#tw mentions of child abuse behind cut

[kenmjiro]

ೄ◌ྀ ˊˎ Scars and bad memories | Carl Grimes

Carl grimes (TWD) x Fem reader

TWS: angst, kissing, mention of child abuse

Carl was locked in his room throwing darts, he did this frequently since they let him out of the infirmary after losing his eye.

He was distant, he didn't talk to anyone except his father and Michonne occasionally, he didn't leave his room and that had me worried, I have come to see him every day, but he doesn't speak to me and barely looks at me

We had been together for 6 months before this happened, but I just don't know what will become of us anymore. It hurts me to see him like this, but I will continue fighting, because I love him and I will do everything possible to prove it.

With my legs trembling with nervousness I decided to go in, I wiped the sweat that was accumulating on my palms on my pants, I gathered my courage and pushed the door.

When I saw Carl with his back to me, he was throwing darts from the side where he had been shot, and there were no darts on the target, they had all hit the door and he seemed more and more frustrated and absent.

“What are you doing here again?” His voice sounded so cold and hard that for a moment I thought I had hit an ice barrier, and as soon as I could answer, a cruel lump of anguish had formed in my throat.

“I-I came to see little Judd.”

He didn't even look at me and continued throwing darts at him.

“She's in her room, so don't bother me.

That hurt me, but I'm not a weak girl and my duty is to help Carl, there's no time to get depressed.

“Talking to me like that won’t give you back your eye.” I knew that my comment would piss him off and I waited expecting the worst from him, that he would run me out of his room or yell at me, whatever he did to hurt me I didn't care, I needed to remove all that indifference that was consuming his feelings.

“You think I care? Go chase squirrels, you silly little girl.”

“No thanks, I already had lunch.” My sarcastic response seemed to bother him more and he began to throw the darts with more fury than before, but half of them hit the door and the rest fell to the ground.

“Do you remember when we met and I had a huge bow with me?”

“No." He cut me off abruptly, trying to silence me.

“You said it was impossible for a girl as short and skinny as me to have enough strength to shoot it, you made fun of me for days until she saw me shoot it.”

The memory seemed to have softened his bad mood; he stared vacantly at a spot on the wall and smiled imperceptibly.

“Yes, I still don't understand how you did it... You were tiny.” He gave a small, fleeting chuckle. "You still are."

Carl had spoken almost in a whisper, but since we were alone, that was enough for me. In the end he gave up throwing the darts and looked at the ground.

“I just needed my arms, correct posture...and an eye. “Carl turned around to look at me, he seemed angry, but at the same time I could see that I was getting to him.

“What are you getting at, y/n?”

“You don't need everything to shoot a bow, or a gun, or to throw darts, you just...you just have to have the way.

“Yeah? and when you lose an eye… what is the Y/n way?” Carl began to approach me in a threatening manner. " which ?!?"

“I can teach you.”

I raised my hand to caress his face, but he moved away from it as if my touch burned him.

“Oh yeah? Try it, see what you can do as a hunter.”

“First stand up straight, put one foot on the shooting line and the other behind.” With my hands I gently corrected his posture and pushed his leg so that it was aligned. “stand on your side and fix your target with your dominant eye.”

“You will say with the only eye I have left.”

His voice was bitter and sarcastic, but he was relenting.

“That's all you need, sheriff.”

I carefully took his throwing arm and told him to take it back to throw the dart, I left his side and he looked at me skeptical, but he threw, and it took him half a second to realize that he had hit right. the target. He hid his surprise and finally spoke to me without his tone of indifference and bitterness.

“Not bad hunter, now I understand how being so little you had better aim than dad.”

“You see, everything has its side... You just have to find it.”

He looked down so that his hair hid how heartbroken and sad he was, but he knew him better than I knew myself, he knew how he felt.

“And how do I find the side to this?”

She pointed to the side of his face where there was only a thick bandage.

I approached him calmly and hugged him, he didn't return the gesture, but his entire body was trembling.

“Why are you still looking for me?” His voice was barely a whisper full of pain. “I'm horrible, I can't force you to stay with me like this, please don't feel sorry for me and just leave.”

My heart hurt so much hearing his voice, so fragile, so vulnerable.

“I don't feel sorry, I love you. Please believe in me, we will get through this together, let me help you. ”

"You do not have to do it. “I’ll be fine alone… You don’t deserve to spend your life with a monster, full of scars and bad memories.”

My heart broke at his words, I separated from him and forced him to sit down on the bed in the room, it's time for me to show him my own scars, I calmly took off the blouse I was wearing and then the small tank top, leaving me only with a sports bra.

“Do you see this scar?” I said pointing to my stomach “When my uncle got drunk he was very violent, he tried to hit my mother, but she locked herself in her room and left me alone with him. "She was scared, and trying to escape I fell on a glass table... her blood must have scared him, because she left me lying there and walked away."

“and-I didn't-I had no idea…”

“and you see these marks here?” I took off the leather wrist guards I always wore. “A year before I found them I ran into a group of unpleasant people... Our leader made them angry and as punishment they handcuffed me and other kids to a fence and attracted the attention of some walkers so that our parents could see it, I I tore the skin on my wrists to free myself, I didn't even care about the pain, I just had to pull. And do you see this ugly mark?” I brushed the hair off my shoulder and showed him a large asterisk-shaped scar. “I had a small accident with Daryl when we went out to look for Beth, a guy tried to shoot me at point-blank range, luckily Daryl was able to deflect the shot and it didn't hit me.” in the heart as was his plan.”

“...Why didn't you ever show me all this?”

“Because I'm horrible... How could I expect you to love someone who carried only scars and horrible memories?” Carl looked at me bewildered and looked away.

“It’s not the same Y/n.”

“Of course... we are both full of scars and these remind us that we were stronger than what tried to kill us, we are survivors and this is our life... and I want to share my scars and my bad memories with you and I want you to you do the same. Carl, I love you and I want to experience all the good that is left in the world with you.” Without realizing it, I had walked until I was in front of Carl and I knelt down so I could look him in the face, my eyes were full of tears and my voice was shaking, “and don't think that you can decide for me, I want to be by your side... “Just… Unless you don’t love me anymore…”

He didn't let me finish and silenced my crying with a kiss. He knelt down next to me and kissed me passionately. His arms wrapped around me with strength and desperation. My cheeks were wet, but he didn't care. With his fingers he delicately caressed each one of my scars and I did the same.

“Of course I love you, forgive me for acting like an idiot, I…”

This time it was my turn to silence his lips, my entire body vibrated as the temperature rose, in desperation I lightly pulled his hair, wishing he would never leave me. When our lungs were begging for air we did not separate slightly, his lips were red and swollen from what had happened before, we both gasped to catch our breath.

“You know, it's very unfair that even with a scar like that you still manage to look so perfect.” Carl laughed lightly and leaned down to kiss my shoulder.

“Says the girl who, even with all her scars, looks like an angel.”

I blushed at his comment, it was always the same, he managed to take my breath away just with a phrase like that.

“Shut up and kiss me sheriff.”

“With pleasure, hunter. ”

The kisses continued just like the memories and the scars.

Even though we had both lost a part of ourselves and even though destiny had marked us, it no longer mattered to us, because being together we were finally complete.

[gremlinmodetweeker]

A Boy, A Twisted Memory and A Desire for Love

So this is the first official Ghost story on my blog. I know, I know, it's been a long time writing and I've not written something for the guy, but it's really just because I get so worried about writing him poorly.

I know he's a big military guy who hates having emotions and kills any and all kindness in his heart, but I also really like the idea of him exploring the concept of healing from his trauma? I dunno, I just thought about it.

Also, like König, I can't imagine Ghost keeping normal pets. Originally I had him get a spider, but then I read over his backstory again and it made more sense for him to get a venomous snake. I think it's a major step to overcoming his trauma. By the way! Big trigger warning, this is about a snake! This entire fic centres around a snake!

Anyways, I had some fun writing this but it made me super sad.

TW: Snake, discussion of past abuse, emotional trauma, child abuse (referenced), emotional disregulation

Wordcount: 1.7k

Art from This Post

Story Below the Cut

A Boy, A Twisted Memory and A Desire for Love

Simon locked eyes with the little black and yellow creature housed deep within its cave. It was a small thing, barely hatched from its egg it looked like. The length of a ruler at most. It was a light thing, covered in fine scales along its supple body. This thing was venomous, yes, but it couldn’t do any real damage. It was a threat maybe to a mouse, but a man such as himself wouldn't fall to such weak poison. Swelling, pain, nausea, yes. But death? Not quite.

And yet, his heart quickened within his chest. He could feel the sweat forming on his brow. It had been so long since he’d seen one of these beasts, and yet the same fear from back then wormed its way inside him now.

“Hungry?” Simon’s voice was particularly gravelly, roughened by sleep deprivation and lack of use.

The creature made no move. He’d be surprised if the thing even heard him. Did it even have ears? He’d have to ask the breeder later.

“Been a long time since I’ve seen one of yer kind before,” he admitted. He didn’t quite know why, but it felt somewhat soothing to speak to the thing.

“I killed the last one of ye that I saw. Crushed the fucker right under my boot, I did.”

It didn’t seem to scare the beast off. He wondered if it really was more afraid of him than he was of it. He hoped that was true. He didn’t want to admit that the fear still wriggled under his skin.

“He wasn’t anything like what my dad ‘ad,” Simon closed his eyes as the oppressive memories washed over him, “that one was a right bastard. Bigger than anything I’ve seen ever since. Shoved it right in my face, he did. Wouldn’t let me go till I kissed it right on the lips. If it bit me, I wouldn’t be standin’ ‘ere. But you,” Simon opened his eyes, dark eyes matching two glassy eyes of inky black, “you’re nothing. You're pathetic. You’re… You're so small.”

Simon turned back to the breeder.

Finally, the creature came to its senses and slithered back further into its burrow. So sleek and streamlined, and yet so slow to move. It was afraid of him, that Simon decided the moment he noticed that despite backing away, it didn’t dare look elsewhere.

“How much for this one?” he asked as he pointed at the plastic cube.

“That one?” the woman blinked and looked at what he was pointing at, “the female or the male?”

“The female,” Simon clarified.

“Oh she’s pretty, isn’t she?” the woman adjusted her glasses as she slid behind the plastic cube, “poor girl’s probably pretty scared being out here.” She didn’t mention how terrifying Simon was in his dark clothing, rough fabric stretched tight across his broad frame. He was used to scaring people by this point. Sometimes, like now, he wished he wasn’t.

“How do you pronounce that?” Simon pointed at the name that had been scrawled in blue ballpoint pen on a blank sticker.

“Boida dendrophila,” the woman replied, “she’s pretty young, but she’ll get big soon enough.”

“She’s one of them big ones, yeah?” Simon asked aloofly.

“You bet your arse,” the woman grinned, “she’ll be big soon enough. Don’t know much about ‘em?”

“Oh no,” Simon leaned down to take a better look at the little beast, “I’ve been doing my reading.”

“You got a big enough enclosure for her?” the woman quizzed him.

“Sure do,” Simon hummed, “I built her an enclosure myself. It’s nearly as tall as me, long too. Got some nice branches for her to climb and all that..”

“Wow that’s a lot of space. You sure that’s not too much?” the woman frowned.

“She won’t be in there for a bit, I’ve got something for while she’s small,” Simon reasoned.

What a stupid question.

“Oh well that’s fine,” the woman broke out into another smile, “but yeah she’s eating mostly baby mice, an adult once in a while. You know she’ll be eating bigger things when she’s full grown, right? You can handle that?”

“I think I’ll be quite alright,” Simon mused, “have to admit, she’s a right beauty.”

“She really is, isn’t she?” the woman gushed, “I’ve been raising her since she was just hatched. But now? Well, normally I sell them off a bit sooner, but she grew on me. Unfortunately, the husband isn’t too fond of her and wants her to be moved on.”

“Why’s that?” Simon looked at the woman from behind his sunglasses.

“Oh he got bit when she was the length of a pencil,” the woman laughed, “he’s held it against her ever since!”

“Heard her kind can get pretty feisty,” Simon commented as he looked back at the spider.

“They can get a bit aggressive, I won't lie to you. A bit territorial, too,” the woman explained carefully so as not to scare off the only interested customer she had all weekend.

“Real fast,” Simon continued on, “with nasty bites.”

“Sounds like you’ve done your reading,” the woman laughed uncomfortably.

“Course,” Simon refrained from rolling his eyes, “so how much is she? The sticker’s ripped.”

“She’s on sale, actually,” the woman grinned, “only a couple hundred quid.”

“That much, eh?” Simon straightened up to tower over the slender woman.

“Normally she could be anywhere up to four hundred,” the woman fought back against the subtle threat of intimidation.

“Well then,” Simon looked down at the cube, “looks like I got a good deal then.”

“You won’t go stompin’ on her, will you?” the woman furrowed her brows.

“No ma’am, that was just what I had to do when I went out to the Middle East,” Simon chuckled humorlessly, “I wouldn’t dream of hurtin’ this here little lady.”

The woman grinned as she counted her bills, Simon smiled just slightly as he picked up the container and brought it back to his car.

When he got home, he carefully moved the little creature into the glass enclosure of dirt, leaf litter and cork bark. He put it back in its place on his shelf and smiled.

“Dendrophila, eh?” he chuckled, “how ‘bout Ophelia? That’s a cute lil name for ya.”

The creature only burrowed away under the cork bark, eager to get out of sight of the frightening giant before her. He didn’t blame the little thing, he’d be terrified of himself if he was a younger man.

Once, he’d hardened himself into an unstoppable thing, a monster of a man. He had formed his shell through cruel lashings the world had lavished upon him. He took ablutions in raining blood. He was festering sickness or silver sin. He was what he despised in the world, the monster he tried to protect his own family from. When his brothers in arms welcomed each other warmly, they regarded him as a feral dog to be kept at a distance, chained in the backyard, out in the rain.

In Simon’s heart there was no room for love. He was not a man forged in kindness and love. He was the unfortunate son of Mr. Riley, cursed from birth to be raised in the muck and mire of human atrocities. He had been calloused by the time he was nine, and by the time he joined the military even the recruiting officers were afraid of him. He was too cruel, too strict, too much for anyone to handle. He could brute-force his way through life, but only for so long.

Even monsters had hearts. This was the unfortunate fact that Simon had learned far too late in life. He hated himself for how he wallowed in his loneliness. He thought his team would be enough, but there was a despicable part that still resided deep within him. He could offer his rotten sort of love to his teammates, but he could never care for them like he needed to. There was a part of him that had been stunted since childhood, and far too late it breached his skin to scream into his ears, begging him to please just notice me, notice me and don't let me die here inside of you.

He didn’t want to, but he spoke to a therapist. It was Price's advice after he'd broken down with a bottle of whisky in one hand and a revolver in the other. Price promised to never say a word as he unwound his lieutenant's fingers from the trigger.

A week later he'd arrived at a small office. They’d been cowed by him at first. Everyone was, but something about frightening the one person he wanted to be helped by hurt a part of Simon he wished to rip from his chest. Once he would have laughed, but in that office, he could only hurt. No tears fell, but his walls did and he was able to speak openly for the first time in his entire life without the help of a bottle of jack and a pair of dice. It felt wrong. He hated it, but he learned.

His therapist told him that to help rid himself of this festering parasite of an emotion, he should try to nurture the damned thing. Simon had laughed in the man’s face. He then told him to go to Hell. The man had learned not to flinch in the face of a predator, and so pushed forth. He said that to grow, Simon could try getting a cat or a dog. Something he could raise with the love he never had been given as a boy.

He said that he needed something to love or else he'd never be able to heal. Simon scoffed and left the room, but not before booking another appointment. The smug look on his therapist’s face disgusted him. He turned quickly and left.

So maybe it was out of spite that he bought Ophelia, but there was a part of him that felt like he needed the little creature. He needed something to love, and so he did. He loved the Ophelia with all his heart. He nurtured her and cared for her as best he could.

Months passed, and he started to handle Ophelia. She hissed, she scurried away, she did everything to get away from Simon’s touch. He figured that if he had to face himself, he’d do much the same. He wasn’t a creature born of love and compassion. He was death, in face and in heart, but each time he brought Ohpelia’s container out and changed her water, when she ate from his tongs, he could feel his rotten heart beating within his chest. It made him smile despite himself.

He was not a creature of love, and yet it was love he felt when Ophelia tentatively reached out and slithered up his hand. When he raised her up, ever so gently, he couldn’t help but cry.

How cruel was the world that a boy, born from street gutters and raised by heavy hands, would only ever feel love for the first time in a dingy London flat on his thirty-first birthday, alone save for the venomous snake in his hands?

Stories

Ghost Dump

[waytoointoships]

I procrastinate working on au’s by making more AU’s

Anyways, role reversal au where Neuvi is the Duke of Meropide and where Wri is the Iudex of fontaine.

More under cut :]

TW for mentions of abuse.

Duke Neuvillette

- Imprisoned for killing an ex (Ex was abusing him and he defended himself when they snapped)

- Has trust issues revolving around love/being in love. Along with that, due to the abuse, he struggles to show his emotions.

- Technically now free but chooses to stay

- Barely goes above unless necessary

(Still hydro dragon because dragon neuvi beloved <3)

Iudex Wriothesley

- Foster child. Was abused by previous family but rather than killing them, he ran away and became an orphan on the street

- All the injustice he was given brought him to want justice but he was too scared to kill, so instead he began researching and once he was of age, began his job in law enforcement

- Later became the iudex and has a personal goal of striking out any family who abuses their children.

- He is deeply scared of admitting what he went through due to said previous abuse.

- Bonus! He is very easily emotionally attached to young children. :)

Fun fact!

Melusines don’t live on the surface in this au, rather underwater/merusea village, but there is a specific opening just for them in the fortress! There are always a few melusines around.

Sigewinne is the only Melusine on the surface! She hides her actual form behind a human one (but it isn’t perfect) and she takes up the same role as Sedene does! She’s also really quick to befriend new iudex’s so anyone who gives her a hard time for not being human usually faces the wrath of an angry iudex and Sedene takes up the role of head nurse in the fortress! Melusines are also gardes too :]

(Most people who are new to Meropide are quite freaked out but once you get used to it you get used to it, any who dare seriously harm Melusine will face the anger of the duke :> (If Melusines wish to, they can compete in the pankerton ring (w/Neuvi’s supervision) they can! Neuvi will stop the fight if any serious danger comes to them, most melusines don’t fight though so)

[wheelie-sick]

Hi! I’m just curious why you’re anti-psychiatry and the reasoning behind it if you’re comfortable sharing? I want to take care to specifically learn the reasoning so I can educate myself upon them, I’ve wanted to be a psychiatrist since I was a kid and so I’m wary of making any mistakes in my profession that could damage others or perpetuate harm. Thank you so much for your time. /genq

okay, first of all I'd recommend reading my post here which talks about why there are no good psychiatrists and this post here about how some people being helped by the system does not make the system good. they're long but the first is pretty foundational to my beliefs on psychiatry and the second covers the most common rebuttal I hear for antipsychiatry.

putting the rest of this under a cut because it's really fucking long because I wanted to provide some context to my beliefs and there's a lot of context

my foundational reasoning for being antipsychiatry comes from listening to other's experiences. I did not have a traumatic experience with psychiatry directly. I'm not going to repeat other's traumatic experiences but if you look through the antipsychiatry tags you can definitely find some of the repulsive things the psychiatric industry has done. my belief in antipsychiatry also comes from my experiences with therapy.

I have been cycled through many therapists who dropped me for being "too complicated" for them. my second most recent therapist I dropped after constant abuse from him.

-> TW for therapeutic abuse until "why I'm antipsychiatry" <-

my issues with my old therapist began when I first started seeing him. I was being actively abused at home and every time I tried to talk about the physical and emotional violence I was experiencing at home from my former father he would shut me down and tell me it was not abuse.

-> TW for descriptions of physical abuse for the next paragraph <-

I told him about the attempts to shove me down stairs. the times I was dragged around. the times I was thrown into the couch. the times I had my face slammed into a wall. the restraint. the hitting. the punching. the grabbing. I told him in detail. my mom has since admitted that I was abused by my former father.

He did not think it was abuse. he had an obligation to report this to CPS and he never did. he told me it was not abuse the minute I brought it up, before I ever even tried to use the word abuse. I could never talk about the violence I was experiencing because I would get shut down every time and eventually I gave up.

-> TW for emotional abuse for the next 2 paragraphs <-

several years later my former father disowned me. (that's why I call him my former father) he told me that he did not see me as his child anymore, that he hated me. he said some other rather disgusting things about me, most of which I will not repeat, but one sticks out. he told me mom that she should handle my being trans as if she was dealing with a dog; when it (and yes, he used the word it) misbehaves you should ignore it. this all happened in a single conversation.

in my next therapy session I was distraught. I didn't like my former father but it never feels good to be disowned. I was trying to talk to my therapist about this and I said "he hates me" my therapist doubted me and asked me "did he say he hates you or are you just perceiving he hates you" trying to, dare I say, gaslight me into thinking this was all my perception. he did this to me frequently when I brought up the emotional abuse I was experiencing. I said "yes, yes he did say that" and things got really quiet because for once he couldn't tell me it was all in my head. in that moment I lost all faith in him because I realized he was wrong. that he was manipulating me into believing I was the problem. that all these conflicts were my fault. but they were never my fault.

-> TW for mentions of self harm for the next 2 paragraphs <-

the final nail in the coffin came about 2 years later when I finally decided to open up about my self harm. I had relapsed on my self harm about 8 months prior, usually it was just a one off but this time it had spiraled out of control into the beginnings of an addiction. I wanted to stop, so I decided to open up to my therapist about it. he got angry at me. I was scared, and vulnerable, and he was angry. he asked me why I didn't tell him sooner, I said I was scared of hospitalization. a week later he threatened to hospitalize me multiple times after promising he wouldn't.

what actually made me drop him was 3 weeks later. I was tired of talking about self harm and I was feeling the same if it all. he asked me about it and I said I don't want to talk about it. he pressed mex accused me of avoiding therapy, threatened to hospitalize me if I didn't spit out adequate details. when I said I hadn't even self harmed that much he accused me of lying to him to avoid therapy. he crossed many boundaries that day and then pressured me into agreeing to fill out a form every week detailing all the information about my self harm down to how many cuts I made. that was my final straw. I was done.

why I'm antipsychiatry:

after that I started reflecting and realizing the whole thing was fucked up. from the starting point in 4th grade when I saw my first therapist to the ending point where I saw my second to last therapist (I had a therapist after the nightmare therapist, her name was Sara she was Deaf and amazing but largely unhelpful) the system was designed to produce bad therapists. the nightmare therapist was not the only bad experience I had with therapists, just the worst. they all liked to abuse their power over me, they all liked to deny my experiences and gaslight me into believing all my problems were my own perception rather than a real outside factor. this wasn't one bad therapist is was one bad system.

and I'm done. I'm so done. therapy has never helped me but it has hurt me and I don't think I can find a good therapist because the whole apple tree is rotting from the inside. I'm sticking with my psychiatrist because he has done minimal harm to me but my experience with therapy has thoroughly cemented that abuse isn't an exception it's the standard and therapists who aren't abusing their clients are breaking the rules. my experience is the norm and it shouldn't be but you can't reform a rotting tree you have to plant a new one.

that's what antipsychiatry also seeks to do. it's cutting down the apple tree but it's also planting a new, different fruit tree. a tree that respects autonomy of patients, that acknowledges patients' realities, that seeks to support not control and manipulate.

if you want to help people with their mental health I urge you to look into the alternatives to the psychiatric system and consider working there. the tree will turn you into a bad apple too because the tree is rotted but there's a new tree growing and you can find other ways to support people. admittedly I'm not the most familiar with alternatives to psychiatry but I know they do exist and they're becoming more common as people realize the damage the psychiatric system is doing.

sorry this was kinda a trauma dump but my antipsych beliefs largely stem from trauma so I wanted to share that context

[sexysapphicshopowner]

🤎 Context/AU (Alternate Universe): Big news for the dreamgirls!! Aftermath of 'Twenty Foreplay'

🤎 soft!wife!dreamgirl!sevika x wife!dreamgirl!reader

🤎 CW/TW: abuse, violence, death, murder, child sexual abuse, adult language, pregnancy, lesbians, pet names, fluff, angst, abortion attempt, sevika has a tragic backstory, eating disorder, drug use, mentions of alcoholism, sorry if I forgot any, not proofread/edited so excuse any mistakes

🤎 A/N: It's late, I know, life happens. I actually cut it short bc it was starting to get a lot heavier than I wanted and the flow was starting to get a bit sloppy. So have this.

🤎 Notes: Um, I cried while writing most of the flashback parts. I love the dreamgirls.

🤎 Word count: 12.4k

Aromatic wisps of rosemary and sage wafted through the bathroom, the scents intermingling with that of the light and warm, semi-bubbly milk bath your wife had drawn for you when she’d gotten home for the day. You let out a soft sigh, your head barely hanging over the edge as you sunk further into the calming water, trying to let as much stress seep out of you as possible. 

Familiar and comforting hands found your shoulders, a kiss being planted on your temple as she spoke, voice barely a rumble over the neo-soul that was playing from the speaker on the sink counter, “How are you feeling, dream girl?” 

“Better now that you’re in here,” you hummed as you looked up to her, pressing a kiss to her chin as she massaged your shoulders. 

Her laugh was quiet as she ducked lower to press an upside-down kiss to your lips before kissing up the bridge of your nose. The playful little pecks turned reverent as her lips landed back at your forehead, peppering across the area as her hands moved. 

Fingers splayed out over your neck and partially your collar as she pressed her thumbs behind your ears, rubbing in circles. You all but melted in her hands, letting your eyes slip closed once more as you enjoyed her touch and kiss. 

“Have you started yet? I dropped last night.” 

You shook your head, letting out a little sigh, “Not yet, though I wish it would hurry up. These body aches are killing me and if I keep gagging, I’m gonna throw up and that’s gonna make me cry.” 

She cooed, thumbs now tracing down, applying a slight pressure as she dragged them along the line of your jaw, “My poor little mama...” 

“Why poor me? You’re the one that’s actually on. I should’ve been the one drawing a bath for you when you got home.” 

“Sure, but if you never drop then, you know what that means,” she hinted. 

You rolled your eyes playfully, humming, “True... we’ll see. I’ll let you know what happens. We both know my cycle is still very off and weird.”    “Right, right. Now about this gag-” 

“No.” 

“You didn’t even let me finish,” she pouted. 

“I don’t have to. You were about to ask if it’s too bad for me to suck a lil’ dick. You’re so sick and twisted and completely un-slick, little nasty,” you shook your head, pushing her face playfully. 

“Well, you’ve got me there. It was worth a try in my book,” she shrugged. 

“Uh-huh. You disgust me.” 

“Do I? Do I really,” she asked playfully, as you looked up, leaning your head back just a little further. 

You beckoned her closer as you leaned your head back a little further, “Kiss, kiss.” 

She happily obliges, leaning down to meet your lips as you stretch up just the tiniest bit. The kiss isn’t long, but it was enough to sate you until you could kiss her properly later. She mumbles against your lips as she pulls away, “I’m so in love with you and everything about you...” 

Your breath caught as you looked up at her, finding that same indescribable flame that always burned within her silvery eyes. Somehow the color still hadn’t dulled against the harsh reality of life as a Zaunite. Even more, that loving look in them only seemed to be larger every time you caught her eye. 

You were swooning. 

It wasn’t until her lips pressed to your forehead that you were pulled out of your reverie, blinking up at her as you turned around in the tub to look up at her properly as you leaned onto your arms, folding them over the edge of the bathtub, “I love you more.” 

“Yeah?” 

You nodded, beckoning her closer with the crook of a finger, “Uh-huh. C'mere. I’ll show you how much I love you.” 

She all but fell back into your lips, sighing into your kiss as it consumed her, your nails raking over her scalp as your fingers slid into her hair, thumbs tracing her jaw just in front of her ears. 

In a very uncharacteristic move, she pulled from the embrace before you could even deepen it, huffing, “You can’t kiss me like that, dreamy...” 

“Why not?” 

She shook her head to clear it, wiping her face, “Because then I’m gonna wanna get into the tub with you, then I’m gonna fuck you and I’m supposed to be focused on doing other things right now.” 

“Such as?” 

She just chuckled in response before planting a much more chaste kiss to your lips, following it with another to the tip of your nose, the final one touching your forehead as she stood, “What fun would it be if I just told you, mama? I’ll be back in a sec with some sparkling white grape. Just in case I did knock you up, which... not to toot my own dick, but I’m pretty certain I did.” 

Your laugh was more of a splutter as you choked on your spit and air at the same time, “For Janna’s sake, Sevi, it’s ‘toot my own horn’. I can’t stand your nasty ass sometimes.” 

“Then it’s a wonderful thing you’re in the tub right now, isn’t it?” 

“Girl- just hurry up, I want cuddles when I get out of here.” 

She blew you a final kiss from the doorway before disappearing into the rest of the house to do whatever it was she was hiding from you. As promised, she’d come back with the sparkling juice, to which you accepted gratefully with a little kiss before sinking back into your bath, lazily holding the champagne flute over the side of the tub as you sipped on the drink idly.

Sevika doesn’t like men. 

All the men out there who’ve ever wanted to fuck her can thank her father for the aversion. 

You see, when your childhood consists of being pimped out to strange men to pay your alcoholic father’s gambling debts, constantly getting into street fights, and then getting your ass handed to you once you get home- you don’t have much time to really discover yourself. 

Maybe in a different universe- one where Sevika wasn’t born in Zaun... where her father wasn’t abusive... where she wasn’t sex trafficked by the very man that was meant to protect her... she might’ve been attracted to men. 

But this wasn’t that universe. 

Her fear of relationships with men quickly grew into an outright disgust of them. 

And then it got worse. 

For Sevika, it started with the vomiting. 

For probably all the ladies living up Topside, the first sign would’ve been a missed period. Thanks to life in the Lanes, however, Sevika was pretty used to her period not coming at all sometimes. It never came with a baby before though. 

She’d been dancing the line of unknown pregnancy scares since she was 11. Now she was 21, still under the thumb of her father, and even worse- pregnant.

It wasn’t long before you were wrapped in a fluffy robe, feet slid into your house slippers as Sev guided you into the kitchen with her hands over your eyes under the guise of ‘driving you’ to her secret little surprise. 

You stumbled a bit and she took a little pause, “You okay?” 

“I smell food.” 

Her chuckle was hearty and you could almost hear the head shake that accompanied her words, “I’m sure you do. Almost there, dream girl.” 

Her hands were removed from your eyes without warning and allowed your eyes to adjust as she leaned her face over your shoulder, hands coming down to their usual home base of your waist as you took in the ambient, candlelit dinner she’d put together for you guys, “Sev...” 

She shook her head before you could continue, “Yes, I’m on my period and that’s your favorite time to spoil me, but I wanted to treat my wife.” 

You poked your lip out as you turned your head to look at her, “Sev...” 

She giggled, peppering the side of your face with kisses, “Don’t cry, mama... it’s just dinner. I can’t even cook like you.” 

You sniffled, fanning your eyes, “Shut it, my emotions are just everywhere right now. It’s not about your cooking skills, even though we both know I’ve taught you well... It’s about the gesture, and you know it.” 

She nodded, lips now at your shoulder, “I know... hope you love it.” 

“Of course, I love it... I love you...” you mumbled, holding a hand against her cheek. 

“Alright, alright, sit and eat,” she prompted, pulling your chair out with her foot. Before you could protest as she sat you down, she pressed several kisses to your face, “And I love you too. Never forget it.” 

You had a stupid smile on your face throughout the entirety of dinner.

Emetophobia. 

The fear of vomiting or seeing others being sick. 

Sevika had experienced her father’s violent reactions to her throwing up before. 

The first time was when she was 6. 

It was a particularly bad winter in Zaun. The smog was thicker, the cold seemed to seep into the very core of the Lanes. 

She’d been battling the sniffles and a nasty fever for days, all the while still being forced to ‘put herself to use’ by her father. 

Then it got worse. 

Then she began to throw up. 

At first, she hid it well. She’d swallow it down when she couldn’t get out of his sight. When she could, she’d always go out to an alley, ducking and weaving through bodies of what the little girl only hoped was just drunkards and junkies who’d passed out on a bender rather than what a six-year-old Sevika knew in her heart were either already dead or close to it. 

Up until this point, the extent of physical abuse coming directly from her father was a slap across the face or being picked up by the front of her shirt and shaken around. 

Then she brought him breakfast and didn’t make it out of his room fast enough to go puke out back. 

That was the catalyst for the abuses that would be-fall her for the next few decades of her life. 

Throw up tastes disgusting. 

It tastes even worse going back down after being licked up off your father’s grimy boots. 

Even worse, the feeling of wanting to re-release those fluids again when you were forced to lick those same boots clean until they were no longer grimy. 

Sevika trained herself to hold her throw up in after that.

Your music from the bathroom was moved to one of the counters in the kitchen, incense burning in the holder as you and Sevika cuddled up into each other, you perched up on her lap with the two of you picking from the same plate in between soft kisses and intimate looks. 

It was just you and your wife, enjoying the presence and company of one another in the midst of the meal she’d prepared. 

You leaned back against her chest, letting out a happy sigh, “You know... I’m so proud of you for this.” 

“Yeah,” she asked softly. The softness of her voice, the genuine question in that one word was so cute. You turned in her lap, sitting sideways atop her, cupping her cheek in a hand as you smiled warmly, pressing a kiss to the bridge of her nose. 

You kept your voice at the same level of hers as you responded, “Of course, I’m proud, baby. You pan fried the rice properly and everything. I’m so very proud to see you picking up cooking a little more.” 

Your heart broke a little at the tears that glossed over her silver orbs as she looked up at you, “Really? You mean it?” 

“Yes, baby, I mean it. What’s wrong,” you cooed, bringing your other hand to her cheek to stroke both of them with your thumbs, “Talk to me, baby.” 

She shrugged, looking away, “I dunno... I just... I feel like I’ve been struggling to eat lately. Like I’ve been having to force myself to eat so I just... I wasn’t sure if I was in the right headspace to be cooking tonight, but I wanted to treat you, you know?” 

“Sev...” you began. 

“Don’t... it’s okay, doll. I’ll-” 

“Sevika,” you stopped her, keeping her face turned to yours as you moved again, this time to straddle her, “Will you look at me? Please?” 

She shook her head in your gentle grip, tears beginning to well, threatening to spill over as she fought hard to blink them back, “I can’t...” 

“And why not?” 

“I don’t want to see you disappointed in me...” she whispered, voice barely the ghost of a whisper. It was the smallest you’d heard her voice in a while. The last time was... you softened, further, bringing your voice to a warmer tone. 

“I’m not disappointed in you, baby. And I never could be, especially not for something like that. I’m actually proud of you. Very proud that instead of shutting down, you’re talking about it. I know how hard that is for you, especially when it comes to your eating. So with that being said, will you please look at me?” 

Watery eyes met yours as she nibbled the inside of her cheek, whispering, “Promise?” 

“Of course, baby. I promise, I’m not disappointed.” 

She took a shuddery, breath, closing her eyes as she leaned her forehead against your chest, “I love you...” 

You pressed a kiss into her hair, rubbing her back, “I love you too, baby. You wanna try and eat a little something more for me? Or do you just wanna talk? What did you eat today?” 

“Um.... I had a few bites of the lunch you made me, but then I.... let Ran eat the rest... I’m sorry...” 

“Baby, you don’t have to keep apologizing. Can you at least drink some water and eat a little something? Just a couple of bites?” She whined and you let out a little sigh, running your fingers through her hair, “Have you smoked yet?” 

“Mhm.” 

“Didn’t help?” 

“No.” 

“Okay... You’ll try again later?” 

“Sure.” 

“If you can’t that’s fine, but you gotta promise me you’ll try and eat well tomorrow, okay?” 

“I promise...” 

A plaintive silence fell over the two of you. It wasn’t uncomfortable, just... somber. You didn’t comment when she began to pick a few bites off the plate again, simply smiling that she was getting some form of food in her, even if it wasn’t a lot. 

At some point, Sevika had stopped eating, hands gripping at your waist, hips and thighs as she pressed kisses along the line of your neck and shoulder. Her hands strayed to your stomach as she mumbled, “Hey, mama?” 

“Yes, my love?” 

She chuckled as you stuffed your face with food, wiping some from your cheek, “What if I really did knock you up in one try?” 

“I wouldn’t be surprised. I mean, how many times did you nut in me? And we were both ovulating around that time too. It was like perfectly timed for us to actually end up with a baby.” 

She didn’t say anything else for a few moments, and you went right back to eating before she rested her chin on your shoulder, tracing your side with her mechanic hand, “You make me want a family...” 

“Yeah?” 

She nodded, “Yeah... even with life down here... the work that I do... you make me wanna have something to leave behind... a little family that’s like... a legacy of our love. Like, yes, I wanna be a mother and give our kids the things that I never had, but I also want people to see our kids and know that those are our kids. Like... they know that our kids have two loving moms that are actively in love.” 

You let out a little giggle, turning to the side in her lap to wrap your arms around her neck, pressing a kiss to her cheek as you held her other one, stroking your thumb over her cheekbone, “You’re so cute... I love you, and I would love to have your babies, and I know what you’re trying to say, I promise.” 

She relaxed, letting out a sigh of relief as she leaned into your hand on her face, “Thank Janna, I thought I was just rambling stupidly.” 

You shook your head, pressing more kisses to her face and lips, “No, I understood you perfectly.” 

“Have I told you how much I love you today?”

You giggled, nodding, “Yeah, a little bit. You always remind me that I’m loved... it’s why I married you.” 

“Really?”

“Of course. Baby, you told me you loved me within our first four dates. It was so cute because you were still learning to navigate love and healthy relationships... we both were, and still are, but here I had the big, scary lady of Zaun and she was looking at me like a puppy and telling me that she thought she was falling in love with me. I think that was the moment when I truly felt like I had found my person in you. And well... the rest is really history. By the time you asked me to marry you, I couldn’t say anything but yes.” 

She had idly reached for her wedding band that she always wore on a chain around her neck, fiddling with it as she looked up at you in her lap, “You never once like... entertained saying no? Or maybe waiting a little longer?” 

“Never. I knew when I met you that I had to snatch you up and it was just my luck that you seemed to have the same thought process when it came to me. I love you. And that’s not changing. So yes, I mean it when I say I wanna have your children, or that I love you more than anything, or that I’d do anything you asked of me because you’re... you’re everything to me, Sev... and I know that when it comes to us talking about kids it’s hard for you... but you’ve given me so much and I wanna give you the same thing in return. If given the chance, I wouldn’t change a thing about our relationship... well...” 

Her eyes snapped up to you from her ring as worry laced through her features, “Well?” 

You snickered, placing a gentle kiss to the bridge of her nose, “If I could go back, I would make sure I’d asked you to marry me before you could ask me.” 

“You’re so,” she rolled her eyes, unable to hide her smile as you shut her up with another little kiss. She pulled you further into her lap with a happy little sigh, “I love you, dream girl.” 

You leaned into her, resting your head on her shoulder as you wrapped an arm around her, your other hand coming up to her chest, fingernail tracing along her collarbone, “I love you too.” 

“Done eating?” 

You nodded, patting your stomach, “May or may not be a baby-baby in here, but there’s definitely a food baby in here.” 

The way she perked up almost like a little kid was too cute as she asked, “I did good?” 

The sated and full sigh you let out was all the answer she really needed, but you furthered it as you spoke, “Fuck yes...”

She rubbed your back with one hand, her other one grabbing hold of your hand to kiss each of your fingertips, “You’re so cute. It wasn’t even all that, mama.” 

“Uh-huh, it was gourmet. My compliments to the chef.” 

She raised a brow, voice full of ulterior motives and that all-too-familiar lilt as she muttered, “If you weren’t clearly about to fall asleep, I would ask for some better compliments, you know.” 

You quirked a brow sleepily, looking up at her through low and hooded eyes, “Huh?” 

“Alright, c’mon. To bed with you,” she prodded, adjusting her hold on you to pick you up with your legs wrapped around her waist. 

You instinctively looped your arms around her neck, pressing a few kisses to it as you hummed, “I love you.” 

“So I’ve noticed. I love you too.” 

“I love you.” 

She chuckled, “I love you too, baby.” 

“I love you.” 

She used her foot to push open the door to your shared bedroom, nodding as she used her foot to close the door once more, “Uh-huh, I love you too, dreamy. What’s up?” 

You shrugged as she sat down on the edge of the bed with you in her lap again, “Just feel like I haven’t said it enough today, you were at work all day, baby. Gotta reach our quota.” 

“We have a quota?” 

“Mhm,” you nodded against her shoulder, eyes closed as you planted lazy kisses against whatever skin was closest to you. 

Her breath hitched in her throat and she assumed a firmer grip on your hip as she hummed, “And what exactly would that number be?” 

“We say ‘I love you’ at least 76 times a day. And we kiss at least 280 times.” 

She chuckled, hand stroking along your hip and thigh as she nodded, “And where did you get these numbers from? Your ass?” 

“I’ve always counted.” 

That shut her up before she asked her next question a few moments later, “Are these exact numbers?” 

“An average. I did say ‘at least’.” 

“Huh.... you’re gay.” 

“Okay, but you married me so what does that say about you?” 

“That I did.” She turned to press a kiss to your forehead, just below your hairline before resting her head against yours, “I love you, dream girl.” 

You melted in her arms, nuzzling into the crook of her neck as you tightened your hold around her waist, “I love you...” 

“I love you,” she called again with a soft lilt in her tone as her thumb traced circles at the side of your hip. 

A heavy blush was creeping up from your chest, your skin growing warm as you let out a shaky breath, “I love you...” 

“You okay?” 

“Uh-huh...” 

“Words, mama.” You huffed and she shook her head, “No, ma’am. Talk to me. You goin’ to sleep on me?” 

“No.” 

“No?” 

You shook your head against her, “Mh-mh.”

She just chuckled, rubbing your back with one hand as she cradled the back of your head with the other, pressing kisses into your hair, “Whatever you say, mama.”

Sevika’s pregnancy scares were probably a lot more than she realized, but with little actual knowledge of her body, and the compounding factor of probably the world’s most irregular cycle, she spent the majority of her tween, teen, and young adult years none the wiser to any of the times where her body was seemingly contemplating the creation of a child. 

Until it started. 

At first, it was just a random nausea spell here and there. 

Then the nausea grew constant, the smallest smells setting her off with this horrible gagging. 

And then she threw up. 

All she could think of was what she was supposed to do when her father found out. No, no... he couldn’t find out. 

Flashbacks of that day when she was 6 have been haunting her since the first day of nausea. The intensity all but doubled when she woke up running for the toilet. 

Terrified didn’t even begin to cover the amalgamation of emotions Sevika was feeling when she realized what was going on with her. 

She thrust herself into ‘working’. Unsure of how far along she was and unable to actually find out, she decided to swallow down her daily morning sickness whenever it cropped up if she could, and when she couldn’t, she was straight to the nearest toilet. 

That didn’t stop her father from finding out. 

Sevika was sat on the bathroom floor, groaning under her breath after being unable to force herself to swallow her vomit back down. She was too weak and out of it to scramble and get herself together. 

If it wasn’t bad enough that she’d thrown up- didn't even get the chance to flush the toilet yet- her lack of reaction to his presence only further incensed the already drunk and irate man that called himself her father. 

It was a shitshow. 

Sevika was hemmed up by the collar of her shirt, his fist shaking as he barked in her face, questioning if this was why she’d been ‘underperforming’ lately. Too stunned to speak and reeling from the sudden yanking up from the floor, she sputtered, dizzy with a pounding headache as she tried to form a response. 

The more she floundered to actually engage with him, the more angry and downright belligerent he became. 

As always, he didn’t see his daughter, shaking under his grip of her collar.

No, he saw the extra mouth he’d been having to feed.

He saw the reason his wife was dead. 

He saw red. 

By the time Sevika found her words to even begin attempting to answer his barrage of questions and demands, his fist was already connecting with her face, his grip on her shirt the only thing saving her from ending up sprawled on the bathroom floor. 

It was going to be a beating for the books.

You didn’t even realize it when she’d laid you down in the bed on the pillows, tucking you in, until she was sliding into bed next to you, wrapping her arms around you from behind with a kiss to the back of your shoulder, “Hm?”

She shook her head, reaching a hand into your robe to hold one of your breasts as another kiss was planted to the side of your neck, “Go to sleep, mama. I just had to go get out of my work clothes.”  

You let out a little groan, turning in her arms to nestle into her, your face tucked under her chin as you mumbled, “Hmmm... g’night.... love you...”  

With a little chuckle she pressed kisses into your hair, rubbing your lower back as she whispered against you, “Good night, my love. Sleep well.”  

You didn’t sleep very well at all.  

Along with the aches and random pains in weird places in your body- a tugging in your lower abdomen that also had a random stabbing along with it, back pain, an almost constant headache, and just a general discomfort and ache in your body- you also had this constant metal taste that was like having a mouthful of rusty change in your mouth at all times.

You were constantly waking up throughout the night from the discomfort, the violent urge to brush your teeth to purge your mouth of the vile metallic tang plaguing you. This, compounded with your incessant gagging, had you growing nauseous with the mere thought of your toothbrush starting to make you want to dry-heave.

You were presently standing over the sink, tears in your eyes as you tried to prepare yourself to gargle some mouthwash after having thrown up for about the fifth time since you woke up in the middle of the night.

Sevika, ever the stony sleeper, had no idea until she rolled over, finding your cold spot in the bed next to her. She groaned, calling out in a sleep-filled voice, “Baby, what’re you doin’? Come back so we can cuddle...”

You huffed, gripping onto the counter of the bathroom sink, fighting the urge to dry-heave again, “I’ll be back in a second....”

You could hear her trudging footsteps coming closer to the bathroom until she was coming up behind you, rubbing your back and pulling hair out of your face, concern and sleep both written on her features, “What’s wrong, baby?”  

“I just.... I’m fine, I’ll be fine,” you shook your head, pushing her hand away before grabbing the capful of mouthwash.  

“You can’t lie to me, dream girl. You’re crying, you’re pale... you look like shit and you’re supposed to be asleep right now. Talk to me.”  

“I’m in pain, gagging now has nausea with it, I just threw up, so now I gotta wash that out of my mouth, but that’s still not going to get rid of this fucking taste in my mouth and I just-”  

“Hey,” she moved to stand right in front of you, hands on your arms as she rubbed them to try and calm you back down, “Avalanche, you’re spiraling, dreamy. Take a deep breath with me and we’ll go sit down and talk, okay?”  

You nodded as you looked up at her, taking a shaky but somewhat deep breath along with her as she nodded along, continuing to rub your arms with her thumbs tracing circles.  

You let out a hiccup when you went to exhale and the second the tears started to brew again, she shook her head, “No, no, eyes on me... You’re safe... you’re okay, I promise. I’m here. You are okay, you’re doing so well, my love. Let’s try again, okay? Deep breaths.”  

It took a few more tries before you finally relaxed in her hold, wrapping your arms around her. She brought one hand up to play in your hair, the pads of her fingers rubbing your scalp as her claws on her mech hand trailed lightly up and down your back.  

She ended up taking you to the kitchen, sitting you down as she made you a glass of water with two and a half ice cubes- just the way you liked it after an episode like that, holding your free hand and kissing your knuckles and fingertips as you drank with your other hand.  

When you sat the glass down, she stepped between your legs, still stroking her thumb over the back of your knuckles, “Whenever you’re ready, we’ll talk. If you don’t wanna talk, we can go back to sleep. If you want a distraction, we can watch something, or I could read you something. Just let me know, okay?”  

You nodded, reaching up with your other arm for her to come closer. She pressed a kiss to your cheek before leaning into the embrace, wrapping you up in her arms. The two of you remained that way for a few quiet moments until you looked up at her with a sniffle, your chin on her chest, “Sev?”  

“Yes, dreamy?”  

“Can you read to me in bed?”  

“Absolutely, baby. Do you wanna stay with me while I grab a book or go get comfy?” You held onto her tighter and she nodded, stroking your hair, “Alright, I got you.” She moved so that she could give you a piggyback while she grabbed a book. She ran her finger over the titles, moving on to the next one when you let out a little ‘mh-mh’ sound at each one until giving a nod when she got to a book you wanted to hear.  

Once you were both back in bed, Sevika sat up against the headboard with you lying on your stomach between her legs curled up into her chest, she started reading the book, her voice still rather raspy from sleep. She held the book in one hand, her other one up at your face, stroking your cheek with the back of her fingers and only moving to flip the page.

Eventually, you closed your eyes, enjoying the vibrations of her voice in her chest beneath your head and the feel of her fingers on your face. Unconsciously, you took hold of her hand, fiddling with her fingers. She paused in her reading to check in, “You okay?”  

“My mouth feels empty,” you lamented softly, the traces of whining laced in your voice.  

She kissed your temple, “You’ve got my fingers, mama. Do you want me to keep reading?”  

Sevika was no stranger to your occasional bouts like this. You hadn’t had a panic attack like that in a while, but usually when you did, you came out of them feeling very subby, not saying much, and your oral fixation would kick up, usually leading you to say things like ‘my mouth feels empty’. 

You nodded in response to her question as you closed your eyes again, softly sucking and gnawing on her index finger. She smiled as your breathing evened out, setting the book aside as she pulled the covers over you both, allowing you to keep her finger before she picked the book back up.

A little groan left you as you took one more finger into your mouth, shifting atop her with your right arm wrapped around her. She shushed you softly, pressing a kiss to your hair, “I’m right here, dream girl... I’ll never let you go... promise...”

First, he punched.  

Blow after blow into her face.  

To this day, Sevika still has the slightest taste of blood that crops up in her mouth for no apparent reason from time to time.  

It was clear that he was just making himself angrier with each hit, the strikes growing more violent and frenzied the more he spoke, barking at her about bringing another unwanted mouth into the household, about how she was still going to have to work. How could she be so foolish as to allow something like this? Half of his yelling barely made any sense but one thing was clear- he was saying that she’d gotten pregnant on purpose, trying to get out of pulling her weight around here. 

His grip started to shake on her collar until he’d thrown her to the floor, too lazy to bend over and keep using his hands, so here came the infamous worker’s boots, smashing into her stomach and chest with seemingly reckless abandon- yet somehow still managing a concentration of kicks to her stomach. Sevika curled in on herself slightly, instinctively going to guard her stomach which left her chest open.  

There was a sick crunch with each kick there, blood bubbling up out of her mouth as her body was wracked with coughs, the blood spattering across the floor with each one. Her father stopped for a few moments, leaning against the wall to catch his breath as he wheezed. 

"You... are fuckin'.... pathetic..." he huffed, turning back around to prod her face with his foot. 

He spat down at her as she lay there, voice gruff as he all but growled, “Get the fuck up.”  

Sevika was already weak when he came in, having been throwing up essentially all morning before he'd come in to find her when he got home. It hurt to even breathe, ribs threatening to puncture her lungs with every shallow breath she managed, let alone for her to actually get up off the floor. 

She didn’t move.  

He gave her a shove with his foot, pushing her onto her back as his voice got louder, “Did you not hear me, bitch? Get the fuck up!”  

Tears brewed at the back of her eyes. She always says the back because she learned early on not to cry. He hated that almost more than he hated her. 

With a great amount of effort, she rolled onto her side, then her stomach before bracing her hands against the floor to push herself up, low grunts and huffs escaping her the whole way.  

She barely got a few inches off the floor before he used his foot once again to kick her, knocking her back down, “Get up.”  

It was getting harder to hold those tears.  

She wasn’t foolish enough to hope that actually ending up pregnant would change things. She never hoped for anything. But some subconscious part of her did. While she had no plans on keeping the child, not that her father would let her anyway, something deep within her secretly wanted to.  

Her arms were wobbly, weak as she started to push up again. Each time she started to get up as he was demanding, he’d kick up under her, right into her stomach.  

She knew what he was doing.  

She didn’t want to lose the baby.  

Not like this.  

But she couldn’t do anything.  

For years after his death, she berated herself for not killing him sooner.  

After all if she had...

To say you had a disgusting cocktail of things seemingly going wrong with you would’ve been an understatement. 

You were locked in an almost unending cycle of sorts. First, you’d feel so nauseous it was almost like you were seasick. Then you’d throw up, which meant you had to brush your teeth after, lest the unceasing metallic taste be joined by vomit, which meant more gagging and possible throwing up. Then to make you feel even worse, now your gums were bleeding. 

And there was the pains. 

Sevika could barely keep up, but she was doing her best. She went into work less often, explaining the situation to Silco. When she did go in, he kept her for shorter hours, having her back home to you before afternoon. 

You guys were still awaiting your now questionably late period when you called from the bathroom one morning, “Baby?” 

“Yes, mama?” 

“Can you bring me a liner from the closet?” 

“You dropped?” 

“I think?” 

She entered the room with a liner in one hand and fresh panties in the other, “You think?” 

“It’s never been this light before. It’s not spotting, but it’s not my usual first day either,” you explained, letting her see the red and brown that now stained the panties you were wearing initially before you tossed them across the bathroom and into the hamper, taking the fresh ones and the liner from her with a soft ‘thank you’ as you changed.

She leaned against the sink, clearly studying you, trying to rack her brain for any sort of explanation. 

“This just started?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Hm.” 

“What are you thinking about over there? I’m not dying, am I?” 

She looked at you like she could kill you before whatever this was did, “Don’t talk like that. I’m just trying to make sense of this. Perhaps we should visit your mom...” 

The last line was muttered more to herself, but you responded all the same. Your mother was a doctor. More than that, she was a pretty damn good one, and she specialized in childbirth and care. She’d helped numerous women through what could’ve otherwise been fatal pregnancies, not to mention you come from a very... fertile line of women. 

“Would that make you feel better if I did?” 

She nodded immediately, “Yes, please. If anyone will know what’s going on with you, it’s definitely her.” 

“You know that’s a six-day trip, right?” 

“Don’t care. I’ll work something out with Silco if need be, but I need to know what’s going on with my girl. Start packing when you get out of here, I’ll be back in 45, okay?” 

You huffed, grumbling to yourself, “Watch it just be somethin’ stupid."

“Nothing’s stupid when it comes to you, dream girl. Don’t make me fuck a reminder into you when I get back.” 

“You’re leavin’ without my kisses? Do y’even love me anymore,” you wailed dramatically. 

You could almost sense her playful eye-roll as you heard her steps clunking back toward your shared bedroom. She bent down to meet you as you placed the liner into your new panties, pressing two kisses to your lips, “Happy now?” 

“No,” you pouted, your bottom lip poked out as you looked up at her sadly. 

She stooped down to your level, face softening, “What’s wrong, my love?” 

“You only gave me two kisses....” you whined, dead serious. 

Her face fell and she pushed your knee, “Don’t scare me like that, I thought something was really wrong, dreamy. Mmmmwah, better?” 

You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped you as she planted a very audible kiss on your lips, nodding, “Yes, thank you. And insufficient kisses it very much serious business.” 

“Yeah, when it’s you depriving me, not the other way around. Hurry and get ready, okay? The sooner we figure out what’s going on with you, the better.” 

“I know, I know. I’ll be fine. Go talk your way into going with me,” you waved her on, getting up from the toilet as you flushed with one hand, turning the sink on with the other to wash your hands. 

She got maybe three steps away from the door before she was back in the bathroom, tugging your face to hers for a searing- almost teasing- kiss as she muttered before pulling away, “I love you, lock the doors and windows, I’ll be back soon, okay?” 

Despite already missing her presence with her standing right in front of you, you managed a smile, pecking her lips once more, “Hurry, Sevi. The longer it takes you to leave, the longer I have to be here by myself.” 

“Say it back first,” she mumbled against your lips, the two of you still trading kisses back and forth. 

You pressed a lengthier kiss to her lips, looking up at her with a whisper, “I love you...” 

She tilted her head to rest her forehead against yours, closing her eyes, “I’ll be back, okay?” 

“Sev-” 

“I’m fine. I’ll be back.” 

She quickly suppressed the brewing tears, heading to go ask Silco for some time off to make the trip.

Sevika spent that night on the bathroom floor, bloodied and bruised, still coughing up blood periodically as she cradled her stomach, praying to whoever was out there that she didn’t die on that floor. 

She didn’t die. 

Even more, neither did her baby. 

Sevika wasn’t excited. 

She wasn’t happy to be bringing this life into the world. 

Sevika was petrified about the mere idea of it all. 

If she kept the baby, there was the chance her father would kill the baby, or worse, the baby would end up being abused just as she was. She couldn’t have that happen. 

But did she truly want to give it away? 

If the baby was lucky, it would end up being sent topside to Piltover. It’d be safe there as much as she hated to think about her child ending up being a topsider. 

But more likely than not, the kid would end up just in the system. Sent off from home to home around the Lanes. Or even worse, the kid could end up being one of the many orphans on the street. 

Sevika didn’t know what she wanted. Or what she would do. 

To make matters worse, her father acted as if she weren’t even pregnant in the first place. 

She was still working, now having to do even more ‘work’ to make up for the “lackluster performance” from the week she first found out she was pregnant. She was also working at home again, something she hadn’t done much since she’d become an adult. 

It took months for her to begin showing, and by the time she had, it was almost as if her father intended for her to keep the baby. The physical abuse was now reduced to the occasional slap or hair snatch here and there, and though the verbal and emotional abuse intensified in its place, he’d begun seemingly making room for the new addition. 

He was by no means happy about the prospect of his daughter having a child. But the way he saw it, that was another worker to bring money in to fund his drinking, gambling, and other vices. 

The way Sevika saw it? She'd rather die than let her child go through the same things she did. Whether this was something she wanted or not, she knew that if she had to have this child, she’d protect it with her life.

It’s nowhere near the first time you’ve had to make this trip to see your mom. 6 days there, 6 days back. 

The majority of your journey is spent with your symptoms playing a twisted game of roulette, alternating between which ones will be your biggest issue that day. 

You’re a constant mess of tears, throwing up, gagging, whining, and for the life of you, you cannot stop peeing, only to end up releasing barely a trickle if even a few drops. 

You’re tired. 

Sevika is also tired. 

Your wife wasn’t much of a caregiver when the two of you met. She wasn’t the worst, but it was clear that she was still very much learning. By now she's got it pretty much mastered.

She’s been holding you through everything, offering up massages, cuddles, and her fingers whenever you’re starting to get too overwhelmed by all the different compounding symptoms of what’s looking more and more like a pregnancy. 

That’s when the nosebleeds started. 

You’ve never had a nosebleed before. Aside from getting your nose broken that one time, you’d only ever dealt with Sevika’s nosebleeds that she gets during the winter from her nostrils drying out. But you? Never had it happen. 

However, you knew what it meant. 

It ran in the family. Bloody noses and sensitive- sometimes bleeding- gums were some of the earliest pregnancy symptoms within your family. If you didn’t know based on your other symptoms, all other weird yet slightly common symptoms of pregnancy, you definitely knew now. 

You were both in your hotel room, the last stop before the final half-day stretch that would get you to your mother’s house, your back to her front as she trailed her fingers over your stomach, muttering affirmations and praises under her breath at how good you’d been holding up when you felt what you thought was your nose running. 

You reached up to swipe at your nose with a sniff, pulling your sleeve away to find red now smeared across it, “Oh no...” 

She sat up with you, eyes going wide, “Baby?” 

You held your nose, pinching the bottom of your nostrils as you cupped your other hand under your chin, holding your head forward while running to the bathroom. 

It’s not an overwhelming amount of blood. You’ve seen Sevika come home with much worse from particularly bloody brawls at The Last Drop for sure. But to your wife? You may as well be dying. 

Sev is right on your heels, a face towel in her hands already being run under some warm tap water as she pulls you in front of her, taking hold of your chin with her mech hand and assessing the situation as she cleans your face with the towel in her other one. 

“This isn’t normal.... d’you think we can leave tonight? Get a jump on some answers? I’m worried about you.” 

“Baby, it’s just a nosebleed. I won’t bleed out by morning. It’s not even bleeding anymore.” 

She shakes her head, turning your face side-to-side face for signs of any bruising or other things that may be outwardly wrong with you. When she finds none, she starts to gently prod at your nose with a finger, pushing against the bridge and around, “You don’t get it, dreamy. You don’t get nosebleeds. I get those like an orphan gets the cold and flu. Not you... I don’t know a single person in the Lanes who’s just never had a nosebleed like you... I’m scared.” 

While you were now very certain about being pregnant, you wanted to wait to tell her, so you simply took hold of her arms- standard panic protocol between the two of you- as you spoke gently, “Baby, there’s a lot of things going on with me that just aren’t normal for me, but that’s why we’re on this trip. We’ll get answers in the morning, okay? Breathe for me, deep breaths.” 

Sevika’s barrage of questions and worries fizzle out on her tongue as she locks in with you, mumbling a small, “Avalanche,” as she takes a deep breath in time with your own. 

“There we go, my love. What can I do for you to make you feel a bit better right now? If you wanna get back on the road, we can. Or we can go cuddle and I’ll braid your hair. Or we can watch our show. Whenever you’re ready, just let me know, okay?” 

She closed her eyes as she took a final breath, opening them once she blew it back out, “Can you braid my hair and we watch our show?” 

“Of course, baby. Come on, relax time. If my nose bleeds again tonight, we’ll get up and head on immediately.” 

The two of you ended up back in bed, Sevika’s head in your lap as you gave her a few braids to pull back into two little pigtails in place of her usual half pony, you guys’ show playing in the background of her giving you updates on the things she’s gotta do for Silco when you two return back home. 

“And then he was literally all whiny talking about how he needs me to come in at some point when we get back so I can go head up the factory and take stock.” 

You snickered, pulling a hair tie around her first little pigtail, “We need to get this man a calculator class or something. Oh, remind me it’s time for a trim when we get home, your undercut is practically long enough for me to braid it too.” 

She rolled her eyes, rolling over in your lap to face you so you could do the other side of her hair, “Oh hush, it’s not that long.” 

“Nah, I’m just being extra.” 

“I love you...” 

“I love you too.” 

She squeezed her eyes closed, gritting her teeth, “I love you...” 

You noticed the tense in her jaw, voice softening, “I love you more, baby.” 

“Avalanche,” she said meekly, fist gripping your shirt.

You set your comb aside, pulling her up and into your arms as you wrapped your legs around her, allowing her to bury her face in your chest. Slowly rocking side to side, you stroked her hair with one hand, holding her tightly with your other arm as you pressed kisses to her temple and along her hairline, “I got you, Vika.... I’ll never let you go.... never leave... You’re safe... I love you... I’m always going to love you... nothing you do will change that... We’ve been married for so long now... We’re planning babies... We’re still gonna get our homestead... And you can have your animals... I’ll have my fruits and veggies... Me ‘n you, baby...” 

You kept whispering little reassurances, reminding her about you guys’ life plan, the things the two of you have already accomplished together, the ones still to come, all while rocking her and playing in her hair. She was holding onto you for dear life. You’d been waiting for it to hit her again, knowing what time of year it was. 

When her breathing evened out and her grip on you relaxed just the tiniest bit, you pulled back slightly, cleaning the crust from her eyes with your shirt before pulling the article off, tossing it to the floor. You finished her cute little pigtails while she slept, pausing to press a kiss to her nose every time she started to stir a little bit. 

You watched a few more episodes of you guys’ show, making sure to put it back to where it was when she fell asleep before you relaxed as well, pulling the covers up over the two of you. 

With a final kiss to her nose, this one earning a soft smile in her sleep, you leaned your head against hers before following her to sleep, mumbling, “Sweet dreams, my love... You’re gonna be a great mother...”

Pregnancy was... well... 

Sevika wasn’t sure how to describe her pregnancy. She was in such a weird place after the initial day of her father finding out that she wasn’t sure what to make of anything. 

One moment, he was “caring” for her- which really just meant not beating the shit out of her and pimping her out- and the next he was either acting like she didn’t exist or, again, human punching bag. 

As far as symptoms, her vomiting didn’t last very long, took her maybe two weeks after that day for her to get a handle on forcing her morning sickness back down no matter what. 

She really didn’t get the chance to think about it much. Sure, she had aches and pains. Sure, she had cravings. Sure, she was in and out of bathrooms like it was nobody’s business. But, those were all just minor- trivial things that ranged from annoying to slightly inconvenient at times. 

The hard part was delivery. 

Sevika delivered her daughter herself. 

Alone, in a back alley, deep in the very heart of Zaun. 

Giving birth hurt more than anything she’d ever felt before and anything she’d ever feel after. 

Sevika didn’t know much about her body. 

Besides the hateful things spewed about it from her father, the lustful words from her “clients”, and the few things she’d managed to sneak and read back when she was younger, she actually didn’t know much about how her body worked, let alone pregnancy. 

But something seemed to come over her. 

It was as if suddenly she knew everything she needed to have her baby safely. 

Yes, she was giving birth in a dirty alleyway- the whole of Zaun was dirty, it was unavoidable- but even through the pain she was... calm. 

She wasn’t worried about someone finding her and interfering. She wasn’t worried about her father. 

All she cared about was making sure her baby made it out into this world. 

And she did it. 

With nothing but a lighter, a shoelace, a pocketknife, and some stolen whiskey, she delivered her baby. 

A girl. 

She always wanted to have a daughter when she was little. 

She told herself that she’d have a girl so she could give her all the love and care that her father never showed her. 

She named her Mieko. 

Sevika didn’t know who the father was before now. 

And even though Mieko was but a newborn, she knew. 

This baby belonged to her father.

The next morning was a rush. 

Sev wanted to get to your mom’s as soon as possible. She didn’t say anything about last night aside from asking if your nose had bled any more after she fell asleep, and you didn’t mention it either. 

But the cloud still hung. 

You noticed her fiddling with the two shell casings that hung from the same chain as her wedding ring. Every so often her hand would stray up to her neckline, fingers practically searching for the items that sat just beneath the fabric of her shirt. Each time you just gave her mech hand a little squeeze, kissing the back of it just the same as you would her flesh hand. 

She was thankful you didn’t pry. You never did, actually. Sure, you knew what the casings held within them, and even more you knew exactly what it meant when she started to play with them, but you didn’t bother her about it. You gave her breath and space to grieve in her own way, never pushing for answers, never making her feel weak for showing her sadness. It was one of the many reasons she loved you so much. 

Naturally, the somber mood slowly started to lift the closer the two of you got to your mother’s place of residence. You knew Sev was only mostly trying to distract herself, but you also knew how much she and your mother adored one another. 

Presently, she was still fiddling with that chain of hers, rubbing the casings between her fingers as she spoke, “D’you think she’ll try and keep us here if it turns out we’re just having a baby?” 

“As if you’d be opposed. The way you two act, people would swear I was the one who married in.” 

She chuckled, sticking her tongue out at you, “Don’t be mad at me because moms prefers me. I’m just that guy.” 

You rolled your eyes, playfully mushing her in the face, “Literally die. Don’t ever say some stupid shit like that again.” 

“Or what?” 

“No booty.”

“What?!” She cried incredulously, immediately on her knees, “C’mon, mama, you know I was just playing. ‘M sorry...” she trailed, looking up at you with puppy eyes. 

You couldn’t help the snicker that escaped you as you pulled her up by her chin, being sure to press your lips to hers when she got close enough before she was once again standing over you, “You gotta be nice to me, okay? I’m 65 percent sure mom wrote me out of her will to put you in it.” 

She rolled her eyes playfully before leaning down to kiss you once more, “Oh, please, even if she did you already know I’d just give it all to you anyway.” 

“True, true.” 

“You ready?” 

“Yeah, are you?” 

“Hell yeah. If you end up not being pregnant we’ll just try again when we get home... so long as you’re not dying or something.” 

“What if I was?” 

“Don’t make me beat your ass, dreamy.” 

You gasped dramatically, “You tryna eat my ass?!” 

“I most certainly would hope not.” 

The two of you immediately forgot about the little argument that was about to start as you both raced to get to your mom first from where she stood on her porch. 

“Mommy,” you exclaimed as you launched yourself into her arms. 

She let out a dramatized grunt as she wrapped you up in her embrace, squeezing you tightly, “I wish you’d have told me you were coming before I felt you. Would’ve made your favorites.” 

“Sorry, it was kind of an emergency.” 

Sevika cut in, tugging you out of the way, “Yeah, kinda like you hogging moms right now.” 

Your mother snickered, squeezing Sev just the same, “You two need to be nice and stop fighting over me all the time. You both know that I love you equally.” 

“But Sev’s not even-” 

“What did I just say, gummy?” 

You huffed, folding your arms as you grumbled under your breath, “I can’t stand either of you.” 

When the two finally released each other, your mother turned her attention back to you, raising a brow, “Sevi, baby, can you do me a favor?” 

“Anything, moms.” 

“Go to the garden and gather the vegetables I’ll need for stir fry, please. I’ll be in the kitchen after I finish with this one,” she requested, eyes never leaving you as she seemed to be scrutinizing you. Sev left with a kiss to your cheek and another to your mom’s temple before she practically skipped away into the garden like the overgrown kid she really was. 

“Do you have something you wanna tell me?” 

“What do you mean, ma?” 

“You’re choosing that card? Step into my office, gummy.” 

You bit your lip as you followed after her into her home office, fiddling with the hem of your hoodie, “I swear to you, I don’t think I’ve got anything worse than a cold-” 

“Sit down,” she instructs, not looking to play these games with you. You shut up immediately, sitting back as she takes your vitals, “Last period?” 

“9 weeks ago.” 

“6 weeks late, huh?” 

“I know what you’re thinking and-” 

“Did you know I’ve been dreaming about fish for a month now? Tiny little fish swimming around with tadpoles.” 

You looked up at her as she handed you a cup, “Seriously, ma? I’m literally your only gay child.” 

She raised a brow, “What does that have to do with me? Piss. I’m testing everyone, it hasn’t just been you.” 

“So you tested Ky?” 

“Sure did.” 

You rolled your eyes the moment your back was turned, a slipper promptly smacking you in the back of the head, “Ow! I didn’t even say anything.” 

“You rolled your eyes and you were grumbling in your head about me making your brother take a pregnancy test. Obviously, I tested his wife, genius.” 

You smacked, rubbing the back of your head, “I didn’t even-” she raised her other slipper and you promptly shut your mouth before grabbing her slipper from earlier, handing it back to her. “I started getting the nosebleeds,” you mumbled softly. 

She looked up from her clipboard, voice and eyes softer than before, “Dear, why you know-” 

“That it means I’m pregnant? Yeah... I know...” 

She set her things aside, wrapping her arms around you, “Oh my little girl... all grown up... about to have a little girl of her own.” 

You chuckled through the tears that had begun to fall, “We don’t even know if it’s a girl yet. Not even close to finding that out.” 

 She waved your argument away, rubbing your back, “Did you forget who your mother is?” 

You didn’t answer, holding her a little tighter. Your mom softened, voice quiet as she questioned, “What’s wrong, gummy?” 

“I’m scared...” 

“Of?” 

“All of it.... being a mom... having a kid in the heart of Zaun... what if... what if Sevika falls out of love with me? Or I fuck up and lose the baby somehow? Or-” 

“Excuse me? I know this isn’t how I raised you to think.” 

“I know, but-” 

“No buts. You’re scared of being a mom? Comes with the territory. You’re scared of having your kid in the heart of Zaun? Guess what, baby girl, that’s where my mom had me, and look at how I turned out. You think you’ll somehow breathe wrong and lose the baby, I already know because I know you- you won’t. I’ll check you two out properly before you guys go back home just to be sure everything is fine and in working order with you and your body and the baby.” 

“As for Sevika? Sweet girl, if you think that girl is going anywhere away from you, then you clearly have a lot of learning to do. She looks at you like you’re the very air she needs to breathe; as if you hung the sun, moon, and stars just for her. That girl loves you even more than I do, and you’re my baby,” she chimed, playfully pinching your cheek, “Make no mistake, there’s nothing that could make her fall out of love with you. Not this one. And by Janna, if she does- call me.” 

You chuckled through your tears, letting out a little sigh, “I got this?” 

She gave you a kiss to your forehead, “Yes, sweet girl. You’ve got this. And I’ll be here the whole time, okay? And you’ve got a wife that loves you... You’ll be okay. And if you ever want to move back up here at any time during your pregnancy or after, let me know. My door is always open, you know this.” 

“I know....” 

The two of you stood like that for a good while before you mumbled, “Mommy?” 

“Yes, gummy?” 

“Thank you.” 

She let out a soft sigh, shaking her head as she held you a little tighter, “Anything for my girl. I’ll keep the news to myself so you can tell my other daughter, alright?” 

“Thanks... I love you.” 

She planted an audible kiss to your forehead, “Of course, little one. I love you more. Now clean that pretty little face and get yourself together. I’ll tell your wife you’re using the bathroom while we get dinner going, okay?” 

You let out a happy little sigh, giving your mother one last good squeeze, “Thanks, mommy.” 

She gave your stomach a little pat before turning to leave, “Don’t take too long or you know she’ll come find you. Also, you have a cold, sit your ass on the couch when you come out and don’t you dare set foot in my kitchen, you hear?” 

“Yes, mommy. I’ll be out in a second.” 

The door closed behind her and you placed a hand on your stomach letting out a little breath, “Now I’ve gotta figure out how to tell your mom about you, angel.”

2 years. 

Sevika had been hiding her daughter from her father successfully for 2 years. 

She doesn’t know how he found her. She didn’t know then and, to this day, she doesn’t know now. 

She’d returned to her childhood home from a day of “work”, heart falling from her stomach as Mieko came tottering to her, wrapping around her leg. 

For the longest time, fear was the only word she could use to describe that day, but no... it was something more than that. Sevika wasn’t just afraid. She was horrified. Petrified even. 

How long had her daughter been alone with her father? How did he find her? How long had he known about her? Was this his first time coming into contact with her? 

A million questions and terrible scenarios ran through her mind, the soft pat of her daughter’s hand on her leg pulling her from the slow descent into panic. She couldn’t help but smile at her baby, picking her up and smothering her in kisses as the little girl dissolved into giggles. She could feel her father’s eyes watching her every move. 

“You take her to the back room.” His voice was gruff as always, words short and to the point. 

Sevika froze. She knew what was coming for her if she let go of her daughter and faced him alone. She didn’t move, arms clutching onto her child as her heart raced even faster than her thoughts. 

There had to be a way out of this. 

Her father hated repeating himself. His anger was palpable, a churning storm ready to roll through the house as he slammed his fist down, “Back room, now!” 

The loud noise and his elevated voice scared Mieko. She started crying. He hates crying. 

Sevika slowly backed toward the front door, holding a crying Mieko to her chest as she tried to quiet her. 

Wrong. 

Her father was in front of her in an instant, large hands reaching for Mieko. Sevika went to turn around, run back out the door, only to have her face smashed into it, her daughter torn from her arms by his other hand. He shook the crying child, screaming at her to shut up. 

Disoriented with blurry vision, Sevika stood on unsure feet, trying to reach for her daughter back. 

She felt that familiar tiny hand clutch her finger for the briefest of moments before a shot rang out. 

She saw red.

Sevika’s hand strayed to the shell casings around her neck frequently throughout dinner, her eyes misty and sort of far away. Your mother looked to you, wondering what was up with her daughter in law, but you waved off her concern, stroking your thumb over Sevika’s thigh in a show of silent comfort each time she withdrew from the conversation. 

After dinner was finished and the dishes had been put away, your mother left for bed with a kiss to each of your foreheads. You sat on the couch with your wife, rolling a cigar for her as she curled around you, her flesh hand at your stomach, tracing patterns over the bit of skin poking from beneath your top. 

You placed the ‘gar between your lips, lighting it before taking a hit and holding it out for your wife. 

She took it, not hitting it, but studying it before she took a hit, sighing upon her exhale of the smoke. 

“How are you feelin’,” you asked softly, playing with her semi-wavy hair that had been freed from the braids and pigtails you’d made the night prior. 

“Stressed... worried...” she trailed off, voice falling quieter as she passed the blunt back to you, “sad...” 

“Where do you wanna start?” 

She shrugged, unwrapping herself from around you to sit up beside you, “Dunno... it’s all just a lot right now...” 

You leaned your head on her shoulder, taking a couple more hits of the blunt before you passed it back to her, taking up interest in her mech hand as you started to fiddle with the metal, “Okay.... what’s got you stressed?” 

“Everything...” 

“But in particular at this moment?” 

She didn’t answer for a few moments, eyes clouding over again. You gave her mech hand a squeeze, whispering gently, “Hey...” 

“Hm?” 

“You keep leaving me... Talk to me...” 

“Is it possible to miss someone you’ve never met?” 

Her mom. 

You gave a small nod, “Entirely possible.” 

“It’s like.... this longing... But it’s more than that because how can you long for something you never truly had? Even worse to miss someone who... who’s not here anymore because of you...” 

Her last sentence was like a ghost, the words dissipating the moment they left her lips. 

“Sevi...” 

“It’s fine, I’m-” 

“No, you aren’t, baby... And you don’t have to be. It’s okay to not be okay... But I wish you’d stop faulting yourself for that...” 

She let out a sigh, holding the blunt out for you, “I know... Just.... can we talk about something else? Or just cuddle and smoke?” 

You nodded as you took another hit, “We can do that.” 

The silence that fell was comfortable, the two of you sharing the blunt back and forth until it was nothing but a roach left. You leaned to place it in the ashtray on the coffee table before moving to lay aginst Sev’s chest. 

Your body was buzzing. It had been a while since you last smoked and you felt that familiar sensation of both floating and sinking into your wife’s body as you lay atop her, her arms wrapped loosely around your waist, flesh hand trazing lazy patterns along your spine. 

You tilted your head slightly to look up at her, her eyes fixated on the ceiling, but not really- she was thinking. 

“You have such pretty eyes,” you whispered. 

Her grin was immediate as she moved her vision down to you, those silver orbs darkened in her high state, “You think so?” 

You nodded, curling further into her as you closed your own eyes, “So pretty... I hope the baby gets your eyes.”

Sevika is known for being a woman who revels in violence. 

The Scary lady of Zaun. 

She’s the one who kicks ass and takes names- no questions. 

But it wasn’t always like that. 

The shot flipped a switch in her. 

To be quite honest, she’s not sure what exactly killed him. 

Maybe it was her beating him. 

Maybe it was her bashing his skull into the wall. 

Maybe she’d broken his ribs with her kicks, punctured a lung or even better his heart. 

She didn’t know. 

But when the rage had settled and her father lie dead on the floor, she saw her little girl. 

She crumpled, those tears she’d been holding back for so long in her life ripped from her as she held her girl in her arms. 

Those tiny fingers wrapped around her pinky for the last time, matching silver orbs growing dim as Mieko took her final breath in her mother’s arms.

Sevika’s heart stopped in her chest as she froze beneath you. 

You sat up, looking down to find her eyes glossed over, a single tear escaping, “Sev?” 

Her eyes were wide, heart hammering away in her chest, threatening to burst from it as she just barely managed to speak, “You... you’re...” 

You took her hands, nodding as you whispered, “Yeah, baby... I’m pregnant.” 

You were holding back tears of your own. You’d only seen your wife cry once, and that was on your wedding day. Sevika crying was as rare as you getting a nosebleed. 

You cupped her face in your hands, wiping away her tears as they fell. She seemed frozen, eyes faraway again as she whispered feebly, “You...” 

Sevika didn’t know what to say. She had dreamed about this moment, played it out a million different ways in her head. She just knew she’d wrap you up in her arms, a mess of kisses and giggles. But now that it was here, the two of you under the light of the fire in your mom’s living room, she was stuck. 

Her eyes focused on you as you spoke, tears in your eyes, “Hey, come back to me? You okay?” 

No, she wasn’t okay. 

“You’re pregnant...” she whispered, still sounding like she didn’t believe it. 

You let out a soft chuckle, nodding as you leaned in to kiss a line down her nose, ending with her lips, “We made a baby, Sev...” 

There were stars in her eyes as she stared at you. She was never one for flowery language, she’d tried, but she always stumbled over her words or felt like she’d just come off cheesy. Her hands moved to your waist, thumbs stroking the sides of your stomach as she looked up at you, “We did...” 

“We’re gonna be parents...” 

“We are...” she whispered, her words thick as she blinked away a fresh batch of tears. 

You didn’t wipe them away this time. Instead, you pulled her closer, wrapping your arms around her as she tucked her face into the crook of your neck. If you felt her tears soak through your shirt, you didn’t say anything, fingers combing through her hair as you rocked softly. 

Sevika was swimming through her thoughts in her mind. She was petrified and ecstatic at the same time, but the fear seemed to overtake the happiness by an astounding wave, causing her to press further into you. You simply wrapped your arms tighter around her, pressing a kiss into her hair as you rubbed her back to keep her grounded. 

Her mind was running about a million miles a minute. Flashbacks of her own pregnancy, her labor and delivery in that cramped alley... the few moments of peace and happiness shared with her daughter.... Mieko’s eyes as the life leaked from them... 

Then she thought about you. The life the two of you have settled into together. The day that started all of this when the two of you decided to try for a baby. About all the shit you’ve had to put up with thus far and all the things to come. 

She pulled back to look at you, silver eyes glistening still in the lowlight, pupils blown as she found her voice, whispering under her breath, “Thank you...” 

Your eyes caught on your mother, a soft smile on your face as she mouthed, “I told you so.” 

🤎©️ All work belongs to sexysapphicshopowner. Do not use or repost my content in any way without my consent or permission. Thank you! 🤎

🤎 Taglist 🤎:

@certainlynotasimp @trafalgardvivi @love-sugarr @archangeldyke-all @fyeahnix

[witchcoochie]

I saw a tiktok today that said it was so much more devastating if Sirius’s mother did love him, even if it was horrible and flawed. So I used that idea to create this little excerpt. Let me know what you think!

The idea for this one is that Sirius is supposed to take the dark mark and is refusing, Walburga tries to get him to “see sense” as Voldemort will likely kill him for refusing to join the cause. This is also the night that Sirius would have escaped to the Potter’s house.

TW: mentions of torture/child abuse, implied domestic violence.

As usual, none of these characters belong to me:)

——————

“You insolent child!” Walburga screeched as soon as the door to Orions study closed behind her, “Do you understand what you have just done?!”

Sirius ripped his arm out of his mothers tight grasp, her nails leaving behind red indents in his skin.

“I understand that I refuse to be a soldier for a mad man! It’s horrific the way he talks! He’s going to get us all—“

The sharp sting of a backhand cut off his ranting.

“You are going to get us killed!” His mother heaved, her voiced tinged with a hint of desperation he had never heard before.

Sirius ignored it.

“Me?!” He bellowed, cradling his jaw, “You have put your faith in a fool!”

“I am trying to save you!” His mother screamed back, “You brash, idiotic— you are my son!”

Sirius stared at her with his eyes wide, his mouth parted in shock.

“You are my son.” Walburga repeated desperately, a hint of his mother— his Maman— peaked through her usual icy mask. “Can’t you see that this is the only way to ensure our kind survives?”

“He’s talking about genocide!” Sirius croaked back, “People I care about are being hunted like animals!”

“Those little blood traitors and mudbloods you surround yourself with are filling your head with nonsense, Sirius!” Walburga yelled again, practically begging Sirius to listen. “This is how we survive!”

“Thousands of innocent people will die!” Sirius yelled back, matching his mother’s intensity.

“I don’t care!” Walburga was back to screeching now. “We will be safe! You and Regulus will be safe! You will take the mark and you will have the Dark Lord’s protection!”

“Do you honestly believe that?” Sirius scoffed, “He’s marching purebloods off into battle like cows to slaughter!”

“Silence!” Walburga screamed, brandishing her wand. “I have had enough of your obstinance! The Dark Lord asked for you by name!” Her voice wobbled. “You will get the mark because you are the Black heir and it is your duty to protect your family!”

“He is who we need protecting from!” Sirius yelled again, throwing his hands up in frustration. “I will not be another one of his mindless followers!”

The small glimpse of his Mother behind the mask disappeared as Walburga’s face grew dark. “Fine, then, I will just have to convince you.”

Sirius swallowed and stepped backwards and his mother raised her wand. “Maman—“

“Crucio.” He barely heard her say the spell. It was hardly loud enough to even be a whisper, then he could hear nothing but his own screaming.

Why his mother had cast the spell like it hurt her too was a question that faded away into the red hot agony, then into blackness as the pain pulled Sirius into unconsciousness.

…

Sirius woke up to a painful hum throughout his entire body, and whimpered.

His face was streaked with tears and snot, pressed into the extravagant rug that laid across the floor of his Father’s study.

He laid with his eyes shut, trying to remember the events leading to him face down on the floor in this room.

“Are you ready to be reasonable now?”

His Mother’s voice cut through the fog in his head and all he could remember was the pain pain pain pain.

Maman,” he croaked, “please, Maman—“

“Say yes, Sirius.” She almost sounded like she was begging, a thought Sirius quickly pushed aside as a post-torture delusion.

Walburga Black did not beg.

She demanded and took and apparently she also tortured her children with unforgivable curses—that was a fun new one—but she would never stoop so low as to beg.

“I won’t.” Sirius’s voice cracked.

Silence.

“You must.” She whispered back. “Crucio.”

Pain engulfed Sirius like fire to kindling, until he felt like it was all he was. Blissfully, after what felt like an eternity, unconsciousness took him back again.

…

Walburga swallowed harshly, eyes darting around the face of her first born, her son, the brightest star in the sky, memorizing him. She knew after he fell into unconsciousness for a second time that he couldn’t take any more.

The Dark Lord would have his life for this, she knew. Her first son, her baby, her star.

Walburga smoothed down her skirt, an anxious tick she had developed, and breathed in deeply. Regulus wasn’t so stubborn. She could save him. It wasn’t both of them, but she could save one. One son.

Then, with elegance fitting a witch of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, Walburga looked at her eldest son one last time before she straightened her back and turned out the door; leaving Sirius laying unconscious on the floor of Orion’s study.

…

Walburga dropped her head to her hands as soon as the door closed behind her, taking in a shaky breath.

Sirius’s pleading words rung in her head.

“Maman, please, Maman.”

Her eyes stung.

“What the hell is wrong with you, woman,” Orions barking voice snapped her out of her head.

Walburga whipped her head up to look at her husband, standing before her, his face twisted in disgust.

“Get yourself together before somebody sees you,” He hissed, before walking back towards the lounge, where the Dark Lord’s Death Eaters waited.

She nodded silently, quickly wiping under her eyes, ensuring no tears had escaped. Walburga smoothed down her skirt once more with shaking hands and raised up the occulmency walls in her head before following dutifully behind her husband.

Silent, but alive.

[imeanwhynotbruv]

Missing

Summary: Billy gets a phone call about his younger brother Vance. Max sees Billy on the phone, she knows something’s up but she just can’t figure out what.

Tw: implied child abuse, mentioned kidnapping. It’s a Stranger Things & Black Phone crossover. You know what you’re in for.

“Get Billy to take you, might as well make himself useful” Neil said from where he sat at the table, not bothering to look up from his news paper.

Max rolled her eyes as she turned away. She didn’t want to ask Billy. That was the point. He’d be an ass about it, he always was and she just didn’t want to deal with it today.

But she really really wanted to go to the arcade.

Max sighed as she headed towards Billy’s room, dragging her feet against the carpet to try and delay the inevitable confrontation.

“I can’t talk right now, my dad’s home” Max heard Billy’s voice through the slightly open door and rolled her eyes. She only just noticed the land line stretching into his room from its place on the wall, he was probably talking to a girl and didn’t want someone overhearing.

“Lisa, I can’t understand you” Billy groaned, Max could see him pinch the bridge of his nose as she pushed his door further open.

So it was a girl. Great. Just great.

“Calm down, just tell me what happened or I have to go” Billy huffed, obviously wanting the call to end. Max almost wondered what was about, totally not because she cared or anything, she was just..bored, yeah bored. Maybe the dumbass had got a girl pregnant. Would serve him right. It’d suck for the girl though. Just as Max was about to loudly voice her thought, Billy demeanour changed sharply.

His back snapped upright, his muscles tensed and a frown she hadn’t seen before began to form on his face.

“Missing? What do you mean missing?” Was that panic? No. It couldn’t be, that would mean Billy would have to care about something other than himself. She was probably imagining it.

“Lisa! What happened!?” Billy’s hand fisted tightly in his hair, Max winced at the sight of it but Billy didn’t seem to react.

“From the start!” Billy demanded, his voice higher than she was used too.

Billy wiped his mouth as he listened to the reply, his breathing was slow and heavy. Max could swear she heard his breath tremble.

“Four months!? You waited four months to tell me he was missing!?” Billy yelled, the panic in his voice was undeniable now.

Who was missing? Max couldn’t help as her frown deepened.

“Of course you should have told me! Why the hell did you wait that long!?” Billy’s voice was strangled as his hand buried itself in his hair again, tugging harshly at his blonde curls as Max watched silently from the doorway.

“Fuck Neil! Fuck that too! You shouldn’t have waited a week! Let alone- no! I don’t care! Are they still looking? Do they- really- when was- are there any leads” Billy released his hair, only to bite down on his nails.

Max had never seen him do that before.

Ever.

“He wouldn’t leave that behind. If he’d run away he would have taken it! He would have called me- yes I’m sure! He knows I would have-“ Billy cut himself off, his breathing ragged. Max could see his knuckles were white.

“I’m sure Lisa” Billy’s voice was hard, completely confident in his answer.

“Did they check the forest?…..the river?” Billy’s voice was suddenly quiet. Max almost felt sick to her stomach when she realised what he meant.

She refused to acknowledge her quiet sigh of relief she let out just moments after Billy’s own.

“What’s their other option then?” Billy asked impatiently.

“Tell me! It was supposed to be safe! What could’ve fucking happ-!?” Billy demanded, his voice bordering on frantic.

“Grabber?” Max frowned as she mouthed the word to herself, watching the way Billy’s face contorted as he said the word. What the hell was a grabber?

“Kidn- shit. He wouldn’t have gone easy. We both know that. He would’ve-“ Billy’s breathing sped up.

Wait what? No. She was just misunderstanding. It wouldn’t be that.

“If that’s what- fuck. There’s gotta be something. No one saw anything? How!?- we both know- exactly!- he wouldn’t have gone quietly, nothing he does is quiet!” Billy let out a pained excuse for a laugh. It was closer to hysterical than it was happy

“Oh. Yeah-that. That would-“ Max really wanted to know what was being said, the suspense was killing her.

“Other kids? How- how many? And they were all- they fo-.. how many are-...“ Billy went deathly pale. He looked moments away from keeling over and throwing up then and there. Max’s hand gripped her hoodie, right above her nauseous stomach.

“ but that can’t be the-“ Billy eyes looked glazed over.

Neither of them made a peep as Billy listened to the phone.

“So nothing. Four fucking months and they have nothing.” Billy pressed his palm to his face as his shoulder trembled.

“They have to- they have to find him. If they don’t I’ll- no. They’ll find him. He’ll be- he’ll be fine.” Max had never seen Billy look so small, honestly? It scared her.

He was supposed to be this big cocky, angry asshole. Not this. Not whatever the hell this was. It was wrong. So wrong in a way she didn’t know she could feel if it didn’t have anything to do with monsters. So very wrong.

“Okay. Okay yeah. You’ll call right? If they find anything? Even if it’s a fucking sock call me. Don’t wait just call me. If I don’t answer then call again. As many times as you have to” Billy’s voice soft, yet somehow the desperate demand behind his words was still loud and clear in Max’s ears.

It seemed like the person, Lisa, agreed and hung up not too long after if Billy’s mumbled goodbye was anything to go by.

Billy hung his head, his blonde curls draped over his face blocking him from her view. He pressed the phone against his forehead as his free hand wrapped itself tightly into hair, winding it around his fingers as he harshly tugged at it once.

Max should hear his quiet shaking breaths.

She didn’t know what to do.

If it has been one of her friends sure, but this was Billy. This was different.

Things were always different when it came to Billy.

But, as she listened to him slowly control his breathing, she knew she had to do something.

Just to make it stop. To make it normal again.

“Billy?” Max said hesitantly, her hand wrapping around the doorframe tightly as she leaned in.

Billy’s head snapped up, his eyes locked onto hers.

She felt sick.

Billy looked empty.

Like someone had reached deep inside of him and ripped everything out. His face was blank, eye void of anything as he looked at her. As he looked through her.

She watched as he hardened. As he wrapped himself in something different, something harsher. She barely managed to get out of the way before he stormed past her, slamming the phone back into its place in the hallway as he headed for the table.

Max followed behind him quickly, a worried frown on her face as she saw him stop in front of Neil.

Neil didn’t seem to take notice of his son. Didn’t seem to care.

“He’s missing” Billy’s voice was harsh. She’d never heard him speak to his dad that way before, even when he was pissed. Max could see as her mother tensed up by the sink but she didn’t pay it any mind.

Neil stiffened at the tone, he closed his newspaper as he looked up at Billy with hardened eyes.

“Whatever do you mean?” Max wanted to shiver at his voice, Billy didn’t react.

“Vance. He’s missing” Billy’s hands balled into fists as Neil harshly slammed his hand against the table.

“Don’t say that name” Neil warned, his eyes boring into Billy’s head.

So Neil knew who Billy was talking about then, Max’s confusion only continued to grow. She was certain neither of them had ever mentioned him before.

“Vance. Is. Missing.” Billy’s eyes remained locked on his father, his voice angry and challenging in away she hadn’t ever heard him use in the house.

“Lisa says they think he’s been kidnapped” Billy bit out.

“I told you know to talk to that damn woman!” Neil snapped as he rose to his feet.

“That’s what you care about!?” Billy yelled in outrage.

“I will not have you disobey me! I will not have you sneaking around talking to that whore when I forbid you to!” Neil stood in front of Billy.

“Kidnapped. What part of that do you not understand!?!” Billy demanded as he stood closer. Max saw her mother flinch out of the corner of her eye, but she had bigger problems to deal with.

“You will respect my word” Neil ordered, Max ignored her mother was the woman hesitantly came closer.

“Vance is your-!?” Billy snapped, only to be cut off as his father pushed right up close into his personal space.

“Enough William!” Neil yelled inches from his son’s face. Max almost missed Billy’s flinch, missed the way his back stiffened up and his hands jerked where they lay down his sides.

Billy didn’t back down.

“Maxine. Go wait in the car. Billy will be with you in a moment” Neil ordered, his eyes never straying from where they were trying to melt through his son’s head.

Max jumped slightly, surprised at suddenly being acknowledged.

She almost wanted to protest until her mother spoke up.

“Go ahead Max, I’ve put a little extra in here for you” Susan said softly as she held out a small purse, never once looking at the father and son duo as she smiled encouragingly at her daughter.

Max could tell it was fake. Even if she’d been a mile away she would have been able to tell. But she could see her mother’s silent pleading as she held out the purse.

Max sighed internally as she hesitantly took it from her mother, receiving a kiss on her head as she was ushered out the door.

Max leaned against the passenger door of the Camaro as she waited. Time seemed to stretch on endlessly as she thought about what she’d heard.

Billy knew someone named Vance, who has apparently been kidnapped. Who Neil also apparently knows and has told Billy not to talk about. But why would Neil do that? Who was Vance?

Billy finally came out a while later. Max wasn’t exactly sure how long but she knew it’d taken a good chuck of time.

She watched silently as he pulled open the door and slammed it behind him once he was in, pressing his head against the side of his door as he waited for her.

As soon as she’d buckled her seatbelt in Billy was out of the driveway and headed down the road without saying a word, without acknowledging her presence in any way shape or form.

Max kept sneaking glances at him when she could, noticing the redness in his neck around his collar, the bruise forming on his temple just peaking out of his hairline. The blood on his lip that hadn’t been there before.

She didn’t know what to do. She felt confused and small and had not idea what to say or do to fix it so she sunk lower into her seat.

It was Billy who eventually broke the silence.

A strange strangled noise left his throat that had Max turning to look at him.

He’d pulled his lip into his mouth and bitten it, his brows were pulled together and his eyes were damp as he sniffed.

Max wasn’t sure what to do when Billy suddenly pulled off to the side and parked his car.

“Fuck!” Billy yelled as he slammed his hand against the steering while, Max jump slightly in surprise.

Billy didn’t look at her a her pushed his door open and stumbled out, not bothering to close it behind him. Max scrambled after him.

“Fuck fuck fuck FUCK!” Billy screamed as he hit his car roof repeatedly. His palm slapping loudly against the metal as Max watched warily from the side.

She was so far out of her depth it wasn’t even funny.

Billy went quiet as he pressed his face into the blue paint, the only part of him that moved was his shaking shoulders.

Eventually Billy collapsed to the floor, leaning his back against his car as he pulled his knees up and buried his head between them.

His shoulders continued to shake as he cried silently into his legs.

Max slowly crept closer until she reached his side, Billy didn’t so much as huff as she slid down to sit next to him.

Max kept her eyes on the trees as she silently sat next to her step brother as he cried to himself. Keeping him company in a way neither of them wanted to admit to.

Eventually the muffled noises stopped, Billy leaned his head back against his car with his red rimmed eyes closed. Max looked at him carefully.

This was so different to the Billy she knew. To the annoying asshole that lived with her. He wasn’t angry here. He wasn’t being a prick for no reason and yelling at her. He just looked like a teenager. Like some boy who was just as far out of his comfort zone as she was.

He just looked sad.

He was nothing like the bully she knew, so maybe she could ask him something she’d never have dared to ask him before.

“Billy…who’s Vance?” Max asked softly, her voice barely a whisper.

Billy turned to look a her, his eyes glassy and sad as he just watched her for a moment. Max was almost sure he wasn’t going to answer her. She was gearing up to ask him again before he sighed through his nose and shook his head to himself.

Billy turned to the open door of his car and pulled out an envelope with yellowed edges from beneath his seat before hand handed it to her.

Billy leaned back and watched the trees as Max hesitantly opened it and pulled out the first photo.

Two blue eyed little boys with blond curls were grinning up at her. Max turned to Billy in confusion.

“Vance Hopper” Billy said quietly, his voice thick.

He turn to look her in the eyes.

“My little brother”

[swifty-fox]

❝  i know i can’t protect you from everything,  but i wish you’d let me protect you from the things i can control.  ❞ - for outlaw au please :)) i already miss them 🥺

yessss more of them.

read the fic here

tws: Mentions of child abuse & discussion of suicide of a family member.

Gale hates South Dakota. It's much like Wyoming, flat and empty and made up of scrublands. Population is scarce and it's been nearly two weeks of rest-stop sink baths or on one or two desperate occasions water bottles and a spare t-shirt as a rag.

It's one of those quiet inconveniences of how they live. It's been months since anyone has laid a hand on him and that's worth any lack of creature comforts.

Still, he'd like a shower.

They're on the roof of the Corolla, scissors snicking gently through Gale's hair as John trims it with careful concentration. His tongue Is poked between his lips, there's an unlit cigarette tucked behind his ear and his grey Puddle of Mudd shirt is turned dark with sweat.

"Look straight, I don't want you getting mad at me when I fuck your hair up and make it all uneven."

"I wouldn't be mad," Gale says, but looks forward anyway, eyeing the blue silhouette of mountains in the distance. They appear tiny and flat, but Gale knows if they bothered to travel the hundreds of miles to the foothills they'd rise taller than skyscrapers.

John blows stray hair off Gale's shoulder, brushes it off with his fingers when that proves ineffective. The fine blond strands cling to his sweaty skin, bared by the cut-off sleeve shirt he's wearing. Likely it's Johns, the fabric loose and baggy around Gale's torso and chest in a way his own shirts usually were not.

"Why'd you start growing it?"

"My dad said long hair was for girls."

John's thumb strokes over the ball-curve of Gale's shoulder, nail tracing the raised lines of the random smattering of scars there. They extend across the wingspan of his back, harsher at the bony parts and falling off in the dips and divots. "He do these too?"

Tucking his heels up near his ass, Gale rests his chin on his knees. John clucks at him for the change of position but after a moment resumes cutting. For a while there's only the snick of scissors and the sound of coyotes howling and the sun slowly sinking into the pillow of the mountains.

"I dropped a box of my mom's Christmas ornaments," He says finally, "the glass ones, you know? The kind of special ones you put at the top and don't let the kids touch."

John hums to show he's listening, brushing fingers through Gale's hair to find any spots he's missed.

"It was an accident," He insists as if it matters to Bucky, as if it ever mattered.

"And he," Gale gestures to his head, "I was on the ground before I realized what had happened and then he was just going off on me, and I was trying to tell him that the glass was cutting me, that I'd take my licks but the glass."

Metal clinks as John sets the scissors down, reaches his hand out for the hair tie that Gale deposits in his hand. Begins braiding Gale's hair with practiced efficiency

"Spent the night in Marge's bathroom picking glass out of my skin with her eyebrow tweezers."

"Couldn't afford the hospital?"

"Wasn't lookin' to get placed with some Mormon family who'd do just about the same but also make me wear pressed button-downs."

"How old were you?"

"Fifteen."

John brushes over Gale's shoulders again, slow and gentle. Smooths his braid down his spine.

"You're done," he says.

Something in his tone makes Gale scowl, "I'm not looking for your pity, Bucky."

"You're not getting it."

Gale shakes his head slowly, feeling the tickle of his braid somewhere up along the apex of his shoulder blades rather than the central line of them. The weight of it is gone, or at least nearly negligible to what it was. He picks at the stray chunks of hair littered around them, twisting one clump around his fingers.

"I know I can’t protect you from everything,  but I wish you’d let me protect you from the things I can control," John says.

"What are you able to control about something that happened five years ago?"

"hmm," John hops off the roof of the car, the whole frame squeaking and shaking with the movement. Gale uncurls from his hunched position. Hands him the scissors to tuck away safely. But not too safely. They are a weapon in a pinch, after all.

"That's not an answer."

"You telling me about it. Then I can protect you."

"How is telling you protecting me?" Gale slips down after him, tugs the blankets off the roof of the Corolla and shakes them out to get as much hair out as possible.

"Talking helps."

Gale snorts but John fixes him with an uncharacteristically sincere look

"I'm serious. My Ma made me go talk to a shrink after my dad died. it helped, kind of."

"What happened to him?"

It's mostly genuine. It's a little bit pointed. Poking at a bruise because his own hurts have been prodded at.

John smiles at him. It's awful, "He locked himself in the car with the exhaust on. Came home from ninth grade and found him in the garage."

Gale stares, looks down to finish folding the blankets.

"He was a Pastor," John continues, "He was a good man. Just kinda wish he'd left a note or something. An email. Hell, a fat life insurance policy would have been nice but they don't give you shit if it's a suicide."

"Do you pray then?"

"Sometimes, when I miss him. When I've got something important to say." John pops a lollipop into his mouth, hunts around for a sweet flavor to offer Gale, "Do you?"

Gale takes the lollipop, looks John's face over and shrugs a shoulder "No, not for a long time."

[chickensarentcheap]

I FOUND: THE MISSING PIECES

CHAPTER TWO

Fandom: Extraction

Pairing: Tyler Rake x Esme Drummond (OFC)

Summary: A collection of requested one and two shots that cover the CANON events mentioned in the original “I Found” story. It’s not a necessity to have read it, but it might help.

Author’s Note:

This is a companion piece to “I Found”. When I first wrote the story four years ago, I had every intention of including ‘flashback’ chapters that weaved Esme into the events of Extraction. Sadly, I lost my confidence at the time and ended the fic before I was one hundred percent ready to do so. Which I deeply regret. In the time that has passed, readers have requested both 'movie canon-centric’ pieces and those that cover events between Tyler and Esme that were merely mentioned.

Please keep in mind that the pieces are NOT in chronological order according to the movie timeline or Tyler and Esme’s persona timeline. Instead, they are written and posted in the order in which the readers submit their requests.

Thank you! I hope you enjoy.

Love, Chickens

WARNINGS: SLIGHT SMUT, PROFANITY, MENTIONS OF DOMESTIC PHYSICAL AND SEXUAL ABUSE, MENTIONS OF CHILD DEATH

Tagging: @tragiclyhip, @watermeezer @secretaryunpaid @youflickedtooharddamnit @kmc1989

@asirensrage @residentdormouse @ninjasawakenedmystar @alisbackalleybbq @karimac

@arrthurpendragon @themaradwrites @munstysmind @fanficanatic-tw @ocappreciationtag @occommunity

****

WHERE: GASPAR'S SAFE HOUSE

“Tyler?”

He teeters on the edge of sleep, his body exhausted and aching; a dull, throbbing pain that seems to travel from the roots of his hair to the tips of his toes.  He feels as if he’s lived a lifetime in a matter of twenty-four hours;  his flesh littered with abrasions, bruises and gaping, hastily tended-to wounds.  The silence surrounding him a welcome reprieve from gunfire and mayhem;  temporarily tucked away in that quaint safe house on the city's outskirts.  

The booze and the pain meds have begun to take effect; a haze and warmth that lower both his guard and his inhibitions and soften the chaos and the incessant second-guessing that have plagued his mind for hours.    But her voice -quiet and apprehensive-  somehow manages to cut through the layers of inebriation and exhaustion.  And when he opens his eyes and glances towards the stairs, he discovers her standing on the middle landing; illuminated by the couch-side lamp and the glow of the light above the stove.

“Yeah?”

“Is it okay to come down there?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Just wanted to make sure.”

He watches as she descends the remaining stairs and approaches, her bare feet padding softly against the wooden floors. Her hair is loose and dishevelled from sleep; thick, dark tresses framing her face, tumbling over her shoulders, and spilling down her back.  Her tiny frame drowns in a man’s button-down shirt;  crisp and cool cotton in charcoal grey,  the sleeves rolled up to her elbows.  One of many offerings that Gaspar had left behind in a plastic bag on the kitchen table;  faded and tattered t-shirts and old jeans with holes in the knees and pockets and loose threads dangling from the cuffs.  With nothing appropriate for a woman -especially one of Esme’s petite stature- available, she’d been relegated to washing her original clothes by hand; tattered and stained by blood and now drying over a chair on the small back porch.

Despite the dim lighting, he can see how heavily body and spirit bear the toll of the day;  a slump to normally confident shoulders, a limp that replaces the normal bounce to her step. The sparkle of those dark eyes diminished;  now dull and lifeless from a potent mixture of exhaustion,  discomfort,  grief, and concern.   And when she stands in front of him, he can see the damage done to her pale, smooth skin;  a bruised and slightly swollen left cheek, a red and angry abrasion that mars her forehead and disappears into her hair,  and a small split to her bottom lip that appears sore and tender.

Yet, she’s still the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. 

His hands find her hips as she steps between his splayed thighs. “You should be asleep.”

“I was going to say the same thing to you.”

“I’ve been resting my eyes. Here and there.”

“I damn near had a panic attack. I woke up and didn’t even remember coming here.  I didn’t recognize anything,  you were gone.  That’s what totally freaked me out.  I didn’t know where you went, and I thought maybe something bad happened and you had to leave us here or…”

“I’d never do that.   No one is getting left behind. Especially not you.”

“It just scared me.  Not knowing where I was.  Being disoriented and alone and…”

“I only left because I didn’t want to wake you up.  I couldn’t shut my brain off.  And if I’d stayed up there and just kept tossing and turning…”

She reaches out;  gentle fingertips exploring the bruises and wounds that litter his face.  “Are you feeling any better?”  

“A little.  The meds kicked in about ten minutes ago.”

She gently explores the cut above his right eyebrow and the abrasions on his cheek. “Did you take a lot?”

“I only took a couple.  Just to take the edge off.  Nowhere near enough to knock me on my ass.”

“I mean, I know it’s not any of my business; how many pills you take or how much booze you drink.  But…”

“We talked about this. A couple of days ago. About how it’s becoming your business.”   

 When their plans to travel together after the job in Dhaka had been made official,  they’d been accompanied by a conscious decision to turn his life around. Or at least attempt to.   There’s an optimism he clings to;  the belief that their immense attraction to one another will follow them into the ‘regular world’.   That it isn’t solely rooted in similar experiences and shared circumstances; their equally traumatic childhoods,  their time in the military and their failed marriages, the stress and the unpredictability of the ‘job’.    

 It’s the first time in years that he’s felt any sense of positivity regarding the direction of his life; finding himself no longer obsessed with wanting to catch a bullet or interested in drinking himself to death.  It would be the biggest mistake he’s ever made; turning his back on the second chance that lay before him.  And he’s determined to put the work in; wanting to clean himself up and give her the kind of man she wants, needs, and deserves .

“I worry about you.”  Pushing her hands into his hair, she allows the longer strands to slip through her fingers.  “I know you’re not to use that; someone giving a shit.”

He can’t remember the last time someone expressed any kind of concern in regards to his well-being.  While boldly -yet erroneously- calling herself a friend, Nik views him as both a nuisance and a commodity.  While none of the other mercenaries on her payroll come close to possessing the same level of skill and knowledge, his issues with drugs and alcohol often get in the way of her securing a client -and a mission- only he can conquer. Her friendship comes with a price;  relying heavily on his ability to keep himself alive and the cash rolling into her bank account.  And Mia had never been an affectionate or nurturing person;  lacking those traits long before their marriage had started to sour.  A byproduct of her career and upbringing, she’d always been rather cold and distant; expecting the man to be continuously ‘rock steady’ and admittedly ‘turned off’ by any show of softness or vulnerability.

His mother.   She’d been the only one who’d ever shown him that kind of care and concern.  Loving him unconditionally; with every breath she took and every punch and kick his father had rained down upon.  Continuously -and selflessly- putting herself…mind, body, and soul…in the direct path of his ire to keep her only child safe. Attempting to give him some semblance of a normal childhood despite all the bloody noses,  broken ribs,  split lips and trips to the emergency room.    It was the last time he’d ever felt loved;  the only person who allowed her to show and express emotion and experience moments of fear and weakness. 

Nearly three decades.  Since anyone has given a shit.  And it seems so foreign now; finding himself at the receiving end of even the smallest forms of affection.  

“It’s been a long time,” he admits.

“That’s not right,” she laments.  “That’s not right at all .”

Her hands continue to move through his hair; gently and repeatedly combing the dirty blond tresses.  He finds himself unable to take his eyes off her; transfixed by the tenderness that both touch and gaze possess.  The couch side lamp bathes her skin in a soft, almost ethereal glow;  highlighting the juxtaposition between the bruises and cuts that mar her flesh and the gentle smile that curves moist lips.  

 It takes his breath away;  her emotions -a mix of concern,  adoration, and lust-  written so plainly upon her face. He doesn’t deserve it; someone regarding him in such a manner, wanting and needing him to the depths and lengths she’s already shown.  And while part of him whispers to push her away and spare her the hurt that he’ll eventually cause,  an even louder and more persistent one screams at him to never let her go. 

A shiver travels through him as her nails lightly scrape along his scalp and down onto the nape of his neck; those small, delicate fingers dancing over his skin before deftly and easily manipulating the sore, tense muscles below them.  His eyes close; a sigh of both weariness and contentment escaping his lips as his head falls forehead and his brows rest against her.   It’s intimacy in its purest;  her touch soothing as he completely lowers his guard and allows himself a rare moment of vulnerability.   She won’t judge him for it;   won’t scoff, scold or mock upon discovery of a chink in his armour.    Not the type to view him as less of a man because of a show of weakness;  instead preferring to nurture the rarer, softer fragments that linger under his tattered edges and worn and weathered exterior.

When she gently tugs on his hair, he tips his head back and gazes up at her;  eyes riveted on hers as she affectionately strokes his ears and slowly traces the outer edges with the tips of her index fingers. It isn’t until she releases a sigh of her own and scraps her top teeth over her bottom lip that he physically reacts; his hands smoothing over the curve of her hips and down the sides of her thighs before slipping under the bottom of her shirt. He hears her sharp intake of breath when rough, calloused palms glide across soft, supple flesh. Sees the way her eyes darken when he traces a slow, methodical circle around her navel and gently tugs on the hoop that passes through it.  Feels both the shiver that passes through her and the goosebumps that invade her skin as his fingertips skim along the waistband of her simple cotton panties.

“This is wrong.”  Her voice trembles as she speaks. Barely above a whisper. “This is so, so, so wrong.”

“You could be saying  that about the last five days.” 

“I don’t mean that.  Us.  If there even is an us.”

His palms follow the curves and slopes of her ass and hips.  Finding himself amused by her disappointed pout when his hands slip out from under her shirt.   “I thought that was pretty obvious.” 

“I meant this. Here. Your friend’s place.” 

“If it makes you feel any better…”. His fingers tend to the buttons on the simple cotton garment. “…he doesn’t actually live here.  It’s a safe house.  He has no real ties to this place.”

“Always so rational.” 

Allowing the shirt to fall open, his hands once more find her hips;  fingers pressing into the supple flesh as he aggressively pulls her closer.  She heaves a shaky sigh and violently shudders when his lips press against her stomach;  her fingers burrowing in his hair as the tip of his tongue draws a lazy circle around her belly button and his teeth pull at the stainless steel hoop.   Her nails digging into his scalp when he presses a series of kisses along her abdomen;  slowly travelling from hip to the other, then stopping at the strip of lace that covers her pussy.  And nuzzling his nose against her, he can smell and feel the moisture that dampens the thin fabric. 

Her hands tighten their grip on his hair as he presses a line of warm, moist kisses across her waist; his mouth travelling slowly from hip to hip as his calloused fingertips drift over her ribcage.   It’s a power juxtaposition;  the softness of his lips paired with the roughness of his beard.   She’s overwhelmed by the things he manages to stir inside of her; a level and ferocity of want and need that no one else has brought to the plate.   On the good days, sex with Mark had been a chore; she merely tolerated it and certainly never initiated nor truly enjoyed it.  On the bad days, it was expected of her;  threatened and forced and punished -severely- if she had the nerve to say ‘no’ or push him away.   After the marriage fell apart, she’d sworn off all forms of sexual activity that involved a partner;  convinced she could happily live the rest of her life tending to things on her own. 

And then she wandered into the debilitated shack in the middle of the Australian outback.

A violent shiver travels the length of her body as his hands and mouth travel upwards.  Suckling and nipping at her collarbone while his palms cup her breasts;  a whimper escaping her lips when his thumbs brush against her nipples.  He reaches for her hair, his grip tight and unrelenting as he pulls her down into a kiss; his strength and power cause her to lose her balance and tumble into his lap. His hands aggressive and needy as they easily manipulate her much smaller and lighter frame;  settling her on his lap,  her knees on either side of him.

Both kisses and touch are rough and unapologetic. Bruising lips and duelling tongues as his hands dispose of remaining clothes and hers yank at shirt buttons and belt buckle and hurriedly open the clasp and zipper on his pants.  There’s no romance;  no extended foreplay, no whispers of adoration or praise, no tenderness or adoration.  And she audibly gasps when he pushes into her with one strong, fluid thrust;  her head falling backwards and her nails digging painfully into the bruises and cuts that mar the back of his neck and shoulders.  

He remains undeterred;  the pain is no match for the depth and the power of the want and need that take over every fibre of his being.  His mouth finds the hollow of her throat;  licking, sucking, and biting at the skin as his palms find the smooth curves of her ass.  Fingertips biting into the soft, supple flesh as he controls every movement.

****

They sit in silence; basking in the afterglow with her sideways on his lap and her legs hanging over the arm of the chair, both his arms wrapped around her. Her head on his shoulder; one hand resting on his side,  the fingers of the other repeatedly brushing the hair at the back of his head and the nape of his neck.  Clothes discarded earlier in haste gathered up and put back on; avoiding the awkwardness if Ovi awakens and wanders downstairs or Gaspar shows up unexpectedly.   His palm rests on the side of her left thigh;  fingertips repeatedly moving over the skin in slow, smooth circles.

“Tyler?”

He turns his face into hers, lips meeting her brow.  “Mmm?”

“Where should we head first? Where do you want to go the most?”

“What?”

“When we travel.  Once all this is over.  What should we put first on the list?”

“I don’t know.  I haven’t really thought about it.  Wherever you want to go, I guess.”

“Oh, that’s it. Leave the hard work to me.   I’m terrible at making decisions. I’ll pick something now and by this time next week, I’ll have changed my mind a dozen times.”

“Why don’t we get the hard stuff out of the way? I know you’ve been freaking out about the idea of going back to Colorado and having me meet your folks.   If we do that first, you’ll be able to relax; have a good time when we go other places.”

“You know…” Esme presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “...sometimes you are wise.  So wise.”

“Are you saying I’m a dumb ass all the other times?”

She nuzzles the sensitive spot under his left ear with the tip of her nose. “Never.”

He’s getting used to it; her almost overwhelming need to give and receive affection.  She’s the first partner he’s had that’s been so needy in that respect, and decades of being touched starved has caused him to be standoffish at times;  unsure of how to react to her not being afraid to seek out physical contact.  But she’s patient and understanding and never takes initial resistance or hesitation as a personal slight.  After only five days, he’s both accepting and responding with much more comfort and ease; not realizing just how much he’s missed tenderness and affection.   And amidst all the chaos, unpredictability,  and fear of what’s to come,  her mere presence gives him a welcome escape.  The touch of her hands, the feel of her lips, and the smell of her hair somehow easing the weariness and the tension. Even if only temporarily.

“You don’t really want to go there, do you?”

“I want to see the mountains.  Go snowboarding.”

“You do realize we can  do those things without going near my family, right?”

“It was your idea.  To take me to meet them.”

“And now I realize what a shitty idea it is.  And no…”  Laying a hand on his cheek, she turns his face towards her. “...you are not the reason I don’t want to see them.  I mean, you are .  But not in the way you’re thinking.”

“I wasn’t thinking anything.”

“I’m not ashamed. Or embarrassed.  When it comes to how we met and how quickly things happened between us.   And it has nothing to do with who you are and what you do or…”

“Esme,  none of that shit crossed my mind.”

“It has nothing to do with you and everything to do with them.  I know what they’re like; I’ve put up with their bullshit all my life.  They thrive on bullshit and drama. Especially my mother.  Why would I want to subject you to that ? You haven’t done anything to deserve that kind of punishment.”

“Haven’t you been waiting your entire life for someone to come along and put your mother in her place?  Well, the time’s come. Now’s your chance.”

“You have no idea what she can get like.  Just how awful she is.  She’s a miserable, evil bitch.  And I can only imagine what kind of shit is going to come out of her mouth. About you, about me…”

“I’m not your ex-husband.  I’m not the type that’s just going sit there and let it happen.  She steps out of line, I put her back in it.”

Smiling, she reaches up to brush the longer strands of hair off his forehead. “You’d do that for me?”

“Of course, I would.  Someone’s got your back now.  And she should know it.”

“My hero,” she playfully croons, and presses a kiss to the underside of his chin.

“You don’t have to worry about her anymore.   I’ll let her know.  And I won’t be nice about it.”

“You really are a knight in shining armour.”

He frowns. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Knight in slightly tarnished armour?”

“I’ll let you have it.”

They lapse into a comfortable, companionable silence;  her head against his shoulder, the nails of one hand lightly and repeatedly brushing against his beard. His chin rests on the top of her head as calloused fingertips continue tracing random patterns on the side of her thigh and back of her knee.  And he’s once more on the edge of sleep when he feels her move against him; eyes flickering open, finding her staring up at him.  Those enormous dark eyes once more filled with concern, her brow furrowed.

“What?”

“What’s going to happen to him?”

“Who?”

“Ovi.”

“We’re going to get him out of here.  Get him back where he belongs.”

“I mean after .  When this is over.  What happens when you do get him home?  His father’s in jail. There’s no one there to protect him.”

“ I haven’t stopped to think about that.  Yet.”

“Asif will never let him live. Think of the disgrace.  He isn’t going to give up, Tyler. He’ll go after him again.  And this time, things will end up so much worse.  It won’t be about money, or power, or influence.  Or disrespecting or embarrassing Mahajan.  It will be about revenge.  And you know what people like Asif are capable of.   They’re violent and depraved and the things he’ll do to Ovi…”

“This is why you couldn’t sleep, huh?”

“He’s just a kid.  He doesn’t deserve this.   And if there’s no one around to keep an eye on him…”

“What do you think we should do?  How would you handle it?”

“I don’t know.  But there has to be something, right? That we can do? That you can do?”

“Short of sticking around in Mumbai and keeping an eye on him until shit dies down…”

“Would that be something you’d be willing to do?”

“Would you? Be willing to do it?”

“I’m not sure,” Esme admits.  “It wouldn’t be the safest place, you know? We’d all have targets on our backs.  Hanging around,  just waiting for trouble to show up? Not my idea of a good time.”

“What else is there? What other options do we  have?”  

“We could bring him with us.  We could put off travelling. Spend some time hiding out somewhere. We could take him to your place;  lie low in the outback for a bit. Or we could go to Prague. Stay at my place; just until we know the coast is clear and that  Ovi will be safe back in Mumbai. It makes sense, right? For you to be the one to do it.  I know there wouldn’t  be any pay at the end of things, but…”

“It’s not about money. It stopped being about that hours ago.”

“I just think it makes sense; that we take him with us.  You can keep him safe.  He trusts you.  And I think that…”

“You know what I think?  I think it’s been a long day.  And I think you’re tired and overwhelmed and you need to try and turn your brain off.  Or at least quiet it down a bit. I know you’re neurotic as fuck sometimes, but…”

She grins.  “You already figured that out, huh?”

“Less than a day into knowing you.”

Scowling, she tugs playfully at the hair covering his chin. 

“Why don’t we just let it go for now; cross that bridge when we get to it.  Because it’s been a hell of a fucking twenty-four hours and my brain needs some peace and quiet.  And I know yours does too.”

“I just…”

“Not right now, okay? Let's try and get some sleep.  We need it.”

Nodding in agreement, she nestles her cheek against his shoulder. Several minutes passing before she gives a loud yawn and once more sits up/

“Esme…”  Tyler doesn’t open his eyes. “ I swear to God…”

“I have a lot on my mind, okay? It’s really noisy up in there. And I won’t be able to sleep until it quiets down a bit. Humour me? Please?” 

Sighing,  he opens his eyes and slides a palm to the back of her head; fingers pushing through her hair to gently massage her scalp. “What’s going on?”

“I need to ask you something.  And it might cross a line or two or trample on a couple of boundaries.   I know we haven’t known each other long and it’s kind of personal and you might want to tell me to mind my own fucking business, but  I’m just asking because I’ve been getting some really bad vibes and I’m nervous and worried and…”

He chuckles; her tendency to ramble when excited or nervous never crossing the line between amusing and insufferable. “Just take a breath, yeah?  It can’t be that bad.”

“It depends on what you consider bad. Or intrusive.”

“I think we’ve reached a point where nothing could be considered intrusive. Considering what’s been going on the last five days and just happened twenty minutes ago…”

“I’m only asking because I’m worried.  And a bit scared.  I…”

He squeezes the nape of her neck.  “Just ask.”

“How well do you know him?”

“I take it we’re not talking about Ovi this time.”

“Gaspar.  How close are you guys exactly?”

“We’re mates, I guess.  If we’re in the city, we’ll go out and grab something to eat, have a beer or two.”

“Would you say you’re solely ‘work buddies? That the only time you see him is if there’s a job involved?”

“Yeah, I’d say.  It’s not like we see each other regularly or we hang out when it’s our downtime.  I don’t exactly call or text him or shit like that, if that’s what you’re asking. Why…?”

“So you’re not friends friends. You don’t visit one another, you don’t know much about each other’s personal lives, you’re not on one another’s Christmas card list or…”

“I barely see the guy.   We’re work friends. Colleagues. Nothing more, nothing less.  We won’t be visiting each other any time soon.”

“I just don’t want you to think that I’m being a huge bitch and personally attacking your friend or assuming bad things about him or…”

“Are you going to get to your original question sometime today or…?”

Taking a deep breath, she releases it slowly, then chews pensively on her bottom lip.   “Do you trust him?”

“He owes me his life.”

“That isn’t what I asked.  Do you trust him?”

“Honestly?  I’m not sure.”

She sighs.

“I know that’s not what you wanted to hear.”

“I can’t shake this awful feeling that he’s up to no good.  Something just isn’t sitting right; the way Nik was so resistant when you told her to call him,  the way he looks at me like he wants to throw me to the wolves, the things he says…”

Tyler frowns.  “He talked to you? When? What did he say?”

“He didn’t confront me or anything like that.” The lie rolls easily off her tongue. “ And it’s not so much what he says, but how he says it.  He won’t even call me by name; when he’s talking to you he calls me ‘the girl’ or ‘that girl’.   That’s not a huge red flag to you?”

“Don’t take it personally. He’s always been a bit of an asshole.” 

“Something’s not right, Tyler.  And I know you’re feeling it, too.  Nik never would have put up such a fight about calling him if she wasn’t worried about something. ”

“I think everyone’s on edge.  We’re sore, we’re tired, we’re…”

“You just said you’re not sure if you trust him. So you’ve got the vibes, too. I know you do.”

“Whether I trust him or not,  this is our only option.   I have more control over things here than if we’re on the street, constantly looking for a place to hide out.  Do you trust me ?”

“With my life. You know I do.  But that doesn’t mean I can just ignore this.   The way I’m feeling.  Something is… off .  I can’t put my finger on what , but it is.  And the sooner things die down and we can get the hell out of here, the better.”

“If I start feeling worse about things…about him …I’ll get you and Ovi out of there.  I’ll figure something out;  find a place to lay low until Nik can get us out of here.  I won’t let anything happen to you.  And I will get you out of Dhaka.”

“Gotta get yourself out of here, too.  Remember our deal? Both of us or neither of us.”

“I never agreed to that.”

“You said you’d think about it.”

“I have thought about it.”

“And?”

“And I can’t make any promises.  Not when it comes to that.  You know how bad things can go. And how quickly it can happen.”

She scowls.  “That’s not an acceptable answer.”

“It’s the only one I have to give you.  Right now, anyway.  Are we done?  Did you get everything out of your head you needed to? Quiet things down a bit.”

“It’s a little better.”

“You’re safe, Esme.  Nothing can touch you here.  And if anything even tried…”

“I can’t pretend I feel good about this.  About him .”

“You don’t have to.  But for now?  Try and get some sleep.  It’s been a long fucking day.  And if you don’t settle down, shut your mouth, and close your eyes soon…”

“You’re such a sweet talker,”  she chides, and nuzzles the side of his neck with the tip of her nose.  “Let’s stay here a little bit longer.  Just like this.  I need it.  I need you .”

He obliges; wrapping both arms around her and pulling her even tighter against him.  Laying a palm on the back of her head, he draws it down onto his shoulder;  fingertips gently stroking her hair until her body relaxes against his. Her breathing softening and slowing as  she finally drifts off to sleep.

****

Despite succumbing to exhaustion, Tyler’s senses remain hypervigilant. Aware of the slightest change in temperature,  the softest of noises out on the street, every sigh and mutter Esme makes as she sleeps on the couch across the room, and each creak of a spring whenever she rolls over or adjusts her position.  His hearing is keen. Picking up on the rumble of an engine and the opening and shutting of a car door; a dog in the near distance barking at the intrusion.  

He senses the other man’s presence the moment he steps into the room; clocking the the shifting of floorboards beneath feet,  the rustling of a brown paper bag,  heavy, deep breathing, and a combined smell of cologne and perspiration.   He remains silent and motionless; not wanting Gaspar to be aware of his wakefulness.   The soft glow of the couch side lamp allows him to watch every move the taller, heavier man makes; his breath catching and his jaw clenching as Gaspar approaches the sofa.  

His hands curl into tight fists as Gaspar briefly observes a sleeping Esme,  then removes the throw from the back of the sofa;  draping it over and tucking it securely around her tiny body. Feeling both nausea and fury building inside of him when his old friend touches her; smoothing her hair away from her face and running a fingertip over the bruises on her left cheek and above her eye. And he isn’t entirely sure what he feels;  disgust, worry, rage.  Possessiveness, even.

 “What the fuck are you doing?”

Gaspar gives a small start, then an awkward chuckle as he turns away from the couch.  “You scared the shit out of me.  I thought you were asleep.”

“I was.  Now answer my question. What are you doing?”

“The windows are open. It gets chilly at night. I was just making sure she was warm.” 

His body aches as he stands.  A throbbing that seems to spread outwards from his bones; travelling from the roots of his hair to the tip of his toes. Reaching for the sling he’d discarded earlier, he winces as he pulls it over his head, gritting his teeth as he settles his injured arm into place.   Approaching the couch,  he places his body between it and Gaspar as he reaches down to wake her; grazing his knuckles along her swollen and bruised cheek. 

“Hey��”  Tyler softly jostles her shoulder.   “...Esme…”

Giving a loud yawn, she stretches languorously and turns her face towards him;  pressing her brow against his forearm.

 “Tyler…” 

It claws at his throat and heart; the way his name leaves her mouth so softly and tenderly.   It’s terrifying;  what should have been a ‘no strings attached’ arrangement quickly -and effortlessly- becoming so much more.   She’s the first person to attempt to get past the walls he’d built in the wake of his son’s death; effortlessly managing to burrow beneath the layers of guilt and grief and regret.  Breathing life back into him and making him feel again.

“Esme…”  His voice is louder, pushing past the last remaining veils of sleep. “...you need to get up.”

Rolling onto her side, she peers up at him, concern immediately furrowing her brow. “What’s wrong? Is there trouble? Do we need to leave? Do we…?”

“There’s nothing wrong.  No trouble.  Why don’t you go upstairs?”  Curling his fingers around her bicep, he guides her into a sit. “You’ll be more comfortable up there.”

“Okay,” she sleepily agrees, gathering the throw around her shoulders as he helps her to her feet.

Although Tyler notices Gaspar’s disgust when she briefly rests her forehead against his chest, he doesn’t hesitate;  placing his hands upon her shoulders and gently squeezing. “Try and get some more sleep.  I’ll be up in a little bit.”

“Alright.” Yawning once more, she presses the heels of her palms into her eyes; wrapping the throw around her as she shuffles through the living room and up the stairs.  

Both men remain silent.  Until they hear the squeak of the bedroom door as it closes, followed by her soft footfalls overhead.

“Now it’s my turn,” Gaspar speaks in a harsh whisper.  Shoulders tightly drawn, eyes narrowed in a mixture of anger and disgust. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You and that girl . And whatever the fuck is going on between you.”

“Esme.  Her name is Esme.   And whatever’s happening between us? That’s none of your business, mate.”

“You’re my friend. That makes it my business.  What is wrong with you?  This ? This latching onto someone. Practically throwing yourself at their feet.  It’s pathetic; watching you trip over yourself trying to get her to even look at you.”

“I’m getting it just fine.  Without having to do that.   And when have I ever had a job like this?  Working with someone? This isn’t normal for me.  She’s not normal.”

“It’s embarrassing; the way you are with her.  I saw it the second you walked in here; needing to be near her all the time, always finding ways to touch, batting your eyelashes at her every chance you get.  When did you get like this? When did you get so soft ?”

“Keep getting on my ass like this and you’ll find out who’s soft.”

“You need to get your head on straight.  You’re a mercenary, aren’t you Tyler? Then start acting like a mercenary.  Because this ? Her ? It’s wrong and you know it.”

“What’s going on with Esme and I has nothing to do with the job.  And nothing to do with you .  So if you don’t mind, mate, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t talk about her.  Or go near her.  Just keep your distance. Because if I see you touching her again…”

“Get your shit together!” Gaspar snarls.  “You want to get out of here alive? Stop whatever is going on with that girl…”

“It’s too late for that.  To stop it.  So just back off and…”

“Don’t you understand that I’m worried about you?  That I see what’s happening? What she’s doing to you?  Are you that fucking blind that you don’t see it?  She’s using you, Tyler.  She’s lying and she’s manipulating and…”

“She’s not. She’s not doing any of that.”

“It’s what she does for a living.  Did you forget that?  Why she’s even involved in this job in the first place?  It’s who she is.  In the same way being a mercenary is who you are. She cons people for a living. And now she’s conning you . Because you’re her only chance of getting out of here alive.”

“That’s not what she’s doing.”

“Do you think she loves you?” Gaspar gives an incredulous laugh. “Is that what you think? That she sees you as some knight in shining armour that’s come along to sweep her off her feet?”

“You need to let this go, mate.  Because there’s nothing you can say or do…”

“This is what she does, Tyler; what she gets paid for.  She wanders into people's lives and turns them upside down. She lies and she uses and she…”

“That’s not who she is away from the job.”

“It’s exactly who she is. A leopard doesn’t change its spots.”

“You don’t know her, Gaspar. You don’t…”

“And you do? It’s been what? A week? If that?  You think you know who she really is? That she isn’t using you and playing you the same way she has so many others? Why are being so fucking naive? Are you that lonely? That desperate? That you can’t see what’s going on?”

“You weren’t there.  Back in that hotel room.  You don’t know the things that happened or…”

“Oh, I know what happened.  You’re a red-blooded male, she’s an attractive woman.  It’s not hard to figure out.  And it must have been really damn good.  Bceause for you to be so naive and so fucking blind…”

“...or the things we talked about.  You need to let this go.  I don’t know what you’re trying to do or why you’re doing it…”

“She is going to ruin you, Tyler.  She is going to lie and manipulate and tell you everything you want to hear. She’s going to keep whoring herself out to you so…”

His fists clench. “I’m warning you, mate.  Don’t talk about her like that. Don’t talk about her at all .”

“Do you honestly believe someone like her would want someone like you?  That she doesn’t know what a mess you are? Look at her; she’s way out of your league and can do so much better,  Why would she want you ? All your baggage, all your bullshit. The pain meds and the booze and…”

“She knows I can change.  That I will change.”

“So that’s it? You’re just going to run off with her? When all of this is over?  You’re going to get out of Dhaka and the two of you are going to live happily ever after? That’s bullshit and you know it.  Everything that comes out of her mouth is a lie; all the sweet nothings, all the pillow talk, all the promises.  And if you yanked your head out of your ass long enough to realize it…”

“I’m only going to tell you this once more.  It’s none of your business.  Don’t talk about her again. Don’t go near her. Don’t touch her. Don’t even look at her.”

“You’re in for hell of a rude awakening the second you leave here.  When you finally realize that everything she said…everything she did…was nothing but shit.  She’s using you, Tyler. Doing whatever she has to make sure she gets out of here. And when she does, she will leave you an even bigger mess than you were before.”

Smirking, he gives his head an incredulous shake. “We’re done here.”

Gaspar snatches him by the arm, preventing him from leaving. “This is going to blow up in your face.  And she’s going to leave you an even bigger mess than you already are.”

“Mind your own business, mate. That’s the last time I’m going to warn you.”

“Two broken people can not come together and make a whole. It doesn’t work that way.  You know what happens? In the end? They end up making each other worse.  They destroy everything.”

[lookismstuff]

Highlights of Ep 481

SPOILER ALERT

tw: child abuse

James gave Eugene the USB containing the video of Charles' abduction of Gyeol with the condition of his being allowed to see Jinyoung, which Eugene refused out right.

After this refusal, James at first took back the USB but then relented after he was told by Mandeok about Jinyoung's insanity whenever the old scientist heard of certain names, including James's and the King of Seoul's.

Eugene wondered how many perpetrators were actually involved in Gabryong's murder (since James told Eugene that he was Gabryong's killer, but the King of Seoul was called "The Patricide" by Jinyoung).

But James cut Eugene off by saying that Eugene should focus on catching Charles and saving his friend (Gyeol).

Eugene told James somebody was already tracking down the proof.

Daniel arrived in Cheonliang and found it full of thugs, even near the police station. And they were not from Cheonliang but from Jeolla-do area etc.

Daniel met NA JAEKYEON, the King of Incheon, who complained that Daniel scratched his sports car. But Daniel had no idea that the person was the King of Incheon. They argued (Daniel wanted to report him to the police) and had a brief scruffle until the king realized that Daniel was a minor.

The Kings (Taesoo, Gongseob, Seokdu) gathered at the Mountain of Cheonliang. Introducing new characters: the King of Pyeongtaek HA DEOKSOO and the King of Seongnam GO JINYOONG. The King of Busan is absent.

The Kwak brothers came too, bringing Jichang's photo with them.

Soon afterwards, Jaekyeon nearly hit Taesoo with his car from behind. It angered Taesoo so much that he destroyed the car's bumper. Gongseob stopped the two kings from fighting.

Vin came and greeted the kings (he called them old geezers, and mentioned that a great person died).

Mention of King of Cheonliang by Vin (the so-called great person who died, or did he refer to Jichang?)

Flashback to: Vin at 8 years old, being offered as a sacrifice during a shamanism ritual that worshipped a "Child God". Animal blood spattered his face and his body as he sat naked, while people dancing in religious fervor around him in a cold night.

The chapter ends with Vin saying "This is my story..."

[criminalmindswhore]

Family Affair Ch. 1

An Emily Prentiss x Reader story that will be angsty. TW: mentions of violence and murder, homophobic parents and people, child abuse You stumbled into the BAU not prepared to see your family on the screen. What happens when the family you left behind is dead and your new one is responsible for catching their killer?

You were born into a family where love was earned. Perfection was expected and if it wasn't perfect, it wasn't accepted. You did every extracurricular activity possible to please your parents. Theatre, track, singing, Honors Society, but it was never enough. Even when you graduated top of your class at Yale and then got into the academy. The day you left for Yale there was a huge blowout fight which resulted in you being cut out of the family. 

"Dad I don't want that life. I don't want to come back to this town with the same rude people and run this business." You threw your last bag into your car and slammed the door. Your dad hot on your tail as you walked back inside the house. "You don't have a choice. You either do that or don't bother coming home." You came to a full stop in the entryway, taking a deep angry breath. You pressed your fingers against the bridge of your nose. Your dad sighed, "We love you Y/N and we want what's best for you." You turned towards him and scoffed, "What's best for me, isn't in this run-down town." There was a lingering sadness between the two of you. You knew you couldn't continue to let them treat you this way, and he knew he was losing you.

 "Dad, I need to move on. I can't live in this house anymore it's full of pain for me whether you acknowledge it or not. Kate and I both see it. Mom sometimes does." Your voice softer, almost scared of his reaction. He stood with his arms crossed and feet planted firm, you continued, "Everyone my age hates me, you hate me, there's nothing here for me anymore." Your dad was set off by this, "We don't hate you Y/N! If we did we wouldn't have let you go to Yale and offer to pay for your groceries while you're there." You took a step towards him, "There was nothing you could have done to stop me. I'm on a full ride and I don't need your help." He shoved past you, "You're never gonna make it past freshman year." You paced through the space ranting, "I have been nothing but successful my entire life, what makes you think I can't handle it? Because you won't be there to yell at me or hit me when I get a 97 instead of a 100? Because you won't be there to force me to go to church? I have made something of myself from nothing with no support from you. You have never said you're proud of me once." He grabbed a beer from the fridge, he was yelling now, "I did so much for you! I'm the reason you were so successful!" You scoffed at him, "The reason I'm successful is because I feared for my life when I wasn't. That's not helping, that's trauma. That's why I never told you guys about her." 

The words left your mouth before you could stop them. He stopped walking around and looked at you, your blood ran cold with fear. "Her?" Your brain went blank, you couldn't think of one thing to say to save yourself. "I knew you were one of them. Get out of my house and don't come back." 

Your alarm blaring in your ear jolted you from the most amazing sleep you have ever gotten. "Fuck this." You turned it off and groaned as someone knocked on your bedroom door. "Come in!" You rolled over in your bed now face down in the pillows. "Good morning sleepyhead, I made us coffee and breakfast for the road now get up." Your roommate Garcia threw a throw pillow from the couch at you. You picked your head up and glared at her, "What the fuck Pen?" She smiled at you, already wearing a full face of makeup with her rainbow robe. She closed the door and you rolled out of bed. Dragging yourself into the shower. You loved your job but there was nothing you loved more than sleep. For some reason, your parents were heavy on your mind during your shower. You haven't spoken for nearly 7 years. Your last conversation on your college graduation day. They called to tell you they wouldn't be attending followed by some dumbass excuse. Not that you really wanted to see them anyway, it had been 4 years at that point. Now you were in the FBI, working towards your doctorate. After making yourself look put together and professional you trotted into the kitchen where Pen was sitting waiting for you while she read some new romance novel. You grinned at her music choice this morning, Lana Del Rey. You grabbed your Yale travel mug from the cabinet pouring coffee into it. You turned to Pen, "You ready miss thang?" She giggled, "Y/N you gotta stop flirting with me or Morgan's gonna have some competition." She stood up grabbing her purse and coffee cup. 

The energy was off from the second you two stepped off the elevator onto the BAU's floor. Hotch was standing at the glass doors waiting for you. The team already gathered in the round table room. Hotch pulled you aside and told Garcia to join the team. She shot you a smile before trekking up the stairs. "Hotch what's going on? Is this about me using the word soggy in the report? I couldn't think of a better-" "No Y/N, it's about your family." Your heart drops to your stomach, you suddenly feel weak. "Hotch, don't tell me." Tears sprung in your eyes, all he did was look at you with sympathy. You took off into the round table room, "Y/N don't." You dropped your coffee seeing the pictures on the screen. Images of your parents dead, hands missing. Everything was spinning and the team sprung into action. JJ clicking off the screen, Emily standing up to grab you. Garcia grabs your bag from your hands and picks up your cup. "No, no, no, no." You kept repeating yourself slowly sinking to the ground. Emily was holding your waist to safely lower you down, "Y/N look at me, look at me." You looked at her face and she grabbed your hands once you were safely sitting. "Breathe, force the air in." You didn't even realize you hadn't taken a breath. 

After a few minutes you had calmed down, swallowed your feelings, and stood up. "What happened." You demanded rather than asked the team. Hotch went to speak up, "Y/N you don't want to-" "Aaron, tell me." You glared at him. You knew that town better than anyone in the room, they needed you still and everyone knew it. He took a deep breath, "Found this morning in one of their restaurants by your sister. Hands are missing which is why we were called in. Cause of death is a bullet to the head." No one spoke as you processed. You swallowed the bile that was creeping up your throat and took a step towards Garcia looking for some kind of comfort, she understood and grabbed your hand. "There's a lot of hunters in the area, they would know how to take the- um, hands. My dad was well-liked in the community, and the same with my mom. I wasn't but I haven't been back in over 10 years. My sister never left, she went to community college and then started working for my dad. Is she in protective custody?" Hotch nodded. "Y/N you aren't allowed to work this case but we will be using you as a resource. Wheels up in 10." Rossi gave you a long, tight hug on his way out the door. The team knows you aren't huge on touch so they all gave you a shoulder pat. Other than JJ who stopped in front of you, "Can I give you a hug?" Her voice was full of sadness, and you nodded. She wrapped her arms around you in the Y/N." 

You sat on the jet at the table, Emily beside you, Hotch and Rossi across from you. You were listening to them throw around theories and you filled in with information about the people and town when needed. You weren't completely present, memories of childhood flashing in your head. The bad was taking over the good and you were struggling to find reasons to be sad. You felt psychotic sitting there looking for something good to miss about them. Sure you always wanted them to say they were proud of you, or come to your wedding but the chances of that happening, alive or not, were slim to none. 

Emily placed her hand on your knee sensing the turmoil in your head. Hotch's voice brought you back to the jet, "When we land Morgan and Reid go to the crime scene. Rossi and JJ I want you to go to the medical examiner, Prentiss, and Y/L/N will go with me to the station. Y/N your sister is waiting for you there." Everyone nodded, a thick tension in the air. No one knew details but they all knew you left and never looked back. On top of your parents being dead, they all knew coming back was going to be a lot for you. Emily softly spoke, "Y/N, don't bottle this up okay? We understand it's okay." She gave you the softest, sweetest smile. The last thing you needed was the crush that has been brewing for over a year now to fuck with your head but at this moment you could almost feel love coming off her words.

You walked into the station and spotted her immediately, dropping your bag on the floor and running to the room she was in. "Y/N!" She jumped up and wrapped her arms around you. "Hi, Kate." You pulled her close to your chest. She shook with sobs, from the sadness of losing your parents and because she missed you so much. Tears finally slipped from your eyes, "I'm so sorry I left you behind Katie." She pulled away from you and wiped your tears, "Shut up dude. I told you to." 

"Y/N please go to Yale. I will be okay, I promise. Dad hasn't laid a hand on me in almost a year. You know I can handle this." She sat up to look at up you from the end of the bed. The two of you were lying in opposite directions on your bed, your room packed up into boxes around you. "I just don't want you to have to do this alone," you spoke honestly. She crawled on the bed to lay beside you regularly, "I won't be alone, I have my friends and the dog." She smiled at you, a sadness in her eyes. "I will miss you but you worked hard for this. You deserve to get out of here, god knows I won't. One of us needs to escape." It was your turn to glare at her, "Don't say that, you'll leave this fucked up town too." There was a comfortable silence around you two as you soaked up your last night together. 

You smiled at her, happy to have your little sister in your arms again. You pulled her back to your chest, "I'm so happy to see you again loser." She giggled. She sat down on the couch again, pulling her sleeves over her hands. "Y/N promise me you guys can find the person that did this." She looked at you with pleading eyes looking for answers, you sat beside her. "My team is the best, they will find them. I promise you." She sniffled and swallowed. "I don't know what to even do. Obviously, I'm sad but with our childhood, it's hard to process this." You nodded, "Trust me, I understand. I felt like a crazy person on the plane ride here. I don't think there's one way we need or should feel right now. It's gonna take time to figure out how we feel, but I'm here now. We'll figure it out together." She smiled slightly before a tear slipped down her cheek. Kate reached out to grab your hand, "I'm really glad you're here Y/N." You shivered, "I have mixed feelings." 

Just as you started to feel less horrified of being here there was a knock on the door, and you heard a voice you haven't heard since senior year of high school, "Y/N, can we talk?" You turned on the couch to see Amber Jones standing at the door, badge dangling off her belt. You nodded, patted your sister on the knee, and stood. Prepared for the conversation you've avoided for a decade. 

[small-sinclair]

Forgive Them

A little dabble of Bo being a dad and meeting his wife a new friend. This is how they met, the reader from Take Me Instead and I Promise I’ll Always Love You.

Part 2

Bo x mother fem!reader

Tw: HEAVY physical abuse, mention of death, sexual stuff mentioned, forced miscarriage, abusive parent, happy ending??

“What’re gonna do?” Lester’s voice drawls over the phone. “They got a kid.”

“I’ll figure somethin’ out, Les,” Bo said as he was walking towards the front door of the shop. “'M not too worry.”

“But ’s a baby—“

“Les,” Bo warned, “I got it.” With that, he hung up and adjusted his hat. He walks towards the door and walked out. He went to the garage door and pulled it up to show off the car he’s been working on.

Ambrose hasn't had a family come through in a while, so it'll be perfect for Vincent to practice to make a happy family. Bo knew he would never have something like that, and it hurts to think of it. He thought he would be a good father, a better father than his own. He thought of building fences around the house, a front swing for him and his sweetheart to watch their kids run around. A dog or two. He craved for that type of life he was promised when he was a kid. If not that, he hoped that he was going to be a good uncle if his brothers married.

He pushed the thoughts away as he popped the hood of the car and started looking at the belt and spark plugs. The car came in after the last group, and he thought he might fix it up good and have Lester sell it in the town over. If not, he'll strip it for parts and sell them.

Bo wondered if his kid would want to learn how to fix cars.

He heard footsteps coming closer to his shop but pays no mind to act like he’s too busy. He was thankful the family came before his thoughts swallowed him whole.

“Excuse me?” A man asked, getting Bo’s attention. “You Bo?”

Bo looked over his shoulder and wiped his hands with the rag in his back pocket. “Yes, sir. That’s me.” He sees the mother and her holding a child’s hand. He could see a bump growing, showing she had another bun in the oven. Lester never said anything about that over the phone, but he won't pay mind to it for a while. He'll worry about that later. “What can I do for ya?”

He didn’t like how there was a fading black eye on you. Once you noticed he was looking, you gave a smile, making him look at your husband. It's better if you hide behind your man, y/n, but your child needs you more.

“The driver said you have a battery?” The man placed his hands on his hips. “Were in a hurry, too, so—“

“Come inside and I’ll show you what I got,” Bo said, cutting him off. “We can talk cars while your woman takes junior to the House of Wax.” He flashed you a smile and a quick wink. “An' the AC can help t' heat. Can’t have Mama passing out to heat, can we?”

The man’s eye twitched as he kept his fake smile. He turns to you and nodded for you to leave. “I’ll be there in a moment. Take Jasmine with you, y/n.”

Y/n... what a beautiful name, Bo thought with a smile.

Bo lifted a brow as he looked at the little girl in a bright green dress, white little sandals, and her hands clutched a stuffed pink bear. Bo smiled at her and gave a little wave. “Jasmine, huh?” He knelt down, ignoring the man for a moment. “Ain’t she pretty?”

Shyly, the little girl waved back before hiding behind her mama. He saw the banged up knee and too big bruised on her arm, fresh and bright. If Bo didn’t have restraint, he would’ve killed your husband then and there, but there was a child. He couldn’t let that side show in front of a child. She must've been an one-year-old but she was so small and tiny.

You clear your throat, holding the bump close. “We’ll be waiting, Toddy.” Then you flash a smile towards Bo. It melted his heart, just for a moment. “Thank you, mister.”

“Just call me Bo, ma’am,” he said, tipping his trucker’s hat. He took you in like a sunset over the gulf. He'll get rid of Todd; don't worry.

“Just call me y/n,” you gave a smile. As soon as the smile came, it faded as Todd glared at you, his back turning away from Bo just he doesn’t see.

“I’ll walk you up there,” Todd said suddenly. “It’s just up the road, right?”

Bo nods. “Yeah, but it’s not far—“

“Like you said, the heat’s not good for her,” he walked to your side, his hand gripping your wrist. “Won’t be long.”

Bo swallowed hard but he forces a nod. He knows you begging him to come with you, your eyes tearing up. He knows your pain, he knows you’re hurting, but he has to play up his act. He has to keep up the dumb hick mechanic. He’s sorry, y/n… he’s so sorry.

“Sounds fine," he gave a fake grin. "I'll meet ya there in a few."

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

"What did I tell you?" Todd hissed as soon as they were far enough from the mechanic. His grip around your arm was too tight, leaving a mark right away.

"I was being friendly, honey," you defended yourself.

Todd rolled his eyes as he pulled you along. "yeah, right. I bet you want to fuck him, too."

"Excuse me?"

"I saw the way you were looking at the driver, too," he spat as he turned to corner that the House of Wax was on. The green building stood tall over the street as its shadow casts over you and your child. "Bet you would spread your legs if they just asked."

You clinched your jaw, trying to pull away from his grip. "Can we not do this now? Jasmine--"

"That little fucker doesn't understand anything," Todd pulled your arm harder and tighter. "I'm giving you this one chance, y/n. One. Last. Chance." His words were filled with venom and blood, his dark brown eyes narrowing at you as he let go. He went up the steps and opened the door to the house. "Act up."

He didn't have the door open long enough for you to walk through. you caught the door just in time before it would close on Jasmine. You didn't have much of a choice when it came to Todd. He was your brother's best friend. He acted so nice around your family, smiling for your mother, laughing with your father, befriending everyone but you. He was nice to you though in the beginning, but he changed after moving you away from your hometown. There were thoughts of packing and leaving in the middle of the night, but he had such a short leash on your that you were scared. No matter where you went, Todd found you. So, you stayed and tried, but how long until you give up on trying, y/n? How much does that cost?

Inside, the AC unit was running at full blast as if Bo knew you were coming here this morning, and your sighed with a small grin. The place is dusty but you can see the art just fine. You used to oil paint back when you were happy and fill with life. You scooped up Jasmine and placed her on your hip. Little grabby hands reached for a waxed butterfly handing from the ceiling, and it caused you to laugh to yourself. The best thing Todd ever gave you was Jasmine, and you'll be damned if he tries to take that from you.

"That's a butterfly, darling," you said in a song voice. "Can you 'butterfly'?"

"She's too dumb to figure that out," Todd murmurs as he looks at a waxed figure. "Jeez, these things are creepy." He looks back at you, forcing you to nod your head in agreement. You didn't want to risk another fight. "I shouldn't be long, y/n. Think you could keep your legs closed long enough?"

"Todd, stop it!" You looked down at Jasmine then found an open couch for her to sit on. "I'm not a whore--"

A loud smack echoed throughout the house. His ringed hand stung as you went to the floor of the waxed house. You held your jaw as tears fell from your eyes. You hated that you cried so easily. When you looked up at Jasmine, you watched as her nose crinkled up and she started crying. Her face turned a bright red as she wiles echoed in the house.

"Oh my god!" Todd shouted at Jasmine, stepping over you. "Shut up-!"

You shot up from the floor and pulled him away from Jasmine, taking his attention. "Don't touch her!" You pushed him away and stood between your child and him. "Don't! She's a baby, Todd! She doesn't know better!" You didn't know there was a dark figure watching from the corner, his heavy blue eye watching your every move. "Don't--!"

You were met with another blow from the man, his fist hitting your eye. You took a few steps back before you could register the hard fist hitting your stomach, right on the little bump. You fell on your knees as you held your stomach as you tried to catch your breath. When you looked up at him, you were met with a kick over your shielded stomach. You felt something inside you crush as you laid on your side crying. You could hear Jasmine screaming at the sight, her mind not registering what's going on.

You closed your eyes and wished for it to stop, for all of it to stop--

The sound of a gun clicking caught your ears and the sound of metal scratching made your head lift. Your eyes met Bo's as his shotgun aimed right at Todd. His harden blue eyes looking at him with fire, an ember that's been burning since he met you. Standing to his left, just far off, a darken figure emerged from the shadows, two knives clinching hard between his hands, his face covered by a waxed mask. You looked between them then at Jasmine, who was still crying on the couch. You tried to stand as you held your stomach, but you fell. You felt a gushing warmth between your legs, the smell of iron and bitter copper filled the air.

"Don't fuckin' touch 'er," Bo spat, his drawl heavy and laced with anger. "Touch 'at baby, I swear to God I'll kill you!"

Todd held up his hands slightly. "Let's talk--"

"Nah, we're done talkin'," Bo's voice harden as he looked at Todd. His eyes lingered over to you and his face fell; he knew he was too late. His gaze snapped back at Todd. "I'll take my time with sweet time with you, boy." He felt his heart beating in anger; he wants blood. He wants death. He wants you to get out of here. "Vincent," he snapped, his gun not moving. "Get Mama and kid outta here." He clinched his jaw as his eyes fell on Jasmine. He felt his world breaking as her little hands reached up for Vincent. "Jasmine doesn't need to see this."

Todd stood still, his hands still up. He stayed silent as he saw the dark haired man pick you up from the floor, helping you to your child.

"It's okay, sweetie," you choked out, your knees wobbling as you picked up Jasmine. "Mama's has you. You're okay... you're okay."

You felt a large hand support you as were led off to another room. It looked like a dinning room, and it looked just as dusty as the rest of the rooms. Your head was spinning as the pain from your stomach burned, blood falling. The crushing weight finally took over as you started to fall to your knees. Vincent's hands caught both you and the baby, and he lowered you to the floor. He pulled you close as your eyes became heavy. You rested Jasmine on your chest and held her. You relaxed to the sound of a gunshot from the other room.

**********

Bo stood over Todd after tying his hands together. He'll put him in the basement under the garage. It's meant for women, the chair, but he'll make an exception for him. The scum of the earth right under his boot wasn't going to crawl away that easy.

He turned his attention to the closed dinning room and hurried towards it. His head was racing for thought's of y/n and the child. He hoped Vincent got them far away--

His stomach dropped when he saw Vincent holding Jasmine, cradling her in his arms, and your head on his knees. When he looked past you, he saw your chest rising and falling out from pain and the bright red staining your pants. He felt sick to his stomach. If only he got here in time to stop it. If he didn't have to play the part of a dumb hick. If he told Vincent just to kill right as you walked through the door...

"Vincent." Bo watched Vincent's shoulder flinching upwards. He looked back to face him, and Bo's face fell. The little girl was sleeping in his arms, her face starting to return from crying. "Give me the babe. Carry y/n to the house. I need... need to call Les." He didn't know why he felt himself shake as he looked over y/n. He didn't know why there was a hole in his chest burning. He hated this. He hated Todd. He hated himself. "They need our help. They need help."

As soon as Vincent passed Jasmine to him to pick you up, Bo's heart broke. He looked between you and the baby as if he was yours, as if the child was his. His eyes fell over Jasmine as he held her close, swaying back and forth with her in his arms. Something clicked like a switch as he looked at Jasmine starting to fuss in his arms before to to sleep again. She was so small in his large arms, and he wanted nothing more than to wrap her in a blanket and lover her until the air in his chest was gone. He would kill for her. He would die for her. Either way, what bliss will he have.

He held her head close to his chest and shielded her away from Vincent as he lifted you off the ground. He was careful with your legs as he held you close. Vincent's mind circled over and over as he looked down at you. Why did he watch that long? What made him stay back to to watch it? He wanted to find an answer, any answer to satisfy his racing thoughts, but he found thing to calm his nerves. He found nothing special to make his stop to ache in his arms as he followed Bo to the house. The baby was gone, and it's fault. All his fault.

Both shared the blame as they walk you to the house in silence.

[eddiesdaydream]

you make loving fun | eddie munson

eddie munson x gn reader

apparently time does not heal all wounds. at least eddie can rely on his little family to be his saving grace.

1.1k words

slight angst to fluff, established relationship, slightly older!eddie, dad!eddie, parent!reader

inspired by you make loving fun by fleetwood mac

tw - brief mentions of familial abuse, death of a parent, blood, mental illness (depression, ptsd)

a/n - this is my first time posting any of my writing online so im super nervous but i love eddie sm and have so many ideas for him so i hope at least somebody enjoys this lmao :) the events of season 4 are canon in this except eddie lived aaand there's no use of y/n or pronouns used (besides you/your, etc lol) and no physical descriptors either ! <3

When Eddie wakes, it’s with a start, his sleep-warmed body jolting in his bed. His chest heaves with adrenaline and his mind is swimming, fuzzy with sleep and the remnants of his dream, another replay of the memories he thought he’d suppressed long ago. It’s like a reel on a constant loop, playing behind his eyelids whenever he blinks, so haunting he has to sit up, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes, as if that should erase his past and all the trauma he’s accumulated over the course of his life. He has the urge to cry, guttural, heaving sobs so heavy they wrack his chest but he can’t- he won’t. Man up, Eddie, a voice that sounds suspiciously like his father gripes in the back of his mind. I didn’t raise you to be a pussy. 

Eddie remembers those same words circling his brain whenever his father would drink himself violent and he’d be forced to wedge himself, trembling, into the back of his closet, when he watched his mother’s casket get lowered into the ground before he’d even hit double digits, when he was bleeding out on the cold, hard ground in an alternate dimension, gazing up into the watercolour eyes of a boy he’d sworn to protect and wondering what use those words were to him if he was six foot under himself. Man up, Eddie. I didn’t raise you to be a pussy.

Those memories hang heavy over him like an unwavering fog, some days too thick for him to even get out of bed. Those are his worst days, when he’s too grief-stricken to move, mourning the loss of the child he never got to be, the safe refuge of his uncle’s old trailer to which he can no longer return, and a Hawkins that, while so often a cruel, unforgiving mistress, provided a home for him, now cracked through the heart and uninhabitable for the likes of one Edward Munson. 

But then there’s you. You - a beacon of warm, golden light in the shadow realm of his tumultuous mind, the sunshine to his storm cloud. You cut through the fog and Eddie’s okay again, like everything really was just a bad dream.

And you don’t even have to try.

The timid lull of your singing voice drifting through the crack in your bedroom door is enough to even Eddie’s trochaic heart and chase away the fog. He’s okay. He’s safe.

“I never did believe in miracles,” you croon, your tentative voice overpowered by Christine McVie’s pipes crackling through the dusty speakers of the janky radio you keep in the kitchen. But there nonetheless. “But I’ve a feeling it’s time to try.” 

Any and all thoughts of his father, his mother, and the horrors that lurk beneath the surface of the town he once called his home are pushed to the back of Eddie’s subconscious and he lets himself relax. He stretches out onto your side of the bed, cold, so he knows you got up some time ago. Pools of watery morning sunlight lave over his bare torso, gently caressing his rippling scars in the same fashion that you do before you both succumb to the heavy blanket of slumber, massaging his healing ointment in for him with a care and attentiveness that he’d never really been privy to until he met you.

Your loud, boisterous laughter ricocheting off of the apartment walls is enough to pull Eddie out of bed and have him make a beeline for you. It’s as if he’s the Earth and you’re his sun, keeping him in your orbit. 

And if you’re his sun, your son is his moon, having changed the tides of Eddie’s life forever.

When Eddie enters the kitchen, he’s met with a sight that, while not unfamiliar, still feels foreign to him, as if he can’t quite believe that this is his life now. To some degree, he can’t. When he was younger, and more cynical, Eddie rejected the typical white picket fence pipedream so often sold to the nation’s youth. He didn’t want that for himself or anyone involved, for fear of becoming a mirror image of his father.

But alas, here he is. Living in an apartment of his own with the love of his life and his child. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

His mother’s ring that once sat heavy on his own ring finger now envelopes yours. And he is not his father. He is not his father.

He watches from the doorway as you dance around the small kitchen with your toddler perched on your hip, your very own babbling back-up singer. There goes his trochaic heart again, though not out of fear this time, but rather, as a result of watching the two greatest loves of his life happy and at peace. He is not his father.

“Dadadadada!” His son babbles enthusiastically, clapping as he catches sight of his father. You glance over then, a bright, sunny smile gracing your beautiful face. Your warmth greets Eddie like one might an old friend, with familiarity, yet he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to the way you make him feel. Happy. Fulfilled. Whole. 

“Hey, buddy,” he coos at his baby, who leans towards him, tiny arms outstretched. You saunter over to Eddie so he can greet the baby as he does every lazy morning, holding him close to his chest and pressing a kiss into his hair. You’re still humming Fleetwood Mac under your breath as you join the cuddle, arms snaking around Eddie’s back and face disappearing into the warm crook of his neck. The flutter of your eyelashes against his skin is grounding.

“Morning, my love,” you mumble. “We were just making some breakfast.”

Eddie hums, squeezing you with his free arm, his two loves tight in his embrace where they belong. “Sounds good, baby.”

You pull away then, just a hair so you can look him in the face, still puffy from sleep, but beautiful nonetheless. There’s a hint of something in his big brown eyes, something like relief that has you furrowing your brows in a quizzical manner, “everything okay, honey?”

Eddie nods immediately, and the grin that follows is blinding, really. Everything’s okay. He’s okay. When he’s with you and the baby, his little family, how could he not be? 

“Perfect, baby,” 

You nod, pressing a chaste kiss to each of your boys’ cheeks, before turning back to the stove to resume breakfast. The radio is playing something else now, some bubblegum pop song Eddie doesn’t recognise, but you’re still on Fleetwood Mac, using your spatula as a makeshift microphone to serenade your husband and son. 

“You, you make loving fun…”

[livingfast04]

Monster Au? - Part 6

one two three four five II seven Tw: Body Horror, disordered Eating, anxiety, dehumanization, refences to past child abuse, depression, suicidal thoughts, very mild nudity (not descriptive, it's just brief mention of being naked) It might get worse from here. Sorry not sorry ---

Steve stares at himself, all long monster-ish limbs, the lines of his ribcage. His fingers shake as he reaches up to hover his hands over the concave of his stomach, he stares at his reflection, at the unnatural long fingers- his thin fingers, discolored nail beds and the freckles that cover the backs of his hands, trace up his arms. 

He doesn’t recognize the thing that stares back at him.

The bones that rest so visibly under his skin, the vivid violet mark across his neck. Mama says it’ll scar, just like his stomach, it’ll scar worse since it’s all so old. Steve’s ears twitch, ducking his head to hide his eyes under his hair. The wavy strands are too long, this form gone too long without a haircut, his bangs just slightly brush over the top of his lip.

He wants to shorten them, wants the strands to tuck back across his forehead. Steve reaches up, he curls his fingers around the hair, hands shaking with visible tremors as he does. It rattles in front of his face. The white scars over his knuckles, eyes darting down to his hand still posed just over his sides. The scars there. 

The only parts that have actually healed. Of course it’s his hands. The smaller marks, the cuts, scared over, pale and disgusting. The new bite marks on his palm, the imprint of jagged teeth. His own sharp teeth. On his other palm is a darker set of scarred skin, more flower-like- more deformed. A monster more monster than those who live in this world. 

His hands healed the fastest. The rest of his body struggled to catch up. Steve turned his gaze back to the mirror, met the dark eyes blinking back at him from behind his fringe. There’s the familiar relief, even at his dislike for the longer strands of hair- pushing the waves out of his eyes. He traces the crook in his nose, the small white scars that line his left eye- 

Billy Hargroves handy work. 

The scar on his chin, arched up and speared over his lips- the scar tissue was rough, he ran his tongue over it. The scar around his eye, both Russians and Hargrove. Steve lets out a long breath. He stares at the thing that looks back at him, moves with him, blinks when he does.

It’s nauseating.

Mama clicks from down the hall, Steve turns and his throat is raw as he calls back on instinct, the noise is weak and hardly passes his lips. Mama calls again, stronger- she’s looking for him, Da clicks from his office. Steve grabs the sweater sitting on the counter, pulling it over his head before remembering the rows of stitches and the bandages he’s supposed to cover them with. It doesn’t matter. Steve stumbles out of the bathroom, Mama is standing in the bedroom- their bedroom. Steve feels like a baby, a cub- tucked away in their nest. His parents had hardly let him leave the room, his Mama clicked at him, Steve ducked his head behind his hair- he wasn’t complaining.

All his parents expected of him was to eat, sleep, and cuddle. And god did Steve want to snuggle back up in their bed with 

them. Mama crossed the room, her fingers tracing over his face, pushing Steve’s hair out of his eyes gently. “How are you feeling?” Steve leans into the touch, his Mama letting out a soft coo. 

“Better.” The word felt clunky in his mouth, with sharp teeth, and scars that stretch on his skin. He hasn’t said much of anything lately, other than rough clicks, and a few single words here or there. Throat too raw, the feeling of his tongue against his teeth foreign.

Mama hummed, continuing to drag her fingers through his hair. She cupped his jaw, his ears twitched, pressing his cheek into her hold. “There’s a snack out on the counter in the kitchen for you. Even if you aren’t all that hungry you have to eat one of them.” Steve wrinkled his nose, but gave a soft click in agreement. Least of all he starts an argument or displeases his parents and they leave him. 

His chest was tight at the thought.

Steve trailed after his Mother as she left the room, her form shifting a little, hair curling up around the nape of her neck and turning a soft honey blonde. Steve swallowed around nothing as he passed her to head to the kitchen. She clicked loud enough that Steve could hear her, and his Father responded. 

There was an unopened cup of yogurt on the table, and a bowl of fruit. His teeth ached, pulling out a stool at the counter- he dropped down onto it, legs twisting up to rest on the seat. 

Steve’s hands shook as he picked out a strawberry from the bowl, pressing it against the roof of his mouth, squishing the soft fruit. Mama had added sugar, his fingers sticky as he kept just picking out the soft fruits. A few grapes, a few orange slices- but mostly strawberries.

Steve licked at his fingers, shifting his weight on the stool as his knee started to ache. He could hear his parents talking, it was muffled, and sounded a little bit like he was underwater. If they wanted him to know, they’d talk about it where he could see them. If anything it was probably about work, Steve squished another piece of fruit against the roof of his mouth, and he really didn’t care to think about them leaving him again.

He can’t, it’ll ruin him. Steve picks at the few apples in the bowl, digging his nail into the fruit. 

Mama brushes through the house, Steve twisted slightly to watch her as she came into the kitchen she tugged on a piece of his hair. Da followed her in, brushing his hand over Steve’s shoulder. He also picks up a piece of apple from the bowl of fruit. 

Steve can’t stop himself from lifting his lips, growling at him, shoulders tense and lifted up by his ears. His thoughts tumble from his hands with little grace, the low noise claws up his throat- fingers digging into the ceramic of the bowl and dragging it towards him. Eyes flicking from his Father’s frozen fingers, and his Mother’s face. 

His growl tapers off, lips still curled. Steve’s hair falling in his face from where Mama had pushed it back. The tension in the room was almost tangible, Steve felt shame flood his face, and he fumbled, he was mortified. His parents where just staring at him, “Sorry- sorry, I-” 

They were going to leave again, they were going to leave him again- They were going to leave him, they know- they know he’s a monster

Steve’s body protested as he all but fell off the stool as he struggled to get his leg unwound to stand up. His heart hammered in his throat, “I didn’t-” the words came out rough, and garbled. Da makes a soft click, followed by a soothing noise- Steve jerks at the noise, ears flicking sharply.

He shuffles away from the counter, shoving the bowl of fruit towards his Father. Steve avoided eye contact, shoulders hunched, his sides protested, his whole body hurts. Mama coos, “Stephan.” Father’s voice is sharp, he jerks a little at the tone. Steve won’t meet his eyes, but he knows better that it’ll be worse if he doesn’t at least look in the direction of his Father. 

There’s a soft scraping noise as the bowl is pushed on the countertop. “You are alright Bub.” His voice is firm, but soft, “It’s yours, I wasn’t thinking.” Food possessive, aggressive. Steve follows the length of his old man’s hand, the apple still in his fingers. Steve blinks, stumbling slightly as he reaches back of the bowl, curling his arms around it and lifting it to his chest.

It’s sad, just a little, that Steve’s clinging to a bowl like a child clings to a toy. He knows it is, his father holds out the apple slice, he jerks at the sudden movement, shuffling back a little bit, lips curling. 

Face flushed, shame curling in his stomach, but something heavy in his chest.

“Just- keep it.” He shuffled out of the kitchen, and into the living room. Retreating, away- just get away. Steve avoided the furniture, it still smelled like The Party, Mama had ordered all new sets of things, but it wasn’t due to arrive for a few more weeks.

Steve clung to the bowl, body aching as he fled. Pressing his back against the wall, sliding down to sit in the corner.

His parents' voices were quiet, and he stared down at the mix of fruit. They were going to remember he isn’t worth the effort eventually. That they never thought he was worth the effort. 

They were going to realize just like The Party had, that Steve was useless. 

---

Eddie curled his legs closer to his chest, the blanket was sticking to his legs, his sheets, honestly his hair was in his face and couldn’t care less. It had been far too long since he’d let himself linger, wallow, lay in his own misery. Eddie won’t say he misses it, it doges his footsteps outside of his room. It’s just harder to avoid now. 

Clinging to imprint bonds he’s angry at having- clinging to a bond that he should have loved a little more.

He knows this upsets Wayne, knows it because his Uncle is loud about his dislike for Eddie’s mild comatose state every time he does it. And it’s- it’s not like Eddie wallows a lot, it’s hard to, because he has to get up- has to check on people, see them, know they are okay. And sure, Eddie knows, he’s a dramatic person at heart. 

But this is different. 

Normally it’s like this because he’s upset, when sadness clings and doesn’t let go. Eddie’s never been rendered numb by anger before. He’s fucked this all up because he thought he knew the most.

That in and of itself is a common mistake of his. Thinking he knows all because he should, because Eddie knows best. He’s a firm believer that he's never wrong, at least until he is. This, this isn’t a simple fuck up. This is a fuck up of all fuck ups. 

Everything’s been riding on holding on to the idea that he hasn’t screwed this all up this badly, for three weeks, he’s been living in anger- and in guilt, and in shame. And now- now he’s just empty. 

Mind narrowed in on the rough thump of Steve’s heart beat, the shaky nervousness of the younger heartbeat. It’s easier this way, to ignore the fact that if he gives in and goes to Steve, everyone’s just winning at the end of the day. Everyone but Steve. 

Eddie won’t participate, he won’t, he won’t get involved, he won’t slowly kill Steve again. No matter how many calls the kids make to the trailer, no matter how many times the radio goes off for someone to shout at him. Eddie refuses. 

Imprinting is sacred, and they all know that. Eddie would rather- he would rather, Eddie swallows- his tongue a heavy weight in his mouth. He can hear Wayne talking to someone in the living room, he knows that a few of the kids have been actually over, banging on the door, shouting- especially after Eddie turned off the walkie. 

He blinks, staring at nothing.

There’s a door shutting, and footsteps down the hall. His door creaks open, Eddie doesn’t move, doesn’t even feel like breathing- then he’ll get a mouth full of whoever it is, whose disappointment and anger he has to face. “You can’t hold your breath forever.” Gareth.

Eddie lets out a shaky breath, curling his fingers a little more around the blanket in his fist. “You know when Wayne told me you where wallowing, I almost wanted to tell him to fuck off.” It would be valid, all of his friends would be within their right to tell him to eat shit and die.

Gareth flopped down on the other side of Eddie’s bed. The weight caused him to move slightly, “But, then he explained it… I should still tell you to fuck off.” He should, he should- it would be more than Eddie deserved, this was more than Eddie deserved. “Collector of strays and you kicked Harrington to the curb the second he wasn’t unnatural?” Gareth was only partially supernatural, witchy but not quite. Eddie knows the other doesn’t fully practice his bloodline. 

He was just as human as anyone else is, even with magic in his blood. “That was shitty.” 

“Y’ah.” Eddie doesn’t recognize his own voice, his lips are dry and the movement cracks them. Gareth makes a noise, and Eddie blinks a little harder.

They sat in silence for a while longer, the fan running in the background was good filler for space- at least for Gareth, maybe Eddie wouldn’t know. Too busy using Steve’s heartbeat as background noise, his brain unfogged a little at the lack of tunnel vision.

Gareth poked him in the ribs with his elbow, “You stink.” Eddie hummed, letting out a soft mmm sound at the comment. He probably did, no, he did. Eddie had been laying unmoving in this bed for people over a week. Drifting between sleep and completely zoned out. He can’t remember the last time he ate anything, or the last time he got up to go to the bathroom. 

Not that he really needed to do those things, Vampire and all. Well he did, but it wasn't super necessary, not for short term living. Eddie couldn’t lay here forever, sure he’d live for years like this before eventually his mind would crumble, and what little beating his heart would do would just stop. 

That would be kinder than what they were doing to Steve. 

“You should shower.” Probably. Eddie didn’t make a noise this time, kept quiet, didn’t have the energy to really respond, didn’t want to move, didn’t want to get up. Gareth jabbed him again, and he twisted on base reaction - his body jerking away from the aggressive movement. “Alright I’m done,” Gareth shoved him, hard. Eddie wasn’t unfamiliar with falling out of his own bed, but never this violently. He jerked letting out a loud unhappy hiss, fumbling to grab anything at the sudden movement before landing face first on the carpeted floor. His forehead knocking hard, and the responding thump rattled the items on the walls of the trailer. 

It’s like something sharp has popped his bubble, something pressing on his skin, anger welling up in his throat. “What the fuck.” The words are muffled in the carpet, rough and Eddie can’t even identify the tone in his own voice. He can hear Gareth moving around his bed, “What the fuck.” The tone is mocking, mimicking, “You are the most annoying motherfucker in this forsaken town, and you are worse when you feel like you’ve wronged someone. Or you know. So you are going to get your sorry ass out of this goddamn trailer, and apologize. Or so help me, I will take your fucking Guitar and sell it to some punk fuck in Indy.” 

Eddie twists his head around, to just stare at him. He slowly processes the words, Eddie works his jaw, careful to keep his teeth from touching, his lip curls without his permission. “Don’t y’u fuck’n dare.” His fangs dig into his lower lip, face flushing hot as his lisp regestures.

Gareth doesn’t look amused with him in the slightest. “Go take a fucking shower.” His retreating form almost mocks Eddie, almost. The carpet is rough on his skin, a cast off belt is digging into his stomach. Curling his fingers, Eddie pushes himself up on his elbows and struggles to sit back on his knees. 

Vision spinning, head rush, vertigo, dizzy spell- didn’t matter. He breathed heavily through his nose before stumbling to his feet, swaying in place, room giving a valiant effort to move around him.

Standing in the hallway between the living room, Wayne’s door- and the bathroom. Eddie made eye contact with Gareth, who was just staring at him. Opening and then closing his mouth, his eyebrows furrowed. There was nothing to say, Eddie was- he hissed, more at himself than anything else and jerked his gaze down to stare at the carpet.

Even if it was a new trailer, it was still the same old muddy as fuck trailer park. The carpet was tracked through, over- he doesn’t know the exact term. It doesn’t matter, he stares at the mud stains instead of looking at Wayne or Gareth. Least his shame climb out of his skin, shed his muscles on the floor and bare its gnarled teeth for the rest of the world to see.

“I can smell you from here.” Eddie’s shoulders hitch up by his ears. 

His fangs are still down, pressing sharply against his lower lip, and he grables out “I’m fuckin goin’.” around the awkward shape of his teeth at his friend and stumbles into the wall when he turns around. Eddie jerks, stepping back on shaky legs, he shakes himself off. 

Embarrassment doesn't even claw its way to the surface, Eddie swallows, his tongue dry, pressing against the back of his teeth, running over the texture, the shape of each tooth. Righting is orientation in the hallway, and the bathroom door- Eddie tried again. 

Knocking against the doorframe, but ultimately, he made it in the bathroom without running fully into a wall again. He fumbles around, shedding his shirt, Eddie pauses, blinking long and hard against the dark of the bathroom. Fingers finding the light switch, he kicks out with his foot to finish closing the door. 

Eddie shoves at his shorts, and kicks them off- slamming his hip into the counter in the process. Hissing lightly, he twisted around in the small space to turn on the shower, soaking the bathroom for a split second, cursing sluggishly and loud- as he struggled to pull the curtain too. 

Letting out a rough huff, already fucking soaked, Eddie jerked the curtain back. Stepping over the tub ledge, mildly proud of himself when he didn’t fucking trip on it, and closed the cutrain behind him.

The water was warm, Eddie hadn’t realized just how cold he was before now. It was a jar to his system, it wasn’t unusual for him to be cold. Vampire and all, but he did- you know have a heartbeat, and some blood that actually belonged to him. It just didn't replenish, it was a whole thing. Doesn’t matter. 

The point is, it was like waking the fuck up. His stomach growled, finally realizing that it was empty. Eddie stood under the spray for a little longer, curling into the warmth, letting it settle into his bones. Thinks about what they have in the fridge, and chews on his lip as he gets the shampoo bottle off the shelf. 

Going through the motions to clean himself, rushing towards the end at the demands of his stomach. Steve’s heart still thumps in the background, but Eddie isn’t hyper focused, he’s not zoned in on it. It’s white noise for him now. 

Drying his hair roughly, not really bothering with anything other than straightening his bangs in the foggy mirror. Rubbing the water clinging to the glass, Eddie stares at his slightly out of focus reflection. Wayne had tried his best to get non-silver and rather aluminum backed mirrors. 

But- Eddie got his hand wet under the sink, running his fingers through his bangs. Dropping the towel he used to dry his hair on the floor, shoving at it with his foot to kick it out of the general small walk space. 

He shuffles out of the bathroom to his bedroom, shuts the door behind him and sets out to find the cleanest item of clothing in his room. Eddie knows he has clean underwear, and he digs those out of the dresser first. 

Spinning around, staring at the rest of his room, Eddie notices a little dumbly that his hamper is full of clean clothes. Instantly he feels bad, he steps over, staring into the basket, he hadn’t even noticed that Wayne had done his laundry. He picks out a shirt from the pile, thumbing at the soft feeling before yanking it over his head, wet curls sticking to his neck.

A pair of jeans that are laid over the back of his chair. Eddie sits on his bed to pull them on, still dizzy, and honestly not really sure he could get them on standing up without falling over. 

Eddie sits there for a moment, fidgeting with his pants button, just staring at the wall- mind clinging to the sound of Steve’s heart beat, it jumps a little- racing harsh and loud, and continues to do so. His gums itched, his skin too tight- something as wrong- 

His stomach growls.

Right, right- Steve’s fine, he’ll be okay- Eddie, Eddie can check on him. Apologize. He just needs to eat first. 

It’s a quiet affair, Eddie leaving his bedroom, walking into the kitchen, and getting a blood pop shoved at him. His eyes zero in, and he sticks the cold treat in his mouth instantly. Eddie lets out a groan, his teeth digging into the popsicle, Gareth basically herds him towards the couch and Eddie goes willingly. Laving his tongue over the bloodpop. 

It takes him probably ten minutes to eat the entire thing, and he gnaws on the stick when he’s finished, sinking his teeth into the wood with little care for the fragility of them. Wayne growls, Eddie jerks his eyes over to him, pulling his teeth out of the stick. 

Wayne holds out his hand, Eddie’s fingers are steady as he drops the bite riddled popsicle stick in his uncle's hand. Gareth elbows him again, “Eat.” Half baked meat cubes. Eddie tucks his knees up to his chest, resting the plate on top of them, gnawing on the cubes of meat almost absently. His best friend and his uncle are quiet. Eddie sinks his teeth into the cube, staring at the TV, it’s turned off. It wasn’t before- the screen is still static like. “I need to apologize.” “Yeah, you do.” Gareth’s voice is sharp, angry, fair enough. Eddie’s being stupid. “I don’t even like Harrington and I know you are being a dickwad.”

Eddie makes a face, darting his eyes to look over to Wayne. His Uncle was staring at him with an unreadable expression. Furrowing his brow, “Pops?” Wayne grumbles, his expression hardening. Swallowing hard, Wayne doesn’t look at him like that very often. A handful of times where Wayne’s really pressed rank, Eddie ducks his head slightly, not making eye contact. “Not for them, you understand me Edward? You apologize to that boy, because he deserves it, not ‘cause that group of yours wants to use him.” Eddie’s eyes go wide, “You apologize to that boy, and you fix this.” He nods, jerking his head up and down for a long moment sending his vision spinning. “Today.”

Eddie shoves another cube in his mouth, “Yes sir.” His voice is quiet, muffled around the piece of meat, but Wayne rumbles softly, Eddie tracks the movement of his Uncle reaching out to pull on one of his curls.

“‘M not mad at ya’ Eds,” Hesitant eye contact, the words are gruff, in all the ways that his Uncle always is, “disappointed, but not mad.” Eddie nods his head like a poor bobble head. “I’m fucking mad at you.” Gareth’s voice is sharp, “I’m so angry at you, how dare you-” “Gareth.” Eddie tucks his head down, “Later.” Wayne’s voice is sharper now, Gareth has no position here, and he knows the wix knows it too, snapping his mouth shut, jaw making an audible click. Teeth colliding aggressively, Eddie cringes, sympathy for the other’s teeth. 

They sit in silence as Eddie finishes eating, slower on the last few pieces, anxiety pooling in his limbs as he goes. Mind focusing back on Steve’s heart beat as he goes about the motions of putting on socks, shoes, staring at Gareth’s retreating back as the younger leaves the trailer, slamming the door behind him. Eddie tosses his keys back and forth in his hands. “I fucked up.” quiet, hardly above a whisper. It’s not for anyone but himself, Wayne won’t respond- he knows, knows that Eddie’s talking to himself- it’s, it’s- this is all so fucked. 

He says goodbye to Wayne, tells him he’ll call him, and heads out. The ride is eerie, silent, Eddie doesn’t bother with turning on the radio. He’s not worthy of a distraction, ‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Steve, I didn’t- I didn’t mean to hurt you, I didn’t mean to do any of this, and I’m so sorry you got hurt, I’m sorry we hurt you. That I hurt you.’ It felt- pathetic, wasteful, mouthful of words, empty, empty words. Why would Steve even listen to him? He’s done nothing but hurt the younger boy. 

Eddie has been nothing but cruel to Steve. 

Only Steve's BMW was parked in the driveway, Eddie parked on the street. I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry. For all of it- He smashed his hand against the steering wheel, fumbling to turn his van off. The keys rattle in the silence of the space. It feels oddly more like a death march walking up to the house, than the ride to kill Vecna did; walking up to the door, the world was so loud. Each of his steps loud against his ears. Competing with the steady thump of Steve’s heartbeat in his own chest. 

Eddie stood in front of the door, staring at the wood, breathing harshly through his nose. And he knocked, cracking his knuckles against the colored wood, Steve’s pulse jumps, rocks against his ears and Eddie whines behind his teeth. I’m so sorry- I’m so sorry- There’s a little bit of shouting in the house, the hair on the back of his neck raises. Steve’s heart beat swells closer, and Eddie rocks back on his heels. Anxiety resting against his collar bones, pooling on his tongue. The door opens-

Steve looks terrible, Eddie’s heart aches, his teeth itch, and his bones claw at his skin. His hair is long, and falling in his face, there’s scars on his face that Eddie had never seen before, the line around his neck- the one from the demo-bats, it’s stark against his skin. Steve’s eyes widen, and Eddie’s hands shake at his sides.

“Hi?”

--- Bloop. Sorry that this took forever, took a tiny break, and then fist fought writers block for far longer than I should have. And if anyone knows me From "An Untuned Piano" I tend to get sick, get better, and then get sick again. So, currently- sick. 0/10, at least I didn't get an incredibly high fever and then decide I was going to write, rewrite the plot, and fuck myself over... again. (I may have also fucked up my hand somewhere in between-) I'm not the happiest with this, because I couldn't put together exactly what I had pictured in my head. But it's whatever. It's fine. The next part I know what I want to do, and what I want to get done. Some of it's already finished- so it shouldn't be too long. !! Thank you for your very sweet feedback!! And to the one person who keeps leaving me very nice comments and then asking me to post it on ao3, I will! I just have a very specific word count that my brain makes me reach before I can think about posting something. I'll post it pretty soon, though it will probably be in a two-shot.

Tags: @theghostinmymachine @sadcanadianwinter @failedstarsandgoldenclouds @a-huge-nerdy-nerd @bisexualdisastersworld @intergalactic-president-awesome @vampireinthesun @estrellami-1 @raysreads @knightofthieves @sassysleeplord @gezell-igg @ledleaf @haluton @h0n3y-dw @thegingerrapunzel @finalmoondragon @warrior-616 @lexyvey @thesuninyaface @whalesharksart @two-faced-biatch @plasticcrotches @xtkxkrzrizir @minjintea @potatofist18 @just-a-tiny-void @selune2 @hellomynameismoo @princessstevemunson @plantzzsandpencilzzs @wearelosersyoudumbfuck @dbquills @pheonixashtree

[slutshamethesquirrels]

The Breadline

Ch.4 - The Closing Shift pairing: recovering!line cook!eren yeager x fat!fem!reader TW's: alcoholism, recovery, mentions of abuse, mentions of domestic violence, foster care, child custody, foster system, CPS, mentions of body/weight

To say you woke up frazzled would be an understatement.

Earlier that week, you had officially had the metaphorical training cord cut between you and Jean, and quickly learned just how hard the job was going to be. Customers had been dickheads, Levi had been ruthless when you made mistakes, and you’d stopped counting how many trays you dropped after number four. You had done your best to keep your interactions short and sweet with Eren, avoiding him at all costs whenever possible. Rumors had started to swirl about his interest in you (no doubt thanks to Jean) and between the gossip and your uncertainty about his intentions you thought it best to leave him alone.

Your feet ached, your head pounded, and the last thing you wanted was to get out of your bed extra early to have a meeting with Erwin Smith. To top it all off, you had started your period the night before and woken up to the sound of thunder as a storm brewed outside.

Unfortunately, Levi had been unwilling to let you swap shifts or come in late to make your normal scheduled check-ins with Mr.Smith. With Erwin’s afternoons booked for the week, the only option had been a quick sunrise meeting.

So, begrudgingly, you had gotten up and dressed before the sun had risen, and forced Ellie to get up as well. At first, she’d fought you. Kicking, screaming, crying as you did your best to wrangle her out of her bed and into a suitable outfit for the day. After all, hell has no fury like a toddler whose schedule abruptly changed. She didn't stop until you brought out the big guns.

“Eleanor Grace.”

The dreaded legal first and middle name, coupled with wide eyes and a clenched jaw had stopped her train of terror in its tracks, immediately.

When Erwin knocks on your door, she's seated on the couch, begrudgingly working her way through a pop tart and a fresh sippy cup. Her hair was slicked back into two pig tails and she wore a yellow rain coat adorned with pink flowers go match the glitter on her boots, prepped and ready to brave the rain right after Erwin left. Your old box TV was playing the same Sesame Street dvd she’d watched forty times in the past three days, but she wasn't even really paying attention. She looked like a war-torn soldier in a baby suit, and after the way she had just battled you that morning, you decided she probably was.

You open the door and greet Erwin with a weary goodmorning, motioning him in. He seems to be the only one of the three of you that's chipper. As always, his hair was perfectly combed away from his face, and his business casual slacks and button up barred not a single wrinkle as he closed and shook out his umbrella before making entry.

Before he can so much as say hello to her, Ellie tattles on you:

“Mommy's really mean to me.”

Oh, you could absolutely choke her! Now was not the time, and from your angle just behind Erwin you catch her eyes, shaking your head at her and going bright red. Your expression tells her she's in big trouble if she doesn't hush.

“Oh is she?!” you're slightly relieved when Erwin’s tone is theatrical and warm, signaling he in fact, does not think you beat her. He turned his head briefly to shoot you an amused grin, and you quickly snapped your face to him and fixed your expression into one that didn't look like you were plotting Ellie’s murder.

“Someone's a little upset about having to be up early.” You explain in a sickeningly sweet tone, your voice laced with honey to cover up the venom..

“I can tell!” He chimed before walking over and crouching in front of the couch to interact with her on her level, and probably give her a once over for signs of neglect.

“Hey friend, how are you?” His tone was gentle and soft. Ellie was not having it, her brow furrowed in anger with every word. He tried again.

“What’cha got there? Can I have some?” This time, he was attempting to tease her into showing him a smile, even extending out his palm for her to give him some of what was left of her drool covered pop tart, but it proved to be futile. You could've sworn it happened in slow motion.

Her eyes darted from his face to his outstretched hand repeatedly, cheeks swelling and reddening as she came to terms with the fact that he was requesting for her to share; her least favorite thing in the world to do. About the time she started inhaling deeply you began a quick stride over to pick her up before she could throw a tantrum. You expected her to scream, cry, but what she did was somehow worse.

Quick, forceful and angry, and with an enunciation more clear than you’d ever heard her speak before, she gave him an answer:

“No, bitch-”

Little did you know, that morning was going to be the easiest part of the day.

“So, did you like turn him down or something?”

You really liked Sasha, for the most part. She was fun, bubbly, and had a habit of making you laugh with her complete inability to be anything other than atrociously blunt. However, as the two of you huddled around the new schedule Levi had posted behind the register, you had bigger fish to fry, and the last thing you really wanted to talk about was Eren Yeager.

“No, not really-” You sighed with disinterest, tracing over the blocks on Saturday night's column with your fingers and gnawing on your bottom lip with worry. He’d put you down for a closing shift, which meant you could be stuck here until one in the morning. Finding someone to watch Ellie was going to be a nightmare. The daycare closed at seven, every member of your family struggled with drug and alcohol addiction, and most of your friends had grown distant once you became in impromptu mom. What the fuck were you gonna do?

“No, not really!” Sasha imitated your own words in an overwhelmingly breathy and high pitched tone, and then, back to her normal speaking voice, continued her pestering.

“Come on, dude! Something had to happen. He's right back to stomping around back there. Turning the whole vibe rancid!”

You rolled your eyes at her, but she wasn't wrong. All morning he’d been a tense bundle of nerves. It was different from how you’d ever seen him. Every move he made seemed tense and rigid, every reply a curt “yes” or “no” or “got it”. The vibrancy in his eyes had been dulled and replaced with light that seemed a little more artificial, and you thought if he clenched his jaw any harder his teeth might crack from the pressure alone.

“All I want is a french dip and everytime I go back there to ask he just snarls at me like some sort of rabies infested dog-” she whined, throwing a hand across her forehead dramatically “-all because you won't put out! I may simply waste away-”.

“I'm sorry your highness,” you snarked “I kind of blew him off the last few times we worked together- not like that!”. You gave her a pointed glare as she paused the theatrics to cock an eyebrow and smirk at you suggestively, not allowing her to get a word in edgewise before getting back to the point:

“I just noticed that you and Jean were right and I didn't like it. He doesn't flirt with me like he wants to hold my hand, he flirts with me like I’m something to devour-”

“Kinky-”

“Stop it.”

She giggles, and you huff through your nose, but find yourself sarcastically smiling back at her.

“Even if I wanted to pursue that, I can't risk breaking Levi’s golden rule right now. If I get fired I’m beyond fucked.”

“Aaaaaand if you get fucked you’re beyond fired. I get it.”

You resisted the urge to tell her she really didn't. She didn't get it at all. From what you’d learned of Sasha, her parents were absolute angels. Her mom was a teacher. Her dad coached three different T-Ball teams from ages six to nine. She still lived at home, worked part time and bumbled around her college campus doing more socializing and grazing at the cafeteria than studying. Anytime she was asked what she was in school for, her reply was something along the lines of “I have no clue”. She was smart, and sweet, but her parents were certified in early childhood development for christ sake, their whole life was spent around raising and loving children. She’d gotten an easy hand. If she got fired tomorrow, there would be no consequence. You were sure mommy and daddy wouldn't so much as bat an eye-

Wait.

Suddenly, your face lit up.

“Sasha!” You exclaimed “Your parents!”

She looked confused, stating flatly “I am not letting you fuck my parents-”

“What? No. This is unrelated-” Your face momentarily scrunched before getting back to the question on your mind “Do they babysit ever?”.

She wiggles her hand it the air, the universal signal for it's iffy “Kind of? They used to do it a lot, but in their old age they tend to only do it for family. My mom has some auto-immune issues these days so they try to keep it to a minimum. Why?”.

Your heart sank a little. And then, with a sigh you admitted “Levi put me on the schedule Saturday night and I have no one to keep Ellie.”.

“Ellie? That's your sister right?”

You nod.

“Oh…shit.” She grabs the schedule on the counter between the two of you and analyzes it intently for a moment “You know? I'll tell you what-”. She flops it back down on the counter “If you can go back there and convince your shitty lil boyfriend to make me my lunch, I'll pitch it to my parents.”.

At first you tried to argue, both about Eren being your “boyfriend” and then about the act of trying to talk to him after you’d been doing your best to avoid him, but it quickly became clear you had no choice. She was determined to get that food, come hell or high water. Which was precisely how you ended up tiptoeing around to the edge of the kitchen, leaning on the back wall and rubbing your hands together anxiously, waiting for Yeager’s return from wherever he’d gone.

Thankfully, the place was dead, mostly due to the rain pounding against the windows. All of the other staff for first shift had been cut, save Yeager, yourself and Sasha. The waitstaff had only two tables a piece, all four of which had already ordered and were in the middle of eating. Not a single order flashed on the screen as you observed the kitchen and everyone had been busying themselves with cleaning. As you waited, you noticed just how meticulously Eren had been cleaning in particular. All the metal in the kitchen sparkled, and the grease in the fryers looked clear enough to drink. The entire space smelled of the disinfectant from the mop station, and not a single utensil was out of place. You wondered if this was a testament to his work ethic, or possibly a display of a general taste for organization. Perhaps he’d simply had to find a way to channel all that pent up negativity he seemed to be carrying. It was almost unnerving.

What felt like an eternity passed in the stillness that was the kitchen before you actually started to worry. Where the fuck had he disappeared to?

You wandered into the back at a turtle's pace, stopping to check the walk-ins as you did so. No sign of him there either. It wasn't until you rounded the corridor that you found him.

He was propped against the open door to Levi’s office, his spine aligned with the door frame and his arms crossed in front of him. Levi sat in his office chair, one leg crossed over and sipping on a mug as Eren spoke. You could tell he was trying to keep his voice hushed, but there was a lot of anger biting through, resulting in a crunched and low tone.

You intended to turn around, you really did, but curiosity got the better of you. You quickly reversed your step and disappeared behind the corner again, your side and hands resting against the wall as you tried to tune in to what he was saying, though you couldn’t make out everything.

“...isn't what we agreed upon…”

“...you know I can't control myself…”

”...that’s not on me, that’s a you problem…”

”...mess up all my progress…”

“...I know it been years, that's the point…”

You weren't getting anything from this. Not like it mattered anyway. You waited a few more moments until you heard the door to the office close, signaling to you that he'd stepped inside for privacy, and then straightened yourself with a deep breath. Okay. New plan.

You decided you’d circle back to Sasha through the bar entrance and update her that her sandwich was gonna take longer than expected. When Eren returned from whatever serious conversation he was having, maybe he’d feel better and make your life a little easier.

Except, when you took your first step around the corner you immediately got pummeled by what felt like a brick wall, all the air exited your chest with a yelp as you stumbled backward and lost your footing. You would've hit the floor if a rough hand hadn’t caught your forearm with such strength you were sure there'd be bruises tomorrow.

“Watch where the fuck you’re going.”

You recognize the voice immediately. After all, you’d just spent the last few minutes trying to figure out what it had been saying. You're pulled back up with such ferocity that you careen into Eren’s chest. Taking a moment to place your hand on him and stabilize yourself against your spinning head.

He still hadn't let go of your arm by the time you lifted your face up to meet his, turning bright red as you stuttered an apology. His clenched jaw and furrowed brow reminded you briefly of your father the night you'd moved out.

“Are you okay?” he asked, forcing his tone to be a little softer. You nodded, and he tipped his head back and shut his eyes. You watched his Adam’s apple bob as he took a deep breath and swallowed, attempting to collect himself. It isn't until he was done that he let go of you, maneuvering himself around you to continue on his path.

You never did get that sandwich made for Sasha, but when she saw the defeated look on your face when you returned to the front, she'd immediately told you it was okay, she’d ask her parents anyway.

The rest of the shift drug by, and you were feeling rather disappointed with the fifty two dollars in tips floating around in your pocket as you headed for the doors that evening. You had only paused briefly behind the glass exit to brace yourself for the rain when you heard Eren call out for you.

Turning towards the sound, you watched him exit the kitchen and punch out, free of his apron and much cleaner than you'd seen him finish prior shifts.

“What’s up?” You hesitantly asked as he made his way over to you.

“Do you have some time to talk?” He asked. He still seemed wound tight, but not nearly as bad as earlier. Clocking out will do that for a man.

You blinked at him. Taking a second to consider. You absolutely did have some time to talk, but after the events of the day you'd planned on going home and taking a hot bath before Ellie’s mandatory pickup time from daycare.

And yet, as he looked down at you, you couldn't find it within yourself to tell him no.

“Yeah, sure. What’s up?” you ask, taking a step back from the door and turning to face him.

The faintest hint of a smirk played on his face. You swear you saw a little light return to his eyes before he corrected you:

“Not here, cornball. Come on-”

He stepped around you to hold the door open for you, and hesitantly, you stepped through into the pouring rain. Before you could protest, he had taken you by the wrist and began to drag you across the parking lot towards a white S.U.V; the same one you’d seen him getting into after your first shift. You would've fought him, protested, but an ocean of water was falling from the sky in buckets. The short trip from the front door of The Flying Plate to his car had the both of you miserably wet by the time he was unlocking it with his key fob. You both scrambled into the dry lifeboat that was the cab of his car with the urgency of a drowning man.

Eren let out an audible curse as he slammed the driver's side door just seconds after you had done the same with the passenger, throwing his head back momentarily as you desperately attempted to wipe away the excess water.

When you look back up again, he's staring at you. From this distance, and without the buzz of the restaurant, you can notice little things about him you didn't before. The little hairs that fall out of his bun at the nape of his neck (now plastered to his skin by the rain), the three small gold hoops that hung from his earlobes on either side, the way his lips look so goddamn soft-

And then, as if he could somehow be more attractive, for the very first time that day… he smiled. Genuinely smiled. That smile seamlessly transitioned into a laugh. Did his nose always crinkle like that when he laughed?

“What?!” You questioned, quickly mirroring him as his infectious giggle made its way into your soul.

“You look like a drowned rat-”

“Eren!” You began to scold him with a shocked smile as he laughed harder, but before you could continue he pulled the elastic out of his wet hair and shook his head violently back and forth, playfully flinging water all over you.

“Oh my god, you're a child-!” you whined, playfully shoving his shoulder “Did you bring me out here just to harass me?!”.

“No!” He replied, catching you by the wrist and flinging your own hand back at you before running a hand through his hair, pushing it back out of his face. After collecting himself, he turned in his seat slightly to face more towards you. You mirrored him again.

“I brought you out here to call you out for sticking your nose in my business” he was still smiling, but now it was more tight lipped, his eyes swirling with a myriad of emotions, making them almost entirely unreadable.

Your face fell and turned brick red. He knew you had been eavesdropping.

“Eren-I,”

Shit shit shit shit shit-

“I swear I didn't mean- I mean I just, I was looking for you and I couldn't find you and I-”

Fuck.

Your brain was swirling at a million miles an hour. Mostly because you were mortified at having been caught, and partially because you had no explanation. Why had you done that?

“Hey,” he cut through your thoughts with a stray hand, reaching out to tuck a couple stray damp strands of your hair behind your ear. They must've come undone at some point during the day. You silently thanked god your blush could be explained by the embarrassment, because the way your skin buzzes at the feeling makes your heart jump through your throat.

“It's okay, I’m not upset with you” he withdrew his hand far too soon for your liking as he spoke “I’m just a little confused.”.

“What do you mean?” you asked, eyebrows raised in apprehension and voice thick with emotion.

“Well, you’ve been dodging me all week. I just don't understand why you want to know so much when you don't even seem interested in speaking to me.”

“Oh.”

You shift back in your seat and face forward again, looking down at your hands as you tried to conjure up a way to delicately approach the topic. You can feel his eyes boring into you as you struggled. What could you say? I think you only want me for my body and that's kind of fucked up but also wow you’re so beautiful and even if you did tell me you only wanted me for my body I would definitely let you hit but also that might get me fired?

There was no way you could spill your guts like that. That train of thought was never even on the rails in the first place.

After a gorged silence, Eren sucks a sharp breath through his nose and tries again, this time from a different angle.

“Okay, how about this: How much did you hear?”

You steal a glance at him before admitting:

“I couldn't really hear much.”

He hummed in understanding, and then tacked on a proposal “How about this? I'll tell you what I was bitching at Levi for and you tell me why you've been avoiding me.”.

You gave him a look to let him know there was not a snowball’s chance in hell-

He leaned across the center console and cupped his hand under your jaw, gently turning you to look at him and grazing his thumb back and forth across your cheek.

“No judgment, no anger, and nothing leaves this car. I promise. Everything stays between us.”

Hell seemed to be experiencing record low temperatures. All at once, the words start spewing from your mouth before you could even think about swallowing them.

“I think you want to have sex with me.”

He tenses as you speak, the small strokes he’d been swiping across your cheek ceasing immediately. He withdrew his hand, and silence settled across the car for a minute. The only sound was the rain splattering across the windows.

“I made you uncomfortable.” He concluded, but you were quick to correct.

“No! Not at all. I’m just not interested is all.”

He gave you a look that told you he knew you were a liar, and you clarified further:

“Don't get me wrong, you're very attractive. But I need this job, and we both know Levi would fire us.”

You were proud of yourself for being able to be so honest with a man you felt was entirely out of your league.

“So what you're saying is I’m a total fucking hunk and you can't control yourself when I’m around?” His voice dripped with sarcasm.

You rolled your eyes and scoffed; your reaction earned a chuckle out of him. A suggestive smirk signaled you that he knew he was correct. It all felt so intimate and comfortable. Where was the man that had snatched you up by the arm a few hours ago?

“Don't sprain your wrist jerking yourself off over there.”

Your sarcastic retort pulls another laugh from his chest.

“You didn't deny it-!”

“Shut up!” You playfully smack his bicep, trying not to marvel at how sculpted it was beneath your fingers for the brief moment before he swatted you away. A comfortable silence settled over the vehicle for what felt like several minutes.

“Your turn,” You finally prod him “Tell me why you've been an asshole today.”

He was quick to call you out.

“That was not the agreement, but lucky for you, the answer remains the same nonetheless.” He didn't even try to deny that he hadn't been exactly polite “The short answer is, I have to work this upcoming Saturday night.”.

You waited for him to elaborate, scanning his face and trying to get a read on him. His eyes had darkened again, a vast green sea experiencing rough waters at twilight. After a few seconds of silence, you prod yet again:

“And that’s an issue?”

He nods

“Because?”

A sigh. His gaze dropped down to where his hands were now white-knuckle gripping the bottom of his steering wheel despite the engine still being off. You got the feeling he was avoiding your gaze.

“I…” his voice sounded a little strained “I've been sober for about three years now. Used to have a real problem with booze.”.

He drew a deep breath before continuing, his hands loosening and his shoulders sulking for the first time that day as all the tension in him seemed to migrate out of his mouth.

“The best way to keep myself straight is by avoiding it at all costs, and on the weekend nights it's a big party. We have a few regulars who buy round after round for the staff, and Levi lets them because it's a great way to make money. They spend so fucking much paying for our drinks, and then come back and do it again next week because they like the way the hot college age waitresses flirt with them to get them to buy more.”

You're stunned, speechless for a moment. You can't imagine Levi being that lax about anything, much less letting his staff get drunk while handling hot plates and fry grease. But then you think back to the way the restaurant had grown and blossomed under his watchful eye, and figured it best not to question his methods. You tried to do the math in your head.

If each drink was roughly six dollars…and for argument's sake there were 12 people on staff… multiply that by one round per hour, being generous… plus those customers would be ordering for themselves as well…

“Please say something” the desperation in his voice snapped you back to reality.

“Sorry, I was trying to math that out in my head.” You explained, feeling a little guilty for not noticing how horrified his expression looked before you explained. A relieved chuckle escaped him.

“How much alcohol do we end up drinking or how much money do we end up making?” He asked “Because the answer to both of those is ‘a lot’.”

You shook your head wistfully, staring out of the windshield, a faint smile dancing on your lips.

“If it helps, I also work that night. I could be your accountabil-a-buddy.”

Immediately he tosses his head back, laughing so loud it causes you to jump in your seat.

“What?!” You question defensively, speaking over his roaring laughter “It could help!”.

“I’m sorry, I-” he interrupts himself with giggles, and deep breaths as he tries to stop “I just, I can't- Oh fuck, -”. He was absolutely wheezing-

He cleared his throat.

“You're telling me-”

He forces his face into a blank state, but his lips twitch with the urge to crack up again.

“-that not only have I been cock blocked by Levi-”

A snort. His disposition was contagious, you too were now biting your lip to stop yourself from smiling.

“-but I've also somehow skipped the friend zone entirely and ended up in the accountabil-a-buddy zone?”

You tried to remain stoic, drawing the world's slowest breath through flared nostrils before answering:

“Yes.” You wanted it to sound confident, but it came out strained.

You both stared at each other, lips pursed tight and eyebrows doing their best to remain perfectly perfectly poised in their natural positions over widened sparkling eyes until you eventually cracked first with a snort.

At the sound, you both lose all composure, laughing so loud you fear it may shatter the glass of his windshield.

m a s t e r l i s t

[queermentaldisaster]

“There's a Revolution Coming”, part three of “The Devil Made Me Do It; But I Also Kinda Wanted To”.

First thing's first. If you read this on AO3, please, please, please pay attention to the tags. I will add sufficient warnings for each chapter here as well, but this is very much a Dead Dove fic. What you see is what you get. So please, proceed with caution when you see the tws/tags.

Tags: @forestshadow-wolf @axelaxolotl09 @im-here-and-im-confused @bringinsexybackk69 @rainerestored @8-rae-rae-8 (if you want to be added or removed from the taglist please inform me)

(Possible) tw: Children in captivity, mental breakdown, mentions of torture and mind control, discrimination towards demons, and implied child abuse. Proceed with caution.

Chapter 1 under the cut.

The helo landed, and Mirror grabbed Soap's bound wrists and began dragging him towards the military base. Soap's eyes trailed upwards, and his eyes narrowed. With the amount of security around this place, it reminded him of a castle. He looked back down, taking a deep breath. ‘Och, poor Si…he's probably terrified right now and masking it with anger…’ he thought. His thoughts were on Ghost, even as Mirror dragged him through the base. Then, he looked up, and saw just how many demons were here. More than a thousand. The rest must've come from all over the world, then. ‘How many demons did Meister break?’ Soap thought, as his mind drifted back to a conversation Ghost and him had while he was still recovering.

“You know, Meister tortured us to make us weak to mind control.” Ghost murmured. Soap's head snapped up from his sketchbook. “Mind control?” He asked. Ghost nodded. “Affirmative.” He brought his hand up to his neck. “He’d collar us, then attack us. He saw us as nothing more than tools.” Ghost's wings tightened around himself. Soap's eyes softened and he touched Ghost's hand. “Yer so much more than a tool to me, Simon. Yer as alive as the rest of us.” he murmured. Ghost looked back at Soap and his eyes spoke volumes. “Thanks, Johnny.”

A tear rolled down Soap's cheek. God, he hoped Ghost was looking for him. He was scared.

Mirror dragged him into a room, shoving him in and locking the door behind him. Soap fell to the floor, and knelt there, his hands clenched into fists. He let the tears begin rolling down his cheeks, as he tried not to sob. He was in the lion's den and all alone. Too weak to fight against demons and vampires and…whatever Shepard was. God, he'd never wished for anything, not even to be a monster…but now, he was cursing his human heritage. ‘Ah’m useless. Cannae even save maself, much less love Simon how he wants.’ He bit his tongue. ‘Ah’m pathetic. Fought tooth ‘n nail ta get where ah was, and now ah'm here. In an empty room, captured, unable to save maself.’ A sob escaped from the gag, and the dam broke. He curled up, sobbing.

•✧-----------------------------------✧•

He didn't know how long had passed, and he didn't care. He'd managed to get the gag out at some point, and he was now staring at the ceiling, counting the tiles. “Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six-” He was interrupted by the door flying open. Graves was standing there, his eyes narrowed. “Do you ever shut up!?” He snapped. Soap sat up, placing his bound wrists on his knees. “Ya ken, Graves, ye have a really bad track record with kidnapping. Twice in two months. Ghost isnae goin’ tae be happy with this.”

Graves's eyes narrowed. “I do not care what that beast thinks. He's nothing more than an animal, a tool to use as we see fit. He doesn't have feelings, he can't.” Soap's eyes narrowed. “...” He lunged at Graves, only to be tackled by one of the other demon guards. Graves's eyes narrowed. “Take him to the little room.” The demon nodded and dragged Soap off as Soap screamed his head off at Graves, in pure rage.

The demon threw Soap in another room, this one with three beds, and paper strewn around the room. He hit the ground roughly, and he let out a groan. He felt hands grab his binds and he almost struck the person…until he looked ahead…and saw a child with pale tannish skin, her right eye being a purple color, her left eye being a pink color, blonde hair, and tiny red horns. “Evelyn! He could be a threat!” came a voice. He turned his head and saw a girl, no older than fourteen, shielding a smaller boy. The girl had light grayish pinkish-purple hair, her right eye being orange and her left eye being a dark grayish magenta color. She had a burn scar by her right eye, and she had horns of a dull gold color that curved like a ram's. Soap looked around, spotting two other kids. His heart sank.