calming breaths before finally standing back up to his full height to meet his gaze. The two stared at each other for a moment, unsure what to say. “Makarov remembers his first life too?”

Roach nodded and opened his mouth to speak. He stopped as he started to hear movement around them. The base was waking up and they certainly didn’t need to have this conversation out in the open. “Come with me,” Roach started back into the building where their rooms were located, “I’ll explain everything when we’re alone.”

The walk to his room was fairly quiet, both men choosing not to speak until they made their way somewhere more secure. Even if they did speak, they weren’t quite sure what they would say to the other. 

Roach opened the door to his room for Captain Price, closing it behind them and clicking the lock into place only moments later. He set them up at a small table in his room, pulling out a small bottle of whiskey that he had hidden for some time. He’d gotten it in one of his parent's care packages, but he was never much of a drinker, so it hadn’t been opened. He poured himself and Price a glass. 

Price smelled the liquor before taking a sip from it. He made a satisfied noise in the back of his throat, “Good stuff,” he muttered to Roach before taking another sip. 

Roach chuckled, “Thank my parents, they’re quite the connoisseurs when it comes to alcohol.”

Price gave a snort, “I’ll have to meet them then, folks after my own heart they are.”

Roach let the silence linger between them for a moment longer before returning his glass to the table and clearing his throat, “Makarov remembers his first life too. And he figured out that I remember mine.” 

Price watched him silently for a moment, “He grabbed you on purpose didn’t he? Because you remember.”

Roach nodded solemnly. He took a moment to think before responding, “You know when I found out that Shepherd still existed in this life, I had a bit of a breakdown. It’s scary, living in a world where the person who killed you is still running around completely fine, with the potential to do it again.”

“The mission when we killed him, you were scared shitless weren’t you?” Price tilted his head at Roach, “When you got shot, that’s why you asked me if Ghost was okay. You were worried Shepherd got to him again too.”

Roach took a sip from his whiskey, his eyes downcast as he remembered how scared he’d been during that mission. He had been on edge the entire time and getting shot again certainly hadn’t helped. “Yeah,” his voice broke, he took a moment to clear his throat, “It was terrifying. And I was so sure I was going to die again.”

“But you didn’t,” Price pointed out. “You changed things.”

“Yes,” Roach nodded, “Makarov wants to do the same for himself. He wants me to help him do it.”

“And what does that involve?”

“Killing you,” Roach looked up to meet Price’s gaze, his face serious, “You were apparently the one to kill him in his first life. I’m not sure what happened, but the whole thing apparently ended with you hanging him.”

Price let out a low whistle, “Way to go first life me.”

“Makarov is scared,” Roach noted, “Of you. He doesn’t want to take action while you’re still around to hang him again.”

“Which is why he wants you to kill me,” Price concluded. He took a sip from his whiskey, “Are you going to kill me, Roach?”

Roach sat up straight at that, panic filling his system as he shook his head wildly, “No, no I would never.” Roach met his eyes, “I turned him away, I swear to god.”

Price let the words hang in the air for a moment. “I believe you.” Roach let out a sigh of relief. “But Makarov thinks you will kill me. Why?”

“I think,” He toyed with the edge of his shirt, “I think he’s going to try to paint me as a traitor. That's why he let me go completely unharmed.”

Price nodded, “It did look quite suspicious.”

“He wants to turn you guys against me. Make me a traitor so that I only have him to go to.” He leaned forward against the table, his mind running a mile a minute, “He wants to force my hand. I won’t let him.”

“No?”

“No,” Roach shook his head, his face serious. Even the idea of betraying the 141 left a sour taste in his mouth. He could never hurt these people. “I’d kill myself before I let that happen.”

“Let’s try not to let it get that far,” Price leaned forward as well, meeting Roach’s eye, “There has to be something we could do.”

They sat in silence, occasionally taking a sip of their drink. Both men were lost in their thoughts, trying to come up with some way that they could get around the obvious play that Makarov had set up. To Roach, The hardest part of the situation had been dealt with. He had at least one person on his side who would believe him, even if Makarov tried to turn them against each other. Now, all he needed was a way to get rid of Makarov. 

The unfortunate thing was that he likely wasn’t going to be able to get close to the man, at least not in a situation where he had any control. Maybe if he could gain Makarov’s trust, maybe then he could get close enough to take him out. But, even if he killed Price and turned to Makarov’s side, he knew that there was no world in which the man would fully trust him. Still, getting that close might give him an opportunity. 

“What if,” he hesitated for a moment, “What if we play his game.”

“What?” Price raised an eyebrow, “Are you suggesting we let him turn everyone against you? Or that you kill me?”

“Both,” Roach said simply, “Well fake kill for the second one. If Makarov thinks his plan is working, if he thinks that I’ve been ousted from the team and branded a traitor, he’ll let his guard down. I could get close enough to kill him.”

“You could also get close enough to die,” Price pointed out, “We don’t know that he wouldn’t just kill you when the job is done.”

“True, but he’d want to see me. He’d want some proof that he’d actually broken me. That I’d killed you.”

Price sat in silence for a moment, pondering Roach’s words, “What are you suggesting?”

“We play his game.” Roach scooted forward in his seat, “There’s no doubt in my mind that he has an insider on base somewhere. We just, make that insider believe that you don’t trust me anymore.”

“Me and the team fake it.”

“No,” Roach took a deep breath, “Just you fake it.”

Price paused for a moment, looking Roach up and down before, “Are you suggesting what I think you are?”

“The rest of the team need to think I’ve actually betrayed you,” He took a deep breath and let a bitter smile cross his face, “I love Gaz and Soap, but goodness knows neither of them would be able to fake it very well.”

“And Ghost?”

“No way he’d let me go through with the plan,” Roach shook his head, “If we want it to be believable, they can’t know.”

“You understand-”

Roach cut him off, already knowing from the soft look on his face what the man was thinking, “I know.” He tried not to let the pit of dread in his stomach swallow him whole, “But I’d rather everyone hate me than Makarov win.”

“Alright,” Price said after a moment, his voice soft. “Just us two then.”

“And Laswell,” Roach cleared his throat, “We’ll need her help to sell everything. And to fake your death.”

“And Laswell,” Price repeated. “Alright, how do we get started?”

“There he is! Oh, my sweet boy!” Roach watched his mother fiddle with the camera on her computer, amusement flooding through his veins as she continued to adjust and readjust the camera.

“Honey,” he heard his father's voice and suddenly there were two hands in the frame working on the camera, “Just adjust it like this.”

The camera went wild for a moment before finally settling, he could see both of his parents in the frame. They were still watching the camera as though they expected it to suddenly flip on them and Roach couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped his lips. He got a big grin from his father in return, “Sorry for the sudden call,” he said after a moment. He tucked himself further into his bed. 

After the disastrous, or perfect depending on how he looked at it, meeting with the rest of the 141, he’d been left alone. He didn’t even attempt to find Soap and Ghost, knowing that he wouldn’t know what to say to the two and that they likely didn’t even want to speak with him. So, instead, he’d slunk back to his own room. He didn’t have to act upset by the entire situation. Even though he knew that it was all a show on his part, being thought of as a traitor by the people he cared about was enough to create genuine anxiety and guilt in his throat. 

The first thing he’d done upon returning to his room was to tend to the cut on his face. It had been left to bleed when he and Price were dragged into the meeting room and, though it likely wouldn’t cause any problems for him, he desperately wanted the feeling of dried blood off of his face. 

It had been while gently cleaning up his face that his mind had turned to his parents. He hadn’t spoken to them in quite some time, though he could assume that Jackson had told them he was doing alright. Any guilt he felt for the team was soon combined with the guilt he felt for not visiting them and the temporary stress he knew that they would soon be under. No doubt that when things went down and Roach was painted as a traitor, his parents would be told and would even possibly have their house searched for his presence. He couldn’t do that to them, at least not without talking to them first. 

So he’d changed into something a bit more comfortable and texted his mother to ask if they could video chat. She’d responded within minutes, despite it being the middle of the day. 

“I meant to call earlier, but things have been busy,” he gave the excuse, he always had an excuse. 

Like usual, they weren’t angry, “Oh it’s alright bubs,” that was his dad, “We’re just happy to hear from you. And happy to see that you’re in one piece.”

Roach could already feel his nose twitching and his throat constricting with the need to cry, but he forced that down and gave his parents a grin, “You guys know it takes a lot to take me out. I’m tougher than that.”

“We know honey,” His mother’s voice was soft, “That doesn’t mean we don’t worry. You’re out there doing dangerous things. It’s every parent's worst nightmare to know their child is putting themselves in danger and it certainly doesn’t help when they don’t call very often.”

His father nodded, “And Paul is an excellent help to calm us down, but even he said that you’ve not been updating him as much. It’s hard for us not to think the worst.”

Roach swallowed harshly and tightened his fist into one of his blankets to help him control his emotions, “I know,” he gave them an apologetic glance, “I know. I’ll do better I promise.” It was a lie. “I’ll come to visit home soon.” Another lie. 

“Oh, we’d love that!” His mother folded her hands together and let out a delighted gasp, he could see the beginnings of tears forming in her eyes. She was always emotional when Roach mentioned coming home. “You know your brother just had another baby and you haven’t had the chance to meet the little guy yet. Did he tell you what he named him?”

Roach shook his head, a small smile crossing his face. He adored his nieces and nephews, even if he didn’t get to see them often, “What is this? Baby number eight? He and his wife stay quite busy.”

His father chuckled at his joke and his mother shook her head at him, but he could see the grin that she tried to keep hidden, “This is only number five Gary, and Johnathan still only has the three. But what I was trying to tell you about the new baby is that it’s a boy and you know what he named him?”

“No mom, I only got the confirmation text about the birth, I never heard anything else.”

His mom grinned and even through the screen he could see her excitement, “The baby was born seven pounds four ounces, he had the most adorable tuft of brown hair on his head and his name is Walter Gary Sanderson.”

“Oh,” Roach felt his heart leap up to his throat and his eyes begin to water. “Why,” he paused to clear his throat, “Why didn’t Eddie tell me?”

His mother shook her head, “I think he wanted to tell you in person. So you can’t tell him that I told you, okay?” She gave him a smile, “I just thought it was so sweet, I couldn’t not tell you.”

“You know your mother,” his father joked, “She can’t keep a secret to save her life.”

“Oh hush,” she playfully slapped his arm. It pulled a smile on Roach’s face. “But anyways,” she turned back to the camera with a smile, “What’s been going on with you bubba?”

Roach looked away from the camera for a moment, staring at the wall of his room as he tried to come up with a response that wouldn’t stress his parents out, “Just the usual,” he said after a moment, “Normal missions, then rest, then a mission again.”

His father gave a tut, “They work you too hard. They need to give you more time off.” Roach winced slightly. The military gave him plenty of time off, just time that he had to choose to use. He hadn’t ever told his parents that the reason he never seemed to have time off was just that he didn’t use it. He didn’t think he could handle their reaction. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t like going home or that he didn’t want to see his family, it was just difficult for him. His family in his first life had been scum at the bottom of a barrel and his entire childhood was spent in fear and stress. Even though his family in this life was far kinder, it was hard for him to separate them at times. It wasn’t their fault, but when he’s home, he feels far jumpier than he knows he should and the guilt that claws into his chest from not trusting his family makes him stay away. 

“I know, it’s just things have been a little crazy lately. Everyone is working overtime,” he gave them an apologetic smile, “In fact, I ship out on another mission tomorrow.”

He saw a frown tug at his mother's lips. His father was much better at hiding his less-than-pleased reaction, “Didn’t you just get back from one yesterday? Paul told us that you were going on one.”

He grimaced, “Some things came up momma, we’re having a quick turnaround because of it.” He ran his hands nervously along his sheets for a moment, feeling his eyes sting once again with the threat of tears. He needed to end the call before he ended up crying on his parents. It wasn’t fair to them, but he also knew it wouldn’t be fair to them if he started crying. They’d take it to mean something terrible was happening and would start demanding that he not go on whatever dangerous mission he was being sent on and demand that he come home. He couldn’t do that to them and he couldn’t do that to himself. “My next mission should be short though, then I should get some off time,” he lied, “I just wanted to call and let you guys know what’s been going on, hear your voices and all that.”

“You know you can call us whenever,” his father's voice was soft and warm, “We love hearing from you.”

“I know,” Roach nodded his head, “I’ve got to go now just,” he paused, “One more thing. You may hear some weird stuff about me soon, just don’t believe it too closely, yeah?”

“Honey,” his mother's voice was laced with concern, “What does that mean?”

He gave her a plastic smile, “Nothing, love you guys.” He didn’t wait for their response before ending the call. His face crumpled once the call was done and he could feel hot tears burning down his face again. His chest constricted and he felt that he couldn’t fully breathe as he crumbled into himself. 

He ignored his computer as it lit up with his parent's attempts to call him back. He knew if he answered, he would only worry them more.

Roach bounced his knee up and down anxiously, his hands rubbing nervously over his wrist where, only hours previously, he’d had a micro tracker placed. It wasn’t exactly his favorite thing, to have a GPS tracker literally embedded into his skin, but it was the only way that he, Price, and Laswell could imagine they’d be able to get the thing past Makarov. 

He tried hard not to focus on the fact that the other members of the team wouldn’t meet his eye or that Price was doing quite an excellent job at pretending to hate him. The last thing that he needed was to be focused on how bad the entire situation was making him feel, especially when he knew he would feel even worse in just a few hours time. 

He had to admit, though he would never say it out loud, Makarov was very very clever. He certainly had figured out a way to get to Roach, because even when it wasn’t real, he was struggling with the weight of being viewed as a traitor. 

He wanted Ghost and Soap to view him as a possible liability, but the fact that they actually did made his chest ache and his head fog up. It was all an act, but the ease with which most of the team had turned against him wasn’t, and it clawed at his chest. He tried not to think too hard about the way it made him feel, after all, it was the last thing he needed to be worried about as the small van that the team was in grew closer and closer to their drop point outside of Rojas’ estate. 

The silence inside the transport was almost suffocating, so Roach was quite grateful when the vehicle finally pulled to a stop and he and the rest of the team filed out, almost immediately dropping their night vision down. 

They paused once they’d all left the transport, waiting on Price as he spoke quickly to the driver, finally, after a moment he stepped towards the group. “Alright, we all know the plan. Let’s get it done.” He glared at Roach, his face twisting into a scowl, “Sanderson, you take point. I don’t want you behind any of us with live rounds.”

Roach bit his lip to keep his sigh in, “Yes, sir.” He moved to the front of the group, avoiding the eyes that followed him as he moved. Price moved up next to him, but staggered slightly back so there was no chance of Roach being in his blind spot. 

With everyone in position, the group began moving toward the large wall that surrounded the estate, their eyes sharp as they kept watch of the area around them. Though Laswell had informed them that the estate had no soldiers on patrol outside of the wall during the night, they still made sure to keep their eyes peeled for any surprises. 

Roach was the one to shoot out the light above the wall, his suppressed weapon making virtually no noise as Ghost boosted Soap up onto the wall. Soap helped Gaz up first, then Price, then Roach, before finally, Ghost followed behind them. 

The portion of the wall that they’d crossed was a bit of a blind spot in the estate’s security. No cameras pointed to the location and the security around it was lax, even during the daytime. So, with the light knocked out, they had no issue crossing over into the estate and readying themselves to make entry into the building. 

“Alright boys,” Price lifted his weapon, “Let’s keep it as quiet as we can, the last thing we need is Rojas realizing we’re here and making a run for it. Take out any camera’s that you see. Only fire on security if you have to.” 

“Should we set up a few covering charges on nearby vehicles?” Soap asked, eagerness in his voice. “It’ll give us cover if we have to make a quick escape.”

After a moment Price nodded, “Only on the ones we pass, no one wonders away from the group. Sanderson, point, now.”

Roach ignored the way that Price’s voice had gone from soft to harsh when he turned his attention to him and moved back up to take point for the group. He started carefully towards a side entrance to the building, following the plan Laswell had given. Occasionally the group would be called to stop so Soap could set up an explosive on a vehicle or hide one beside a small building on the estate. 

They ran into, luckily, very little resistance, only spotting a few guards at various points in their movement. They were forced to take an odd path, trying to avoid the gaze of the cameras and find an angle that would allow them to sneak past unseen. Several times they were able to simply hide and wait for the guards to pass them, but there were two or three times when they were forced to open fire. 

At one point Roach shot a man over Price’s shoulder, reacting quicker than anyone else on the team. He didn’t expect anyone to say anything, and he definitely didn’t expect Price to turn and scowl at him. “Watch your fire sergeant.”

“But I-”

“Move.”

Roach didn’t have to feign the frustration that he felt as he turned and continued leading the team toward the main building on the estate. 

As they neared the side entrance to the building, Roach could feel anticipation as well as nerves begin building up at an alarming rate within his system. He was rather surprised that, by the time he took his position beside the side entrance, his hands weren’t shaking. Though he knew that his oncoming actions were necessary and had been previously planned out, he still felt like his throat was going to close in on itself and his chest was going to collapse. 

The rest of the team lined up on the other side of the door, each ready to make a quick and quiet entrance to the house. They knew that no matter what, things in the house were likely going to become more difficult and more quick-paced as soon as they made an entrance. 

Roach waited for the nod from Price before he bashed the door open with the but of his gun, feeling and hearing the wood splinter away to allow him to quickly pass through the doorway. He delivered two quick shots to the only visible men in the small den area before checking around the rest of the room with wide sweeps of his weapon. “Clear,” he called after a moment, hearing the rest of the team enter the room behind him. 

Roach stayed on alert, watching the entry to the room just in case other guards in the house heard the door being broken open and decided to come investigate. He kept his back turned from the rest of the group as Price began speaking. “Alright, we’ve all got out orders. We get Rojas, and we get the fuck out of here. Sanderson,” Roach turned to him, meeting his glare with a neutral look, “Here. You meet us in the backyard once you finished” The flash drive that he would be using was practically thrown at him and, in the next few moments, the members of the 141 were moving past him.

He stood silently, his jaw clenched as no one spoke a word to him as they passed. It was only when the team had fully left the room that he allowed himself to lift his gun back up and begin towards the estate's computer room, trying to mentally prepare himself for what he expected to find waiting for him. 

He was methodical as he moved, knowing that he would have to be extremely careful since he had no one to watch his back for him as he moved through the house. From the room that he and the other members of the team made entry in, he moved out towards the left, finding himself in a kitchen. 

There was no one immediately in his sight, but as he proceeded towards the exit to the kitchen he could hear footsteps casually approaching. He set his back against the wall by the door, setting his gun gently on the ground in favor of pulling his knife from his belt. As soon as he saw movement he lunged, jumping out to cover the man’s mouth with one hand and stab the knife into his chest with the other. He pulled the weapon from his chest, knocking his hands down as they came up to grapple at him, and twisted the blade to give himself a better grip as he lodged the weapon into the man’s neck. With a quick drag to the left, he pulled the weapon free and the man was falling to the ground, his death having occurred virtually silently.

He was quick to wipe the blood onto his tactical pants before placing his knife in his usual spot and returning his gun to attention in his hands. He carefully stepped over the body on the ground and made his way further into the house.

He followed his memory of the home’s layout in his head, moving from the kitchen into a large open foyer and towards the stairs that would lead him to the second floor. 

As he began up the stairs, he could hear idle chatting between two people on the first floor and he stopped, turning and dropping into a crouch to help better conceal his form as two of Rojas’ guards stepped into the foyer. He watched them closely as they moved, waiting to see if he would need to take the two men out before moving to the second floor. 

As the men moved further into the room he heard a gasp and it didn’t take him more than a second to realize that one of the men had spotted the body he’d left in the entrance to the kitchen. Knowing that the two could raise the alarm on the team if he didn’t, Roach raised his weapon to deliver two quick shots to the men, wincing slightly as their bodies hit the ground in a noisy thump. 

He waited patiently for a moment, listening carefully for any further voices or footsteps that would indicate someone heading in his direction. When, after a moment, he heard nothing, he stood back to his full height and started up the stairs again. “I’m moving to the second floor,” he whispered into his comms. He got no response back. 

He peeked over the railing of the stairway and into the large open room at the top. At first, he didn’t spot anything, but after a loud cheer that saw him ducking down on instinct, he realized fairly quickly that there were three men on a couch in the room. Their backs were to him and it was clear that each of them was too engrossed in whatever was playing on the tv in front of them. 

Roach used it to his advantage, quickly and quietly crossing behind the group to get to the hallway he needed to be at. He made sure to stay low as he moved, trying to avoid any possibility of a glare or reflection on the screen giving him away. To his immense pleasure, he was able to make it past the group with no issues. 

He stood up to his full height once he was safely in the hallway, letting out a short sigh of relief before refocusing on his objective. He crept ever so slowly down the hallway to the very last door, making sure that his footsteps were quiet to avoid alerting anyone in any of the other rooms along the hall. 

When he made it to the end of the hall he took a deep breath and mentally prepared himself for what was about to come. These were some of the last moments of peace he was going to have for some time. “I’m moving into the security room, standby for camera control.”

With that he carefully twisted the knob on the door, opening it as quietly as he could. He delivered a quick shot to the one guard he could see directly in the room, seeing the man slump forward onto the camera controls in a clear sign that his shot had landed. He moved into the room quickly then, shutting the door behind him and making his way over to the cameras. 

There were a total of fifteen cameras set up over the entire property, the team had taken out five of them. Two were out in the house and three were out on the outside of the estate. Through the cameras, he could watch as the 141 made entry into Rojas’ room and, only a moment later, emerged with the man tied up and gagged. 

“Sanderson, we’ve secured Rojas. Plug into the system and get that information before we decide to leave you behind,” Price’s voice was rough as he led the team towards the back of the house where they had agreed on a meeting point. 

“Copy, I’m plugging in now.” He removed the flash drive from the pocket of his uniform and plugged it into one of the available slots on the side of the security system. He kept his eyes peeled on the computer, watching carefully as files began downloading and camera control was transferred to the team. He gave a sigh of relief when the tell-tale green triangle popped up, telling him that the team had control of the cameras, including the one in the room he was in. 

“Terrible manners, breaking into someone’s house like this.” 

Roach turned quickly, fright burning through his system as he started to raise his gun, he was met with a fist to his face and guards grabbing his arms before he could even get his hands on the weapon. 

Within a moment, he was stripped of all of his weapons and shoved back against the far wall of the room, two separate guns pointed at him in a warning. “Makarov,” he acknowledged after a moment, pressing himself further against the wall as the dark-haired man started calmly stalking towards him. 

“Try anything and they’ll shoot,” Makarov’s words mimicked what he had said to him back at the safehouse and Roach couldn’t help the shiver that went down his spine. Makarov seemed to find the move amusing as he tilted his head to give him a crooked grin. “Have you considered my offer anymore?”

“I already told you I’m not killing Price,” Roach bit out, his face hardening, “I won’t do it.”

“Even when he doesn’t trust you?” Makarov gave him a pout and stepped closer to him, “You are far too loyal to a man who so easily casts you aside.”

Roach shook his head, “Price trusts me.”

Makarov let out a tut and took several steps forward that had Roach trying to scramble away. He froze when he felt the other man’s hand on his cheek, his thumb gently tracing over the cut from his argument with Price, “What’s this then? I know it’s not from my men.” Roach tried to push his hand away. That proved to be a mistake when, in a flash, the hand quickly transferred from his cheek to his neck, placing harsh pressure that had him gasping, his hands coming up to scratch at the hand around his throat. Makarov’s eyes had gone harsh, “Now, now, I’m being nice. You be nice too.”

Roach let out several desperate gasps when Makarov pulled his hand from his throat, the man’s face quickly melting back into soft amusement. “Fuck,” Roach muttered to himself as he rubbed a hand over his throat, “It’s just from a training accident,” he lied. 

Makarov snorted, “You are a terrible liar insect.” The words had Roach forcing down amusement. “I know he doesn’t trust you, I know none of them trust you. That’s why you’re here and they are,” he turned to the cameras in the room, “there.” He pointed to where the team was gathered in the backyard of the estate.

“It doesn’t matter,” Roach bit out, his voice hard, “I won’t kill Price.”

“Yes, you will,” Makarov turned back to him and approached again. “You’ll kill him for me. And when you do,” he made a move of smoothing out Roach’s tactical uniform, “You’ll come to me.”

Roach suppressed a shudder, “Why would I come to you?”

“Because you’ll need help,” it was said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You’ll need help and I will be more than happy to help you.” 

Roach shook his head but was stopped as a hand suddenly reached out to grab his face, slamming his head back painfully against the wall behind him. “Jesus fuck!”

“You’re amusing when you’re in pain,” Makarov said with a grin. He turned away from Roach and made his way back to his men, “When you kill Price, you can meet me at the church in town. I like to go there and pray on nights like this. I’ll be waiting for you.”

Makarov left the room, casually strolling out and leaving Roach up against a wall with two guns pointed at him and his hand cradling his own head in pain. He once again felt that dread bubble up when the two men followed Makarov out quickly after, once again leaving him alone with barely a scratch. “Fuck me,” he muttered to himself before scrambling across the floor to grab his gun and race back out into the hallway. The men were already gone. 

“Sanderson, what the fuck are you doing? Get down here now!”

“Where is he?” The words were muttered nervously by Soap, his eyes glancing around the yard wildly. Price felt bad for the man. He felt equally as bad for Ghost, the man standing next to him quietly, with equal anticipation for Roach’s arrival in his eyes. Price felt god awful for his boys. 

“Let’s check the cameras,” Price’s voice was rough, but he didn’t bother saying anything bad about Roach. He already knew that the next few hours and possibly days were going to be hell for his team, he didn’t need to add to it. 

The team gathered around him as he pulled out his portable device, switching through the different camera views to get to the one for the security room. The view that the team was faced with made Price’s blood run cold and pulled a startled gasp from Gaz. “Is that fucking Makarov?”

The team couldn’t hear anything and Makarov had the camera positioned perfectly. They couldn’t see any of the men who Price assumed stood just out of their view with weapons trained on Roach, instead all that they could see was their teammate against a wall speaking with a known terrorist. 

“What the fuck is going on?” Ghost’s voice was harsh, but Price could hear the betrayal clear in his throat. 

“I knew it,” he muttered loud enough for the team to hear. They watched through the cameras as Makarov approached Roach and appeared to be fixing the man’s uniform, it was a friendly gesture that Price knew was meant for his team to see. The camera briefly cut out, but when it came back Makarov was turning away from Roach. Price noted with keen eyes that Roach was holding his head now and he could only assume that Makarov had done something to him during the brief camera cutout. 

The team watched as Makarov began strolling towards the exit to the room. “C’mon Roach, fucking do something,” Soap was the one who muttered it, desperation in his voice. The video certainly made it look like Roach was simply letting Makarov leave after the two had a nice conversation. Price felt his blood boiling when he spotted Makarov give a brief flash of a grin to the camera. 

Price clicked to close the video, he and the team didn’t need to see more. After a moment of silence from the group, he switched channels and radioed Laswell, “Kate, did you see that?”

There was a sigh of defeat over the line, “I did John. Team, Sergeant Gary Sanderson is now considered a hostile informant for a known terrorist. You need to bring him in.”

“Understood,” Price switched his comms back to the channel with the rest of the team. He turned to the side, spotting the heartbroken look on Soap’s face and recognizing the tenseness of Ghost’s body. He couldn’t not say anything to the men, “I’m sorry. I know how the two of you felt about him.”

Ghost stood up taller and, with a voice devoid of emotion, responded, “It doesn’t matter how we felt Captain. What matters now is that we bring him in.”

Price only paused for a moment, taking a split second to steel his face and his nerves again. He hated all of this, but he wasn’t going to back out, not when Roach was and already had sacrificed so much for the mission. After a moment he took a deep breath and radioed in on his comms, “Sanderson, what the fuck are you doing? Get down here now!”

Roach didn’t face any resistance on his way to meet up with the rest of the team, something he was ever grateful for as it meant that he could take the time to mentally prepare himself for what was about to happen. 

“I’m sorry,” he said as soon as he approached the team, “I ran into some trouble.” He gave them a grin. 

He met the stoney and harsh gazes of the entire team, his grin slowly falling as he looked around at them, “We know,” the harsh words were from Price. 

Roach took a step back, “You know?”

In a second, he had Price’s gun pointed at him, then a moment later, the entire team was surrounding him, their weapons drawn. “What the fuck? What are you guys doing?” Roach held his hands up, looking around at everyone frantically. 

“Sergeant Sanderson lay down your weapons at your feet and drop to your knees.” Price took a menacing step closer to him, “Now.”

Roach shook his head, “I don’t,” he looked around at the team, “I don’t understand!” He turned to Ghost then, taking a step closer to the man, “Ghost what-” 

He stumbled back when Ghost took a step towards him as well, his gun steady and his eyes harsh, “On the ground Sanderson.”

Roach looked to Soap next, meeting the similarly harsh gaze from the man. He turned back around then, facing Price, “What is going on, I did the mission! I proved myself!”

“To Makarov maybe,” Price stepped closer, “We saw you, on the cameras. Now you’re going to come with us and tell us everything that you know.”

Price began taking measured steps towards Roach, the team still around him to block any plan of escape that he had. It was just as Price was about to grab Roach’s arm that an explosion went off in the distance, startling the entire team. 

The explosive was one Roach had placed himself, knowing he would need it as a distraction for this very moment. As the explosion went off and the entire team was distracted, he took the opportunity to dart past Price and sprint for cover nearby. The movement sent the rest of the 141 scrambling for cover themselves, a stand-off of sorts forming between the team and Roach. 

“I’m not a traitor!” Roach called over his cover, his back pressed against it as he carefully switched the rounds in his sidearm to something much milder that would pose much less danger to the team. 

“The time for that talk is over,” Price was the one who yelled, the man standing up from his cover and moving slowly in Roach’s direction despite Gaz trying to stop him, “Now come out, with your hands up and your weapon down or we’ll be forced to open fire.” There was a pause, no sound coming from either party for a moment. In the next second Price opened fire, spreading bullets in the general direction of Roach’s cover, “That was a warning Sergeant, now come out with your hands up.”

Roach took several deep breaths behind his cover, mentally preparing himself as he listened to Price continue speaking, waiting for his cue. “I’m not coming out. I’m not a traitor.”

“We don’t want to hurt you, Sergeant. Are you going to fire on us?” Price took several steps even closer, “Come out, Roach.” 

There it was. 

Roach ever so slowly began peeking out from his cover, “Alright just, don’t shoot. I swear I didn’t betray anyone.” He fully stood then, his hands in the air. 

“Drop the weapon,” Price called, his gun trained on Roach. He nodded hesitantly and threw his weapon away from himself, wincing slightly at the clang that it made as it hit the pavement. Price nodded, “Now the knife.” Roach did as he was told, “And the sidearm.” Roach moved to pull his weapon out, watching as the rest of the team began stepping up to join Price, their weapons lowered as he was mostly disarmed. That was when Price made his move, “Faster.”

“I’m trying not to get shot,” Roach’s voice was shakey. 

“I said faster,” Price waited a moment, but after seeing that Roach had completely paused, jerked his gun up in a sudden and dangerous movement. 

Just as they had discussed, Roach jumped at the motion, his instincts driving him to draw his sidearm and pop off four quick shots directly at Price. He watched, a horrified look painting his face as Price dropped to the ground, blood seeping from around his vest. 

It was all fake of course, nothing but fake rounds and some well-placed special effects, but the team's reactions weren’t fake. 

Gaz let out a scream as Price dropped to the ground, dropping to his knees next to him quickly and beginning to pull off the man’s vest, trying desperately to get to where he could block the bullet wound. “Captain? Captain shit! Laswell, we need a medevac now!”

Soap moved slowly, horror on his face as he dropped to the ground next to Gaz. His own gun was discarded next to him as he watched the blood begin to stain the ground around Price. Gaz was pleading with him to help him with the wound, but Soap didn’t move. 

Ghost, on the other hand, immediately opened fire on Roach, forcing the younger man to take off in a sprint. Ghost naturally gave chase, but he refused to move too far away from the rest of the team, so when Roach darted around a corner of one of the walls of the house, he let out several curses but didn’t follow any further. 

Chaos reigned around the estate for several minutes as the team were met with medics and forced to give them cover as Price was loaded into a stretcher. They all watched with growing horror as Price was loaded into the medical transport, the world completely frozen as they watched one of the paramedics begin CPR. 

It wasn’t even ten minutes later when Laswell came over their comms, her voice choked up as she delivered the news that Captain Price was dead.

Prev: Part 10

Next: Part 12

[fcb4]

“I was eight when my mother showed me porn…she abused me sexually, physically and emotionally…” -A young man at one of the men's centers.

Sexual brokenness in our communities is a profound challenge to navigate these days. Individuals are struggling with so many issues that criss-cross sexuality, relationships, gender, economics, family history, education, sexually transmitted infections, fertility, abortion, access to healthcare etc. It's a load of life-shaping issues that impact the soul, our bodies, minds and attempts to have meaningful relationships with people.

This week I preached twice on the story of Potipher’s Wife and Joseph found in Genesis 39. The impact of these two men’s center chapel services, one at Union Gospel Mission and the other at Adult and Teen Challenge were deep and meaningful.

The conversations that have resulted, the prayer and ministry times with men and the stories shared have been shocking, troubling and motivating. Men are hungry for healing, hope and help in these matters.

The cry to be able to say “NO” like Joseph did was heard by God and one another in these rooms. The tears, the confessions, the repentance, the sharing of burdens was so moving to watch. The impartation of the HOLY Spirit was at work in these times through the harnessing of unmanaged desires, exposing delusions and deceptions and releasing hope, healing and freedom to help men see they are not alone and God sees their battles and longing for victory.

God is at work in the hearts of men and women in this desperate hour and it is moving to witness. Please pray for the continued faithfulness and fruitfulness in this work and that real growth and freedom will be born out of the bridges being built through these outreaches. That men and women will take the invitations to connect deeper with one another and move into greater community and discipleship in the days ahead in programs and the pews.

Genesis 39:10-20

“She kept putting pressure on Joseph day after day, but he refused to sleep with her, and he kept out of her way as much as possible. One day, however, no one else was around when he went in to do his work. She came and grabbed him by his cloak, demanding, “Come on, sleep with me!” Joseph tore himself away, but he left his cloak in her hand as he ran from the house. When she saw that she was holding his cloak and he had fled, she called out to her servants. Soon all the men came running. “Look!” she said. “My husband has brought this Hebrew slave here to make fools of us! He came into my room to rape me, but I screamed. When he heard me scream, he ran outside and got away, but he left his cloak behind with me.” She kept the cloak with her until her husband came home. Then she told him her story. “That Hebrew slave you’ve brought into our house tried to come in and fool around with me,” she said.“But when I screamed, he ran outside, leaving his cloak with me!” Potiphar was furious when he heard his wife’s story about how Joseph had treated her. So he took Joseph and threw him into the prison where the king’s prisoners were held, and there he remained.”

[bluedevilsrpg]

MADAME MASSACRE

NAVIGATOR. W. ( 32-35 ) Kuroki Meisa. TW: death, war, murder, implied abuse.

HISTORY

DRUNK ON BLOOD, DRUNK ON FLESH - IT HURTS AND YET YOU CAN NOT STOP FROM WATCHING IT SLICE, AGAIN GOES THE KNIFE. But before the anguish, before the rage, there was a child so desperately clawing to live. In the flames of a frivolous war rationed by the tongues of nobility, it was hardworking, poor laboring families that paid the price. Alone, you stood on top of a burning hill. An orphaned child, you demanded to be wanted, needed, made useful like a weapon and stripped of humanity. The thing about your tragedy is that you were lost in the moment of your becoming: your life never permitted innocence or purity - you were forged in brutality, in hostility, in sadistic, arrogant smiles. You learned quickly between mistakes and survival, at all costs, at all prices; it would be your hand to slaughter. So you embraced the terror and the grotesque unbecoming of murderous lunacy like second skin. 

So what happens to the girl who was handed a knife and taught to kill?  She kills a part of herself again and again. Power was for the rich, strength for the poor. Your tainted fingers commit every despicable act imaginable with your two hands and what remains is not a woman, not a human, but a weapon. Vengeance to those who stole from you, wrath upon the bastards who cost you your sister. Sleepless nights pass and you exist between the boundaries of madness and hysteria. There is only silence in killing. So again and again, your blades strike. Madame Massacre, Mistress of Murder - Monstress all in one. 

CONNECTIONS

SAINT GUILLOTINE ⌱ YOU’D LOOK BEAUTIFUL LYING IN A GRAVE

The past is a blurry fog of miserable hauntings and unforgettable regrets. The empire that destroyed your family was the same one to forge you into a waking weapon. You had nearly forgotten what companionship was until he held out his hand in what appeared to be an offering. Foolish girl, you believed in the kindness, in the chuckles and the intimacy of your own vulnerabilities open and outright. You didn’t see the knife he held behind his back, nor did you see the freedom he touted when he slaughtered the weak. He taught you cruelty and hopelessness when he threw you into prison. And the little good you clung onto has morphed into horror and hatred. You learned of the peace in annihilation. Perhaps one day you shall thank him with a taste of your personal retribution.

GOD KILLER & RAZOR FIST ⌱  MY LEGACY WRITES AND REWRITES

You knew them once as close as family, or perhaps it was the shared fate of a generation past. Your father and theirs making their mark in the world with their legendary travels beyond the great seas, notorious pirates of the Greatest Generation, their list of accolades shining brilliantly in tales sung. Their fathers were memorialized by their sons. And you? You were ignored and undermined because of your family's early demise. Injustice lies in the heroes made by man; how dare they overlook you, the last to stand in honor of your family’s name. Despite the desire to fuel your unending rage, it is only GOD KILLER and RAZOR FIST that remain as the last link to your father’s legacy, a world that is a dream away.

FLOWER OF ICE ⌱  I WILL WATCH UNTIL THE HYMN ENDS AND TEAR OPEN YOUR HEART

Sensitive to the presence of strangers, you saw the shadows that lurked in the corridors of the palace. You played the part of a fool, underestimating the woman and mistaking her interest as sybaritic fixation. It isn’t until she begins to appear in the corners of all the places you step that you find yourself met with something inexplicably wicked. She burns down a village that reminds you so much of your home. The grief presents itself in a cold, cruel threat - one where you could so easily snap her by the throat. She trembles before you but it is not fear that glitters from her eyes, rather, she smiles and murmurs her prayers to you in worship. You feel only hatred for a woman made in immoral depravity. And yet, she saves your life with a gruesome gift in tow. You ignore her pursuit but sink further into an internal battle of desire and disgust. 

LITTLE MISS RED ⌱ WHAT IS THERE TO FEAR IN A GIRL WHO’S ONLY EVER KNOWN GOLD

You can’t help but hate her for everything that she is and stands for. But perhaps deep within the hatred is an innate dream of what your life could have been if you were born into prestige like she was. A girl who became a woman with little to no wants could have never labored in the methods you did. Even now, you only see her as someone who has found herself in this wretched madness of her own accord. This new life that she selected was never a choice for you. She plays the role with an insufferable naivete. She reminds you of your family and the innocence that cost them their lives. You can’t look at her without seeing the past and the future that taunts you in your nightmares. It is far simpler to despise what you do not know.

MADAME MASSACRE IS OPEN & THEIR SPECIAL STAT IS STRENGTH.

[proudfreakmetarusonniku]

(/rp! also, huge trigger warning for assault, graphic violence, death, abuse, possessive behaviour, obsession, mental breaks, hallucination, really fucking creepy treatment of a corpse, unreliable narrators, the perspective of a villain, torture, manipulation, and gaslighting! this gets pretty fucked up).

When Dream sees Tommy for the first time, there is no dramatic shift, no acknowledgement that his life had changed forever. No knowledge of the fact. All he sees is a skinny little kid who's obnoxious and loud, and he catalogues him just as one of Philza’s strays and leaves it at that.

No, it’s when Tommy drives the sword into his chest for the first time, and Dream wakes up from his non-canon death smiling despite itself when it clicks. He’s not sure what “it” is, exactly, but it’s just something about him Dream hadn’t seen in anyone before that has him hooked, captivated from the beginning.

(There's the vague recollection that he was like Tommy once, a bright eyed naive youth too loud for his own good, but that’s not unique. It’s not that, at least not entirely.)

The conflict was not started by Tommy, nor was he of any particular threat to Dream, but he was fun. So he ignored the rest, and took the boy's music discs. He knew Tommy well enough that he’d fight for them, and fight he did, and even though Dream lost in the end he laughed all the while. He’d played many a game before, but none quite this fun!

They both know this isn’t where it’ll end. Only one hopes it will be.

——

Dream didn’t care much about Wilbur's little revolutionary movement at first. As long as he obeyed the rules, and stayed in the server, it wouldn’t matter whether he delusionally thought he was under his own governance or not.

This changed immediately when he learnt Tommy was involved.

L'Manburg, a name he didn’t bother to remember until he learnt Tommy named it, was tiny, barely any more than a scavenged old world vehicle and some trees. It’s populace was peaceful, only Wilbur even an adult. None of that mattered. It wasn’t that the nation was a threat, though he certainly wouldn’t dissuade his friends fear that it was. But fighting L'Manburg meant fighting Tommy, and Dream wouldn't pass up the opportunity for anything.

He grinned with glee behind his mask as he blew Tommy's strange dirt hovel “embassy” sky high, enthusiastically threatened Tommy before remembering half heartedly to threaten the rest of the nation. He made dealings, found weak links- a new immigrant to the SMP that joined L'Manburg after the war began, it turns out. He offered extravagant promises in exchange for their betrayal, hiding the strings attached to his fingers.

Oh, but it was all worth it when the person with the eyes of an old god lead the revolutionaries into a trap, all worth it when they descended on them at once. It was definitely worth it to kill Tommy, kill Tommy, see him scream and cry in pain and stumble trying to escape and him taking a shuddering last breath. Dream had never seen anything as beautiful.

(It was a war, and feelings like this were okay in wars, right? It’s not like he was obsessed, it’s not like he was a monster. He’d been trying to be good, and killing your enemies was good, right?)

He killed Tommy a second time, too. The boy with shaking hands and a leg hanging limp challenged him to a duel for his nations future. His loss was assured, and Dream knew Tommy knew that also. This one was quicker, Tommy dead between the arrow entering his skull and his broken body make a loud thud against the planks, but it was no less fascinating. If only he had infinite canon lives, Dream would happily give up any ambitions and spend eternity seeing the boy die in so many fascinating ways.

(No, what the fuck was he thinking? The SMP was worth more than some stupid kid, and Dream wasn’t so inept with morality to know torturing someone over and over, killing them, was wrong.)

(Yet, it was so tempting he was almost ready to renounce morality wholeheartedly.)

It eventually comes to the discs again, Tommy handing Dream his prized possessions for some silly little nation. Dream knew Tommy would do anything to get them back. Having so much control was addicting, even more than control of anything else. Dream had learnt long ago that if you didn’t have complete power over anything, people would take the power from you and make you hurt.

So why did he care more about control of some kid than avoiding his own pain?

——

Dream would have sided with Tommy. Really, he would have, but Schlatt just had the better deal.

He holds the book in his hands, power filling him. He repeats the incantation, sacrifices the blood from his veins. He stares into the face of a man near-identical.

“”Brother dearest,”” he says, voice level. “”What do you wish of me?””

Dream grins behind his mask. “”Tommy.””

—

Wishes must come true, Dream thinks, as he sits on the beach of Logstedshire, Tommy passed out and leaning against his arm.

Oh, what he’d give for this moment to last forever. Alas, it passes, like they all do. Still, Tommy's getting so obedient lately- barely even grumbling as he threw his item into the hole. Part of him missed when Tommy would fight back all the while- his pained screams were entertaining. Still, it was safer this way, and more enjoyable in the long run. He’d hate to have his little songbird break it’s neck against the cage doors, never to sing again.

He’s not sure when life outside of Tommy became a chore, but he remembers dimly that it wasn’t always like that. There was a Dream long ago that wouldn’t give up friends and family, who'd cry over losing them even if he’d cut their threads voluntarily. He wasn’t that Dream anymore, the numb feeling in his chest a sign of growth. It didn’t matter that everything outside of Tommy was so miserable, because just being around the boy was a feeling a hundredfold better than any happiness he felt before.

Still, he had duties and responsibilities. Ones that seemed so important long ago, so fulfilling. Maybe one day they’d feel like that again. He had plans, from what he learnt. Government had not left him satisfied, but- whatever you could call what his relationship with Tommy was, it definitely did. Family, he supposed, recognising the boys actions towards him and his brothers. If he could make the entire server like that, that’d be a happiness greater than any other, apart from how Tommy made him feel.

He spent time with Tubbo, getting further and further towards getting that stupid fucking ram boy to calling him a friend and giving him Tommy's disc, all he wanted from him.

(He wasn’t jealous, of course he wasn’t. The anger he felt whenever Tommy called Tubbo a friend, that wasn’t jealousy. That was just logical).

Far more interesting was checking on the prison's completion. When it’s completed, it’d truly be a thing of beauty. Of course, his favourite part was the main cell, that he’d put so much thought into. He’d included all the little things that made Tommy squirm, made his breath hitch and eyes dart around fearfully. That would be so much fun.

(Tommy would learn to appreciate the fun in time, too. He was a smart boy, if irritatingly yet fascinatingly stubborn. He just needed to be taught that if he listened and just played along, Dream could give him the world.)

It took far too long, but eventually it finished, and he could return to the ugly mess of tents and logs he’d made so sure Tommy could never leave. He always started shaking when Dream showed up, trying desperately to hide his fear in his voice, and it was absolutely adorable. Dream savoured it, savoured everything about Tommy as they spent hours talking. Everything, his hysterical laugh, his nervous glances for escapes, the way he flinched whenever Dream grabbed his shoulder, his wrist, the poorly hidden look of pain when he held tighter, just hard enough to irritate the bruises that painted his skin a canvas of black and blue, it was all perfect.

Only he could love Tommy this much, and in time he knew Tommy would learn to appreciate that.

——

The second time he used the book, a tower extended from the ruins of the makeshift prison he’d made for Tommy. DreamXD stated ahead of him.

“”Brother dearest,” he said, “why are you calling on me again so soon?””

“”Bring him back,”” he said, voice painfully numb.

DreamXD shrugged a shoulder, golden hair waving around like in water. “”Who?””

“”Tommy.””

“”I cannot,”” DreamXD said. “”He lives.”” Dream couldn’t help but smile at hearing that.

“”Then bring him back to me.””

DreamXD laughed, a sound like church bells. “”That would be unnecessary. Did I not already grant you the mortal?””

Dream clenched his fist hard enough blood dripped onto scorched earth. “”He left me-“”

“”And you shall find him, no matter what.”” DreamXD smiled under the mask. “”You are bonded to him, and neither death nor distance shall break that. Just look, and you will find him, til the end of time and even past.””

“”Thank you,”” Dream said, genuinely for once.

“”Only the best for my little brother and sister. And I know you would do the same for us, brother dearest.””

——

His planning had come to fruition for once.

They were alone, in the depths of the Earth, just him, Tommy, the fucking hilarious excuse for a “president” Tommy called a friend for some reason, and his axe.

Finally, he could bring his dreams to fruition. He could get rid of any loose threads, and claim what was rightfully his. And once he’d taught Tommy to be grateful, he could get to work on the rest of the server.

It’d be beautiful. Everyone would be his friend, his brother, his sister, something in between. There would be no more wars, just peace. Everyone would be safe, he’d know they’re safe and they’d never rip him to pieces and laugh at his pain. And oh, it’d like be hard work, breaking everyone into obedience but not too much to the point they become boring, but so enjoyable and satisfying. He’d almost be disappointed when it was over.

Tommy- his Tommy, his Tommy, was crying, and it was amusing but he almost wanted to reach out and comfort him and explain it’d all be for the best. He’d do that later, once he’d secured him and any loose ends were gone forever. He couldn’t afford weakness until they were alone, but Tommy made it so tempting.

The ram and Tommy hugged a final goodbye, and the adoration he had towards Tommy, hiding his fear behind a smile, made Dream fucking sick. He should know Tommy was his. They all should know. He’d teach them, when he made the server a perfect family. Even Tubbo, if Tommy begged enough. Dream would do anything to hear Tommy's pathetic, gorgeous begging, breaking through his aggressive walls, and bringing back some random sheep was easily in his brother's power.

See, he could be kind. He wasn’t cruel, he wasn’t a monster. He didn’t even care if he was anymore, fun was so much more important than nonsensical human concepts, but it wasn’t even true. He could be incredibly, selflessly kind, as long as he had a reason. They’d learn, once he fulfilled his dream.

The sound of a nether portal, of betrayal, shatters his dreams and at this point he wonders why he’s surprised.

——

He’d had doubts, during the weeks (months, years? he had no way of knowing) he’d been trapped in the cell, but Tommy being here with him confirmed his design was excellent.

Oh, Tommy was being fucking obnoxious- and Dream knew he was doing it on purpose- but he saw it in the way he never was able to look at the lava properly, the way he always woke up in a cold sweat calling for his daddy like the child he insisted he wasn’t. It was perfect.

(Of course it was, though. It’s not hard to build on something already perfected, and Tommy was the perfect little toy.)

Tommy was so frustratingly different though. He tried not to take it out on him- it wasn’t his fault that everyone else spread lies, planted nonsense in his head about Dream being bad and not trying to do the best for everyone but especially for him- but he struggled sometimes, and it was always so tempting to hurt Tommy anyway, and get lost in the melody of his screams. It wouldn’t teach Tommy anything though, and that’s what was important. He needed to teach Tommy what was best for him.

Tommy had unlearnt all the lessons Dream painstakingly taught him. That wouldn’t be an issue- it was so, so fun to teach- but he knew, painfully deep down in his heart that he could not hold Tommy forever, not yet. The lockdown wasn’t forever, and Dream had no escape route yet. Tommy would just forget everything again, at the hands of his “friends” that couldn’t love him as much as Dream did. They needed to learn far more than Tommy did.

(Except Ranboo of course- oh, the purple eyed boy had the silly naive thoughts in his head everyone seemed to have that friendship was anything but possessing another, but he agreed family came first, listened to Dream, helped him, even with clenched teeth.)

And when one day the frustration got to Dream one day and he was so furious he hit Tommy again and again against the walls of the prison and strangled him until he was cold all he could do was laugh and laugh and laugh.

It was so, so funny, because of course he’d be the one to destroy everything he loved.

——

This time, when DreamXD is called, he looks upon his brother with concern.

“”Brother dearest,”” he says, “”are you quite alright?””

Dream laughs, because of course he’s alright! The tears staining his face must be joy, because of course he’s alright. He’s holding Tommy here, with him, and he was quiet, he must be listening. He can’t be dead, he can’t be, then there’d be no point to any of this.

“”Drista has been concerned for you for quite a while, you know,”” DreamXD continued. “”Is this because of your mortal?””

“”He’s been ever so quiet lately,”” Dream said, with a voice hoarse from crying and laughter. “”I’m not sure to be concerned or happy with him.””

“”You’re not well, Dream.”” DreamXD said, with a tone of finality despite clearly being wrong. “”The boy is dead.””

Dream laughs. “”And yet he does not slip from my grasp.””

“”Then, brother, why did you call me?””

The silence pierces through air like a knife. Eventually, through hiccuping sobs, Dream says “”Just, please, bring him back.””

Tommy sputters to life with ghostly eye and pure white streaks and more bruise on him than corpselike skin and Dream thinks he has never been more perfect.

——

Quackity's left, he thinks, because the pain's stopped growing.

He laughs, because he doesn’t know what to fucking do anymore but laugh. He can’t give up the secrets of the book, of course he can’t. Family comes first, after all, and he dreads to think what the bastard would do to his brother. But the pain was awful, never ending in waves through his whole body, and he almost just wants to confess so he can die.

He cradles what’s left of his arm since the bastard cut it off at the elbow, and he sobs. He doesn’t even care to hide it with his mask. It’s not even the pain that hurts the most, even. It’s that Tommy's gone, and by the time Dream escapes- because he’s going to escape, he’s got to- he might be so far from his grasp even their fates being tied might not be enough.

“Of course that’s not true,” a fake voice says in his head, and wavy form approaches. Fuck, the blood loss must be bad today. It always is when he sees things. Usually it’s George or Bad or Sapnap, and it leaves him with a numb feeling in his chest that he’s familiar with, but today it’s Tommy, and that’s worse. It reminds him of what he cannot hold.

“Fuck off,” he mouths at the apparition, voice too tired and hoarse from screaming to speak properly. Not-Tommy laughs, and the sound is so similar to Tommy he almost thinks that his desperate prayers have been answered, Tommy is there again, but he reached his fingers forward and they go through his tired hallucination.

“You’re a real dick, you know that?” Not-Tommy says, and laughs again. “But I know you mean the best.” Dream shrugs his shoulder at the fake, and then curls up, new waves of pain curling up his arm.

“I don’t know why I was ever friends with that bastard.” Not-Tommy lies, and Dream wants to believe it. “You’re just having fun. He’s cruel.” Tommy would never understand that clear distinction, no matter how much Dream explained it, but the fake said it with such conviction it was almost enough for Dream to fall for it.

“When you get out, I’ll be there, Dream. And then we can all be a big happy family,” Not-Tommy says, the thoughts so obviously Dream's and not Tommy’s but- the idea that Tommy understood, that he saw sense, was so tempting, Dream allowed himself to believe it, just for a second. Just until the pain started anew.

Broken and bloody, Dream drifted into unconsciousness with a smile on his face.

[kevindayisafrog]

What if Neil never made it home? (Kevneil pain)

TW - physical abuse (choking), panic attacks, hints of suicidal thoughts, grief and loss of a MC, anxiety

“Where is he?”, Andrew’s monotone voice chilled Kevin all over, making his already rapid heart beat faster. “I-I don’t-“, Kevin put his head in his hands and let out a shaky breath. He didn’t know where Neil was and he was dreading the worst. He was holding his hand just minutes ago but the fight broke out and..Kevin let out a strangled sound and squeezed his eyes shut. “Andrew-“, Nicky’s fear made him look up in time to see Andrew marching towards him up the aisle of the bus. “Andrew, I promise I don’t know where he is”, Kevin pleaded as Andrew ran into him and grabbed his throat, “Andrew, please, I don’t-“. He let out a choked whimper as Andrew’s hands grew tighter around his neck. A million tortured moments of Riko flashed behind his shut eyes making Kevin want to disappear; run away from this place to find his Neil. “Andrew”, he tried to whisper, the name barely coming out. “Where the fuck is he?”, Andrew’s voice barely changed, his deadpan face still remaining; boring into Kevin’s memory. “His father-the butcher-“, he knew Neil would hate him for telling everyone his past, but if it would get Andrew off him, he’ll try anything. As soon as Andrew lets go he can run; he’d run faster than he ever has, until his legs break beneath him. He won’t care about the pain, he’s lived through pain his whole life, what’s a bit more? If it helps him get Neil back he’ll walk through fire, he’ll go back to the nest, he’ll kiss Riko’s feet and smile as he slowly dies. “Baltimore-the butcher of Baltimore”, Kevin closed his eyes and let a tear fall out. Who cares if the foxes see him cry? He doesn’t give a shit. They mean nothing to him. “Andrew get off him”, Matt looked between the two and wrapped his arms around Andrew’s waist, pulling to no avail, “fuck”. Kevin looked up into Andrew’s empty eyes through his blurring vision and prepared for the pain he’ll get before whispering: “please, Andrew, I can’t lose him”. Andrew’s hands grew tighter than before, making Kevin let out a laugh fueled on pain and fear. He looked over Andrew’s shoulder fleetingly as Matt, Aaron, Nicky and Coach finally pulled Andrew off; his throat bursting with a numb pain. “Kevin, sweetheart”, Abby kneeled beside him and pulled his head gently onto her lap, “if you know about Neil’s past we need you to tell us now. It’s important”. Kevin closed his eyes and swallowed through the burn in his throat, silently apologizing to Neil for his truth. “His father..is the butcher of Baltimore. He just got out-“, he pressed a hand against his mottled throat and swallowed the taste of blood, “out of prison. We need to save him”. Nicky let out an inhaled ‘fuck’ as Matt got ready to hit Kevin. “For fuck’s sake, Kevin, why didn’t you tell us before? Is that why he was scared of his own shadow? Because he was fucking running away?”, Wymack ran a hand down his face and swore. Kevin nodded and cleared his throat, “yeah, he ran away with his mom when he was eleven. But she died and..”, he shrugged and let out a pained sigh as Abby began to rub lotion onto his bruising neck. “Fucking great”, Wymack turned his back to the team and shook his head before turning to glare down at Kevin, “you should’ve told us sooner, Day. What if something has gone wrong and we’re too fucking late?” Kevin winced at his words and slowly closed his eyes; he’s been blamed for a lot of shit in his life, but Neil’s possible death stabs deeper than anything before. “I’m sorry”, he whispered, desperate for someone to believe him. “That’s not good enough right now. Everyone get in your seats”, Wymack barked as he strode to the front of the bus and sat down with a loud sigh. Kevin stood up slowly and sank into his seat, watching out of the window as his fear and anxiety choked him once again.

Kevin sunk into the corner of the hotel room and dropped his head into his hands; his left hand red raw from his anxious picking. He didn’t want to stay in this room, he didn’t care if the FBI forced them to, he needed to get out. They reassured him that Neil would be okay, but he didn’t believe them. Kevin flinched as a hand was placed on his shoulder, a gentle squeeze making him want to crawl out of his skin. “He’s going to be okay”, Abby smiled down at him and placed a gentle kiss on his temple, “I know what he means to you”. Kevin blinked up at her and tried to hold his anxious tears in; he didn’t want anyone to know what Neil meant to him. Neil was his and he was going to protect him until the day he dropped dead. “Fuck’s sake”, Wymack grumbled as a loud knock startled everyone up onto their feet. They all stood in silence as their Coach opened the door cautiously and grunted when two FBI agents walked through the door with annoyed facial expressions. “I’m Special Agent Browning and this”, the smug suited man gestured to the taller man beside him, “is my partner Special Agent Towns. We are working on the Baltimore case and can officially announce that the butcher has been executed”. He said it so proudly, so smugly that Kevin wanted to rip the man’s face off with his bare fucking hands. “But this information is not to leave this room, do you understand?”, Towns glared at each face before nodding and pulling a notebook out of his jacket pocket, “we would like some information on Nathaniel Wesninksi, the butcher’s son”. Nathaniel. That name alone brought too many bad memories up that Kevin wanted to scream. He wanted to scream that his name is Neil, he hated that name and he ran so far away to forget it; but now they’re pinning him back down with it. “His-his name is Neil”, Kevin spoke up and felt everyone’s eyes turn to him, “and I want to know where he is”. He tried to stay formal and authoritative but his voice cracked in fear. Both agents shared a small look, a silent conversation being spoken right in front of their faces, before Browning nodded and turned to face the room. “We are sorry to say that Nathaniel did not make it. Our condolences”. Kevin felt the air leave his lungs as if he’d been shot a million times in the chest. “What?”, he whispered as the Foxes turned to shoot him death glares. “For fuck’s sake, Kevin. You should’ve told us”, Matt spat as Dan physically held him back from killing Kevin. “I didn’t-he didn’t want me to, I was just-“, Kevin took a step back in instinctive fear as the Foxes began to shout over each other, each word ripping deep into Kevin’s skin that they began to merge together into a numbing ring in his ears. “He’s okay, they’re just-“, Kevin gripped his chest with his left hand and replayed all his memories with Neil, “they’re lying. He’s okay”. Browning shook his head and sighed, “I’m sorry, kid, but his father got to him before we could infiltrate the building”. Kevin fell to his knees and covered his ears, his lungs bursting in his chest. “No, he’s okay, he’s okay”, he whispered hoarsely, bile slowly creeping up his bruised throat. His ears began to ring with shouts and cries as he watched his Neil slip away behind his eyelids, the blue eyes that he fell in love with slowly closing shut to never open again.

“He’s okay”, Kevin whispered as his body began to shake, painful sobs ripping through his chest, “he’s okay”. He replayed every interaction with Neil, his body still humming with his touches, his cheeks still blushing from the soft kisses. “He’s okay, you’re lying”, he whispered though it came out barely audible, his throat burning with the bile. He felt like he was dying and he was leaning into it; hoping that this will finally be the moment where he’ll die and won’t have to live without Neil. The boy that he fell in love with the moment he saw him swagger onto the court when they were eleven. The boy that mouthed off to the press, to Riko, but would kiss him so gently; would hold him with such tenderness that it would sometimes make him want to cry. His reason to fight back who has lost the battle; who proved that life would never get better, at least not for them. He let out a wail as he felt his lungs collapse, his body shaking so much that he felt as if he were leaving it; finally being freed. “Kevin”, a blurry voice broke through the deafening ring in his ears, a voice so soft that it made his heart break more, “Kevin, sweetheart, give me your hand”. He opened his eyes slowly and blinked through the tears, his head swimming with his fight or flight reflexes. He wanted to do neither; he wanted to disappear. “Give me your hand”, Abby gently took ahold of his hand and placed it against her neck, “feel my pulse, can you feel it?” It took too much energy for Kevin to nod so he squeezed his eyes shut instead. “Good, now match my breathing, I know it’s hard but you can do it”, Abby began breathing too loudly for Kevin’s ears and he just wanted to push her away, but he tried anyway; she always makes him want to try. “Good, that great, you’re doing so well”, Abby whispered through breaths, a sad smile in her voice. “I don’t want to do it”, Kevin whispered as he felt his chest sag in defeat. “No, you’re doing great, I’m so proud”, Abby cupped his face and wiped away the tears that were infinite. Kevin shook his head and dropped his head on her shoulder, opening his eyes to watch as the other Foxes had turned their backs on him. Neil was the only one that made him want to stay here, so why did he let him go? All he had to do was hold a little tighter, but Kevin always let good things slip through his fingers, “I’m sorry”, he whispered though no one heard him.

Kevin strode onto the Ravens court with his head held and with a victory already in his grasp. “For you”, he whispered to the sky before tapping the butt of his racquet against the floor and changing hands, “you gave me your game and I won’t let you down”.

[dr3amofagame]

Hello, idk if you’ll see this, nor do you have to take this request. But I’ve been thinking, and thought up: Dream joined the egg, but not because it offered him world domination or a happy family or any of that; no it offered to treat him kindly, to be affectionate, to be a friend, basically offering him human decency. (With an add on of everyone believing it was for some big reason, but the actual reason gets revealed somehow) if that made any sense. (Idk if this counts as an au or not)

[ask: if dream showed up to the red banquet, that would be very sexy of the writers to make him join the eggpire instead of the pro-omlette]

hehe egg!dream has so much potential ,, this is a ficlet i’ve been working on for a while (writer’s block my detested) but i finally finished it up !! it’s a bit unpolished but oh well - they cant all be winners lmao 

tw: body horror, blood, injuries, implied torture/abuse, starvation, possession, dark/disturbing imagery, dark content, pandora’s vault/prison arc 

Dream gets corrupted by the Egg, because of course he does.

Sapnap trudges through the vine-filled hallway, his face bundled firmly with a holy-water soaked bandana to keep out the worst of the spores. It’s a shoddy defense, but he doesn’t plan to stay long; he’s only been sent on reconnaissance, to see what public enemy number one is planning and get out as quickly as he can. As much as the entire server wants Dream dead, trying to defeat the man the first time was enough of a feat, never mind with the power of a giant demon egg on his side - to try and fight him now would be practically impossible.

The floor squishes underneath his boots, and his lips curl in disgust; the vines are thick and moist and feel ugly and rotten to the core. He can’t imagine anyone being anything but repulsed by the things, but he guesses it makes sense for Dream to be drawn here - corruption attracts corruption, it seems. It only figures that Dream would be desperate enough for power to let himself get possessed by the living - if you could really call it living - embodiment of decay and deterioration itself. The feeling of the floor giving way underneath his footsteps has another wave of revulsion crawling up his throat, though he’s not sure if it’s directed towards the Egg or his former friend or both.

He reaches the end of the hallway, an itching, pulsing feeling of wrong filling the air in the room just beyond the haphazard archway carved into the stone. With careful hands, Sapnap draws the bandana further up his face, making sure that it is tied securely behind his head - just beyond this wall lies the belly of the beast, the heart of the rot slowly but surely spreading its influence over the entire server. Something hums in the air; whispering, otherworldly sounds pierce through his armor and settle beneath his skin; he pushes on. He knows better than to listen, to try and make sense of the words within the noise - from what he’s heard, by the time you understand what it is saying, it’s too late.

He steps inside; the room feels, for the lack of a better word, red. He’s better suited for the place than most, being a Netherborn and therefore more used to the oppressive heat and heaviness of the air, but there’s something undeniably wrong about how this place feels, something entirely Other having made its home in the room. Every inch of the place feels hostile, angry, hungry, recognizing him as someone foreign and wanting nothing more than his destruction. Unlike the Red Forests, which teemed with life - piglins and hoglins and giant fungus - this room is little more than a twisted mimicry, sucking the air dry, leaving little more than husks behind.

His hand immediately goes to his sword, drawing it with a dull, metallic scrape. The room is eerily silent save for the Egg’s hissing whispers, and he frowns; he’d expected an attack, but the room is still, quiet; a mockery of peace that only makes the uneasy feeling in his gut grow further. He trudges forward, watching against the puddles of lava and smoking magma scattered over the floor, but nothing stirs.

There’s a growing pressure against his skull with each step into the room, and his hand tightens on his communicator; they’d set up a stasis chamber, just in case things went south, his way out of this place only a few button presses away. Still, nothing moves; no Bad or Ant popping out of nowhere, weapons in hand, no Dream driving an axe between his shoulder blades as he’s done so many times before in their spars. There’s only the sound of his footsteps against the rotting growths on the floor and his own heartbeat thudding in his ears and the Egg’s warbling voice, beneath it all - beckoning, almost kind.

He swallows, throat dry, and moves forward.

His feet carry him to the back corner of the room, to the rotting, pulsing core of the wrongness plaguing the entire server. Even through his bandana, the air feels foreign, nearly choking him, and he strains his eyes against the glare of the lava to look up at the vines’ rancid heart, the Egg. Up close, it’s almost underwhelming, only about three times his height, hardly coming halfway up to the ceiling of the room. What it doesn’t have in size, however, it makes up in sheer presence; the hissing whispers in his head grow louder, crawling under his skin and between his bones, and he curses under his breath as he prepares to call for his way back. Dream isn’t here; the mission is a bust.

“Sapnap?”

He freezes.

It takes a moment to realize that the voice wasn’t in his head, as raspy and unsettling as it was, and his eyes traced the edges of the Egg to a dull colored shape at its side, completely overlooked in his initial sweep of the room. He watches, a dull horror rising in his chest, as the shape moves, twists around on itself in an entirely unnatural way like a marionette pulled by its strings. A pale dot rises from where it had been hidden against the bright red of the Egg; it’s a face, Dream’s face, covered in clawing vines, stark against the bone-white of his sun-starved skin, vomit racing up his throat at the sight of the vines having made their homes in jagged wounds all over his face and neck and disappearing into the torn scraps of his prison uniform, each one spilling crimson in the form of writhing vines and thorns instead of blood.

“Sapnap,” Dream says again, his mouth moving with the words but something entirely other having made its home in the air of his lungs, a shivering rasp to his voice that lifts and falls with the same desperate hunger that saturates every tainted inch of the room. His neck tips to the side, shifted over by a twisting vine tangled within his hair and wrapping a crown of blood-red thorns over his forehead, tendrils drooping over his face and framing the gaunt edges. “You came.”

“Dream-” the anger comes back, familiar, at the other’s words - the same red-hot rage that had boiled within him in that first and only prison visit (you took so long) but it dissipates as fast as it comes. Dream - if this remnant, this shade, this corrupted, mangled half that seems more corruption than human can even be called the name of one he had once considered his best friend, his brother - stumbles closer, held up by the vines that twist over his shaking legs, one having the pale, ragged edge of a bone clearly having ripped through skin - and Sapnap does throw up, this time, dragging the bandana from his face and heaving bile all over the floor.

“What happened-” he cries, flames licking up his arms in defense when his friend-turned-monster-turned-this steps closer on a wreck of a leg that should not be able to bear weight, stumbles back to a roaring in his ears-

He is mine he came broken came shattered and I gave him everything I gave him his heart’s desire I am his savior his grace he asked for warmth and he asked for comfort and he asked for nothing but for someone to take his pain and he is mine he is mine he is mine

He freezes, hand tightening over his communicator; Dream stares at him with the one dull-green eye not covered by the vines splayed over his too-pale face, mouth moving but no sound coming out. The roaring, angry sound in Sapnap’s ears grows louder, follows the shape of Dream’s lips come join your friend come with me I will give him to you you have failed him once but not again not again he is mine but you can be mine also and you will be together together together

“-pnap! Sapnap!” Puffy’s words crackle over the communicator, harsh and loud and snapping him out of his thoughts, “Pull the switch, Sam! No, he’s not responding- pull the switch-”

The world dips, and he heaves in a shattered breath, lungs finally full as he breathes in clear air for the first time in what feels like an eternity, hacking coughs pulled from his throat as he tears the bandana off in one sputtering gasp for breath.

“Sap- Sapnap,” Sam pitches his voice low, comforting, a hand rubbing up and down his back, but all Sapnap can see is the skeleton of a man held together by red thread, the life leached from his skin and leaving nothing left, he asked for nothing but for someone to take the pain and he is mine he is mine he is mine-

“Sapnap,” Puffy’s voice is tinny with concern, “What happened? You stopped responding and the time passed so we pulled the switch on the stasis chamber- are you alright? Did he attack you?”

“I-” -you have failed him once but not again not again you will be together- “I need a moment.”

He scrambles away, feet carrying him away from Church Prime, away from the Holy Land, away away away until he’s standing on the Community House roof, staring at his hands at this home, destroyed, this home, rebuilt, this home, empty and wrong and a shadow of house for a shadow of a man, a shadow of a friend found, a friend lost- and sobs.

What had he done?

[backtobackbakubabe]

Speak Easy Part 18

Dabi x Reader, Bakugo x Reader

Words : 4276

Masterlist

Reader has a siren quirk and has spent the past several years of her life as a captive being experimented on by “heroes” Now that she’s out she needs protection and safe place to heal. Who will be the one to put her pieces back together.

Words with ‘this’ is dialogue written in her journal rather than said out loud and and words with ~this~ is dialogue said in sign language rather than out loud.

**********************************************************************

It’d been a little over a week since Shoto promised to go to the doctor with you and you were getting a little nervous. At first you were just waiting for the doctors to get settled in, but then Shoto was busy helping get things up and running and evacuating people to the bunker. Now you’ve just been chickening out.

Your period was a few days late, which wouldn’t be concerning if it weren’t for your current circumstance.

You woke up this morning and made a cup of coffee before taking Bravo out for a stroll around the bunker. He loved being able to run around and meet new people. He was a hit with the kids. They loved playing with him almost as much as he loved playing with them. The only downside was, there was only two places in the entire massive bunker that he could go to the bathroom. The farm and a small animal relief area near where the trash is dumped.

Needless to say, neither smelled great, but the farm was considerably better. So here you were, sitting on a small platform that oversees the crops with a cup of coffee and a book. Bravo sitting next to you keeping watch.

It was always a little chilly down here, which you honestly preferred. It just meant you could wear lots of hoodies. The more you could hide your body the better. Ever since leaving Dabi’s house you felt like you were always being watched. You felt so exposed and you just wanted to blend into the background.

Today you wore a new hoodie that Izuku had gotten you. It was probably one of the softest things you owned, and it was the prettiest shade of blue. The blue reminded you of a certain someone’s eyes… of the beautiful blue flames they were capable of creating… but then you’d shake the thought from your head and pull it closer around you.

You were enjoying your new freedom. Not that Dabi’s house had been a prison… but you hadn’t realized how much you missed doing things on your own. You had thought being alone would be hard, but you were thriving. It was never being alone that bothered you before, it had been his absence.

Against Katsuki’s wishes… Shoto had shown you the photos of what was left of Dabi’s car. And he hadn’t been exaggerating. You had almost passed out looking at how much blood soaked the driver seat and even the road around it.

You had been so lost lately. You didn’t know how you were supposed to feel. Your heart ached. You thought you had finally found your home. You had finally started to feel your pieces come back together. Now you felt like that would never happen. He took the last few pieces of your heart with him and you felt like you would never be whole again.

Dabi had been your comfort, your safety, your home. Now you were lost.

You hated that you felt this way. You should hate him. You should curse his fucking name. You shouldn’t be crying yourself to sleep over his death.

His death…

Was he dead? You weren’t convinced. It was too convenient, and there wasn’t a body. You wanted proof. Until then you’d go on believing he was still out there.

You closed the book you were reading. You had been on the same page for the past 10 minutes.

There was no way he wrecked his car like that. You had been in the car with him twice. Yes, he drove a little fast… but he wasn’t reckless. Either it was an elaborate cover up, or someone was after him. Or maybe… someone had been after you and he had gotten stuck in the middle as collateral damage.

“You look like you’re thinking too hard.”

Shoto came and took a seat next to you. “I’d ask what’s on your mind, but I’m pretty sure I already know.”

“Am I that obvious?” You leaned your head on his shoulder.

He leaned his head on top of yours. “It’s normal. I’d actually be surprised if you weren’t torn up over it.”

You let out a shaky breath. “I can’t stop worrying about him. I keep wondering where he is. If he’s okay. If there’s some grand explanation for his shitty behavior.” You shrugged. “I’m just finding it hard to grasp that the same man who held me during my panic attacks was also secretly planning to breed me… It just doesn’t add up.”

“Guilt does weird things to people.” Shoto’s hand found yours and gave it a squeeze. “I know he’s my brother, but I have no doubts about who knew him best. I only know a version of him. I only knew what he wanted me to.” He sighed, “It was obvious you meant a lot to him, and I could see him becoming more… I don’t know… human? For the first time in years he was showing emotions that weren’t rage. It would make sense if you were starting to make him question what side he was on.”

Your eyes narrowed, “So what? You think he did some shitty stuff and decided to help me… because he felt guilty about it? That doesn’t make any sense.” You pushed away from him to look him in the eyes. “Dabi only does what Dabi wants to do. That has been clear to me since day one. So what the fuck did he want out of this? None of it makes sense. Was I just a possession to him? Was I a bargaining chip? Was I just some broken pet that he got validation from nursing back to health? What?!”

You could feel your hysteria building and Bravo put his head in your lap in an attempt to calm you down. You took a few deep breaths. “He better fucking be alive… so I can kick his ass myself.”

Shoto chuckled, “Touya doesn’t stand a chance.”

His eyes looked distant and sad. You nudged his shoulder with your own, “Hey can I ask you something?”

He blinked away whatever far away memory he was thinking about, “I don’t see why not.”

“What was he like? Touya I mean… Before he became Dabi.”

Shoto’s lip turned up just slightly, “He was the best big brother I could have ever had. He was always there to help me when our dad was too rough with me. My dad tried to keep us separated… didn’t want me mingling with what he considered to be his biggest failure.” You flinched at the casual way he talked about the abuse they endured. “But Touya would sneak into my room at night. He taught me how to handle my burns and would bring me cold soba on bad days.” His eyes glassed over, “I was devasted when he died. Well… when I thought he died.”

“I blamed my dad, we all did. So, when he came out of hiding, it was like this enormous weight had lifted off of my shoulders. I hadn’t even realized I was carrying it around, but I had never truly gotten over his death.” He chuckled, “So I went looking for him. I didn’t care if he was Touya or Dabi, I just wanted him in my life again. I’d take what I could get. So, I settled for our don’t ask don’t tell relationship.”

You felt a tear that wasn’t yours hit your lap. Of course this would be hard on Shoto, he’s potentially lost his brother for the second time. “If it makes you feel any better… He admitted to me that he loved you.” You smirked, “Well actually he told me he used to hate you which contradicts your story quite a bit. But he said he always wondered if things would have been better for you if he stuck around.”

Shoto laughed, “Sounds like him. Trying to act like the tough guy who didn’t give a shit… Just like how he was with you. I can’t tell you how many times he called me when he was gone checking on you. Texting me every single time your vitals spiked. He would check the cameras and send me voice memos about how he was going to beat my ass if I didn’t keep my hands where he could see them while we were sparing. But then he would deny it when I asked what going on between the two of you.”

“Hey, come on, I have an idea.” You stood and walked over to the corner of the field behind a small tool shed. You picked up a massive rock and moved it so it was hidden from view. “Can you burn his name into it?”

Shoto eyes darkened, “You want to have a funeral? We don’t even know if he’s dead…”

You nodded, “You’re right we don’t… but I think it’ll make it easier. We can have a place to morn him in private. Weather we mourn his death… or the death of who he could have been.”

Shoto’s shoulder slumped and eventually he nodded. His hand heated up and with his finger he wrote on the rock, “R.I.P. TOUYA”

You both sat there for a while just staring at the rock. You felt too cold standing here in the shade of the tool shed. You gripped your hoodie closer to you and held back the tears that you desperately wanted to shed. You knew you shouldn’t, but you let yourself think of Touya. You thought about what he would have been like if he had gone to UA. If he had become a hero. If you had met him under better circumstances. Would the two of you still have ended up together? Without your mountains of combined trauma would you even be the same people?

“You ready? We should head out soon or we’ll be late for your appointment.”

You rubbed your eyes and sniffled, “Yeah… let’s get this over with.”

Bravo wasn’t allowed in the medical side of the bunker, so you made a quick detour to your room to drop him off. Shoto quietly following behind you. “So how are things with you and Bakugo?”

You groaned and rubbed your temples.

Shoto chuckled, “That good huh?”

“He’s been hovering over me like I’m going to shatter into a million pieces at the slightest inconvenience. I appreciate what he’s trying to do… but it’s just too much. I told him I needed space… and we had a fight. He hasn’t spoken to me in two days.”

Shoto whistled, “I never thought I’d see the day that the two of you had a real fight. Sure, you always bickered like an old married couple growing up. But on anything serious he always caved to your every wish.” He paused at your door, “Wait. So, are you the reason he’s been extra grumpy lately?”

You blushed, “I don’t know… Maybe?”

You gave Bravo an extra scratch behind his ear before closing the door. At that same moment you heard the door next door click shut. Your eyes snapped up to meet Katsuki’s. “Oh hey… I didn’t know you were back from the surface yet.”

“Got back early this morning… I was actually on my way to see you. You have a time to get an early lunch? I want to talk to you about something.”

You played with the ends of your hair, which was an immediate give away that you were nervous. “I actually have some plans with Shoto. But I’m free after that. Shouldn’t take too long though.”

His eyes narrowed at your nervous posture and you cursed how well he knew you. “Oh yeah? What are you guys up to? Maybe I’ll tag along.”

You began to stutter but thankfully Shoto interrupted, “Clingy isn’t a good look for you Bakugo. Like she said… it’s not going to take long. Just wait here and she’ll be back soon.”

You saw Katsuki bristle and decided to step in before he picked a fight with Shoto. You stepped over to him and put your hand on his shoulder. “Hey, I just dropped Bravo off. He’s had some pretty bad separation anxiety lately so why don’t you go to my apartment and hang out with him while I’m gone. Make some coffee, pick out a movie or something. I’ll be back soon, and we can talk then.”

His posture softened as he looked you up and down. It was obvious to him that you were nervous. But he was trying his hardest to give you the space you wanted. He pulled you to him as he sighed, trapping you in his arms. “Okay fine. I’ll babysit the mutt. Can you do me a favor and bring back some migraine medication from the medical ward. My heads killing me.”

You nodded stiffly, hoping it was just a coincidence he needed something from the medical ward. “Not a problem. I have the weighted blanket you gave me on the couch if you want to take a nap while I’m gone. You look like you could use one.”

He squeezed you tighter to him. “I’ll be fine.” He leaned his head on top of yours. “I’ll be better once we stop fighting about stupid shit though.” He pressed a quick kiss to the side of your head, “I’ll see you when you get back.” He released you and looked to Shoto, “Try to behave. The two of you hanging out makes me nervous.”

Shoto chuckled, “Good. You should be nervous. If you don’t figure your shit out soon, I’ll be taking your best friend spot… Kacchan.”

You snorted as you pulled Shoto away. “Are you trying to get your ass kicked? You know only Izuku gets away with calling him that! Well… and me when he’s in a good mood. But even that’s pushing it.”

“Oh, he’ll get over it. He needs a reality check. He thinks the world revolves around him.” He led you down the hall. “He can be such a pain sometimes. But I will admit he’s so much easier to be around now than when we were in high school.” He bumped your shoulder, “In a way it’s thanks to you. As sad as it is, when you went missing, he matured. It was like out of nowhere he realized there were more important things in the world then him and his hero status.”

Something about talking about Katsuki’s emotional vulnerability while walking to the clinic to check if you were pregnant with Dabi’s child made you feel slimy. “Can we talk about something else. Literally anything else. How are you and Izuku doing?”

“Good… we settled into our room. It’s a nice enough room… but it’s right next to my dad’s room. Apparently he’s thought all this time that we were just roommates.” He threw his hands up and scoffed, “Honestly! Did he think we were both professional heroes, making tons of money, but couldn’t afford to live on our own?”

You giggled, “That sounds awkward. These walls aren’t exactly thick.”

“Oh believe me I know. And I don’t care. Poor Izuku though can’t even look my dad in the eye now without blushing.”

You laughed so hard you had to wipe away a tear. “Aw poor Izuku… He’s too innocent for this world.”

Shoto scoffed, “Innocent my ass. That man is a freak in—”

You held up a hand. “Stop, stop, stop! I don’t want to know. He is a pure innocent little muffin who used to braid my hair before workouts.”

“I thought Bakugo was the one who braided your hair? I can’t imagine him being okay with Izuku being that close to you.”

You laughed. “Oh he wasn’t at first. But mostly because Izuku was better than him at something. Kats liked to braid my hair in private while we watched TV.” You shook your head at the memory, “He actually got to be really good at it eventually.”

Shoto had succeeded in distracting you long enough to make the trip to the medical ward, but now that you were here the anxiety was creeping back in.

You paused before crossing the threshold. You knew it was important to find out once and for all if you were pregnant. But you were also enjoying living in ignorance. The fact that you didn’t know meant that you could live your life as normal. If you were pregnant… it would flip your entire world upside down. You would have a life you would be responsible for, a little human that would constantly remind you of the love that almost broke you.

If you weren’t pregnant then… you didn’t know how you would feel. Would you be relieved? Would you mourn?

Your hand found your flat stomach and clenched your shirt. You took a few steps further into the ward and was hit an overwhelming sterile smell. Your breathing hitched and your knees shook. It was too clean. It was too white. It reminded you too much of the lab.

Shoto’s hand took yours and gave it a soft tug. “Hey. It’s fine. You don’t have to do all of this. I can go in and request a pregnancy test and we can go back and do this in your room. Would that make you feel better?”

You shook your head, “Katsuki’s there…”

Shoto’s shoulders sagged, “At this point I think he’d be more upset at you hiding this from him. I’m not telling you how to live your life. I think you’ve earned the right to do whatever the fuck you want. But if it were me… I’d want as big of a support system as I could get…”

You chewed on your bottom lip as you thought about it. Did you want Katsuki to know? How would he react? What if you were pregnant? Would he be disgusted with you? Would he want to help? Your head was spiraling down a rabbit hole of what it and it was starting to make you dizzy.

“Hey, breathe! Just take a deep breath. Let’s get you out of here before you have a panic attack. Wait outside for me. I’ll get everything we need.

You pushed the wave of anxious nausea down and gave a shaky nod. “Okay… But remember to get some migraine medication for Ka—”

“Yeah. Yeah, I remember. Go sit down outside and try and focus on your breathing I’ll be right back.”

You made your way outside and immediately sat down and leaned your forehead on your knees. You needed to get these invasive thoughts under control. You thought about what Dabi used to do. He would sit with you and try and distract you by talking about random shit. You knew he’d be pissed if he knew his younger brother left you all alone during one of your episodes. The thought of him yelling at Shoto was almost enough to make you chuckle.

You took a deep breath and held it for a few seconds and started listing animals that start with the letter A. When you couldn’t think of any more you breathed out. Then you repeated the process with the letter B, then C. You had made it F when Shoto made his way back to you.

“Okay, so they gave me some weird looks. Which makes sense considering I am a gay man asking for pregnancy tests. But they didn’t ask too many questions. I have two tests, a bottle of water, some Tylenol, and a phone number for a doctor… you know, for if it’s positive.”

You took his outstretched hand and stood up. “Okay… let’s get this over with.”

Every step towards your room felt heavier than the last. You just wanted to curl up under your blanket and pretend none of this was happening.

You hesitated at your door for a few moments before remembering you were a tough bitch and barreled through it full of false confidence.

You expected to see Katsuki lounging on the couch watching something on the tiny TV. Instead you found him passed out with Bravo curled up next to him. The sight of it calmed your nerves.

“Hey Shoto, can you get some coffee going? I’m going to wake him up.” You tiptoed over to him and sat on the edge of the couch. “Hey…” You shook his shoulder. “Kats? Wake up. I need to tell you something…”

Katsuki grumbled and his arm snaked around you, pulling you down to his level. “Shhh, m’head hurts.”

You giggled “Hey stop I’m being serious… I need you to get up.”

One of his eyes cracked open. “What’s up you sound like you’ve been crying.”

You sighed, “I haven’t been crying, but I am… stressed…” He sat up and moved so you were sitting facing each other. He nodded urging you to go on. “So… The reason Dabi uh… locked me in his office was so he could go to the store to uh… buy a…. pregnancy test.”

Your eyes stared at your hands and you heard him suck in a breath. “Are you? …Pregnant I mean.”

You shrugged, “I don’t know… we got some tests from the medical ward today and I’m about to take them. I’m just… a little scared.”

A medicine bottle whistled through the air and smacked Katsuki in the face. “We got you your medicine too. You’re welcome.” Shoto was smirking over by the coffee maker.

Katsuki groaned as he stood up. “One of these days I’m gonna kick the shit out of you, IcyHot Bastard.”

He stretched and held a hand out to you. “Alright, come on. Let’s go piss on a stick.”

You felt a weight starting to lift from your shoulders. “Wait. So you’re not mad?”

He narrowed his eyes at you, “Why would I be mad? I knew what the two of you were doing. It’s not like you cheated on me. As much as I wish we were, we aren’t together.” His thumb came up to brush a tear away that you didn’t even know had fallen. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily Y/N. You being pregnant wouldn’t change how I feel about you. I would even be willing to tell people it’s mine if it makes it easier for you. Just tell me what you need, and I’ll do it.”

It was quite for a few moments, while you absorbed and processed this new development. He was surprisingly calm about all of this, and it was making it easier for you as well.

“God you’re whipped.” Shoto handed the pregnancy test to you but was smart enough to remain behind you so Katsuki couldn’t hit him.

You left the boys to bicker as you entered your tiny bathroom alone. You peed on both of the sticks and set a timer on Katsuki’s phone. The next three minutes were the longest three minutes of your life.

You paced as you tried to think of anything else. But your thoughts kept going back to that night when Dabi held you in his recliner after fucking you. He had asked about you having a baby. He had sounded so hopeful. His eyes so bright at the idea of you having a kid with him. Part of you couldn’t believe that was an act. He had seemed so sincere. You thought about how he would react if he knew you were taking a test right now.

The timer went off.

Shit.

Was your whole life about to change?

With shaky hands you picked up the first test. You held your breath as you looked to the second one to confirm it.

You opened the door with tears in your eyes.

“So, what’s it say? Am I going to be an uncle?”

You let out an audible sob. “I don’t know why I’m so upset right now.” You showed them the tests. “They’re both negative.”

Katsuki wrapped you in a hug and ran his fingers up and down your back. “It’s okay to be sad. Shoto made some coffee, I don’t have plans today. We can hang out here until you feel better.”

You cried into Katsuki’s chest as you watched some cheesy movie. He didn’t say anything. He wouldn’t even know what to say if he thought it would help.

You were grieving a child you never had, and a love that was nothing but lies. You needed to let it out. You needed to grieve so you could move on. And this is how you do that.

By the time the credits rolled your eyes were dry and you nose stuffy. “You said you wanted to talk to me about something earlier…?”

Katsuki stiffened, “Yeah, but I think it can wait. You’ve already had a rough day.”

You shook your head, “No… I want to know. I’m just going to worry about it until you tell me. I’d rather you just rip the Band-Aid off.”

He nodded, “We got word that Dabi may have been seen by your old place. We aren’t sure it was him though. Toga had been previously spotted as well, so it’s more likely that it was her. But either way, it looks like the LOV is sniffing around.”

“W—What makes you think it was Toga?”

He cleared his throat, “We have an informant working in the LOV and he told us the last thing he heard about Dabi was that Shigaraki had sent a team to collect him… but when they came back they were bloody and he wasn’t with them.”

You sighed, “Of course he wasn’t.”

*************

*The Laws* 1. No fucking shrugging 2. No drugs 3. No saying sorry for something that isn’t your fault 4.We work on communication every day 5. Wake up whenever the hell you want 6. No locked doors 7. We eat three full meals a day 8. No means no, no negotiations 9. We work on exercise every day 10. Ice cream must be kept in stock at all times 11. Accept help when it is offered 12. No lying 13. I will not initiate the sexy time without written or verbal consent.

************

Tags: tags: @falling4fandoms @wifunozomi @here-in-never-land @whore-for-anime @klecksstorys @aurorahoneybuns @theunknownrandom @insane-without-delirium @frenchsfryys @officiallydarkgeek @neofixcs @music-is-all-i-need @katsuki-bakubabe@unadulteratedtastemakerpoetry@dabislittlemouse@aimee1602@pinkhatlizzy @kunaigirlx44 @nii-sanfucker@bestgirlb @silver-stardrop@bakubby99 @squichymochi @sarahschance @babayaga67@starenemy

[wolfish-trickster]

Liar

Loki x female!reader

Part 2 (I wanted the first part to be only oneshot, but since a lot of you asked so nicely)

Word count: 2,5K

Warning: angst, fluffy doggie

Tag list:@gaitwae @lucywrites02 @hard-to-be-the-bard @birdgirl90 @laramoonworld @mascaracoffee @serebrum @myworldgoesboomz @lokis-leah @belovedadam @getyoutmoon

You heard him through your door shouting your name, begging you to listen to him, to let him inside to talk to you. You didn't. Your hands tried to cover Rex's ears. Poor pup, he started shivering from all of that shouting and was clinging to you for dear life.

When Loki became quiet for few minutes you kinda expected him to kick the door, call you a bitch and leave. But nothing like that happened. Instead hard footsteps started leaving your door. You were alone once again, feeling more hollow than ever.

*

Sun hasn't even risen yet when you exited the Tower with Rex on the leash. You spent big part of the night making your little friend used to the feeling of being on string and he was already eager to try it out outside your room. You haven't met anyone on your way out, thank heavens.

It started to dawn when you finally got to the park you've been in yesterday. First rays of sun tickled you on your cheeks. Rex was running around, sniffing and marking every tree, chewing on grass and lower parts of benches. You threw him some branches and cones and giggled when he tripped over his small paws. He was so full of life. Unlike you.

You missed Loki. You hated him for what he did, true. But you still missed him. He was so desperate to explain, to make up with you. But you couldn't let him manipulate you anymore. You almost believed him when he called you 'love' and stayed at your door, pleading to be let in.

Almost.

Now that your dog was freshened up after a morning walk, both you and him deserved breakfast. You didn't feel any hunger, but you still needed to put something into you. Even if it will taste like sand in your mouth.

The elevator dinged on the floor containing living room and kitchen. You prayed Loki wasn't there. He wasn't, but you were greeted by another god instead.

Thor was sitting at the table, he had his back to you, but you knew he heard you coming. Rex excitedly ran towards him and started sniffing his leg. You gently pulled him backwards a little.

"Morning," you greeted, your voice a little less cheerful like it used to be.

Thor swallowed anything he was chewing and turned towards you. "What did you do to Loki?"

Of course he had to go and complain to his big bro. "None of your business," you retorted and tied the end of the leash around one of the chairs. You knew if you let your pup go you would have to chase him around the whole New York.

"It is my business. He is my brother-"

"Adoptive," you reminded him his own words he once said the first time you met.

"-adoptive brother. But still mine. Y/N, you used to be so close, why did you lash out on him like that?"

You rolled your eyes. "He deserved it," you started to pour water into kettle.

"He deserved it how?"

"Look, I know what are you going to think when I tell you the truth. But frankly, I don't care. He betrayed me- no, he lied to me. Our whole friendship was a damn game to him. I was a damn game to him. He manipulated me, played the poor sad victim of abusive father so I could get him out of the prison. Which I did! I was so stupid. You were right, all of you were right and I was wrong. He's a villain who can't be trusted," when you ended your rant you realized you gathered enough water for two cups of tea out of habit. You poured half of the kettle down the sink.

"And why do you think he did all of that?" Thor asked

You gulped down the lump creating in your throat upon remembering his words. "I heard him," you whispered loud enough for him to hear.

While the water was heating up you filled Rex's bowel with some canned meat and put it infront of his little snout.

"You must've heard wrong then."

"And how can you be so sure? You weren't even there!" water started bubbling.

"I know Loki better than anyone in this building," he pointed at his chest.

"Well, you know him wrong, just like I did! I trusted him and he-"

"He trusted you back! With his own life!"

"No," you sniffed. "He did not. And I see it now. All those nice things he did, all those hugs and gifts. He did all of it so I could trust him more," you turned away from him. "I don't know why he's still keeping up the 'good guy' facade. He knows I found out. Does he really think me so stupid to fall for his trick again?" a tear or two escaped your eyes.

"He doesn't. I have known him his whole life Y/N, he's not that kind of a person. He is genuenly sorry."

"Then why isn't he here? Why isn't he telling me he's sorry? Did he make you fix his mistake?" you asked a little too tetchily.

"Y/N, I-"

"Y/N! My dear, you are up earlier than I expected," Thor's voice came from behind you. The one in front of you, did a facepalm, pain on his face. "It is a nice sight to wake up to," the Thor behind you winked, but stopped in his tracks when he saw the other Thor hiding his face in his big palm.

You turned to the facepalming Thor. "Loki, you nasty bastard!" your hand was twitching to throw still burning kettle at his head as he let the illusion vanish, but you didn't want to scare Rex.

"Y/N, listen to me," he took a stwp forward, you step backward and your lower back hit the counter.

"And why should I?! You lied again! How am I supposed to trust you after all your lies?!"

"Technically I didn't lie, you never asked if I was the real Thor," there was his silvertongue again.

"Fuck you and your sarcasm, Laufeyson," you never wished for a puppy to finish eating more than now. All you wanted to do was pick him up and hide in your room again.

"Whoa, is this about the yelling we heard yesterday?" Thor asked.

"You heard it?" you couldn't have been so loud, could you?

"Yelling yes, topic no."

"Oh, so he didn't boast?" you glared back at the trickster god.

"No, I am a big boy, I can fix my own problems without pouring my heart out to anyone. So to answer your previous question: no, I did not make Thor fix my mistake. And for your second question: I am here now, and I am willing to apologize, even though I did nothing wrong, technically."

"Yeah, technically you only broke my trust and my heart," you took your cup of tea in one hand, put Rex's bowel in the sink and untied his leash with the second hand.

He ran before you and held you by your shoulders. "Technically I was doing what I had to."

"Yes, getting some gold digger drunk and getting in her pants is something you had to do," you tried to walk by him but his grip was firm.

"No, you misunderstood the whole situation. It was part of a mission. She was a mistress of one retired agent of hydra and she allegedly had some useful info. Tony thought that with my charm and silvertongue I could make her give it to us," his eyes seemed to tell the truth.

"And how did your conversation turn to me, huh?"

He sighed. "She saw my lockscreen and asked who was the girl on it. I had to lie. I had to tell her all those filthy lies to convince her I truly want her. My tongue burned the whole time, believe me."

You looked at him, long and hard. A sad chuckle escaped your lips. "You are a master at lying, I give you that. And this one," you slipped from his grasp, "was well thought out."

You ran to your room, leaving both brothers bewildered in the kitchen. When you closed the door behind you and let Rex go off his leash, that's when you broke. You fell down toyour knees and started crying. How could you be so stupid to fall for one of his tricks again?

You felt Rex's little tongue licking salty trials from your cheeks, his wet cold nose nudging your face. He brought you one of his squeeky toys and showed you how to play with them. He was doing anything to cheer you up.

This little guy knew you for only a day and a half and he already loved you with his entire being. The stranger in park was right, dog really is man's bestfriend.

*

You played with your pup. You didn't have enrgy to do anything more productive. He already understood the concept of retrieving and he always came running back to you with any toy you threw him.

When it was time for lunch, you put a leash on Rex and using secret staircases and halls to avoid kitchen and any common areas you got out. On your way to the park you bought yourself something to eat.

Rex smelled the meat in the food and stood up on two legs, begging for a treat. One does not simply resist his puppy eyes.

When you entered through the gate circling the park you spot a big familiar golden retriever. Ollie.

He recognised you and was dragging his owner by his leash towards you. The owner recognised you too. "Hello there, do you remember me?"

"Of course I do. As well as this pretty boy," you patted Ollie on the head. Rex got jealous and instead of greeting a fellow canine he tugged your jean with his tiny needle-like teeth. You scratched him behind his ears. "But of course, you are much prettier boy," as if he understood the praise he puffed his tiny chest and looked very pleased with himself.

"I see you followed my advice," the man pointed at your dog.

"Yeah, and you were right. He did make everything a little better. At times," you smiled sadly.

"Don't worry, time heals everything," he put his hand on your shoulder sympatheticly.

"I hope so," you sighed.

"By the way, seems like we are becoming dog buddies. Wouldn't it be good to know each others' names?" he changed the subject.

"Yeah, I suppose it would," you held out your free hand. "Y/N."

He took it. "Max."

*

You convinced Max to stay out with you as long as he could. You really didn't want to return to Tower anytime soon. You made at least 4 rounds around the enormous park, Rex gave up walking after the thrid one and you had to carry him.

Max told you how he got cheated on in more detail. How it resoluted in a big fight, flying plates and broken bottles. You told him your own situation. You had to change few details, so he wouldn't find out you are an Avenger.

"What do you think Max? Should I trust him?"

"Honestly? I don't know. He did sound like a cool guy until you got to the whole 'gold digger' part. Do you want to trust him?"

Your eyes studied dirt below your boots. "Yes, he was my closest friend. And I miss him. But I can't let myself be his toy again. I don't want him to hurt me," you hugged Rex tighter to your chest and he started licking any piece of skin he could reach, mainly your neck.

"He sounded like he was really sorry. I would try to reason with him and talk to him more, but I can't tell you what to do."

You hummed. Your bag started to buzz. You fished out your phone and looked at the icon. It was blank, but the caller ID was called 'Loki'. You made few changes at night and deleted the old selfie.

"Speak of the devil," you reluctantly picked up. "What do you want?"

"To show you a proof," his voice sounded tired and emotionless. A little hoarse.

"Why are you still trying?" you asked, tiredness evident in your voice too.

"Because I don't want to loose you. Please, just this once. Let me show it to you, and then you are free to leave. For good," he really sounded defeated. If you didn't know better you would run to him and hugged him tightly.

You pondered it a little. It could be another trick. Eventually you gave in. "Fine, I'll be there in 10 to 15 minutes," you hung up and turned towards Max. "I'm sorry, I have to go. It was great talking to you!"

"You too. Good luck!"

*

"This better not be one of your tricks," you entered Bruce's second lab, just as Loki instructed. He was sitting at one of Bruces desks behind a big monitor. "It isn't, trust me."

"That's something that's really hard to do," you glared.

He hid his hurt and pressed play. A video from security cameras was playing. With audio as well. You saw him pouring red wine fro him and the woman. She wasn't blond how you imagined her but the rest of her looked exactly like in your head: plastic.

Few flirts were exchanged and then you heard the part you were already familiar with. Your heart hurt and you felt Rex rub himself on your leg.

He was telling the truth. When she said what they wanted to hear, Loki touched her forhead and she stood up and left as if nothing ever happened.

He turned the video off and turned to you. You didn't know how to react. You were so glad he didn't mean those words he said. But hearing them still hurt.

"Loki, I know what you said wasn't truth, and I really want to trust you again. But..."

He hung his head. "I understand. Being friends with a liar is risky as it is," he stood up and walked toward glass doors.

'Move! Tell him something! Anything! Tell him you're sorry! Tell him you want to be friends again!' your mind screamed at you. You opened your mouth, but no words left it. You felt paralyzed.

Before he could exit completely, he turned towards you and smiled, though his eyes were hollow and wet. "He does deserve the 'best friend' title more than me," his voice broke in the middle of the sentence and left, before you could hear his heart breaking anew.

Part 3?

[softykooky]

Sanctuary: Three

summary: there is no longer a light at the end of the tunnel, you think. only people who haven’t been hurt can afford such a luxury as wishful thinking. but have you turned away before seeing that there is a glimmer. A teeny tiny, minuscule speck of light. 5.6k words. 

genre: mafia au, angst, eventual ot7 x reader

warnings: physical/verbal abuse (not from the members), dysfunctional and toxic family dynamics, violence, just big sadness

author’s note: here it is!! thank you for all your kind words, again. it never goes unappreciated. apologies for all the plot holes :( i would definitely consider rewriting this in the future to fix that. on a more important note, please continue supporting the BLM movement by anything that you can do. whether it is donations, protesting, streaming videos, or educating others, no good deed is gone wasted. 

one, two

        In the brief time you’ve spent at their mansion, you’ve come to remember a few things. Taehyung snores. Loud and unapologetically so. Jungkook mumbles random words in his sleep, sometimes about cookies and other times about which kind of handgun has the least kickback. Jimin dyes his hair way too often. Yoongi spends too much time online shopping on the internet. Jin detests peanuts but loves peanut butter. Hoseok does not like you. Namjoon is secretly a big softie. In another timeline or life, you’d like to think you guys would be really close friends.

       “Namjoon, please,” the desperation melted off your every word as the guard pulled you through the house by your arm. He only stared back at you quizzically. 

       “Since you’ve been here, you’ve refused to tell us why it is that you ran away. Seems to me like even with all this time, you haven’t been able to come up with a solid excuse for your hissy fit.” 

You wanted to collapse.

       “Your father offered us his services and cooperation in exchange for your return.” Hoseok sounded from beside Namjoon. That’s all you were ever good for anyway. A trading pawn. A stepping stone. You scoffed.

       “You wouldn’t believe me now if I told you the truth, would you? Now that you’ve gotten your prize?” Your voice dripped in hurt and frustration.

       “I’m glad I could be of service.” You watched in satisfaction as Hoseok’s smirk slowly straightened into a calculating gaze, not looking back as you walked away.

       You allowed the guards to walk you up the stairs. Jungkook made his presence known from the top, boring into your eyes with the sheer intensity of a man scorned.

       “Jungkook I-” 

       “Save it, your highness.” You recoiled at the poison of his words. You should’ve known better. Should’ve known that this whole time, while you were thinking Jungkook was your friend he just saw you as his prisoner. If he noticed the tears that welled in your eyes, he did not let it affect the stone cold expression meant for you. Yoongi pretended to look past you as if you were not there. Like you were not living and breathing in front of his eyes. The rest of them watched from a distance, smugly relishing in the fact that their assumptions have been confirmed, yet melancholy to see you go. You could only swallow down the lump that had risen in your throat, trying not to throw up as the guards led you out to a black SUV. 

       You didn’t allow yourself to look back. Or to cry. To feel anything that was not utter self-hatred for not knowing better and trying to escape when you had the chance. 

       “Goodbye, Y/N. I hope we’ll never have to meet each other again.” Namjoon spoke from behind you. You heaved a long breath.

       “Thank you for everything, Namjoon”, you murmured quietly. His breath caught in his throat as he watched you walk away. You had thanked him. You thanked him for kidnapping you, keeping you hostage, and now returning you back to the family that you had desperately wanted to avoid for unknown reasons. His brows knitted in confusion, eyes still following your silhouette through the window of the car as it drove away. 

       “Jimin”, Namjoon addressed as he walked back into the house and plopped himself down at the dining table all of them had been sitting around. He noticed the way Jungkook’s eyes seemed to stick on the door you had just walked out of, sadness drooping his shoulders. 

       “Were you able to find anything on the ambassador?” 

       Jimin shook his head. “No. Nothing. He’s clean. Nothing more than a few parking tickets. If there was anything though, he probably had it scrubbed from police records.” 

       “Check it again.” 

       Namjoon couldn’t figure it out. The little pit in the bottom of his stomach that kept trying to bring him back to your situation. Like it was telling him that something was wrong. He only sighed, standing up and tucking your manila folder into the filing case. Now just another face among many.

       The security guard had been glancing at you a few times too many from the rear view window now, as he drove you to your imminent doom. You didn’t know why you couldn’t not be spineless for once in your life. You didn’t know why you just let these things happen to you, but the fight you used to have has disappeared a long time ago. 

       “Ms. Yoo. Your father is on the line for you.” Your knees began to shake at the mention of your father. You hesitantly took the phone out of the agent’s hand, taking a minute to breathe before holding it up to your ear. You didn’t say a word, but you knew he knew you were listening.

       “Y/N. How lovely it is to talk to you again, my daughter.” His voice made you want to vomit over the leather cushions of the SUV. You kept silent, only heavily breathing into the microphone.

       “We’ve missed you terribly. Especially Soyeon.” Your sister. 

       “Dad...please. Don’t do anything to her.” You tried to steel your voice in the presence of your father, but the quiver was impossible to not notice. 

       “I would never Y/N. I would never make her pay the price for your insolence.” He sneered into the microphone, tone still dangerously calm and subdued. Deep down, you knew that the most your father had ever done to Soyeon was some strict discipline and a few harsh words. Most of the time, he ignored her. It seemed like he only had resentment for you. His firstborn and heir. 

       “Well, we’ll talk more when you get home, Y/N. Maybe you can tell me about everything you’ve been up to.” You internally winced as he emphasized the word “talk”. Both of you knew what that meant and you could practically feel the sole of his dress shoes already digging into the plane of your stomach. He hung up without another word. You stared out the window as the car drove over a bridge, wondering what it would be like if you ever had the courage to tell the world. About your life. Your father. Everything. Would they believe you? Or would they trust the word of a rich and powerful man like your father, as the boys had done? Your heart twinged at the remembrance of the men you had gotten to know for that short period of time. You wondered if they would ever think about you in the future, even if they all thought you were a brat with no good intentions. Perhaps Namjoon was right. Perhaps it would be better if you all never met again. 

       “We’ve arrived.” Your heart dropped to your stomach at his words. He escorted you out of the car. More gently than Yoongi had the first night you met them all, and you remembered the loyalty these men had to your father. You would never be able to run now, even if you tried. You were led up to a familiar cobblestone walkway. In through familiar Venetian double doors your mother had insisted were necessary. Familiar marbled tiles under your shoes. Familiar baccarat crystal chandelier strung over the foyer that cast the room in a light that was too harsh for your liking. And the familiar face of your father staring back at you, lips curved in a gentle smile that you knew held more darkness than he would ever show. 

       “My darling!” He embraced you in his arms as your tears disobeyed your will and trailed down the curve of your cheek. You fisted your hands at your sides. 

       “I’ve been so worried about you”, he whispered into your ear, breath fanning against the side of your neck. How a cold breath could come from a person, you did not know. But it was becoming increasingly clear to you that your father was losing his sense of humanity in front of your eyes. That he was no longer the man you once knew and loved. 

       He waved away the last of the security guards out of the house, still trapping you in his hold. Like a conniving snake to an innocent mouse. You found yourself regretting every decision you had made prior to this. Maybe if you had told Namjoon the truth, you wouldn’t be standing here, a mere weak princess in front of a fire-breathing dragon. Maybe if you told Jimin that your father had caused those ugly scars on your back. The front door closed with a gentle click, and the doting facade your father had masked on morphed into the expression of repugnance you knew all too well.

       You heard the slap before you felt it. The discordant clash of skin on skin that rung through the space of the foyer. Your mother did always say the house had great acoustics. The force knocked you into the ground, hands coming out to soften the fall as your body crumpled against the cool marble. It hurt. Like always. A familiar pain that reminded you only of all the things you had ever done wrong. All the flaws that your father drilled into your head until you could not remember anything that was good about yourself. 

       “Do you know how difficult it’s been for me to keep the press at bay?” He spoke darkly, eyes raking over your figure in satisfaction as you laid still on the floor. 

       “Do you know how much money I’ve spent to shut down the rumors that you had run away?” He knelt down to you, emphasizing each word as you tried to look anywhere but at him. Tried to focus on anything but the pain on your skin and in your heart. 

       Don’t speak, Y/N, he’ll only hurt you more. 

       “Fucking useless, you know that Y/N?” He laughed humorlessly. You could hear the click of his shoes as he circled around you, like a predator to its prey. A father to his daughter. You hoped to god they were not steel-toed. He reached down and clumped a fist into your hair, forcing you upright as you shrieked at the pain in your scalp, every cell in your body urging you to fight back when you knew that would never end well for you. He slapped you again, this time forcing you to stay sitting as the momentum whipped your head to the side.

       “Sometimes I wish you never fucking existed.” 

       Over the years, you have learned to build resistance to the physical pain. You learned how to get bloodstains out of your clothes. How to double wrap an ice pack so that it doesn’t melt so easily against your body heat. How to not feel your conscious when your father took his anger out on you. But you had never quite gotten the hang of not letting each word bite you to your core until you believed what he said to be the truth. You never learned to push away the pain each remark and insult would ignite in the back of your chest. 

       Yeah, me too. 

       You laid there as his fists pelted down on you relentlessly, like cold rain to a cement sidewalk. You shrieked each time his foot made contact with your stomach. You could feel the blood dripping down your nose, your forehead, your arms, your cheeks. Your father was a fan of accessorizing after all, the rings on his fingers was testament. You absorbed every affront and denigration he shot at you, like a sponge to water, staring ahead into space and wondering if there was such a thing as feeling so much pain that one becomes numb. 

       “Stop! you’re going to kill her.” Your eyes had been closed but you could recognize that voice from a mile away. Soyeon. Most of the time, she had just ignored the things your father did to you in fear of the same treatment. But she was here. The dark presence of your father disappeared overhead, and exhaustion and pain finally seeped into your bones. He was not hurting you anymore. You can let yourself succumb to sleep now. 

       There was one thing you were glad for though. 

       His shoes weren’t steel-toed after all. 

       You woke up with a gasp underneath a familiar ceiling of a room that you knew all too well. The numbing you had forced yourself to go under earlier had clearly worn off, and you could practically feel every bruise and wound as if they were being created then and there. The door opened slowly to reveal Soyeon wielding a glass of water. She froze in her step.

       “Hi Soyeon-ie”, you smiled, trying not to grimace at the pain of stretching your face muscles. Imagine your surprise when Soyeon’s expression twisted in anger.

       “How could you run away. Do you know how much I had to deal with Dad getting angry while you were gone?” 

       Soyeon’s own selfishness stunned you into silence. You knew he would never hurt her, it always had been just you. She was blaming you for trying to get away from him. 

       “You know why I ran away.” You casted your eyes elsewhere, too hurt and betrayed to even look at your own sister. It was selfish of you to leave her behind, yes. You wanted to take her with you, but you knew she was safe there. You knew she would have been fine. 

       “You left me Y/N. I didn’t know if you’d come back or if I’d ever see you again.” She set the glass of water down on your nightstand, sitting at the foot of your bed. You wanted to stay angry at her. At her consideration for only herself and how she suddenly seemed to forget all the hurt that your father puts you through. But you had gotten so used to apologizing for mistakes you never made. Blaming yourself for things you could not control. 

       “I’m sorry, Soyeon”, you whispered in the quiet of the room. 

       “But I’m here now. And it looks like I won’t be leaving in the near future.” Your words were masked in sadness. You had been so close to freedom, you could almost taste it. But you should’ve known that no matter where you go, your father always had a chain tied around your ankle, yanking you back to this life. Soyeon’s face lit up at your statement.

       “Good! Well, mom’s in the Bahamas currently with some friends. Maybe I’ll take you shopping tomorrow? A new store just opened in Myeongdong!” 

       You gave her a smile. One that didn’t reach your eyes, but it wasn’t like Soyeon would notice. This was how it always went. She would block it out of her consciousness, pretending that your family was perfect and that nothing ever went wrong. She would pretend like you never got hurt, and moved on to the next topic. You always complied because Soyeon seemed happy. And that’s all you’ve ever wanted for her. 

       “Yeah. Sounds great, Soyeon-ie.” You had never wanted to disappear more in your entire life. 

       “Fantastic! Well, I’ll let you get some rest. Maybe later you can tell me about where you’ve been all this time.” She spoke cheerfully, smile falling slightly as the collar of your shirt drooped and revealed a blackening bruise on your decollete. Soyeon reached over and pulled it up, smiling once again now that it was out of sight, and out of mind. Not for you, though. You could still feel it. Then she left, closing the door gently behind her and leaving a broken you, holding the pieces of yourself together in a home you so badly wanted to get away from. 

        You won’t tell her about them, you think. You won’t tell her about Jungkook’s poetry book, Jimin’s care about your scars or Taehyung’s video games that you could hear across the thick wall. You won’t tell her about how Namjoon likes to pretend he’s got it all together but at heart, he seems like just another boy. You won’t tell her about Yoongi’s walks or Jin’s breakfast foods or how Hoseok folds your clothes neatly when he drops them off. And you definitely will not admit to yourself that you miss the people that captured you and sent you back here. You were their prisoner. Nothing more, and nothing less. 

       Jimin hasn’t slept in 48 hours. 

       For the first 24, it was because Namjoon assigned him to take care of all their new recruits, and he spent the day with a permanent frown etched on his face because most of them didn’t know how to hold a gun correctly. For the next 24, though, he’s been thinking about you. Jimin had grown used to your presence in the house, they all have. Though you were strangers, it seemed your souls naturally gravitated towards one another. Like magnets that were too timid to approach, too timid to open the bedroom door. More importantly, he’s been thinking about your father, and why you were just so dead set on running away. 

       He whips out from under his bed sheets, pushing away the headache and willing his eyelids to just remain open for a little longer. There must be something he’s missing about your family. Something small, or anything at all. But as ambassador, his records are sparkling clean, no trace of foul play or any significant offense at all. Even the tabloids could not dig anything up on the man. He seemed to be invincible. 

       He walks briskly to Taehyung’s office, where the man himself is planted in a spinny chair, pretending to do work and playing Pubg on his wall of monitors. Jimin coughs with amusement, causing Taehyung to almost jump out of his skin.

       “You scared the shit out of me, you dummy.” He gasps dramatically, hand held to his chest as he exasperatedly stares at Jimin. 

       “Is that how you talk to your hyung?” Jimin slaps him upside the head.

       “Anyway, I’ve got a favor to ask you. Can you try scrubbing the ambassador’s files again? Something just doesn’t feel right with me.” Taehyung groans at Jimin’s request, dejectedly turning off his game. 

       “I’ve gone through his profile so many times. There’s nothing, hyung. Not even a speck. I liked Y/N too, and I thought she was better than that but maybe we just gave her too much credit.” Taehyung did enjoy her presence. He always turned his game volume up a little too loud to hear an annoyed groan coming from the room next to him, just to know that she was there. She had always been kind, but after everything, Y/N was a different person than he thought. 

       “Just one more time, Tae? There has to be something”, Jimin pleads. “And besides, if you have time to play your video games you have time to do this.”

       “Yeah, yeah, whatever I’ll do it. Just get some sleep, you look like death.” Taehyung hums, putting his headset back on and turning to his multiple computers. Jimin sighs contently, yet still dissatisfied, feeling like he’s missing a piece of a puzzle he so desperately wants to solve. He pats Taehyung on the shoulders before turning around and leaving for his room. That night, Jimin is able to lie down in a comfortable bed. Stare at the ceiling he sees every time before he goes to sleep. He plugs in his phone and cozies up with a pillow, like he does every night. But this night, he drifts with the thought of you behind his eyelids. 

       Taehyung has no idea why Jimin has made him go over records of the ambassador so many times. Sure, the ambassador wasn’t someone he was overly fond of, he had made business for them difficult in the past with his high government position. But it seemed like Jimin wanted to find something incriminating, like he had a hunch there was something there. So he sifts through the press pictures. Sifts over the embassy camera feed. Sifts over his text messages, and bank statements, and even his restaurant ord-

       Wait.

       His bank statements. 

       There’s something there that Taehyung hadn’t seen before. It’s so small, he must’ve missed it in passing but it’s a breadcrumb. There’s a bill that had been paid through an offshore bank account, so that any normal audit would not be able to trace it back to the ambassador. Luckily for Taehyung, he’s the most brilliant hacker in the eastern hemisphere...or so he likes to believe. The bill is withdrawing a couple thousand dollars, but doesn’t state who the recipient is to. In a minute or two and obnoxious keyboard clicks, Taehyung finds that the ambassador has wire transferred nearly $10,000 to a hospital in the Seoul area. 

       Damn. Just hospital bills. Albeit offensively high hospital bills. Taehyung leans back in his seat in defeat, nearly doubling over as he realizes the time. He curses himself when he hears birds chirping outside, already hearing Hoseok’s nagging voice for not getting enough sleep. He hauls himself to the couch in his office and sleeps the night away, records of the ambassador forgotten on his computer screen.

       “Tae, get your ass up, it’s 3 in the afternoon”, Jungkook nudges Taehyung awake, almost consorting to kneeing him the balls since he refuses to even open an eye. He groans before finally agreeing to sit up. Taehyung finds himself in his office, Jungkook annoyedly sitting beside him with Jimin and Jin sitting in the meeting space outside. 

       “Have you found anything?” Jimin sounds from his seat around the briefing table. 

       “No, I haven’t. Like the last 5 times you asked me to do it.” Taehyung pauses in his half-asleep words, sitting up and eyes shooting wide.

       “Although there was something weird I hadn’t noticed before.” He leaves his office and sits at the table alongside Jin and Jimin.

       “There was a hospital bill for 10k. Wired through an offshore account, probably a Cayman or a Swiss. It didn’t show up on his public statements. It looked like he wanted to hide it.” Thinking back to it now, Taehyung looks like an idiot for not pursuing this breadcrumb trail and choosing to sleep instead. Jimin continues looking at him expectantly.

       “That was all, though. I traced it back to the recipient and it was the Asan Medical Center”, Taehyung trails off, mind still knitted in confusion as to what this could be leading to. Jungkook makes his appearance from the other room. 

       “What if it’s not the ambassador’s records we should be diving deeper into?” Jungkook says quietly in the tense atmosphere of the meeting room.

       “What if it’s Y/N’s?” A daunting realization settles upon the four boys. If this breadcrumb trail leads to what they suspect it does, then they may have just made the biggest mistake of their career. Staring at each other in the basement of their headquarters marks the first time the boys hoped to god that their hunch was going to be wrong. 

       “NAMJOON!” Jimin bellows as he nearly sprints from the basement to the upper level to Namjoon’s office. The leader could hear the boy even from down the hall, his clumbering footsteps reminding Namjoon how much he paid for that expensive hardwood flooring. The door swings open to reveal a panting Jimin, clutching a familiar manila folder in his hand. He slams the folder onto his desk. 

       “Y/N’s folder is here because…..why?” 

       “We’ve been trying to dig up dirt in the wrong place. Our initial run-through of her profile hadn’t even revealed this. This was covered up with all kinds of firewalls.” Jimin’s hands are shaking at their newfound information. Namjoon seems to be in a permanent state of confusion, staring at Jimin as if he had grown two heads and a tail and is now speaking to him in another language. 

       “Slow down, Jimin-ah. Take it from the beginning.” Namjoon stops his incessant rambling and muttering. 

       “Okay, okay. So you told me to take another check through the ambassador’s profile right? So naturally, I passed the workload to Taehyung.” Namjoon snorts at his confession, far versed in the boys’ habits to know that Jimin always made Taehyung do tasks he did not have energy for.

       “We must have missed it all the times before. Our dear friend the ambassador made a transaction through an offshore Cayman account, wire transferring $10,000 to Asan Medical Center in the Seoul area.” 

       Namjoon sits up straighter in his seat and leans over the table, eyes locking into Jimin’s with newfound intensity.

       “There’s no reason why he would for himself. We’ve browsed through all of his public appearances over the past year and he shows no sign of any injury or need for hospitalization with that high a bill.” Jimin runs his hands through his hair in frustration. 

       “So Jungkook suggested we dive deeper into Y/N’s profile instead. Maybe we missed something like last time too. So we did, and...” He pauses.

       “What, Jimin? Spit it out.” Namjoon’s patience and anticipation has run thin.

       “In the past years, Y/N’s been hospitalized for a total of 3 times. At Asan Medical Center.” The air in the room seems to drop to sub zero degrees as Namjoon and Jimin work to connect the dots. 

       “Taehyung looked into her hospital records, and it took him more than 10 minutes.” The statement shocks Namjoon, as all of them knew Taehyung could dig up dirt on a person in mere seconds. 

       “On the first visit, Y/N came in unconscious with multiple head and body contusions, fractured ribs, a concussion, and a broken collarbone. She had to get surgery. Jin suspects the records were so buried because someone must have bribed the hospital to keep it hidden. There’s one person involved that has that kind of money and power.” Namjoon’s face pales at the realization. He had a hunch from the beginning, and he knew he should’ve just listened to it. Now he may have just sent you off to your death with you thinking they all hated you. 

       “So what you’re saying is Y/N’s father…” Namjoon can’t bring himself to complete his sentence.

       “What I’m saying is Y/N’s father seems to be deliberately covering up these hospital records unnecessarily well if it were just an accidental injury. There’s no clear link to domestic abuse, but…well, you’ve seen the way she is.” Jimin wants to knock himself upside the head for not seeing the clear signs right in front of his eyes. The way you flinched at every sudden movement. The way you refused to tell them anything about why you ran away. Maybe this whole time, you had been trying to protect your bastard father for god knows what reason. The two breathe in the silence of Namjoon’s office as the leader thinks it over, mind muddling with all the new information and trying to find a course of action. 

       “Tell Taehyung to hack into the security cameras of the ambassador’s house in Seongbuk-dong.” 

       For the time being, your father has cut off your access to a cell phone and other communication devices. You were to remain with Soyeon for an indefinite time, and she is your chaperone for any endeavors outside the house. He hadn’t said a word to you since he left you unconscious on the floor not even 10 minutes after you stepped foot into the doorway. That’s how it always was. To your father, you ceased to exist other than when your family makes public appearances or when you mess up and he feels entitled to discipline you. Not that you could leave the house anyway. You could barely walk for extended times without feeling your chest cave in. 

       “Y/N! Mom’s home.” Soyeon cheerfully sounded from the bathroom as she dusted a generous coat of pink blush onto her cheeks. You continued staring at the wall, in the same position you had been in for hours. 

       Your mom has been a side character in your life. She was never in one place for long. Never too affectionate with you, only was there to look pretty and doting to your father, all the while pretending that your family was perfect in every sense. Even before your father changed, she never emphasized her duty as a mother to you. Soyeon helped you wobble to the family living room, where both your parents were situated on the same couch. You avoided your father’s gaze like the plague. 

       “Hi, Mom.” You managed a small smile for her. One that she returned before placing her attention back on her phone. If your mother noticed your injuries and bandages, she did not let it phase her expression for a single millisecond. You sighed quietly to yourself, wondering if things would turn out differently if your mother cared an ounce for you. 

       You spent the rest of the evening at the dinner table. You did your part, pushing around oven-roasted potatoes with your sterling silver fork and pretending that you were a normal family having a normal dinner. Your mother strategically angled the family dinner picture to hide your injuries, posting it onto her social media account with far too many heart emojis. Soyeon chattered away about her new sponsorship deals, the new clothes she bought, the new friends she’s made, and even what she had for breakfast. And your father, well, you were just too scared to even look his way to notice what he was doing. But you reckon he appreciated you keeping your mouth shut at the table. 

       As Soyeon talked on about the Maison Margiela boots she’s been dying to get her hands on, you found your mind drifting to a certain group of people. You wondered if they’ve thought about you since. If they had an ounce of remorse for sending you away, or even a sliver of longing. You wondered if they had enjoyed talking with you as you had with them, or had they let their presumptions completely tarnish your image. Were they eating well? Sleeping enough? 

       You picked at an oily asparagus. Hoping they would miss you was wishful thinking. You couldn’t afford to do that anymore. Last time you did, you got kidnapped by a gang that sent you straight back into the jaws of your father. 

       The boys couldn’t tear their eyes away from the large TV screen in the briefing room, reflecting the footage of the ambassador’s mansion foyer. The room had gone silent. Cold. The kind of cold that hits you in the gut like a sharp icicle. The kind of cold that stokes an icy blue fire. Their hearts sank in their chests.

       There you were. Getting beaten to a pulp by your father in your own home, with no security guards or maids around to see. You pushed back in the beginning, but the boys could almost physically see the fight leave your weak body as your monster of a father unleashed his hatred on you. They all wanted to throw up. Namjoon pushes away the tears that threaten to leave his eyes, turning back to the round table of boys who now had a new flame in their eyes.

       “I-I should have known.” He loses his breath at the words, nearly collapsing into his chair. 

       “I should have known someone like Y/N wouldn’t run away like that. I should’ve known there was a reason she didn’t want to tell us anything.” He buried his face in his hands, kicking himself for letting you go. 

       “So those hospital bills….he covered them up because he caused her injuries.” Jungkook spoke out in the tense silence, not hiding his tear streaked face as his eyes remained glued on the TV screen. He would make himself watch it. For you, and the hurt he’s put you through. 

       “And the scars on her back.” Jimin trails off, fists clenched in anger at the mere thought of your father. 

       It was Hoseok, though, that actually bolted out of the room and heaved the contents of his stomach into a toilet bowl. How would he face you ever again? After all that he’s said and done. After all the assumptions he made about your character without even giving you time to breathe and create a response. Hoseok had just held this animosity against people of your stature. People like your father and your mother who grew up in money, and uses it to remain in power. He, alongside the 6 other boys, had fostered their own success from scraps and dirt. Now you were paying for their mistakes in ways that none of them wanted to even think about. 

       “Namjoon. We have to go save her.” Jin pipes up. They all heard the quiver in his voice and caught sight of the shaking in his hands as he looked towards the leader. 

       No, they wouldn’t just save you. They would get you justice. They would dismantle your father and maybe kill him while they were at it. This would be the price for their mistakes against you. As he looks back at his brothers, figures slumped in regret and shame, he wonders if you’ll be able to forgive them. Despite the short time, they had all bonded with you in some way or other. 

       “Yoongi, could you round up our retrieval team?” Namjoon’s face steels as he faces them, expression almost dead if it weren’t for the complete wrath that burned in his eyes. 

       “I’ve been meaning to visit Seongbuk-dong. I hear it’s lovely this time of year.”

taglist:  @pinkyhim​, @deolly​,  @loveyoongles​​, @drunkzseok​, @hope122598​, @uwunamjoon​, @nomimits7​, @bubblebunnylia​, @aquaalanah , @juliie-ocha , @daydreambrliever​, @btsbabby​​, @rosiethefairy​, @blank-et-noir , @tiredjedi , @myheartstaysinkorea 

[lildevyl]

DSMP FanFic Recommendations I

So, a few days @nastiiuu did a nice Recommendation of a DSMP FanFic called Evermore. So, per request, here's a list of different DSMP Recommendations that I have from my History, Mark For Later, and from my Bookmarks! Sorry, @nastiiuu that it took me a while to get this up! But I hope you all enjoy!

Stay safe and I will put the Summaries and Tigger Warnings in as well!

So, I will start off with the one the @nastiiuu recommended a few days ago!

Evermore

Summary: Prince Theseus, a child of blonde and blue, a child of isolation and a crave for touch. He's the youngest in the Royal Family, and somehow the most forgotten. The most neglected. The most alone.

Tucked away in his tower, the young prince watches the world move on without him, watches his family welcome two new princes into their arms, and yet reject him when he cries desperately from nightmares or shivers from a painful wound.

"Wilby?" The child had murmured, all curious and hesitant at once. He was tucked in his older brother's lap, watching as his other sibling sparred with their father. "We'll always be together, right? Forever and ever?"

Wilbur smiled. "Of course, Tommy. Forever and ever."

The Hanahaki rising in young Theseus' throat says otherwise.

TW: Isolation, Hanahki Disease, Angst no happy ending, Character Death, Villain!Dream, Manuplation.

The Exchange: My Life for Yours: I'm still reading this one, I'm on chapter 17 and it's ssssssssooooooooo good right now!

Summary: Tommy was a liability. Too annoying and too loud.

Techno didn't care about this child.

"Unless of course, you want call on that favor"

"Ok"

Then why he suddenly did?

TW: Villain!Dream, Canon Diverse, Kidnapping, Demons/Dreamons, Demon!Dream, Dreamon!Dream, Isolation, Manipulation, "A Deal with the Devil."

The Inevitability of Change: I just got caught up with this one and oh my Ghoul! This is intense and so good! I can't wait for the update!

Summary: Fuck it, he was allowed to do this, it would be better for everyone else anyway. They could do whatever they wanted and he wouldn’t be in their way. He wouldn’t cause problems anymore and he could have the perfect life that he had always wanted.

The egg extended a blood vine out to him. "Do we have a deal?" There was a level of smugness that Tommy recognized all too well from all his wars with Dream, it was the sound of an opponent knowing they’d won.

“We do, you dumb ugly bitch.”

or

Tommyinnit hated change. He'd witnessed so many people he cared about in his life change and hardly ever for the better. He just wished things could go back to the way they were when he had everything he ever wanted, a loving family who cared about him, a best friend who was always by his side. He craves this so badly that he makes a deal with the egg to get everything he's ever wanted.

or or

Tommy becomes a coraline kinnie

TW: Derealization, Unreality, Manipulation, Child Abandonment, Violence (later chapters), Explosions (later chapters).

Ties of the Puppet

Summary: Tommy hates how his mind feels trapped at that moment with Tubbo. The look in his eyes one Tommy had been forced to see far too many times. Wilbur’s eyes.

or

Tommy struggles with the trauma of his life and unhealthy relationships, Wilbur tries his hand at redemption, Phil and Techno learn to heal what's been lost.

TW: Mental Health Issues, Violence, Abuse, Redemption Arc for Tubbo, Healing for Tommy/Phil/Techno, some of the characters will seem a little OOC, Canon Diverse.

Forged By Truth (Or the Lack there of)

Summary: After his escape from exile failed spectacularly, Tommy only needed to be reminded that Dream saved his life a few times before it starts to sink in. Once his exile can continue again far away from any more distractions, Dream proceeds with his plan to craft the perfect weapon.

TW: Manipulation, Mention of Character Death (Character doesn't really die but the other characters don't know that), Suicidal Thoughts, Violence, Protégé AU, Tommy becomes Dream's Protégé, Angst, Whump.

Mask: I'm still working on this one but it's really, really, really good! A lot of Angst and Manipulation. So, please be careful when reading!

Summary: Dream knew Tommy was a naturally clingy child. That's why he found such satisfaction in having him exiled.

Dream didn't plan on Tommy clinging to him.

Dream was going to take advantage of the situation.

All Tommy needed was a bit of a push and then he would be completely broken.

Ready to be remodeled into the perfect weapon.

TW: Suicidal Thoughts, Attempted Suicide, Manipulation, Emotional and Mental Manipulation, Protégé AU, Broken!Tommy, Angst, Angst (possibly no happy ending but I'm not sure), Whump.

Lion's Cup, Tiger Stripes: I just finished this one and it's so good! Exile Arc but with a twist! Guest Appearances by Sad-ist, Late-August, Derivakat.

Summary: Tommy Innit knew what Dream was doing and was sure as hell not going through with it. So, by the third week of exile, as Dream starts to escalate his punishments, he leaves. One month later he runs into Purpled and hires him as a bodyguard while he travels.

Or Tommy runs away, stays in one village for a month to clear his head and decides to go travelling while dragging Purpled with him.

Or road trip pog.

TW: Angst, Angst with a happy, Found Family, Violence, Testing, Scares, Explosions (later chapters), I think that's all.

Valley of Serenity: This is a very long fic! It's about 60+ chapters so feel free to read in increments but this is a really good fic! Redemption Arc and Healing for the SBI Family!

Summary: After blowing up a nation, Wilbur throws a sword down at his father's feet and begs to be killed.

Phil, however, takes one look at the state of his children and decides he has other plans.

(post november 16th au where wilbur doesn't die. instead a family leaves the smp entirely, and learn how to live with each other again.)

"Fuck, I - I can't forgive either of you right now," Tommy says quietly. Despite the words, he hugs Wilbur tighter. "One day, though. I think one day I will."

"And we're still brothers, right?" Wilbur dares ask. Techno inhales sharply beside him.

They get a choked laugh in reply.

"Yeah. Brothers."

TW: Angst, Mention of wanting to die, Healing, a long road of healing, Mental Health Issues, Family Bonds, Angst but I think there is a happy ending, Violence, Mention of the L'Manburg exploding. Redemption Arc, Healing.

Breathing's Just A Rhythm: I finished this fic a few weeks ago and my ghoul! This is so good! Time Travel Fic with Dream, Schlatt, Tubbo, Tommy, and of course CHAT!

Summary: POGTOPIA??? WHAT ARE WE DOING HERE?? TIMETRAVELBLADE. technotravel

“Chat, I did not time travel,” Techno said exhaustedly, “I don’t know what gave you that idea, but please calm yourselves.”

The voices started obnoxiously whispering at the top of their lungs. HE DOESN’T KNOW. PANIC

Or: Tommy, Tubbo, Jschlatt, and Dream all end up in the past. (Oh, and the Chat comes too) (mcd is a villain, this fic has a happy ending)

Or OR! Dream attempts to Time Travel in the past but winds only go back a few months ago during Pogtopia Area and he winds up bring a few unexpected victors with him! MEANWHILE: Karl is trying his damnest to fix everything with Time Travel Fiasco that Dream caused! B/C the Future selves and the past selves switched!

TW: Graphic Violence, Bodily harm (later chapters), Kidnapping (later chapters), Explosions (later chapters), Betrayal (later chapters I won't say who!), Isolation, Manipulations, Mental and Emotional Abuse, Trauma, Therapy (Finally these boys gets some), Good!Schlatt, Villain!Dream, Redemption Arc Wilbur and Schlatt.

I think I got them all?

Wrong Place for Redemption: This one of the stories that helped inspired Breathing is Just a Rhythm! Time Travel Fic!

Summary: -Previously titled Time Will Decide. Name taken from lyrics in 'A Sadness Runs Through Him' by The Hosiers

“Okay, why don’t you go see him.” Tommy didn’t know what he thought the afterlife was going to be like, hell he didn’t even know if it was a real thing. Maybe he’d see Wilbur, possibly Schlatt, but he didn’t expect to see a white castle and Karl.

Or where Tommy looses his final life to Dream in the prison only to be teleported back in time.

OR where Tommy is given a second chance and isn't going to blow it, not even if things start to get revealed (things that change everything) and discoveries are made.

This whole book has TW's: Child abuse, violence/murder, gore/blood, implied/referenced suicide, suicide, drinking, etc.

Parental Rights: Another good on going fic for me! Can you tell that I love some SBI/Found Family Fics here?

Summary: Sam wants to be there for Tommy. Wants to be his dad. Wants to be the one Tommy comes to when he's in trouble or excited over something. He'd happily legally adopt Tommy, but well... Tommy's actual father is in the way of that. Sam thought with how distanced Phil was with his son it would be easy to persuade him to give his parental rights over to Sam. But well... Tommy's stubbornness had to come from somewhere, right?

TW: Sleep Walking, Mentions of Exile, Healing Arc for Tommy, Healing Arc for Sam, Healing Arc for Tubbo, SBI, Healing Arc for Techno.

Allium: This is still on going, but oh man! This is getting really good!

Summary: What if Dreams plan for the Disc War finale had worked?

Tubbo dead, Tommy in the prison, SMP under his control. Allium Ashes.

TW: Major Character Death, Ghostbo (Ghost Tubbo), Manipulation, Isolation, Imprisonment, Prisoner Innit, Making someone believe they are responsible for something they didn't do, Kidnapping, Rescue Mission.

And How Can I Compete (With The World At Your Feet): God AU and this is really Fangtastic! Rated M for Graphic Violence and Attempted Sacrifice.

Summary: Tommy has been kept away from the world and held captive for four years, and now he’s about to be used as a sacrifice to a god. A blood god, to be specific. The Blood God. But, instead of accepting his captor’s sacrifice, the Blood God is in debt to Tommy. And he’s going to save him.

A universe where Technoblade, Wilbur, and Phil are all gods who have become quite protective of a mortal fifteen year old without a home.

This concept was based on a text post I saw, I think! I can’t find it anymore, but if you see it let me know!

TW: Blood, Violence, Attempted Sacrifice, Villain!Dream, Villain!BadBoyHalo, Occult Setting, God AU, Blood God!Techno, Angel of Death!Philza, God!Wilbur, Angel!Tubbo, Angel!Ranboo.

Death's Forest: This is a nice little One-Shot for the SBI, and Dadza fans! Set during Tommy's Exile. Don't worry! Dadza to the rescue!

Summary: “Can I see him?” Phil asks, blinking owlishly, as if he’s simply just asking. As if he’s not holding a threat behind those light words.

“Don’t push your limits.” Dream responds, and Phil only smiles with a slow nod.

The next day, Dream wishes he had answered differently.

Or

Phil isn’t quite human. He wants to visit Tommy during exile.

TW: I don't think there's any TW here, but if there is, please let me know!

Prince Theseus: Royal AU! Hybrid Tommy. Prince Tommy (Theseus).

Summary: Prince Theseus Craft of the Anartitic Empire, A child who could bring joy to anyone's day left to be forgotten by his family left to spend his days in his tower with nothing but his Maid and dear friend as company

Left to watch his older brothers laugh and smile as his father looks at them with love and the eyes of a proud parent he never saw directed to him, watch them both receive the love he craved so desperately from his father. Left him to envy his brothers yet grow jealous as that jealousy turns to a small flame of hatred growing steadily as time passes leaving him to make his final decision.

No longer will he be known as Theseus but as the Amazing Tommyinnit who could do anything who will prove his former family wrong and show he is better than what they think.

Which leads him to where he is now, a runaway prince who finds a new family brought together by hardship and their love of traveling the endless seas.

AKA :

16 yr old Prince Theseus changes his name to Tommyinnit and runs away from his royal family who neglected him and finds a real family on a ship who just so happened to be pirates as well.

TW: Isolation, Mention of a Minor Character Death, Running Away, Royal AU, Hybrid Tommy, SBI, Neglect, Pirates, Found Family, Angst, Hurt and Comfort, Magic.

Therapy Marriage: Okay, I'm adding this one for some Wholesomeness, and Fluff with some Angst but there should be a Happy Ending!

Summary: but for some reason, tubbo (and possibly ranboo, although he doubted this was his idea) had got it into his head that tommy needed therapy or some shit.

which, fine, maybe he had a little bit of an issue. he did freak out at damage, and weapons, and he had reached out to puffy, but he was okay! he didn’t need tubbo to pity him.

but- here was where the weird part came in- tubbo wanted tommy in his marriage.

TL:DR Tubbo wants to help Tommy and decides that the best method is by marrying him as well. Ranboo just goes along with it.

*****

Okay, this post has gotten very long! I do apologize for that! So, I'll add others to another Post!

[chaoticpuff17]

Something Wicked

part 7

masterlist

Warnings: abuse, yandere behavior 

alright my darlings, not my best work, but here’s part 7! I might edit it later! Love you all! and a reminder that if you or a loved one is in an abusive relationship. Please call the emergency hotlines! 

Y/N had never been more terrified in her life. Jin kept her safely tucked away in the penthouse, and much to her horror, he never left. When she’d asked about it, as casually as she could as she found her defiance towards the situation only angered him, he’d smiled and told her that he had taken a leave of absence to spend with her before kissing her forehead and asking what she wanted for lunch.

In the several days she had been trapped there, he hadn’t left her side once. Any time she tried to refuse his attention, he got upset. Every hour spent with him showed her just how far gone her boss truly was. Every morning he would set out her clothes for her. He cooked for her. He didn’t leave her side for even a moment. It was as though he thought smothering her would affect her perception of him and of the situation he had placed them both in.

“Darling,” He cooed coming up behind her where she had been sitting stiffly in one of the chairs in the living room reading and trying desperately to ignore his gaze on her. “You’ve been so quiet today. Are you feeling alright?” He asked resting his chin on her shoulder.

“I’m fine.” She murmured trying to suppress her shudder. He didn’t like it when she flinched. The bruise situated on her temple was evidence enough of that.

He hummed noncommittally before moving around her chair and lifting her up before settling her back down in his lap nuzzling into her neck enjoying her warmth and the feel of her in his arms. “I don’t like it when you’re this quiet.” He murmured against her neck. “I’d hate to think you were ignoring me, darling.”

She couldn’t help how she stiffened at those words. Jin had a temper, worse than she had ever realized. She had never thought that Jin was a violent man, but she hadn’t thought a lot of things about Jin until just a few days ago.

“Of course not.” She whispered forcing herself to relax into his hold despite the fact she wanted nothing more than to rip herself out of his hold and run to the farthest reaches of the earth to be away from him.

“Of course not.” He repeated smiling into her neck placing a kiss there. “My sweet darling.” His arms tightened around her possessively. “What are you reading, my love?”

“The Yellow Wallpaper.” She informed him eyes fixed on the cover of the book ignoring the frown that marred his features.

“That’s not a pleasant book, my darling. I don’t want you reading things like this.” He plucked the book from her grasp flinging it over on to the couch.

Of course he wouldn’t want her reading it. It was depicted a woman locked away by her husband to slowly go mad with only the peeling yellow wallpaper to keep her company. Granted her prison was much nicer than the room the poor lady in the book was locked away in, but it was a prison none the less. She had to wonder though why Jin had the book at all when he was so against her reading it.  He was meticulous enough to make sure everything in his home was “appropriate” for her. It was hard to think that this book had escaped his notice.

“There are far more pleasant books to read. Wouldn’t you rather read something more pleasant?” He coaxed nuzzling into her again. “I have such a wonderful selection of books in the solar.”

“Of course.” She agreed keeping herself calm despite how her heart was pounding against her chest. “I’ll run up and grab something different.” She offered with a strained smile as she began to extricate herself from Jin’s lap only to be pulled back.

“Leaving so soon, darling?” He purred into her ear grip tightening around her as he trailed his nose up her neck to place a kiss just below her ear.

“I was going to get a different book.” She murmured her voice trembling slightly as she forced the panic down.

Jin had slowly been becoming more and more touchy as the days went by. He always wanted to be in contact with her. He was always looking for an opportunity to brush his hand against the small of her back or the curve of her hip. He’d been placing kisses against her neck, her cheeks, her forehead. He had tried for her lips as well, but so far she had always been quick enough to turn her head before he could. She knew very well what he was leading up to. She wasn’t naïve despite how Jin treated her. She was trying her best to keep him at bay, but there was only so much she could do against him, and she was running out of time. Jin would only put up with her evasions for so long. He was not a patient man.

He hummed noncommittally his thumb rubbing circles into her hip as he kept her anchored against him. “I think I prefer you staying here with me.”

She took a deep breath to steady herself as she prepared to coddle him. She found that coddling him as she did at the office was the best way to deal with him, and she was nothing if not a master at coddling Kim Seokjin. She did her best to keep him at a distance, but just as she was a master of coddling Jin, Jin was a master of derailing her plans. He was excellent at getting under her skin, of finding new ways to force her just where he wanted her. It was always a gamble on whether or not she would be successful in redirecting him. At the office, Jin had to behave. Here, there were no such restrictions on his behavior.

“Jin,” She began making her tone as sweet and syrupy as she could. He preferred it when she was sweet. “I’m sure the office is missing you. Maybe you should check in, and I’ll grab a new book, something more pleasant. We can have tea afterwards.” She offered as sweetly as she could. He didn’t need to know that she would slip poison in his tea if given the chance.  

He frowned at her tightening his hold on her hip. “Darling,” He purred his tone sweet, seductive, but his eyes were dark and cold. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

She froze, her hands beginning to shake. “Of course not, Jin.”

His grip tightened further becoming painful. She was sure he was going to leave a bruise, just one more to add to the growing collection littering her body.

His sigh was filled with disappointment as he began to tutt at her. “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N. Why do you insist on lying to me, darling?”

She couldn’t help the whimper that escaped her. “Jin.” She pleaded trying to wiggle her way out of his grasp, but he held her still.

“Haven’t I been good to you, darling?” He turned her chin to look at him enjoying the way she trembled under his gaze. “Why must you continue to be difficult?”  

“Jin,” She whimpered again trying very hard to remain calm.

“I’ve been patient, darling. I thought a little time would help you adjust, but you continue to defy me. I didn’t want to do this.” He sighed again. “I really didn’t.”

“Jin, please.” She pleaded trying to push his hand away from her face. “Please.”

He nudged her up keeping a firm hand on her so she couldn’t escape. “You just don’t learn, darling.”

“Jin.”

“No, darling.” He purred standing and pulling her up with him. “You had your chance.”

She choked back a sob as Jin dragged her upstairs to their bedroom. She struggled against him the whole way trying to pull herself free, to fun. She couldn’t get out. She knew that, but maybe she could hide. It was a foolish plan really. Hiding would only serve to anger Jin more, but she wasn’t thinking logically. She was thinking of self-preservation.

It wasn’t hard for Jin to man handle her. He was stronger than her, and he had the stubborn belief that he was doing this for her own good on his side. Everything he did, he did for her, for them. He wanted a life with her, but she seemed determined to be a brat, to ruin all of his carefully laid plans. But if she was going to act like a brat, Jin was going to treat her like one.

“Now, darling.” He growled pinning her down to the bed as he began to strip her. “Don’t fight me. You’ll only make this worse for yourself.”

He soon had her down to only her panties as he sat on top of her stomach. He grinned in triumph as he pinned her hands above her head. Now that he had her where he wanted her, Jin wasted no time in tying her up. He wanted her still and vulnerable before him, and Jin always got what he wanted. He had hoped to use the silk ties under more pleasurable circumstances, but she needed a lesson.

“Now, be a good girl for me, darling.” He cooed placing a kiss to the valley between her breasts before he left her on the bed.

When he returned it was with a wicked looking whip in his hands. Jin was nothing if not extravagant in anything that he did. This was no exception. The crop itself was made out of a sleek dark wood ending in a polished silver handle. But the other end held a short but thick braided leather rope that looked as though it was made to inflict pain. The entire thing had an antique feel to it, elegant, refined, and decidedly wicked looking.

He sighed looking down at her in disappointment as he rolled his shoulders. “This all could have been so much more pleasurable if you’d only listened to me, darling. Ah well. Another time.”  

“Jin,” She called out her voice warbling as she pleaded with him not to do this.

“Shhhhh, darling. Take your punishment like the good girl I know you are.”

“Jin, please. I’m sorry!” She shrieked as he brought the crop down against her breasts with cruel force.

“I know you are, darling, but things that are hard to bear are sweet to remember.” He brought the crop down again leaving a red welt against the soft skin of her belly. “I’m doing this for you own, good darling.”  Another hit, this time to the flesh of her upper thigh leaving behind another angry red welt in its wake.

Each hit fell swift and harsh against her skin littering her with a constellation of red marks. Some were even beginning to turn sickly shades of purple. When he had deemed her front covered enough, he flipped her over to continue this treatment on her other side. By this time she was sobbing from the pain. Any pleas she attempted to make were lost in tears and shrieks of pain.

To her, it seemed to go on for hours. The hits were endless, and they never seemed to lessen in strength. Each blow was almost worse than the last. Some blows were decidedly worse than others. She always knew when the wip had hit a spot it had marked before.

By the time it was over, she was nothing but a shivering, sniveling mess, but to Jin, she looked beautiful. Some of the hits had broken skin leaving her bloody and bruised before him. He liked seeing her like this, sniveling and submissive before him, but Jin was not stupid. He knew her wounds had to be tended.

He left her tied there as she went to the en suite to collect some ointment and a wet rag to clean her up with. She whined at the contact, but there wasn’t much she could do to escape it. Even though her bonds were soft and silky, they were strong. She had pulled against them during the entirety of her beating, but they had never budged once.

“Hush, darling.” He purred dragging the rag against her skin cleaning up the blood that leaked from some of the welts. “It’s over now. You did so well. Such a good girl for me.”

She hated it. She hated him, but even though she hated him, she found comfort in the soft touches he used to clean up her battered body. After all, he was the only comfort she was going to get. There was no one else there to help her. No one else knew where she was. It was just the two of them in this hell.

Once he was finished cleaning her up and placing a soothing ointment on her injuries, Jin untied her and turned her over slipping her into an oversized hoodie of his. The piece of clothing nearly swallowed her whole, but it was soft and warm. More importantly, it was his. He found he enjoyed her in his clothing. He’d have to dress her in his shirts more often.

He settled on the bed next to her pulling her into his side so she was leaned against his chest. “Be a good girl for me, darling, and we’ll never have to do this again. I promise.” He stroked her hair smiling down at her blissfully. “I love you, my darling.”

If this was love, she didn’t want it.

part 8

[the-last-kenobi]

For the bad things happen bingo, I Will Punish You For Your Friend's Failure, with Obi Wan and Rex during the Zygeria arc with Rex being punished by the slavers.

Oooooh, happy evil brain twinkles.

TW for blood, child death, and mildly graphic torture. No specifics because spoilers but do be cautious.

•••

There is an enemy, and it is within, the Jedi taught.

You will encounter foes of all forms in your years as a Jedi. There will be cruel tyrants and selfish politicians, ruthless criminals and violent terrorists. Possessive lovers, radical reformists, slavers and desperate people willing to do whatever it takes to achieve what matters to them. And then the next thing, and the next.

But these are not the enemy.

The Jedi have only two natural enemies.

The Sith have been extinguished from the galaxy, lost to ruin. What the Jedi did not destroy, the Sith themselves did, locked in the raw emotion of the Dark Side, turning on one another.

And the Jedi are left with the true enemy.

You are the enemy, the Masters warned. Your weaknesses are your real enemy.

All obstacles can be overcome as long as you master yourself.

Fear will lead you astray. Push through it.

Anger will corrupt you. Abandon it.

Envy will poison you. Purge it.

Grief will break you. Overcome it.

And if you fall, you will fall as yourself, at peace. A true Jedi perishes for the right reasons, where not even self-possession could stop the sheer numbers of the opposition.

The enemy is within.

•

Obi-Wan Kenobi took a deep, steadying breath. The enemy is within, he reminded himself. My fear is the enemy. These people cannot destroy me.

The broken wrist, clumsily bandaged and still forced to work, whispers that otherwise. The bruises along his spine groan in misery. There was a cut on his upper lip that had bled and dried in his beard and lips. Someone had driven the handle of a whip into the muscles of his left leg, and it could not bear his weight.

He opened his eyes just in time to receive a stunning blow across the face.

Despite the fancies of holodramas, a strike to the face is nothing to brush aside.

The Jedi reeled, his head exploding, his face stinging. White light erupted behind his eyes and his nose burned as if he’d dived too deep into water.

“Who is your Master?” a voice demanded.

Obi-Wan blinked rapidly, gasping for air. His entire head throbbed; he was on his knees but his back had arched back so far his head was a foot from the floor. Wincing, he dragged himself back up and stared passively into the snarling Zyggerian’s eyes. “I am.”

A roar of discontent. “Wrong!”

The hand came back, but this time it closed around his throat.

•

Qui-Gon caught him by the shoulders, one hand moving upwards to press against the side of his Padawan’s neck.

“You are stronger than your fear,” he said. “Because your fear is only part of you. Your strengths outnumber your fear, Obi-Wan.”

Behind the boy’s young eyes, though - flashes of remembered horror, children dead in the streets of Melida/Daan and the screaming sound a blaster bolt made as it grazed close, so close, to his ear - and hit another boy instead —

Obi-Wan gasped as if drowning, his mind convinced that he was not getting enough oxygen.

Fear was going to kill him.

Fear was the enemy.

“Oh, Padawan,” sighed his Master. And then the hands left his neck and his shoulder, leaving Obi-Wan bereft, plunged into ice cold waters of terror and trauma, his failures haunting him like the ghost of Cerasi.

•

Obi-Wan choked, bucking involuntarily as the meaty hand clenched around his throat, crushing his air pipe.

He couldn’t breathe.

Still. What did it matter, if this monstrous slaver killed him in a fit of rage? Obi-Wan was more than this man and his pride, his greed, his disregard for life.

Obi-Wan was a Jedi.

His body’s automatic response to being abused and killed was nothing.

He was more than his fear.

“Damn Jedi!”

The hand released him, and the red-haired General slumped to the floor, unable to stop his forehead from colliding painfully with the uneven slag flooring. More blood. He tasted it in his mouth, he felt it dripping down his forehead.

“Very well,” the same voice continued. “The punishment must suit the prisoner, in some cases. How lucky of you. So special.”

They cannot hurt me, Obi-Wan reminded himself. My body is not my soul. I am more than my fear.

And then two more slavers entered the room at a summons, dragging a struggling figure between them.

Rex.

Obi-Wan’s fear spiked so sharply he felt his chest stab with physical pain.

No, he told himself. No. Fight it. Fight it—

The Zyggerian behind him sensed his rising emotion and grabbed him roughly, one hand on the thick collar around the Jedi’s throat, and the other dug painfully into his hair.

•

Obi-Wan shuddered.

A bomb - Twela, Bruin, Conno, Toorun, and others went flying, flailing helplessly in the air.

Toorun rolled on his side and got back up.

Conno collided with a vehicle and lay still.

Bruin landed on his feet and stood up, grinning in shocked relief, and then dropped with a bullet in his head. Blood spattered stone.

Twela landed on a pile of rubble.

When Obi-Wan found her, she had been lying there for an hour while the battle wore on, a rebar shoved through her stomach.

It took her two days to die—

Cerasi, falling into his arms. Gasping. Blood everywhere. Her father screaming. Blood on Obi-Wan’s hands—

Nield, his friend, telling him he didn’t belong - kicking him out of the camp to die alone - blaming Obi-Wan, rightfully, for the death of Cerasi and the peace she had helped create—

But as quickly as they had been taken away, the warm and solid hands of Qui-Gon Jinn were there again, this time on his back. Pulling him. Tightening around him.

Obi-Wan blinked rapidly, gasping and shaking, pressed into a warm embrace while his Master rocked him gently, whispering encouragement into his hair.

It was good to be held.

•

Obi-Wan twisted, struggling in near-panic to get away from the arms restraining him.

“Stop it!” he yelled. “Stop!”

They did not stop.

The Zyggerians had been on Rex for over two hours, holding him down, methodically slicing the soles of his feet, throwing their fists into his abdomen and face and throat, slamming his head against the unforgiving ground.

The Captain was a mess; bruised and bloodied, involuntary tears making his damaged face glisten.

Rex had finally started to scream five minutes ago, and still they would not stop—

“Stop! You’ll kill him!” Obi-Wan shouted, his bound hands clenched so tightly that his palms were torn and bleeding. “Stop!”

“And now the bird sings,” the slave master crowed, laughing down at him. “So high and mighty, Jedi?”

“Leave him alone!” Obi-Wan demanded.

The slaver’s face darkened.

Two things happened at almost the same moment.

A knife was drawn from seemingly thin air and without hesitation or fanfare was plunged into Rex’s thigh; the Captain screamed again, writhing.

A button was pressed, and the collar around Obi-Wan’s neck blazed with electricity that made him convulse, blinded, agonized.

“You don’t give the orders here,” the master snarled. “Haven’t you learned? You’re not in control here!”

•

“You are in control, Padawan,” Qui-Gon murmured, rubbing his hand up and down the boy’s back, following the still too-prominent line of his spine. Up and down, up and down.

“I’m not,” Obi-Wan sobbed. “I’m a failure.”

“You haven’t failed until you’ve let yourself down and decided not to get up again,” his Master replied firmly. “You are master of yourself, Obi-Wan, and therefore master of the situation. You can rise above. Even if you need help to do it. You are not a slave to fear.”

•

“Slaves are not masters,” the Zyggerian bellowed, and Rex screamed again.

Obi-Wan shuddered and twitched on the floor; he felt filthy, ragged, used. Now useless.

“You don’t make the rules!” A kick to the abdomen that deprived him of air. Once again suffocating. Drowning.

All he could see was the bloodstained floor. All he could hear was the voice, and Rex screaming through gritted teeth.

“Every time you cross me, I’ll punish your freakish friend. And anyone else that crosses your path. I! Am! In! Control! Here!” Each of the final words was delivered with a sharp jerk on the chain that had been attached to the collar.

Obi-Wan choked and wheezed.

Pain.

Terror.

Helpless.

I can’t —

“Who is your Master?”

“You are,” Obi-Wan told Fear, eyes glazed, blood spattered across his vision. Maybe permanently. Like a brand. Like Cerasi’s lifeblood on his shaking hands.

“Who is your Master?” the slaver asked again.

Obi-Wan stared vacantly upwards.

Fear looked back at him. Outside him. Inside him. Triumphant.

“You are,” whispered the Jedi, and his eyes rolled back in his head.

He slumped to the floor.

Rex’s screams faded as the punishment abruptly ceased; the Clone lay on the stone floor, limp and in terrible pain, staring with abject fear in his eyes at the fallen Jedi.

His utter relief that the pain was over, that they had taken their hideous hands off of him, was warring with his worry.

And his growing terror.

If even General Kenobi could be controlled...

“A good start,” the slave master said thoughtfully, trodding deliberately on Obi-Wan’s damaged foot. “And I was told Jedi did not feel fear.”

•••

[bubsdolan]

Hiii so this is a suuuper sensitive topic and it’s ok if you don’t feel comfortable writing about it, but my one year anniversary of my r*pe is next week and I was wondering if you could write something w gray? Maybe just friends but they both know there’s feelings there but reader is scared cause, in my case, my first ever date w a guy was w the man who a**aulted me & it’s also been my one s*xual experience and I’m scared of men lmaooo it’s ok if you can’t tho I’ll luv u always and no matter what <3

{baby, having spoken to you privately and having you open up to me the way you did, i hope you know how strong you are. how brave and so incredibly special i know you are. thank you for trusting me and putting all your faith in me to deliver something that you can use to help you cope in a way. i love you and im here whenever you need🍒 sorry it’s so late}

{trigger warning- sexual assault}

you had been keeping yourself to yourself all day, avoiding calls and texts from everyone closest to you as you harboured your deeper most inner feelings that often send your mind spiralling out of control. your demons working a mile a minute as you relive the events that unfortunately occurred a year ago today. a secret you had yet to tell anyone, in fear of not being believed or for how people could potentially perceive you.

it was the year anniversary of the day you got sexually assaulted after your first ever date with a guy you forced yourself to forget the name off. all memories of him were erased besides the feeling of his dirty, unconsensual hands on your body. the face of a devil hovering over you maliciously as you begged and pleaded with him to let you go. you never truly recover from that sort of trauma and over the last few days, the feeling of dread and fear had slowly been creeping its way back into your life where it didn’t belong.

you were meant to be spending the evening with your best friend, grayson. you both made a pact at your naive age of 14, that once a week you would both go out and do something spontaneous. a pact you both refuse to break serval years later, wanting to make the most of what life has to offer. but in your state of mind, there was nothing worse than putting on a brave face, especially for someone who could read you like a book, and lying to yourself and others around you about how you were really feeling.

although grayson dolan was your childhood bestfriend, and at times your only companion, your relationship was more than that. it was deeper and held a different spark than when you were kids. you were the happiest when with grayson, something about being around him made you feel at ease, at peace with yourself and most importantly safe. you har a flirty relationship, always cuddling when watching movies, being quite handsy with each other any chance you could, but you both were to scared to push the boundariesof anything more- you more than grayson.

you were getting ready to wallow away in the comfort of your bed, surrounded by snacks and your favourite netlfix shows as you needed an escape. you needed to escape the prison of your own mind, as well as the world around you. however, you were pulled back into reality at a startling knock at your door. a knock you knew all too well.

coming face to face with gryson, the one face you needed to see but also feared in this moment, you sigh in defect and reluctantly let him inside your apartment. you could instantly see his face relax at the sight of you. after not answering any of his calls and texts for serval hours, he was starting to panic, his mind running away with thoughts of something bad happening to you. he couldn't live without you and the very notion of it made his heart bleed.

“bubba-” you melt at the nickname reserved for grayson and grayson alone. he was so blindly unaware of the affect he had on you, that even something as simple as a term of endearment coming from his lips, was enough to set you into a pool of your own tears. 

grayson is by your side in seconds, slamming the door with his foot as he holds you in his embrace- an embrace you needed now more than ever. he’s shushing your whimpers, running his fingers tips through the ends of your hair as he rocks you back and fourth with his body. he lets you cry, his heart breaking at the sound, wanting nothing more to take away your hurt and pain, although not knowing the real cause behind it. 

you collect yourself, whipping your bloodshot eyes to try and hide any signs you were weak, but grayson knew you better than you knew yourself. he knew something was deeply wrong, but in his mind, he came up with the conclusion that it had something to do with him. his suspicious only growing when you push him away, creating a painful distance between the two of you as you wrap your arms around your body in protection. from what- you didn't know, grayson was and always will be your protection.

a sigh leave yours lips the minute you see grayons face drop, his lips setting into a devastating frown. his eyes welling up with his own tears at the thought of you not wanting him anymore. you were pushing him away without realising it and it broke him. “why are you here, grayson?

“im here for you, bubba. you weren't answering any of my calls or texts, i was worried about you.” grayson steps closer in hope you would drop your facade, in hopes you would run into his arms and live the happily ever after you both crave and deserve.

“im fine. you can go now. please.” your voice cracks slightly and yet again you take a few steps back, holding your hands in front of your body as an attempt to stop graysons movements coming any closer to you.

“what are we y/n? one minute you want me and the next you can’t stand to be near me. now your completely shutting me out. if i did something wrong please- please tell me. i cant handle the silence, the tears, the absence. im right here, you have me- all of me. but you gotta let me in.” 

at his confession, a confession you have longed to hear, you’re breaking. sobs raking over your body for the second time tonight that tells grayson this is bigger than him. 

“im scared, gray, im so fucking scared. im terrified of letting you in because the last guy i did, he- he.” you break down in his arms. not having to go into detail about the trauma you’ve faced because grayson is doing what he does best and protecting you. leading you to sofa, lifting you onto his lap so your legs are straddling his hips. you cry into the crock of the his neck, his arms securely fastening around your waist as he lets you burn out all of all the tears you needed to cry.

“did he hurt you?”

no answer. your eyes shifting uncomfortably from his face to his lap. your fingers fiddling with his shirt as you try your best to avoid his question. one that would open up a can of worms you weren’t sure he was ready for.

“did he lay a finger on you, baby, please i need to know what happened so i can help you. i lo- i care about you and i hate seeing you in pain.” you can hear the hurt and desperation in grayson’s voice, something you wished to never hear or be the cause of again. 

and so you tell him, everything. from the talking stage with your abuser, to the events before and after your assult. you can feel his body tense beneath your own as the words leave your lips. he wanted to kill the arsehole for laying a finger on his girl, for betraying your trust and breaking such a beautiful creature, ripping the life and soul from you. but more importantly- he was angry at himself for not seeing the signs sooner. for not noticing the way you flinch whenever he or another male trys to touch you, or how you cower into a shell of a human whoever someone raises their voice at you. he was beating himself up mentally at how he wasnt there to protect you, to love you and stop any harm coming your way like he promised 14.

grayson sits in silence, staring ahead at the wall, taking in every piece of information you share. his arms tighten around you body, his jaw locked and body tense as his eyes shoot with rage. he’s keeping himself calm for your sake. the feeling of you wrapped safely in his arms is the only thing stopping him for not hunting down that bastarrd and ending his life. you ground him.

grayson heard enough, your words eating him alive, not able to listen to the tragic events an angel was put through. and before you know it, his lips are on yours. a sweet sensual kiss that takes you by surpirse but has you kissing back almost instantly. this was everything you needed, everything you hoped and dreamed of, but once again your mind and self deprecation took over. you pull away, breathlessly. leaning your forehead agasint graysons as he brings one hand to rub soothly across your cheek bone, eyes burning into each other’s as you silently confess what should have been said a long long time ago. 

“consider this my spontaneous adventure of the week but i love you, y/n, more than i could ever love anyone. and i swear to you, hand on heart, i will never let anyone hurt you again. s’got you, baby. it’s me and you forever, till the end of time- fuck i- i need to kiss you again.” grayson interrupts his ramble, leaning forward to peck your lips once, twice, three times as he becomes addicted to the taste of you. so high off the love everyone knew you shared so each other but took the pair of you longer to admit.

“please don't hurt me.” you whisper, the words rolling off your tongue before you fam stop tjem. just needing the reassurance that grayson will live up to all your expeditions, even exceed them. but also that  history won’t be repeating itself.

“baby, cross my heart hope to die, id never lay a finger on you in that way. you’re safe with me, y/n, always have been, always will be.”

[redstainedsocks]

Human Again

For @amonthofwhump’s March Madness for the whump trope: choking

Here’s my whumpee Zach having a very bad wake up call. I know the previous four Zach pieces have been post-escape but, and hear me out here, he was just in need of some whumping. So have some out of context, out of order, pain. (Read more high up the piece for vaguely referenced thoughts of noncon)

Warnings: Forced nudity, implied torture, implied past noncon, choking, noncon kissing, shotgunning cigarette smoke, smoking, cigarette burns, manhandling, antagonistic language, blindfolds, captive whumpee, nausea mention, food mention, prisoner denied food

Zach woke up naked. He woke up stiff and sore, and though he knew he was on the thin mattress that was granted as his bed—he could smell the musty stink of it—he had no idea how or when he got there. 

The two things combined were enough to turn his stomach, and bile crawled up his throat. There were fuzzy memories, blurred indistinct ones of beatings and being bent over a table… but was that the last thing that had happened? Or was there more? Was that even yesterday, or two days ago? It all mixed up together, and he couldn’t work out what had happened when, or which thing it was that had made him lose consciousness. Was it drugs again? An electric shock? Or just the accumulation of pain and fatigue and he’d passed out naturally?

He only knew he must have been out a while to have been brought back to his cell. Not knowing if anything more had happened while he was unawares he shivered and curled up, wishing for a blanket to cover himself with. As he moved he felt the protest in his bruised ribs and moaned as he clutched his side. 

“Ah, he lives,” came a smarmy, grunt of a voice. 

Great, Mack, of all people, was here. 

Zach opened his eyes to better defend himself against whatever Mack had in mind and found something still blocked his sight. He groped for his face, arm numb from his own dead weight crushing it. 

“Leave that,” Mack said. “Don’t you fucking dare touch it, that’s your first rule of the day.”

Zach swallowed, groaned again and pushed himself to sit up, hyper aware of every inch of skin on display. He smelled Mack’s cigarettes before he heard the man move, felt the stale smoke waft over his face and another roil of nausea that it brought with it. He lifted a hand to rub his nose and coughed onto the back of his hand to try and rid the smell and the almost-taste of it from his body.

Mack’s hand—probably, unless someone else was here too—caught his wrist and squeezed painfully. “You deaf today or some shit, I said don’t touch your fucking face.” Mack twisted his hand until the skin pinched beneath his grip, and the joint protested. Zach hissed in pain and lurched into action to try and grapple his hand free, digging nails into the back of Mack’s hand.

Mack held on for a few more long moments before he shoved Zach, freeing his wrist, and he scooted further away from where he thought Mack was crouching.

“Actually you said not to touch the blindfold,” he replied tersely. “Try thinking before you speak it might help you get your point across.”

Mack grabbed the back of his neck, fingers curling into the ends of his hair and yanked his head back. Zach hadn’t known to brace for it and the jerk sent a wave of pain that ricocheted down his neck and jarred something in his aching hip. “Far too mouthy you little shit. If it were up to me I’d sew that mouth of yours shut.”

“But then how would we have these little chats I know you love so much?”

Another puff of smoke rolled over his face and he wrinkled his nose, stomach churning. He needed food, water... he needed proper rest, not just to pass out after some torment or other and wake up bruised and sore. Resigned to not getting enough of any of those things he focused on the slight sense of satisfaction of irritating Mack instead.

He heard the hiss of the cigarette being dragged on and hoped it was nearly gone. It was fruitless hoping when fingers gripped his jaw until his lips puckered, the heat of the cigarette sizzling far too close to his skin, held in the fingers that gripped him. Then Mack’s lips were on his and he sucked in a breath of surprise only to inhale a mouthful of smoke.

He sucked it down, drawing it into his lungs in surprise, hoping and hoping for clean air to come on the back of it. Mack’s lips were a seal over his own that breathed the filthy, cloying stuff from his own mouth—expelled it forcefully right to the back of Zach’s throat. 

Zach’s lungs grew tight and full and he needed to exhale but Mack’s mouth was still smacked over his own and his tongue was in Zach’s mouth too, invading and claiming and bitterly acrid. Zach grew dizzy, swayed forward as his lungs tried to force the shotgunned smoke back out, he coughed and wheezed and batted at Mack weakly. Over the sound of his own hacking coughs he heard Mack’s laughter. Why was it always funny to these pricks? Why did they have to delight in making him suffer or making him ill? 

The weight of it all was enough to drive him flat back onto the mattress, gasping for breath, aware he wasn’t going to catch a break here. Not even given a moment to try and process and remember the previous day’s horrors before the current day’s began.

“Your mouth has other uses too, I guess. Wouldn’t want to miss out on those,” Mack’s shoe nudged him.

He was about to respond when Mack’s heavy weight descended on top of him, driving more air from his lungs. The hand was back and it caressed his jaw as he grew tight as a bow string, muscles locked like he could fight this, change whatever was about to happen by being ready. Mack’s calloused hand slipped lower and closed around his throat... and squeezed. 

It trapped the air in his lungs, stopped the coughing in its tracks and he arched up, kicking his legs looking for the pressure to lessen. Mack held him on the knife edge of breathlessness until he went limp, allowed him a precious few wheezing breaths and then closed his hand again while he blew another round of smoke into Zach’s gasping mouth. 

Zach squirmed as his chest failed to expand and his lungs didn’t fill, the black behind the blindfold going haywire with flashes of light and colour and then fading to grey. There wasn’t room for breathing or thinking, he was only animal—desperate, hungry and directionless with the fear that came hot on the heels of being pinned down and choked out.

He clawed and kicked, begged with soundless words as he tried to make the shapes and couldn’t find enough air to give them voice.

Mack pressed tighter one more time and then released. Just as Zach thought it was over a burning, blinding pain sparked to life on his shoulder. He writhed, still sputtering inhaled smoke while a scream—half surprise as well as pain—was forced out of his throat. He smelled his singed flesh as well as the ashes of a cigarette on his shoulder. With a heavy hand he blindly flicked the hot ash from his skin, feeling it smear on his fingers with intense heat. He knew the scent would linger on his hands for a while, like some sick sort of reminder of the mornings activities.

“I’d miss that scream too, oooh man, you’re like a little girl sometimes. Can’t handle a little ciggy?”

Zach grit his teeth while tears swelled hotly behind his eyes and he only hoped to keep them at bay. He felt sluggish, no idea if it was from whatever knocked him out, or the lack of breath in his body, or just the general exhaustion and constant suffering. He almost began to laugh, and caught it before it turned into a pitiful whine. Drawing more attention to himself for being strange wouldn’t help him now.

“Think fast,” Mack said and a thud of something heavy landed on his chest with a slosh and a thud. “Drink up. Boss wants you in the training rooms today.”

Grateful for the fresh bottle of water, and hating that he was, Zach fumbled to screw the cap loose. The water soothed his abused throat, settled his stomach a little. Made him feel, briefly, more human. 

Mack pulled him off the mattress and to his feet and shoved a pair of loose trousers into his hands, holding him steady with a thumb pressed firmly on the spot Zach had just been burned. Zach steeled himself and ignored the sharp pain. He stepped one foot and then the other into the trouser legs, leaning on Mack for balance while he couldn’t see.

“Now you’ve got your modesty let’s fuckin’ get on with it, step to it Griffin, time to go see what else you’re good for today.”

With tired, heavy feet Zach followed where Mack steered him. Whatever dregs of human decency he was given were always taken away sooner or later. He wondered if today would be a day he remembered, or if it would fade and be lost to some indescribable pain like the day before. He shuddered, unsettled by the idea that maybe it was kinder if he forgot; if the memory was choked out of him into oblivion so he could sleep deeply and soundlessly. If all the days bled into one, would he really be living them? Or could he float through them like the moments he drifted, lacking in oxygen, somewhere between consciousness and sleep. 

He hated that that seemed appealing and wrapped a tentative hand around the bruises forming on his throat and pressed down, just because he could, just to feel the pain because he chose to for once; just to remind himself he was still very much alive, awake, and human, and that was worth fighting for.