#a sick feeling overwhelming him bile in his throat at the sight of his father's legacy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sinelity · 1 year

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eyes like yours, can look away (but you can’t stop dna)

↳ in which dabi struggles with the overwhelming familiarity of his reflection

—-

shaky hands gripped the counter, turning white at the knuckles. it was late, far too deep into the am’s to still be awake and this wasted. dabi didn’t care though. he was so numb to the touch, he could hardly feel the counter digging into his skin. hell, he couldn’t even stand properly without a support.

he deserved this though. at least he thought so. he’s been working his ass off, causing trouble for the hero’s every which way he went. it was rewarding enough to watch them from a shabby alleyway as they scrambled around, trying to save every pathetic bitch that couldn’t help themselves.

well it was, up until endeavor arrived on scene. he could handle seeing him, loved the rush of satisfaction it gave him to watch his father seethe at the sight of his very own signature. what he couldn’t handle was the brat shadowing his footsteps. of course, daddy had to parade around his special lil’ boy that he was oh so proud of. the only heir endeavor ever needed; the only one he truly wanted.

it made bile rise in his throat before he forced it down, walking off with his jaw clenched in a similar manner to his hands, only to make his way back to the bar to wash away any memory he had left of the day.

and so here he was, hunched over the sink after a few rounds too many. any self pity he had left in him was long forgotten, put to rest for the remainder of the night. he hated feeling like he had no control, no power over his own stupid fucking emotions. dabi refused to cope, instead opting out for less savory methods that lead him to this exact situation hundreds of times over.

the faucet gave in with a creak, a sharp flow of water ricocheting against the porcelain. he splashed water over his face, hardly holding himself up without a hand against the surface to steady him. the same routine he’d never outgrow no matter how many years pass by.

he didn’t bother to dry his dripping skin. he only held himself against the counter once again, this time his shoulder leaning into the wall.

an empty box laying close to his hand served as an empty reminder; he needed more dye. begrudgingly, dabi looked into the mirror, avoiding any direct eye contact with the man staring back at him. he just wanted to examine his fading hair and white roots, an annoying nuisance but one that was much needed. it was inevitable though. impossible to ignore his own reflection so when his eyes met the familiar blue in the mirror, he felt sick.

he felt sick because it wasn’t him who he saw, but the cold eyes of his father. the same man who he despised more than anything. the same man who was supposed to raise him with a loving smile, yet only ever looked at him with dead eyes. the sight was unwelcome, but it didn’t mind it’s manners. a foot in the door, pushing past the ever growing force trying to keep it away, it made itself at home in his head.

his gaze was locked on the image that intruded his every thought, attempting to get him to focus solely on its presence like it would heal the very wounds it inflicted.

yet it only ever reopened them, and suddenly he was right back to his past, burning up and screaming for help as his father watched. he waited, begged, cried for even a flash of care or regret in his fathers eyes but all he saw instead was disappointment. it hurt, digging into his sides and letting loose on his worn down body. he caught a small glimpse of himself engulfed in blue flames before he erupted and everything went to hell.

it tore at his insides, starting low in his knees, weakening them as it makes its way to the tip of his ears. a path only it could trace, hitting every nerve and marking its way deep inside him like it belonged. but it didn’t. he didn’t want it to. it wasn’t supposed to be there anymore. he tried so hard to tear it out of his head like it never existed in the first place.

it wouldn’t relent. he could try and try all the wanted, but even he couldn’t rid of every trace of the past that lead him here. it wasn’t what he envisioned his future to be when he was younger, but fate was cruel. it wouldn’t forgive the sins of those it had no hold over, so it would latch itself onto those around.

it wasn’t fair, but the world was doomed from the start much like his family was. his life was mapped out for him before he could even blink and he had no ounce of control over what happens anymore. he never did, and it was foolish to ever think he could change his destiny like he tried to the mind of the very man that put him in this position.

so he looked away, forcing his eyes to look elsewhere. anywhere else but his reflection like it would ever be enough to forget the eyes he inherited. it wasn’t though. it’s always going to be there. every fucking time it will be right there again, waiting for the pained face he makes to stray back. he can turn his back all he wants, but it won’t follow his movements. instead it’ll creep closer, glass shattering as it reaches for him, clawing at his scarred back and dragging him towards it.

then what?

he can’t escape the blood that so desperately wants to corrode his lungs, fill them up until he’s a sputtering mess. he can’t escape the way it begs to seep out of his torn skin, wanting to cling to every inch of his body until he’s drowning in it. he can’t escape it no matter how far he runs.

it sticks to his shadow, outlining his silhouette even on the darkest of days, trailing into his room right after him. it hovers over him as he hardly even gets his boots off before he collapse on his bed, one hand under his head and the other on his abdomen.

his mind is far too corrupt to ignore it. it lingers as his eyes close, watching, waiting for him to drift off to into a dreamless sleep. seconds pass by, then minutes until it decides to bully its way in again, deciding that it was now it’s home and he was just a mere guest. pulling and plucking at his eyelids, forcing them open as a way to make a statement; there’s no avoiding it. no way around it, to forget it, to bury it. he’s forever damned to be stuck with this torment.

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wsbhonni · 2 months

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Sanctuary (Chapter 4: Dinner)

*A spark of hope lingers on Asa’s lips as he watches Arkin leave for the kitchen. Once the man is out of sight, he sits quietly on the bed, looking down on his feet, then occasionally at the kitchen lights reflecting from the floorboards. He watches Arkin’s silhouette walking and moving across the lights as sounds of plates clanking, and the soft smell of food being cooked reaches his sinuses. He knows the kind-hearted thief isn’t going to heed his request for just bread and water. He’s being cared for and all he could think of is the uncomfortable itch in his brain that comes with it. No matter how much the warmth has bloomed in his chest, a weight has made home on his legs after latching itself on his ribcage.

Asa eyes the quiet shadow making sounds in the kitchen, only for that feeling to rip a part of his throat away. He looks down again, fumbling with his hands now- not really knowing what to do. Conscience etched him a. . . grimy feeling. Like his presence alone is staining the bed, the room, whatever he’s touching. Then it crawls up to his spine, eventually curling around his neck to cover his face; he tries to brush it off to no avail. So he shuffles down on the floor to sit instead.

. . . the killer stares at the wall, the pictures, the dresser, then out the window.. The shadows that made themselves home behind each item appear pitch black rather than the more friendly darkness he has gotten used to in his home, or the hotel. An overwhelming sensation of unease creeps up behind him and wraps its long fingers on his skin. Asa eyes wander back to the kitchen lights for comfort.

Outside of the oppressive headspace he has made for himself, out into the hallway where he walks towards where Arkin is. He stops just shy from the kitchen itself, but enough for him to peep from the corner to see the younger man working on the stove. The clock idly ticked away from 8:23pm up on the wall in front of him. He glued his attention to sunken eyes, he has to wonder how much sleep a father like Arkin usually has. Asa stood there staring at the man for a few moments, before deciding to speak up, despite his wildly uncomfortable throat and the taste of vomit still on his tongue. “Hey..”

-Arkin nearly jumped out of his skin- jumping in the air and cursing in fright.

"Jesus fucking Christ dude-" Arkin sighed, relieved.

An apology was quick to leave Asa’s mouth, he had never seen Arkin startle like that before- it was funny, honestly. He couldn't help but grin at the now flustered man.

"No you ain't," Arkin rolled his eyes.

Asa was worried the brunette had gotten upset with him, until he heard him chuckle, and saw him smiling.

"Anyways, you feeling alright?" Arkin inquired, suddenly serious.

"Oh, yes, I'm fine." Asa fumbled.

The two stood in awkward silence until Arkin turned back to his food.

"Well, I reheated more soup for you, I know it's not what you wanted, but you need vitamins and whatever." He explained, opening a drawer and producing a spoon.

Asa watched how Arkin tensed when his back was turned to him. There was a time where Asa would have loved that- would have loved the power that he had over Arkin. But now- it made Asa feel sick, it made his stomach become heavy and his throat tight. He felt guilty.

He watched as Arkin physically eased as he turned to him again. A bowl of soup in one hand, and a bowl of pasta in the other.

"Ya don't have to eat now if ya don't want to," He said, passing the soup to Asa, taking a seat at his kitchen island.

The man simply sat himself at the other stool of the island- Arkin's dining table, apparently. Arkin seemed surprised at first, but shrugged it away and dug into his food. Asa nibbled at his own food, letting the familiar slightly bland flavour finally wash the taste of bile away. His stomach stirred a bit, so Asa stopped, and looked up to the still eating Arkin.

"Where did you get the recipe for the soup?" He asked.

"Ah, shit, does it taste bad?" Arkin sighed, "-I usually add more flavour to it, but I didn't-"

'-want to make it unsuitable for a sick person’s stomach’

"-have a lot of spices lyin' around, y'know."

*Asa said nothing but a small nervous smile of gratitude- still unsure of how to process this kind of attention. He glanced at the shelves behind Arkin where the spices are kept: salt, pepper, garlic powder- that’s pretty much it. Asa doubts there’s a lot of condiments lying around either.

Soft autumn chills have settled inside the dim apartment, the only lights on is in the kitchen where they’re sitting. The estranged killer tries to make some small talk while he watches his ex-victim eat, asking why he keeps the apartment so dark. “To save up on the electricity bill”- Arkin replied with pasta still puffing in one of his cheeks. The conversation didn’t really go anywhere. . . so they just decided to stay quiet

Arkin shifts in his seat with his meal still in front of him, his grip on the fork ever so slightly tightening as he tenses up, staring, then avoiding the man on the opposite side: foreign. . . and vaguely a threat, yet he is weaker than ever; Still, He cannot let his guard down. Under the round circle of warm orange light above the kitchen island, the killer’s stature sitting from across him appears more like a large solid shadow than a person.

The man returns his gaze with those almost supernatural eyes- drilling into his conscience. Arkin doesn’t know what’s more concerning: the fact that he’s being stared at, or the fact that the killer is barely touching his food.

Arkin takes a few cautious bites while he carefully slips a few looks at his opponent. Asa *is* eating, he just eats whenever the thief looks away. Every time Arkin moves his eyes down to scoop up his Asa does the same then swallows just in time before attention is directed at him again..

It’s weird. Why the fuck is the guy doing that? Arkin decides to watch but before he knows it, the soup is already finished.

Abruptly, the man before him asked after letting out a light sigh- he looked a bit unnerved.

“So. . . Where are you sleeping tonight? I can go home if you want, I-“ Asa stumbled over his words despite sounding like someone’s teacher. He clears his throat: “I’m good enough to leave.”

Arkin simply scoffed, an eyebrow arched. "Yeah right," He chuckled, taking a drink of water, "Not with how you were hobbling earlier. I don't trust you behind the wheel."

"Who said I was going to drive?" Asa huffed back, rolling his black eyes, "I can call a cab."

"The fair would be stupid expensive, I don't exactly live a few streets away from you."

"Is there a reason why you can't drive me home, then?" Asa crossed his arms, leaning forward inquisitively.

"Tanks runnin low, and I'm tired." Arkin rested his cheek in his palm and smirked.

His expression said 'we can do this all night'. It was charming- at least Asa thought so.

With a purse of his lips, Asa continued their banter. "Then where are you going to sleep, if you insist on me staying here."

"I got a couch, smart ass," Arkin gestured his head to the old beat up couch behind Asa.

As the larger man turned to look, Arkin gathered the dishes. He was slow to take Asa's bowl, as if the man would snap/grab at him; as if he were a wounded animal ready to pounce. He didn't, though- just slowly turned back to a now standing Arkin.

"How old is that thing?" Asa dared to ask, his nose scrunched.

"Got it from an old man havin' a garage sale," Arkin explained, almost proud sounding.

"Please, tell me you cleaned it."

"I vacuumed it!"

"And?"- Arkin rolled his eyes hard as he turned to wash the dishes. Asa took the hint and felt his whole body tense in disgust.

"That's disgusting, how are you not sick?"

"That's rich, coming from you." The response was a little more spiteful than Arkin wanted it to be.

Asa, promptly, went quiet. His face softened for a traitorous second- before bouncing back as if unbothered. Arkin knew he was playing with fire, but he wouldn't take the statement back. Because they both knew it was true- the only “sick” person here just vomited his guts out an hour ago.

*Of course Asa doesn't need someone to tell him he got some wires crossed. But only in his late 20s when he decided to indulge in it. And now that he’s in his mid 30s, after everything that dropped him onto the porch of someone like Arkin; he feels like the wrath has subsided enough to reflect. For a moment his thoughts slip and his first knee-jerk reaction is to not think about it anymore. Asa avoids the pair of eyes directed at him. He’ll come back for it later... or eventually.

Nevermind what crept into his thoughts, he directed his focus onto why Arkin keeps him alive, *and* in his own apartment no less. If anything, Arkin might not be right in the head either- he figures, but who is he to judge about that subject? Anyhow, the prospects of Arkin having something wrong with him makes him terribly curious.

It’s quite early to go to bed for Arkin, but he figures the older male would be the type to sleep at 8pm- his doubts got validated when Asa randomly yawns around 9:15. He was going to sleep on the couch as usual when the killer was still unconscious, but now that the man is awake, some new fears settle inside of his worries. What if he tries to kill him in his sleep? What if he rummages through his stuff? Set up traps in his apartment as revenge? What if he does. . . whatever serial killer-psychopaths do while he isn’t looking? He cannot let Asa out of his sight.

Arkin dries up the remaining dishes and puts them back in place. As he turns around to check if the serial killer was doing anything, only to find the man dissociating and sitting quietly, staring at a wall. But knowing the man has issues, he decided to just leave him alone for now-

‘I might die tonight’ , He entertained the thought.

After a while of deliberation and moving to lean on the couch, still facing the man who is sitting in the same place, he spoke up a change of plans “I’ll sleep on the floor”

His words were enough to snap Asa out of staring into space and turned his head towards him. He can see it, the slight blush that immediately fades away when the man reacts to his declaration.

“ I have an extra mattress, don’t worry, it’s clean”

Another confused look shot at his direction.

There’s that apprehensiveness again, but now it’s showing in Asa’s voice instead. “Alright..”- the man replied. The type of awkwardness when someone offers you something that will benefit you, but you don’t know if you should accept it because it doesn’t benefit the other person. Faced with a blank stare, Arkin comes up with another offer: “Or. . .You can sleep on the floor. Just choose”

-Asa simply blinked back at Arkin. The fact that the other man cared so much about his comfort, ironically, made Asa uncomfortable. He wasn't used to people caring for him like that.

"The bed's fine," He responded flatly, getting up to head to bed.

He wobbled on his feet for a second, his calves feeling like they had fallen asleep. Arkin straightened his back, and looked like he was ready to run to Asa's side.

"I'm fine," Asa responded shortly, quickly getting his balance back.

"You sure-?"

"Why do you care?" Asa finally asked, nearly snapping.

He can't handle his emotions being played with- he could never handle it. Surely, Arkin was simply messing with him, giving him food and his own bed while he heals. Acting amicably with him- did Arkin know how he felt?

"I told you, I don't know," Arkin responded, defensive.

"Stop lying- just tell me why you saved me in the first place-"

"I ain't fuckin lyin' dude!" Arkin yelled defensively, his accent getting thicker, "If I knew why, you'd be the first to know!"

Asa straightened as well, expecting a fight. Only for Arkin to exhale and turn away, rubbing his forehead.

The two stood in angry silence for a moment. Only for Asa to finally sigh and move his way back to Arkin's bedroom. He knew better than to bite the hand that feeds him- perhaps he should just let it go. For now anyway.

When Arkin heard the door shut, he sighed to himself- maybe he shouldn’t explode at a literal serial killer living under the same roof as him. But hey, Arkin's done plenty of stupid things in his lifetime. He turns back to setting up the extra mattress, trying to keep his mind busy

However, his mind continued back to Asa, and how confused he must be. Which was fair, considering Asa kidnapped and tortured him, and vice-versa.

'Because you feel sorry for him,' A traitorous voice called from the back of his head.

Okay, sure he did. The guy was dealt a shitty hand in life- with an abusive murderer father and being thrown from foster home to foster home. But he didn't excuse all the things Asa did- never.

Though, he'd be lying if he said he didn't see himself in Emory. His own dad was shitty, sure, but he never killed anyone. He just got drunk, terrorised Arkin and his mom and sister, only to just up and leave one night.

Arkin groaned, and headed towards the bathroom. Whatever, he just had to ignore his weird feelings until he thought Asa was well enough to go home.

#sanctuary au #collectkin

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animeyanderelover · 3 years

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You too🥺. The emperor here is aged up.

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessiveness, obsessiveness, controlling behavior, manipulation, brainwashing

Prompt 54: “I don’t mind being a monster as long as I’m your monster.”

A cold shudder was snaking it’s unstoppable way up and down your body, blood feeling like it had stopped flowing a long time ago in your body and tears threatening to spill out of the corner of your eyes as your mother gave you a confused look.

“(y/n), you don’t look really good right now. Are you feeling well?”

You didn’t. Something inside of you was fighting it’s way out of it and you almost swore that you could feel the bile pushing it’s way out of your throat alongside with the tears who were starting to interfere with your clear sight. Words were scrambling themselves into unintelligible sentences, you had too much to answer and say right now. Yet you knew…she wouldn’t believe you. Your own mother wouldn’t believe you. How could she when she was completely blinded by the man calling himself your fiancé?

His sharp gaze felt like it could pierce your skin at any moment, the very silent warning to better not even risk trying a futile attempt to say anything. And as fast as those words were about to linger on your tongue, they died up as you felt yourself shrinking under his mighty eyes, fear quickly whipping you into shape. Instead your eyes instantly dropped down, avoiding to look into their faces. The chance of bursting possibly into tears was too perilous. The slight shaking still made it’s way out of your body as you realized the full weight of what was happening in here.

Feeling the firm yet warm squeezing of Akashi’s hand as he laced his fingers with yours did nothing to help your anxiety, instead it made you feel all the more like wanting to die.

“(y/n) hasn’t felt really well this morning. I apologize, I shouldn’t have taken them out and instead guaranteed that they’d feel better. But they were so excited to see you again, I had a hard time rejecting their wishes. But I think now we should head home, I promise that I’ll nurse them back to health personally.”

He sounded way too smooth with his words and you knew that he could sell his lies perfectly to everyone around him who remained unaware, you had been like this at the beginning as well. Your teeth were sinking into your trembling bottom lip as you were biting it, feeling the horror settling in more and more as you became more and more aware of what this man was capable of.

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen my child the last time, ever since you came, they haven’t had that much time for their father and me anymore. But I know how worried you’d be otherwise and as their mother I don’t want them to be sick in any way.”

She sounded disappointed to let you go so soon again, but you strictly refused to hope that she’d want you to stay longer. You had no real hope left, his overwhelming and ruling power had already sniffed out any real sort of this emotion, but right now he had completely shattered your stability.

“Thank you for your understanding, Misses (l/n). The next time I’ll bring (y/n) over, they’ll be in top shape. Greetings to your husband, it’s a true disappointment that he wasn’t able to take free time.”

The slight yet commanding pulling on your hand which was still intertwined with his automatically managed to bring you back on your two feet, your mind just silently and dejected doing what he wanted you to do. You were utterly devastated, too helpless to reject and so you just obediently let yourself get dragged away from him, croaking out a goodbye to your mother without turning back.

The whole car ride you didn’t speak a single word, your heart and mind unable to cope with this fatal blow you had just received. You felt nothing yet anything at the same time, creating something entirely new in the process. Only subconsciously you noted that Akashi didn’t let go of your hand during the whole time, rubbing soothing circles into your cold skin.

Even leading you gently with one hand on your hips upstairs to your shared bedroom as soon as you two had arrived at his home as of cautious that you might lose strength in your knees and collapse otherwise. It was the last bit of nervously baled strength that kept you from doing so, though you could almost feel this inner fire of yours burning lower and lower until it was on the very verge of extinction. Your knees felt like they were made out of gummy, like you had never had any sort of bones in them to begin with and as you started visibly wobbling the last few steps, you felt the grip on your waist tightening just the tiniest bit to give you enough support.

It was only after you heard him gently closing the door behind you that you finally lost all sort of strength, the slamming of the door working like the last drop needed for a barrel to overflow.

Sobs started to escape your mouth as the tears finally fell down your face, the water feeling like it would boil your cold skin. Your legs finally gave away as you sank down to the wooden and neat floor, feeling the trembles and cries through your entire body.

Some part of you was yelling, roaring and hitting around itself the moment you felt him pulling you into a hug meant to comfort you yet it only served as another dagger plunged into your heart. You despised how he could do such terrible and cruel things to you and the people around yet still acting like he cared and truly loved you.

Worst was that you wholeheartedly bought it, believed that he truly loved you in a way fitting for a self-claimed emperor like him. That was one of many reasons you didn’t fight him and his affection back in that moment even if one part of you wanted to claw at his eyes, to get rid of that cursed golden eye of his that was a bad omen for everyone around him. But you were too weak, too helpless to do so.

Except him you had no one else to comfort you with your pain to top that, Seijūrō never let much people interact with you. Humans needed other humans and contact every once in a while which was why isolation was a very effective torture, one that inflicted harm on you.

“You brainwashed them. How could you? How could you do that to your own parents-in-law, my parents?”

Fragile, like your current condition sounded your voice, about to shatter with every word that you spoke. The image of your mother, her look full with adoration and gratitude towards Akashi as if he had been some sort of saint when in reality he was the devil in disguise. To think that he didn’t shy away from anything to guarantee that he’d always have the last word and tie you to his side was a nightmare from which you couldn’t wake up, forced to live inside of it forever.

“That’s exactly why I had to do this. I respect your parents (y/n) and I want to have a good relationship with them. That’s why I had to do it. I was never planning on harming them permanently, I just wanted them to accept me. I won’t let anything get in between my love for you. If they would have been anyone else than your parents though, I would have dealt differently with them.”

It was completely out of your wildest imaginations how a human could talk so casually about threatening and blackmailing people like it was every day’s business, but Akashi made it sound exactly like it. Like it was nothing at all. The disregard he held for those he deemed as little insects and the way he guaranteed hell for them if they were to test him was enough to clench your stomach whilst your heart hammered against your chest.

Just because they were your parents had he spared them as kindly as he had and yet the consequences had been critical.

“You’re a monster.”, you pressed out, giving it your best to not let fear cause your voice to crack.

The slight chuckle coming shortly after from him had you full on flinching, seemingly not minding what you had just said.

“I don’t mind being a monster as long as I’m your monster. You’re the one who made me this way after all and I love you for it. With that being said, don’t you think that with that it’s also your responsibility to make up for your fault?”

He had bent his head down, a bone chilling stare drilling itself into your very soul, thus paralyzing your entire body. The emotions reflected inside of his orbs made a new urge to cry dwell up inside of you.

“My methods might be indecent from time to time, but I loathe losing more than anything. And you…you are far too precious. I could never lose you. I’d rather rip out my own heart than seeing you living a happy life without me and in the arms of another. Don’t you see in what miserable situation I am in because of you? Thanks to you I’ll never be able to feel content again unless I have you by my side.”

Your heart was pounding so loudly that by now you were terrified that someone from the servants and maids from the household might hear it and the way Akashi had started caressing your hair gently only fueled the dreadful twisting in your stomach.

“But you don’t have to be worried. I’m not an ordinary monster, I’d never truly harm what I hold dear. I know after all how to cherish and love you.”

A doll would have suited that spot better in your opinion.

#yandere kuroko no basuke #yandere kuroko no basket #yandere knb #yandere akashi #yandere seijūrō akashi

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aetherioswrites · 4 years

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This ficlet was inspired by @poxei ’s incredible artwork. Go check out some of her other work! You will not be disappointed. Trigger warning: self-harm.

Sick of My Own Skin

It’s been four hours. Four fucking hours since he’s officially become a Death Eater and he has already killed three people. Draco braces his arms on either side of the basin and heaves deep, gasping breaths, trying to dislodge those sickening images from his mind.

Every time he closes his eyes, he swears that he can still feel Aunt Bella’s rancid breath on his neck, whispering to him to just kill the ‘filthy Muggle scum’ already. He can still see her wicked grin as a jet of green light strikes the young girl first. He can still hear her shriek of glee when he points his wand at the girl’s sobbing parents next. They were just Muggles, he chants to himself like a mantra. Only Muggles.

He looks down at his left forearm, at the serpentine embodiment of death and dark magic marring his flesh, corrupting his skin, his mind, his fucking soul. As if his soul hasn’t been corrupted enough, he chuckles darkly. The coppery stench of blood hangs in the air and bile rises in his throat, hot tears stinging behind his eyelids.

He can’t remember the last time he’d cried. He hadn’t when the Dark Lord performed bout after bout of the Cruciatus Curse on him for his father’s failures. He certainly hadn’t when his ‘master’ dragged the tip of his wand down Draco’s arm, leaving a trail of scorched skin in its wake. And he hadn’t — but had come damn near close — when the black tendrils of the Dark Mark lapped at his flesh like Fiendfyre.

But here, in the confines of his ornate bathroom, he lets his Occlumency walls fall and his tears fall faster. He cries for his mother, his sweet mother, who deserves so much more than this wretched life. He cries for his father, who should be here to help him but is in Azkaban instead. He cries for Albus sodding Dumbledore, who would be dead by the end of the year.

But most of all, he cries for himself because he’s just joined a homicidal cult of sadists who mindlessly devoted their entire lives to serving the darkest wizard of all time. He cries because he has twelve months to figure out how to get said homicidal cult into Hogwarts and kill the Headmaster of his own school.

He glances back at his arm and resentment bubbles within him, replacing the sadness. The raised flesh around the ink is red and itchy and he feels the overwhelming urge to just get rid of it. He pulls out his wand from his robes, levels it at the offending stain on his otherwise porcelain skin, and mutters a Slicing Hex. The skin tears open and Draco watches with disturbing fascination as dark red blood seeps from the gash, dripping to the black marble tiles. He grimaces when the Mark remains clearly distinguishable.

He slashes his wand again and another gash appears, deeper than the first but far shorter. No, that just wouldn’t do. He whispers the incantation once, twice more before his knees buckle and he sinks to the floor, vision blurred. His heart soars in delight when he can no longer make out the outline of the ugly skull and snake. Could it really have been that easy?

“Vulnera Sanentur,” he mumbles, mustering up the last of his energy to cast the healing spell, and his skin stitches itself together. He releases a strangled sob at the sight of the Dark Mark still intact on his mangled forearm. It was foolish to even hope, he knows.

“Draco!” shouts a voice, and he can hardly hear it over the steady pounding in his ears. Narcissa Malfoy scurries into the bathroom and kneels next to her son’s bloodied form, pulling his head into her lap. “What did you do, my Dragon?” she asks, tears welling up in her own eyes.

His heart skips at the name. She hadn’t called him that in years. The last time had been when he was seven years old, after he’d broken his leg in a flying accident. He would give anything to go back to the time when a broken bone was the worst of his worries. “I hate it,” he whispers, eyes darting to his Mark. “I hate this. I hate him.”

Narcissa strokes his hair. “I know,” she says, pressing her lips to his forehead. “I know you do. It’s just a matter of time, my Dragon. It will all be over soon.” Draco, for his part, hopes that she’s right.

#poxei #self harm #draco malfoy #harry potter #draco's dark mark #draco: death eater #fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #narcissa malfoy #year 6 #angst #war

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starrybethany · 3 years

Text

I’m Sure - Adam Boqvist Imagine Part 3

Word count: 4.2K

Part 1

Part 2

Part 4

Part 5

He looks like the perfect mix of Adam and me. But ever since he started growing his blonde hair out, he’s started to look more like Adam. Sometimes when Holden isn’t acting like a grown up and he allows me to cuddle with him and run my hand through his hair, it brings me back to the times I’ve done the same thing with Adam.

I can’t help but feel flashes of guilt in those moments. He’s shown no interest in his father, but I feel the urge to tell him about him. I don’t want him to get hurt by never having a relationship with his father, but I also don’t want to push him to have a relationship with his father just to get hurt. I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Now is one of those rare times when he lets me hold him like I did when he was a baby. I convinced him to watch a movie with me, one of those cheesy Pixar films that I know that he loves. He looks up at me from between my arms, staring up at me with eyes that match my mother’s.

When he was born and opened his eyes for the first time, I was secretly relieved that his eyes didn’t match Adam’s. I just knew it would hurt to have to see a mini-Adam every day. But Holden’s eyes being the same as my mother’s hurt just slightly less than it would if they looked like Adam’s, considering I haven’t talked to my mother in over a decade after a rough childhood. It’s part of the reason that when I decided to keep Holden, I knew I had to go all in and do everything I could to provide for him and give him the best life possible.

“Mom, where did you live before you moved to Colorado?” He questions. Even though he’s lived in Philadelphia most of his life, he’s seen the photos of his toddler self cradled in my arms, the Rocky Mountains decorating the background.

“Chicago,” I answer.

“And why did you move from Chicago?”

My chest tightens at the question, but I shrug nonchalantly. I can’t just say hey kid, I was trying to escape your father. Then he would have more questions and I would put a preconceived idea of his father in his head before he even met him.

“I needed a change in scenery,” I decide on instead. It’s the truth, I did choose to go to Colorado over other states because Alex and Dylan used to show me photos of how beautiful it is.

“And what did you do in Chicago?”

“What is this, twenty questions?” I laugh.

“I’m trying to get to know you,” Holden responds.

“I’m your mother, how are you trying to get to know me?” I tickle him, causing him to giggle. “I worked for the Chicago Blackhawks as a suites advisor.”

“The hockey team?” He furrows his eyebrows. I nod. “Whoa, that’s cool. How the hell did you get that job?”

“Language,” I warn him. “I did an internship with them my senior year of college and got the job offered to me when I graduated.”

“Oh,” he yawns, snuggling closer to me. “That’s sick, mom.”

I laugh, kissing the top of his head. “Yes, it is sick.”

I pour the mixed eggs into the pan, waiting for them to sizzle. A wave of nausea suddenly hits me, and I grab onto the edge of the counter, trying to balance myself and swallow the bile that threatens to come up my throat.

I take deep breaths through my nose but that only makes it worse as I smell the scrambled eggs over and over again. I move the pan off of the stove and quickly turn it off, rushing out through the front door to take in gulps of fresh air.

Unfortunately, as soon as I open my mouth, everything that I ate last night comes up.

“Are you okay, honey?” A tender voice calls out.

I look over to see my neighbors, a kind elderly couple, staring at me with concern from their front stoop.

“I’m fine,” I choke out, trying to hide my red cheeks behind my hair. “Probably just the stomach bug that’s been going around.”

They nod, obviously not believing the answer but deciding not to push it. I ignore the little voice in my head telling me that the last time I was this sensitive to the smell of scrambled eggs, an embryo was growing in me.

I enter the house again, seeing Holden planted on the couch in front of the TV. He watches with a questioning expression as I dump the eggs into the trashcan, practically throwing the dirty pan into the sink.

I turn to my son. “New plan, we’re having cereal for breakfast.”

“Holden!” I throw his bedroom door open in excitement, totally forgetting our golden rule of privacy.

“Mom,” he exclaims in shock, turning his phone off and flipping it over so the screen is face down on his desk. “Have you ever heard of knocking?”

“Sorry,” I apologize, knowing better. He’s getting to the age of porn and masturbation and that is the last thing that I want to walk in on- having the birds and the bees talk with him was hard enough.

When I found out that I was having a boy and not a girl, that was one thing that I was not looking forward to. And it was just as bad as I thought it was going to be…

“What are you doing home this early?” He glances at the clock.

“Oh, yeah, that’s what I wanted to tell you!” I grin wildly, remembering the reason that I rushed into his bedroom in the first place. “I slept in this morning, like I totally missed my alarm and even when I woke up after ten hours of sleep, I was still exhausted. Anyways, I called work and they told me that it was slow, so I decided to take the whole day off and then I went back to sleep for four hours. When I woke up I went to Target to get some groceries but they have that Starbucks inside and I’ve been meaning to try two different drinks lately and I just decided to try them both and-“”Now you’re completely energized,” he gives me a look of amusement. “Yeah, I can tell.”

“Let’s go out for dinner tonight,” I initiate, “We can go to that cute new restaurant downtown that I meant to try with Winston.”

“Sure, mom,” he rolls his eyes but slowly rises from his bed.

“Oh, and just remember, real sex is never like porn,” I tell him before closing his door behind me.

I can still hear his whine of, “Mom!”

“I think I’m going to try the chicken alfredo,” I announce, closing the menu with my order picked out.

“You always get that,” Holden points out.

“And? It’s always good. If it’s not broken, don’t fix it,” I shrug, taking a sip from my cup of Pepsi.

I take a moment to look at my new surroundings. This is the type of restaurant that Winston would love. He loves restaurants that have the brick interior- he always used to say that restaurants that looked like this had the best food.

Maybe I made a mistake breaking up with him. I mean, all he was asking was for me to be honest with him about my feelings. He was trying to do was build a future with me and Holden. Plus, Holden liked him. He’s getting to that age where he might not like all of my boyfriends, shouldn’t I hold onto one that he does like?

“So,” Holden coughs, causing my eyes to snap back to him. He looks uncomfortable, like he doesn’t want to say what he’s about to say or ask what he’s about to ask. “I have to do a project for school on my parents’ lineage. I know all of your stuff, but what about my dad’s?”

I pause, my eyes laser focused on the boy sitting in front of me. He needs to know. But is he asking because he wants to know or because of this school project? Will this school project lead to more questions about his father? I obviously have to tell him the truth, but I wish I would have prepared myself more for this. I could’ve given myself a pep talk in the mirror before having to tell Holden all about his father.

It’s my turn to cough awkwardly. “He’s one hundred percent Swedish.”

“Swedish,” he repeats, nodding. “Okay.”

I freeze. Is that really all he wanted to know? “Do you want a name or something?”

“No,” he shakes his head, drinking from his cup now. “I’m good.”

I nod silently, not knowing what else to say. If he doesn’t want to learn more about his dad, I’m not going to force him. I just hope this project doesn’t bring out some feelings of resentment towards his father or me.

I shift on my feet, trying to sooth the searing pain without actually taking my shoes off to give myself a foot massage. But boy, what I would do for a good foot massage right now.

Lia and Rachel giggle to each other and I smile at them fondly, remembering when I was their age and working to be able to my college tuition.

“Lia, I ordered you two more shirts,” I inform the young girl, leaning against the counter to ease the pressure on my feet.

“Thanks, Y/N,” she flashes me a smile. “Hey, what time does the new girl start work today?”

I give her a confused expression. “What new girl?”

“Didn’t Tiffany say anything to you?” Now her expression morphs into one of confusion. “She popped in a couple of days ago and said that she hired another employee and that she was going to start Tuesday, today.”

I fight back the scowl that begs to come out and bite back the nasty words I want to say about the owner. She’s been a shitty owner for as long as I’ve worked here, and this is a good example. A new employee starts today and she’s nowhere in sight.

“She must’ve forgotten to mention it to me,” I settle on saying. I make small talk with the two, catching up on their studies and what they’re doing in their free time. I like to hear about their time in college, it reminds me of all of the all-nighters I used to pull and the times I would leave fraternity houses completely obliterated. Of course, I’m not gonna tell these girls that.

A small girl, younger than Lia and Rachel, appears in front of the counter with a shy look on her face. I recognize the expression as one that the two girls had on their first day here, so I give her a big smile and ask, “Hi! Are you the new employee?”

“Yeah, my name is Marcella,” she introduces herself. I introduce myself to her and usher her behind the counter, giving her an apron with a new nametag on it and show her a couple of things on the machines.

“But I don’t want to overwhelm you on your first day, so you can just observe us today and try it tomorrow, okay?” I request. She nods, a relieved smile on her face. “I’m going to go to the back and grab you some extra shirts that we have until we can order some for you.”

As I shuffle through the boxes in the back, trying to find some that would fit the small girl, I can hear the three talking in the front of the café.

“Is she the owner?” Marcella asks in a hushed tone.

“No, she’s the supervisor, but she might as well be the owner because she does everything the owner should be doing,” Rachel responds. I smile at her answer, glad that someone is seeing the hard work that I put in around here.

“Is she, like, chill?” Marcella questions.

“Oh, she’s very chill. Like you can be on your phone, she doesn’t care, she’s on her phone all of the time too,” Lia says.

“But she’s on her phone because she has a kid,” Rachel points out, “You’re on your phone because you’re Snapchatting the boy that you’ve been talking to for the past four months.”

The three girls giggle with each other as I emerge from the back, two shirts in my hand. My eyes immediately take in Marcella, who’s phone is grasped in her hand now.

That’s not what catches my attention. What catches my attention is her phone case. Tommy Hawk stares back at me with a “miss me?” look on his stupid bird face.

“You a Blackhawks fan?” I try to keep my tone casual as I set the shirts down on the counter next to her, turning to occupy my hands with a spray bottle and a rag.

“Yeah, are you?” She inquires.

I swallow the lump in my throat that appears with the question. Act cool, act casual. She doesn’t know anything about your past, none of the girls do. “No, not really a hockey fan. Just used to live in Chicago and would see the logo everywhere.”

It’s not a lie.

“It is everywhere,” she giggles.

“Well, now you’re going to have to be a Flyers fan,” I give her a smile, hoping she doesn’t see through it to my anxiety.

And when Lia begins to talk about how the guy she’s been talking to is a big Flyers fan, I feel relief flood through my body that I’ve made it through this conversation and into the clear.

I’ve been avoiding this for two weeks now. I can’t even remember when Adam and I had sex, but I remember the symptoms from eleven years ago. Swollen feet. Sensitive breasts. Aversions to certain foods- like scrambled eggs. God, I feel like throwing up just at the thought.

But I can’t avoid it forever. I need something to confirm or deny my beliefs. And now, instead of sitting on the shitty toilet in my loft in Chicago, I’m sitting on the toilet that actually works in my condo in Philadelphia.

Time has gone by, but I somehow find myself in this situation yet again. Instead of two tests balancing on the edge of the sink basin, there’s three tests sitting on paper towel on the counter.

I feel less nervous this time than I was when I found out that I was pregnant with Holden. I mean, now I know that I’m a good mom, I’m a good mom to Holden. Sure, I’m not in the best place financially still, but I could find a way to make it work- I did the first time around.

But before I make all of these decisions, I need to find out if I’m even pregnant first.

My phone alarm goes off and I quickly turn it off, taking a deep breath. The nerves start to set in, and I bite my lip in fear.

No matter what happens, I’ll figure it out.

I rise with shaky legs, turning to stand in front of the counter, my eyes meeting the mirror. Slowly, they move down to the three electronic tests.

Positive. Positive. Positive.

Fuck. I run a hand through my hair, lifting my gaze to stare at myself in the mirror. I’m going to be a mom again. I haven’t been a mom to a newborn in twelve years, will I even remember what it’s like to change poppy diapers and make a bottle? I’m older now- not that old- but still, will I want to wake up several times throughout the night to feed an infant?

I mean, at least in Colorado I had a steady boyfriend who willingly shared those shifts with me. Now it’d be me by myself. I’m sure I could get Holden to pitch in every once in a while- shit, Holden.

How the hell am I supposed to tell my twelve-year-old son that I’m knocked up? It’s embarrassing enough to be in middle school, but to have your mom be pregnant will make it all the more humiliating. And the age gap is going to be thirteen years, they’ll have nothing in common with each other. What the hell am I supposed to tell him when he asks me who the father is?

Guess what, kiddo? You two have the same biological father! “Mom,” the kid in question calls out from the other side of the bathroom door.

“Uh, just a minute, buddy,” I stutter, quickly shoving the tests into one of the cabinet drawers, burying it under some pads. He doesn’t go in my master bathroom in the first place, but if he did, I wouldn’t want him to find out about the pregnancy before I could tell him myself.

I throw the paper towel into the trash can and open the door breathlessly, the blonde on the other side of the door giving me a questioning look.

“Uh, you okay, mom?”

“I’m fine,” I answer, exiting the bathroom and plopping down on my bed, patting the spot next to me for him to take a seat. He does. “What’s up?”

“I want to ask you something,” he begins, picking at his overgrown fingernails. It’s his nervous habit, I’ve picked up on it over the past twelve years but haven’t said anything about it. I don’t want him to know that I realize it because then he can hide his emotions from me.

“Okay,” I nod encouraging.

“There’s this programming camp this summer, in Chicago, that I’d like to go to,” he stutters through.

My heart races at the thought of my baby boy in Chicago by himself. He’s grown up a lot in the past couples of months and I know that he’ll grow in the time that he has before he goes to the camp, but I can’t help but feel anxious at the thought of my son with no one to watch him in a big city like Chicago.

“It’s in June, and it’s only for two weeks,” he continues quickly.

“Honey... that’s in a month and a half,” I point out, “It’s kind of last minute to be bringing this up to me, don’t you think?”

“I know, mom, but I didn’t think I wanted to do it and I started thinking about it more and then I realized I really want to do it,” he pleads.

“I didn’t realize you were really into computer programming,” I state softly. If I don’t know about something that my son is so clearly passionate about, am I really that good of a mother?

“Yeah, well, it’s a, um, recent development.”

I nod. “Okay. We’ll sign you up for this camp tonight and then we’ll start getting you ready.”

“Thanks, mom!” He launches himself into my arms and I giggle with surprise, not ready for the sudden action. Nonetheless, I hug him back, cherishing the feeling of my older child in my arms.

“I love you, Holden.”

“I love you, too, mom.”

Later that night I lay in bed, darkness filling my room. As soon as Holden left my room earlier to play video games, I pulled out my phone, scheduling an appointment with my doctor to confirm the pregnancy and see how far along I am.

I reach over for my phone, opening Instagram. Adam’s follow request still sits there, untouched. It’s been weeks now, so I doubt that he remembers that he even sent it. Hell, I don’t even post that often, so if I confirmed it, he would barely be able to tell that he’s following me.

But do I confirm it for my son and our future, second child together? Do I message him and tell him that I’m 99% sure that he’s going to be a dad again?

I mean, his track record so far tells me that I shouldn’t do that. He doubted paternity when I told him that I was pregnant with Holden and basically told me to get rid of the baby. He didn’t bother to contact me for thirteen years, and when we did come into contact again, accidentally, he didn’t mention Holden at all or ask about him.

That tells me he’s still not ready to become a parent. It’s been over a decade and he hasn’t come to terms that he’s a dad and that he needs to step up and be there for his child- or children, now.

And I may be a bitch, but I don’t want to give him a chance to hurt this second baby. Even though Holden’s never shown any interest in getting to know Adam, what if this second child does?

What if this baby reaches out to Adam just to get told “sorry, I don’t want you and I never did.” I can’t imagine how much my heart would break for my child if that were to happen. So, with pain radiating in my heart, I decline Adam’s follow request. I’ve gone through one pregnancy without him, I can go through another.

Day by day, it’s getting harder to hide my pregnancy from Holden. I wanted to wait as long as I could, or at least until twelve weeks when I know it’s less likely to lose the baby, to tell him that I’m pregnant. I was eight weeks along when I found out but now, I’m fourteen weeks, beginning to show.

I’ve noticed that with this pregnancy I started showing a lot sooner than I did with Holden. My doctor told me that’s normal, that my uterus is already stretched out, so the baby already has space to grow.

I’ve been wearing baggy sweatshirts and T-shirts for weeks now, but I don’t think Holden’s caught on yet.

I stare at myself in the mirror, a prominent bump sticking out from my stomach. I can tell it’s only going to be days until I have to begin telling people about the baby, but I don’t have a few days with Holden.

I drop him off at the airport early tomorrow morning for his flight to Chicago. All he’s ben raving about for the past month and a half has been this computer programming camp- honestly, most of it goes over my head, but I smile whenever he talks about it to me because he gets so enthusiastic.

After seeing him lock himself in his room to play video games all day for months, it’s nice to see him be so passionate about something.

And I hate to tell him such big news right before he leaves for his camp, but if I don’t tell him now, he’ll definitely find out with his own eyes when he gets back.

I drop my shirt, walking hesitantly into the hallway and knocking on his bedroom door.

“Come in,” he calls out.

I open the door to find him hurriedly shoving shirts and shorts into his suitcase that’s laying on his bed.

“Hey, fold those properly so that you have more room in your suitcase,” I advise, taking some shirts from the luggage and folding it into a neat pattern. “And pack some pants, Chicago can still be chilly in June.”

“Okay,” he murmurs, rushing over to his dresser and pulling his pants drawer open.

“I want to talk to you about something,” I tell him, eyes focused on his back.

He freezes in his spot, a pair of black jeans in one hand and a pair of blue jeans in the other. “Okay?”

“Come sit with me.”

He slowly moves over towards me, sitting on the other side of his suitcase. “Okay.”

I take a deep breath, looking him in the eye. “I’m pregnant.”

“O-Okay.”

“Can you say something other than okay?” I question, throwing my hands up in frustration. “Well, is it, is it Winston’s?”

I shake my head, biting my lip.

“How far along are you?”

I squint in confusion, unsure of the sudden change from the questioning of paternity to how far along I am. “Fourteen weeks.”

“Do you know the sex yet?”

“No, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to find that out at all,” I admit.

“I think we should find that out when I get back from the camp, together,” he responds nonchalantly, folding a T-shirt laying on the bed.

I can’t help but feel surprised. I thought he would be shocked, upset, angry, I don’t know, but have a stronger reaction than the one that he’s giving me. I guess this camp really is putting him in a good mood, though. It makes me worried of what his reaction is going to be when he returns to Philadelphia after Chicago.

Will he still have that casual approach, or will it finally hit him that it won’t just be the two of us?

“So, you’re okay with it?” I confirm.

“Yeah. It’s about time we get some change around here.”

I chuckle at that, reaching for another shirt to fold. “Yeah, well, we’re about to get a whole lot of change.”

Please fill out this form on what you want the sex of baby #2 to be!!

#adam boqvist #adam boqvist imagine #adam boqvist x reader #Chicago Blackhawks imagine #NHL imagines

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olivinesea · 3 years

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A Mixed Blessing

chapter one: never watered down

a/n: Big warning on this: child abuse, vomit, alcohol. Believe me, I don’t feel great about it. But needs must be. ~2.2k

He’d never been asked to pinpoint when it started but if pressed he’d probably identify one particular night in the house he grew up in. That house, never a home, was full of memories that could have tipped the scales, started him stumbling down the path he later found himself on. But, no, upon examination there was, without question, one night that started it all.

That night, like most nights, his dad had fallen asleep with an open bottle beside him. With a child’s lack of foresight, Aaron crept close and brought it to his lips recklessly. The liquid made him cough, lungs burning with the harsh fumes that curled up into his sinuses. Undeterred, he took a smaller sip. It tasted foul but he was driven by an unrelenting curiosity to know what it felt like. He had observed the difference in his father’s behavior from when he came home tense and bitter to the point where he was passed out in front of the TV, his face smoothed of any expression. A few more sips and it began to go down a little easier. Mr. Hotchner shifted in his sleep, muttering something under his breath. Aaron slipped away and, without thinking about it, took the bottle with him.

Back in his room, he sat on the floor at the foot of his bed. Tucked in the small space between bed and wall he was just out of sight of the door. The world swam around him as he reached the bottom of the bottle. His eyes felt heavy. The bottle tipped over and he laid on his side so he was parallel to it. He giggled as he rolled it back and forth, the last sip sliding along the inner curve. He tried to roll it fast enough for the liquid to meet itself in the chase. For once he felt warm and slow, so slow. His senses normally on high alert, he was like a rabbit twitching at every sound but right now everything felt loose and distant.

He rolled the bottle too hard and it slipped out of reach. He stretched out an arm but it was too heavy to move. Instead he just let his arm drop to the floor. His stomach rolled unpleasantly as he watched the bottle come to a stop under the bed. He curled around himself, closing his eyes and breathing through his nose. To distract himself from the sudden nausea, he tried to go through his times tables. He had learned them a couple years ago in school but he always struggled to keep them straight. It had been the cause of more than one argument around the dining table. His father, who never had difficulty with numbers, insisted it was stupidity or, worse, laziness, on Aaron’s part that prevented him from being competent at math. He knew he should be able to do this, most kids in his class could recite these facts without a second thought. But for some reason, the numbers felt unmanageable, even at eleven years old. He knew there was something wrong with him, but there was so much wrong with him he wasn’t sure where his inability with math fell on the scale of his insufficiencies. It was impossible to understand how these things came so easily to others. It was the same sort of impossible as imagining himself as an adult, only a few years from now, less time than he’s been alive already. If time was to be believed, in seven years he would be eighteen and free.

He fell asleep somewhere in the six times table. He threw up on himself in the middle of the night, barely conscious as it happened. Unable to move as it made a mess down his shirt and pooled on the floor beneath his chin. He hadn’t eaten much so it was mostly a thin sort of bile at least. A small blessing.

Sometime before dawn rough fingers grabbed him around the back of the neck, dragging him from his hiding place. He had a hard time focusing his eyes but the anger was too familiar to miss. His head hurt, his stomach hurt, as his blood pulsed hotly through his dehydrated body. He couldn’t help the frightened tears that began to run down his cheeks. He was too disoriented to comprehend the insults, the curses being directed at him. His father shook him hard before throwing him down on the rough carpet. From here Aaron could see the worn cuffs of his father’s pants. He must have slept in his chair because he was still wearing his clothes from the night before.

“You think you can steal from me?”

Those words came through clearly enough. Aaron started to panic as his dad pulled his shirt up, enough that his small back was exposed as he tried to crawl away. He couldn’t see anything, the fabric bunched around his head, arms trapped uselessly by his ears. His breathing quickened, causing the spot where he’d gotten sick on himself to draw close against his mouth and nose, setting off a wave of nausea. Aaron cried helplessly for his mother as his father let his anger out in lashes against his pale skin. He made himself as small as he could, the wet shirt getting caught in his mouth as he screamed. The taste made him retch but there was nothing in his stomach so he was left choking on coughs that seared through his chest.

He could never gauge how long the beatings lasted. Always longer than he had the energy to cry for. He grew still and quiet while his father continued to strike him. But the hits came slower, the pauses between each one lengthening as his breathing became labored. That kind of fury wan’t meant to be sustained. Once tired of the action, he aimed a final kick at his son and cursed as he walked away, belt hanging loose from his fist. In the doorway he yelled for his wife, who hadn’t been drawn to Aaron’s room despite his begging for her.

Aaron lay motionless, gasping, his body painfully stiff as he waited for his father to leave. As soon as the man was gone, he clawed at the shirt to pull it the rest of the way off and pushed himself backwards under the bed as far as he could get. Tears still ran down his face, though his emotions had settled into numbness, his body reacted automatically to the hurt. His foot bumped against the empty bottle, making it roll a little. He kicked it, a burst of anger tensing his muscles, and it spun away, crashing against the corner of the dresser. He froze at the sound of shattering glass, a whimper he couldn’t suppress escaping his mouth. He prayed the noise wouldn’t bring his father back. Shivering now, he buried his head in his arms, muffling any more sounds he couldn’t control and tried to hear the warning of returning footsteps.

He stayed there, tucked into the dusty darkness, listening to the sounds of the house: his father showering, his mother making breakfast. He didn’t attempt to move until he was sure his dad had gone for the day. He started to slide out but then an overwhelming fear that he would return suddenly immobilized him. He shrank back again. He was hungry, thirsty, he had to go to the bathroom but he was just too afraid to move. He remained there for a long time, forever it felt like, before he heard soft footsteps moving through the hallway. Logically he knew that it wasn’t his father but his hands shook with fear anyway.

His mother’s feet came into view, approaching the bed. She knelt down, dress tucked under her knees. “Aaron?”

He held his breath.

“Aaron, baby, come out.” She leaned down to look under the bed. As her eyes adjusted to the dark she saw him, half dressed, eyes wide and and circled by dark shadows. Her concerned expression shifted, a flicker of anger appeared but was gone in a flash, a match too easily blown out.

“Come on,” she held out a slender hand, palm up in supplication. He looked at it, unmoving. Where had she been when he was screaming for her? Hadn’t she heard? Why hadn’t she come looking sooner? Everything hurt, outside and in. His own anger burned through him, resentment driving him to action. He ignored her hand, instead pulling himself out on his elbows, putting as much space between them as possible. She remained on her knees as she looked at him. They were almost the same height positioned like this, his head slightly above hers in a preview of their future height difference. He wrapped his arms around his bruised and sticky chest, glaring at her. Upright, the blood drained away from his face, his balance became uneven and he swayed a little. She watched him adjust his feet, her hands useless in her lap after he’d ignored her offer. She was afraid to touch him.

She pursed her lips. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

He narrowed his eyes.

“You know I can’t help you. You have to be smarter than that.” Her voice was apologetic, though her words were not. All he could think about though was the way his throat felt raw from the sickness and the screaming and how she’d left him there alone for so long. She was the adult, she was supposed to take care of him. He was too wrapped up in his anger to see the grey bruises on her neck, to be aware of the contradiction between her long sleeves and the warm sunlight beginning to stream through the window. She sighed and rolled back onto her heels to stand up, picking up his dirty shirt.

“I’ll run you a bath, come on.”

He chewed his lip, watching her leave the room, wanting to disobey if only to make things difficult.

“You’re going to be late for school,” she called from the hallway.

He followed reluctantly, every movement sending fire racing across his back, every step unsteady. He hissed as he sank into the hot water but once he was submerged, it reminded him of the warmth the liquor had infused through him. The haze had softened the world with unconcern. He closed his eyes to remember the feeling better, only a few hours ago he had felt weightless. He wanted that back. With his eyes closed, he missed how his mother’s tears dripped into the bathwater, mixing seamlessly with the soap bubbles and steam.

He rested his cheek on his arms, folded on top of his pulled in knees. His mouth hung open slightly because he couldn’t breathe through his nose, still too congested from crying. He could almost fall asleep if it weren’t for the stinging pain that he couldn’t quite push away from his consciousness.

As the water swirled pink, his mother’s expression tightened while she brushed the washcloth against him as softly as she could. The cuts from the leather were shallow, not a serious injury, weaving across old scabs, older scars. There were fine pale lines alongside thicker ones, the pink shine of new skin. It made her want to scream, to run away but she knew that wasn’t fair to him. She couldn’t protect him from the man, she couldn’t protect either of them. But she could at least help him now. So she stifled her tears as best she could. Once his back was cleaned of dried blood, his chest freed of dirt and vomit, she pet his head softly. Her fingers brushed back the thick dark hair, the dampness causing it to curl slightly at the ends. It was too long again.

He looked at her with sleepy eyes, all his anger gone. He was just a little boy who wanted to be held by his mom, the only person he could remember ever touching him lovingly. Maybe not as much now, less and less as he got older, as his father’s disapproval of him grew. But he remembered, distantly, moments of safety in her arms. He wanted that so desperately right now.

“Can I stay home, Mama?”

She wanted to say yes so badly but that was how rumors started. She would do anything to avoid that suspicion, even if it meant rejecting her son. Someday he would understand, she reasoned.

“You’re not sick Aaron, you have to go to school,” she did her best to sound firm, businesslike.

Disappointed but unsurprised, he knew better than to argue or pout, just looked down at the dirty bathwater. She got his towel and dried him off as gently as possible. He whimpered a few times when the towel met particularly raw patches. Each pained little sound tore at her heart.

“Go get dressed.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He felt sluggish as he pulled on his clothes—the loosest darkest shirt he could find. It wasn’t hard, none of his clothes fit. They were all bought several sizes too large in the expectation that he would grow but that had yet to happen. His mother promised him it would happen soon but he had a hard time believing her. He had a hard time believing he would survive long enough to see himself grown.

chapter two

#criminal minds #tw child abuse #tw vomit #tw alcohol #aaron hotchner #young hotch #a mixed blessing

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bakubitch-minusultra · 3 years

Text

Not Alone: Chapter Five

-> an apocalyptic series with bnha characters but without quirks because im the writer and i can do whatever the fuck i want :P this chapter has more shit in it lol

-> Word Count: 2.9k

-> Warnings: blood, violence, guns, descriptive shit abt the infected peeps

-> Taglist: @5sosfckss @laudthingcat [if you wanna be added lmk <3]

Hades whined. He never whined much but he sensed it. Y/n couldn’t look back. The sickening feeling that was creeping around inside of her grew with every step she took. The cabin was a parent, a hug, a haven. It was the only thing she had from before. Turning her back on it felt like hurting herself. Every step she took was a betrayal to her soul.

“We’ll come back Y/n.”

Y/n looked over at Mina. She wanted to scratch her eyes out and roast her flesh over a spit. Y/n knew her face expressed that. She knew because of the way Mina winced when she met her eyes. Hades rubbed against Y/n’s side, his back up to her hip bones. She rested her fingers in his coat. She lightly gripped his fur, as if holding onto him would ground her and she would get back to her semblance of her safety.

Fingers brushed her arm and then squeezed and suddenly Y/n is pulled back into an embrace. She wanted to fight against it but the warmth overwhelmed her. She couldn’t fight her tears and Kirishima at the same time so she just let him hug her.

“Y/n we’ll come back one day. We didn’t hide all that food for nothing. It and the wood and the supplies will be here when we come back.”

Y/n pushed his body away and craned her neck to look up into his dark red eyes, “Don’t you see? We can never come back. This is always going to be a place that’s watched. They won’t stop until we’re all working the farms.”

His eyes grew passionate, “We erased all of the signs of life. Give it time. Not that many places have a functioning well Y/n. We can’t afford to just ignore it.”

She wanted to push him away, but a funny thing was happening to her skin when he touched it. It was just like the books she read. He made her swoon and shiver simultaneously. He frustrated her.

She shook her head and tore from his grip, “Look, we need to get going.”

The path down the mountain wasn’t her favorite hike, but today she felt distracted. She walked quickly, listening to the forest sounds. Hades seemed content. His sloppy wolf face was a great indicator of what’s what in the forest.

“Mina, remember the second house your dad hid us at?” Mina ignored him and Y/n wished that she could do the same. “I think it was near here. Remember it had the pool and we swam in it to get clean.” Y/n glanced at her, Mina’s jaw was set. But Kirishima looked oblivious, “God then we found that pantry full of food. Cherry pie filling on toast made on the barbeque was my favorite.”

Y/n imagined the cherry pie filling for half a second before catching a glimpse of Hades in her peripheral. He was crouched with his hackled up and stalked into the long grass. Y/n imitated him and crouched low and Mina followed along. Not from watching Y/n but from seeing Hades. Her eyes haven’t left him.

“What?”

Y/n groaned, “Get down.” Kirishima ducked along with the two girls, but he was too large to actually be able to hide in the grass. She raised an eyebrow at Mina who rolls her eyes. It made Y/n snicker; she’s never actually snickered before.

“How are you still alive?” Y/n whispered.

Mina laughed quietly, “Pure luck. Not even kidding.”

Y/n glanced back at a red-faced Kirishima and smirked.

“Nice to see you have an actual personality Y/n.”

She stuck her tongue out at him until she heard it.

The high moan.

Y/n felt her eyes close in fear and disappointment. She thought one of them were going to die. Whoever couldn’t run fast enough would die.

Hades looked back at Y/n for a second and she could see the worry. He crept forward along the grass and Y/n licked her finger and put it in the wind. The breeze was behind them, meaning it was carrying their smell down the hill. The infected were like survivors that just don’t seem to die. They hunted like animals.

Mina licked her lips and Y/n could see the worry and fear cross her face. Her heartbeat was pounding in her neck and Y/n could watch it increase. Mina looked around and pointed to the trees behind them. But Y/n shook her head. Climbing a tree only puts you a tree surrounded by the infected.

“The river,” Y/n whispered.

Kirishima looked at Y/n with a confused look, “How far?”

“A mile.”

“Y/n your leg and mine won’t make it outrunning the infected for a whole mile.”

Y/n sighed, she knew he was right. But she didn’t have any other ideas. She pulled one of her guns out of her pack and passed it to Kirishima and looked him in the eyes.

“Don’t shoot unless you have to. Don’t shoot me or yourself either.”

Mina took the rifle with the scope, which she had grown fond of, and took the right flank. Hades stalked down the middle of the field and Y/n took left. They left Kirishima on the hillside. His injuries were worse than Y/n’s. The bullet never made its way very far into her leg. The new stitches, lavender and tea tree oil made it heal faster.

She looked back at Kirishima’s red head of hair poking out of the long grass and sighed. He was too big to even try to hide. Y/n was sure that he would be the death of them all. She knew she would leave them if she had to. She forced herself into that agreement. No matter what happened, her father didn’t die so she could waste her life on strangers.

But they didn’t feel like strangers anymore.

She focused her thoughts and scanned the grassy and thin forest.

Bile rose up her throat when she saw them. They were slumped over something. They looked disgusting and diseased, even from the distance Y/n was at. One shoved the other and the high pitch moan shrieked out across the emptiness. Y/n felt the walls of fear closing in on her. She saw a hand come up and down on whatever they had on the group. One of them was striking it. It was still alive. Whatever it was, was sick now, infected like them. They were the closest thing to zombies. They were human but lived with the sickness in a way that could never be considered survival. Their skin was covered in sores, open and scabbed over. Their hair was falling out where sores had taken over their scalps. They cry tears of blood like in the fantasy movies Y/n watched when she was younger. The first thing the virus destroyed was the throat. The high moan was from the scarring in the throat and the brain damage the high fever caused.

She looked toward Mina and hoped that she wasn’t scared. But she quickly forced the thought from her mind and looked back at the infected dinner party. The last time she worried about either of them she got shot.

Y/n pulled her mask from back pocket and slid it over her face. It wasn’t a guarantee but it was better than a gamble.

It was another rule Y/n had. She wore it whenever they were around. The virus should have died out years ago but the ones who got sick after it mutated survived, if you could call it that. They were contagious but didn’t seem to die, no matter how sick their bodies got. There weren’t many of them left but somehow they still managed to ruin lives.

Y/n counted the heads, seven. Not mentioning the one on the ground, if it was human. It could be an animal. The infected had no sense. They attacked anything that moves. Their hunger was too great. Y/n’s seen them attack a bush on a windy day.

Y/n knew that she could take down at least three before they got close enough to make reloading her bow a gamble. She didn’t like gambles. She knew Mina had a pocket full of bullets, but she would be forced to trust that Mina could shoot them before they got to her. That too felt like a gamble when she thought about it.

She felt stuck, like her back was against a wall. She knew Hades could take down at least one. Together they could guarantee four. It still didn’t feel safe enough. She turned back and looked at the hill behind her. She wanted to go home. She wanted to climb the hill and get into her own and lock the world out. Again, she regretted opening the stupid door. She should have left them. She should have left him in that stupid hole.

Y/n was about to run and whistle when she looked at Kirishima once more. He winked at her and grinned. Her stomach started to do the hurting twinge thing. Her lips grin back, she never told them to do that. They seemed to be making choices for themselves.

She pulled the arrow back and sited in the largest one. She felt the gusts of wind and the cycle they seemed to come in. A large gust hit and then left spaces in the air until the next one. She exhaled and released the arrow. He had dark brown hair and a swollen face. He was a man once. But she turned her heart off to him and reloaded instantly.

She felt the next gust of wind and fired, compensating for it. The arrow sliced into a matted head of dark blonde locks. She reloaded, ignoring the ticklish feeling on her cheeks. The infected had noticed two were down. They turned their faces around, searching. Her next arrow hit the milky eye of an older one. The remaining four stood up and began to make the squeal. She cringed, and knew that the sound would haunt her for weeks.

Her next arrow hit the one pointing at her. She dropped the second it slid through her open mouth. She felt a shiver at the sight and reloaded as the remaining three shriek and start their mad dash toward her.

She was able to drop another one before turning and running for the nearest tree. She wanted to run the other way. She wanted to run into the hills and leave them but her feet wouldn’t listen to her. Her legs wouldn’t make it far with a bullet hole in it. The long grass tangled in her feet and pulled at her and the burn in her leg tried to convince her to stop running.

“Y/n. Y/n.” She ignored the voice and continued to run. She could feel the panic rising.

“Y/n they’re all dead.”

She reached the bark of a huge tree and pulled herself up onto a branch just using her arms. She’s practiced this. She looked down at the only two people standing in the grass who were looking at her like she was crazy. But Hades paces. He understood. They’ve run from them many times.

Kirishima approached the tree limping slightly. He put his hands out like he was scared of her, “Y/n they’re all dead.”

“How?”

Mina beamed up at her, “I shot them. I waited for them to run to you and then dropped them all instantly.”

“You? You killed them?”

Mina tilted her head, “You still don’t trust us to help you?”

“I’m stuck.”

Kirishima stood below the huge branch and put his arms out, “Jump.”

Y/n threw down her bow and arrows and looked around. The field didn’t move, except where the wind stroked the dark amber colored grass.

She turned over on her stomach and lowered herself from the branch. She hung there for a second before the strong arms circled her and held her tightly. Suddenly the screaming agony in her leg dulled. Hades nudged her legs and whined,

Kirishima’s breath brushed against her face as he spoke, “You looked a bit like you were going to run away.”

Y/n didn’t realize how close their faces were until she saw herself in his eyes. She bit her lower lip and shook her head, “I panicked. I’ve never been hurt like this when they’re this close before.”

He pulled her close, “I’ll protect you Y/n.” He looked toward Mina, “We both will.” Y/n could see the darkness in her eyes, it was the same look she gave everyone.

“Thanks,” Y/n said just loud enough to be heard.

Mina nodded, “You killed most of them. You have to leave more for me to kill next time.”

Y/n still felt scared and alone.

Kirishima placed her on the ground gently. “Y/n you’re like Robin Hood.” Y/n smirked at the mention of a novel she’s read multiple times during her years of solitude.

Mina sighed, “Kiri don’t get started again on the stories.”

Y/n smiled at him, “I like reading too. I’ve read the same books for ten years. Sometimes I get lucky and find a small paperback that I can fit in my pack. Robin Hood was one that I’ve read a lot.”

Instead of enjoying the feeling of being near him, a heavy disgusting feeling blanketed her. It forced away the joy she borrowed from him. She almost left him. She almost left them. She would leave him. It was her nature.

He frowned at her, “I’d ask a dime for your thoughts but it would probably be more than I could afford.” Y/n laughed but it wasn’t the same free feeling of joy she had seconds ago. She walked away from him and went to pet Hades, who was needy all of a sudden. He rubbed against her and jumped up on his back legs to stand and wrap his paws around her. She hugs him back.

“I love you too,” she whispered into his fur. She glanced at them and nodded in the direction of the farmhouse. “It’s a days walk to the house.” She pointed down the hill.

“We need to deal with him too,” Mina pointed at the beige mass at the bottom of the field and trees.

Y/n squinted, “It’s a man.”

“Great. You get to kill him.”

Y/n laughed bitterly and handed over the bow and arrow to Mina. Mina thought like Y/n and she liked it. She never fired once when Y/n was shooting the arrows. Mina understood conservation. She gave Y/n a wide-eyed smile and took the bow.

“Really? I’ve never done this before.”

“We need to walk closer to him. When you pull the arrow back control every inch of your arms. It feels hard at first but you’ll get used to the tension.

They walked over to where the hill crests. They were near one of the fallen infected and Y/n could smell him. She pointed at a tree further to the right and they all walked over there.

They walked away from the smell of the rotting sick carcass. At the tree Mina attempted to pull the arrow back. Her skinny arms trembled and she looked frustrated.

“I know how you feel right now. It took me two years. It won’t happen on the first try.”

Mina pouted, “Can we make me a bow maybe?”

Y/n nodded excitedly. They hadn’t had much to talk about. She took the bow and arrow and shot the dying man. His body trembled slightly and his skin had chew marks. The infected will eat anything.

“Hold it steady, sight in what you want to shoot and then take a deep breath.” Y/n explained. They were close enough that it made a slicing sound as the arrow entered his temple. “Always exhale when you release.” Y/n grimaced as she looked at the arrow sticking out of his bleeding head.

“Wow,” Mina said in awe.

Y/n nodded, “Yeah it took a lot of practice.”

“Sweet fucking god.”

Y/n turned toward Kirishima’s voice, “What?”

Kirishima was standing behind the two girls, “You guys do realize that’s a person you just shot. These were all people.”

Mina scoffed, “They’re infected Kiri. They’re not like you or me or even the city people.”

Y/n frowned, “City people?”

Kirishima looked down at the grass.

Mina looked at Y/n, “We saw it. We went close enough to see it.”

“Electricity? Running water?”

Mina nodded, “Everything. No cars but a subway and houses and pretty big buildings. It’s on the edge of the desert.”

Y/n felt sickened by the question that popped into her head but she asked anyway, “What about the farms?”

“Up and running still. I think the babies go to the city after they’re born.”

Kirishima sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He seemed bothered by the conversation.

“He’s military.”

“What?” Y/n asked as she looked at Mina who was pointing to the dead man with the arrow sticking out of his temple. She looked at her boots and shook her head. “We need to be far away. Now.”

They didn’t talk. They left the arrows sticking out of the faces of the people on the ground. Y/n never took the arrows from the infected. They walked across the small field and into the forest on the other side.

She watched Hades the entire walk. It stopped her from watching Kirishima. Hades was the best warning system. Kirishima was a distraction.

---

weewooweewoo i smell like poopoo

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sicjimin · 3 years

Text

—Little Min's Discovery (2/2)

The day going rather smoothly up after late afternoon, where Yoongi and Seokjin currently bickering in the kitchen, try to make some cupcakes.

"Yoongi, you put too much flour in that. It won't bake perfectly!"

"No hyung, it's the perfect amount! and I didn't add that much though, only a few spoons. ", Yoongi insist. Later he offers a small spoon of mixture to Seokjin for him to taste, "Hyung, try this. Do you think I need to add another spoon of chocolate?"

Seokjin opens his mouth as his eyes are still fixed in the batter below him. Yoongi put the tip of the spoon to his mouth, making the mixture dissolve into his taste buds. It's good, but Seokjin didn't know what's wrong with his body response that makes throat immediately tightens when the sweet taste of chocolate down. His body jolted with a harsh gag, makes him quickly brings his body to the sink. A trickle of clear bile dripping from his mouth. He could hear Yoongi's confused voice, "Hyung? Is it that bad?"

Seokjin that still battled with wave nausea that suddenly rushes after him quickly shakes his head, "No no, It's good though you don't need to add chocolate", Seokjin manages to let out the words before a small stream of vomit spills to the sink below. "Fuck", he curses under his breath. Why he's suddenly so nauseous though?

Yoongi brings his feet into his husband that still bending over the sink, rubbing his back that curving every one minute letting out either a harsh gag or just a trickle of vomit.

"Hyung, let's go to the doctor. You've been sick since last night"

Seokjin pants, his stomach hurt so bad after all the contraction it did to send his breakfast out. He buried his hand in his hands, "No .. don't wanna go there", his voice cracked in the end.

"But babe .. "

"No! Yoongi for god sakes just hear me this once!", Seokjin snapped. He gasps quietly when he could see Yoongi flinched a little.

" Yoongichi .. I'm sorry", he quivers. Tears start welling in his eyes. He really didn't mean to snap like that, it's just he's tired from constant vomiting and Yoongi's rambling just adding to his overthink. Yoongi looks away, turned his attention to the cake again, "Yeah I know you're sorry. I'm sorry too for worried that much. Let's just finish this you must be tired", he says but his tone. it's distant. Seokjin knows he messed up. He goes back to the cake, hurriedly finished it in silence.

Seokjin finished his cake, he put off the apron and clears his throat, "I will go to bed. I still feel bad", he says weakly. Still not sure how to approach Yoongi that seems distant. Yoongi just nods —usually, he will cling to Seokjin and following him upstairs, but that's understandable. It's purely Seokjin's fault to dismiss the younger feelings. He swallows down a lump of tears that itching on his throat and retreats himself upstairs.

When Yoongi heard the bedroom doors clicked, thats when he sagged his body. He buried his head in his hands, he's so tired. He's not that mad to Seokjin —well a little bit pissed since Seokjin just stepped on his feeling when he wants nothing but care to the older— but more to confused? Seokjin is the most patient person he ever met. So, why he suddenly snapped on matters that aren't too important? Yoongi clicks his tongue and tidies up the kitchen. He's glad his parent still outside during their .. argument.

He walks outside to the balcony, inhaling the fresh scent of non-polluted air. He didn't know how long he has been staying outside but he later heard a loud commotion of his mom and father entering the house. He brings his legs to them and picks some groceries to put it on the table.

"Where's your husband?", his Eomma asks. Yoongi that currently take out groceries from one bag, stopped his movement. " Um.. he's upstairs. Sleeping I guess?", he answer hesitantly.

And his Eomma obviously would notice, "Did something happen?"

"Umm.. nothing that big. We just had arguments"

"What arguments?", his mother pushed. Yoongi averts his gaze, " He was sick again earlier, i don't know what's wrong but he got mad when i asked him to go to see a doctor", he explains. His hand fiddling with the corner of his shirt, God, he felt like he was 5 years old all over again getting scolded by his parents.

"Huh? You sure just that? Seokjin isn't like that though?", Yoongi's mom tilted her head, confused. Yoongi sighed, if he was holding back, now he isn't. He let out his frustration, " I know Eomma that's why I am as confused as you are now", Yoongi ruffled his hair.

Then they sat in silence, mind busy on their own, until one question from his mother makes Yoongi's heart skipped a beat, "Yoongi"

"Hum?"

"Are you expecting?", blunt and straightforward. That's so his mom, Yoongi thought. Yoongi whined, he could feel the warmth crept to his cheeks, " Eomma that's privacy?"

"No, serious Yoongi, are you?"

Yoongi scratches his neck, "Umm .. yes. We've been tried since 3 months ago though"

Yoongi's mom's eyes lit up, she scrambled from her seat and ran to the bathroom downstairs. Yoongi watched him with tons of question marks on his head, she just ask that and .. gone?

It didn't took long until she is back with a little box in her hands, still looking as cheerful as she was earlier, "Here, give this to Seokjin. Just says that I am the one who gives this so he won't be able to reject you, okay? And run downstairs if he already did and tell me the results"

Yoongi's eyes widened at the sight, a testpack. "Eomma ...", he trailed off. " Sshh, just trust me Yoongi-ah. A mother's instinct would never fail", she gives him a wink before pushed him to go to his room.

Yoongi stands in front of his room for a second. Breathing nervously before knocking on the door. He hears a faint, "Come in" from inside. He opened the door and immediately meet with his husband figures curled under the blanket. The older looks so small like that. He sighed fondly, all the confusion and anger he felt earlier just dissipated, changing with guilty for even get upset on Seokjin earlier.

"Yoongichi", Seokjin calls out with his raspy voices.

"Hyung .. I'm sorry for earlier"

"No no .. I'm the one who's sorry. You did nothing wrong babe, i just.. don't know why i suddenly snapped like that. I know you mean well and you just worrying over me. I'm sorry, I shouldn't step on your feelings like that. I really don't know why I act like that .. it just .. I'm tired of being sick and all of this just overwhelm—", Seokjin cuts off as Yoongi's fingers up to his lips. " Hyung, you're rambling", the younger says while giggling.

Oh. Now its Seokjin's cheeks turn to painted with a faint red of blush. Yoongi cupped his hands over Seokjin's, "You did nothing wrong hyung. I'm not gonna lie, I'm kinda surprised and .. upset when you snapped at me like that. But its fine, we're fine"

Seokjin smiles as he nuzzled his head to Yoongi's hands. The younger fingers automatically play with the caramel hair. They fall silent for a minute, too comfortable with these vibes. Yoongi's eyes wander around the room until he catches the sight of a trashcan near their bed. He peeked inside and he could see some of the snacks and bottles last night got covered with .. is that vomit? and some tissues.

"Hyung?"

"Hm?"

"Have you been sick again?", Yoongi asks. He could feel Seokjin move under his hands, " Mhm, earlier after I got here I got sick again. I didn't manage to go to the bathroom so .."

"How are you feeling right now?"

"Still nauseous", Seokjin answered. Yoongi's heart skipped a beat, maybe ... maybe his mother could be right.

Yoongi clears his throat, "Hyung, my mother gives me this for you", he pulls the box from his pocket. Seokjin peeked up from his position and his eyes widened, " Yoongi..."

"Just .. try it please?"

Seokjin accepts that box with hesitation, his heart beats faster. A little feel of hope start blooming in his chest and just got bigger as he walk to the bathroom.

5 minutes. Its been 5 minutes since Seokjin got in the bathroom. Yoongi has been jittery in his seat. He almost jumped when he sees Seokjin walks from the bathroom. The older eyes were puffy and Yoongi's mind automatically thinks the worst. His heart sinks, but he mustered a smile. He cant be sad in front of his husband, right?

One thing that caught him off guard was how Seokjin launched himself forward and hug him so tight, making the younger crash to bed. He didn't get time to process everything before Seokjin kiss his cheeks several times, "Wait wait, HYUNG! Let me breathe!!", Yoongi yelps in between giggles.

"Yoongichi, i love you", Seokjin blurted out as he pushes himself of Yoongi. Maybe it was a roommate bond or they just too long being with each other, Yoongi got a message.

"You're not messing with me, right? I would file a divorce if you're joking right now", Yoongi says seriously, earned a pillow on his face.

"Do you want me to be a single parent? find then ! I will find a sugar daddy to take care of us!", Seokjin sulking but still can't hold a smile that spread on his face.

Then the situation turn 180°, "Kim Seokjin, I love you", Yoongi mustered in between peppering his husband with kisses.

Yoongi makes a mental note to thank his mother and her motherly instinct. It's true, it's never wrong.

#bts sickfic #bts emeto #tw emeto #tw vomit #caretaker!yoongi #sick!seokjin #another mpreg fic

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serendipityjxmn · 4 years

Text

I Hate You, Park Jimin!

Chapter 18

Words Count: 3.3k TW: Angst

Link to Chapter 17

Link to Chapter 19

I arrived at college with Jimin’s fingers firmly laced around mine. People still stare but it doesn’t bother me as much anymore. It was pretty much the same, girls still gaping and drooling at the sight of him, guys looking at him in awe or in fear.

He left for his class about an hour ago but not before brushing his lips against the side of my head, making me blush fervently- up till now.

God- Jimin and his effects on me were so immediate.

I blushed again thinking about yesterday. Did it really happen?

“Boy- you have it hard.” A melodic voice rung in my ear.

My head snapped up instantly. Ah Young was looking at me with a smirk on her face.

“What?” I said but I knew I wasn’t deceiving myself. I could feel how heated I was just by thinking about Jimin.

“I don’t know.. you’re just glowing. Must be some good seeds, huh?” She grinned.

“Ah Young!” I smacked her arms and she giggled. Not so surprisingly, I giggled with her too.

“We should totally go on a double date someday.”

“Hmmm- that’s not such a bad idea.”

“Right?” She beamed at me, her cheeks slightly flushing at the mention of Eun Woo. Oh boy- we both caught the lovebugs hard on. Who knew I’d find love the same time my best friend does too. I chuckled.

The week went by in a blur. We had been so busy getting caught up in assignments and all sorts of submissions, quizzes, and tests in between. Jimin had been busy too. I didn’t see him much this week. He said his father’s company was planning a merger which was why it had been so hectic and his father wanted him to sit through the process. My poor boy- he’d been so exhausted, not having enough sleep. I missed him a lot.

God I was being dramatic. It’s not like you weren’t seeing him anymore! I scolded myself. I’ve turned so clingy now. Perhaps it was because Jimin had indulged me with so much attention and love. My heart swelled just by the thought of him.

Weekend arrived and as soon as I walked through the cafe for my night shift, I saw Kyung Hee unnie behind the counter. Believing that there’s no better time to bring the matter up, I told her about quitting the part time job. She was against it (as always) but I told her I’ve worked longer than I intended to because of her request and I’ve been weighed down a lot these days by assignments and all.

“I’m just gonna miss you alot.” She said as she hugged me. “You know you’re always welcomed here right? Semester break, summer break or just whenever you need some extra pocket money, just come, okay?”

I nodded.

So that’s that. I decided to work until the end of the month which was only few days to come. Quitting the cafe had been so long overdue, I chuckled to myself. Perhaps because I really enjoyed working here.

And then I suddenly remembered Jimin who had constantly asked when will I quit the job at every single opportunity saying something about more time with him. I smiled in adoration.

“Hana.” A low male voice said out loud, making me jump. I was out in the back throwing stuffs out.

“Jungkook?” I squinted my eyes in the dark before he stepped out and the light illuminated his figure looking slightly disheveled. “Oh my god Jungkook!” I exclaimed and without thinking, I stepped forward and lunged towards him, hugging him hard until he stumbled back slightly. But he was quick enough to regain balance and wrapped his arms around me too.

“Where have you been?” I asked, slowly letting him go. “I barely see you in school.”

“Sorry.” He said quietly.

“Jungkook.. are you okay?”

He was silent for a few moments before answering. “Hana there’s something I need to tell you.”

“What- Jungkook?”

He bit his lips as if having a mental fight with himself. “Are you done with your shift?”

I frowned then glanced down at my watch. “In another 10 minutes. Why?”

He then smiled softly at me. “I’ll wait for you then. Let’s walk home together.”

Still frowning, I slowly nodded. “Okay.”

So half an hour later, we were out in the cold streets, Jungkook walking silently next to me. He seemed to have a lot on his mind and I really didn’t want to be the first to ask him but the silence was almost discomforting.

“Jungkook is everything okay?”

He stiffened for a moment, his brows furrowed but he didn’t answer.

“I heard from Kyeong Hee unnie that you were taking leaves for personal reasons. I mean- I don’t want to pry- it’s just-“ I sighed. “I just wanna know if you’re okay. Cause that’s the only thing that matters.”

He turned to look at me. “You care about me?”

“You’re my friend. Of course I do.” I said quickly and for a split second, I watched his face fall. I frowned because.. there’s no way Jungkook...

He let out a sigh. “I’m okay. It’s just-“ he closed his eyes briefly. “I’ll start working again tomorrow. So you’ll see my face everyday again till you get tired.” He grinned at me.

“Really? That’s great!” I beamed at him. “Although I won’t be there anymore, though.” I pouted.

His expression turned into alarm. “What? Wh- why?”

I shrugged. “I’ve worked there for too long I guess, the customers were getting sick of me too.” I laughed but to my surprise, Jungkook didn’t join. In the meantime we had already reached my apartment area.

He looked at me in.. anger? “Is this because of Park Jimin?”

My laugh stopped short. “What?”

“I know you’re dating him now.” He said, his tone full of sneer. “You know what, Hana, I thought you were better than this. Park Jimin? That guy? You don’t know him Hana. He’s an assh-“

“And you do?”

“Wh-what?”

“I’m asking if you do know him.” I asked, hands crossed against my chest.

“Better than you think you know.”

“And how is that so? Prove it to me.”

He went silent for a few moments, biting his lips.

When I had enough of waiting, I scoffed. I can’t believe I’m waiting for his bullshit like this. I turned around and started to head towards my apartment.

“Hana wait!”

“What?!” I snapped.

“Fuck it.” He muttered under his breath. “Jimin’s in for an arranged marriage.”

I froze, stood rooted to the spot. Then I slowly turned around.

“W-what?”

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. “It’s true. I’m not lying.”

I felt my whole chest clenching. What is this pain? Where did it come from? “No.. you must be lying.” I said softly.

He just shook his head. “You don’t seem to remember Yoo Nara, do you?”

Hearing her name stunned me. I felt my whole world crumbled. Of course...

“Yes Hana. The girl that came from U.S all too suddenly and suddenly she seemed all too friendly with Jimin and all of his friends? Tell me don’t you find it suspicious too?”

I struggled to swallow as realization hit me. Tears threatening my eyes. God- Hana... how could you be so stupid? I scoffed at myself. I was trying so hard to be that girlfriend that respects her guy’s private space, not prying more than he choose to tell. Guess the joke’s on me now.

“H- how do you know?” I croaked and tried to blink the tears away.

Jungkook stepped forward immediately and I tensed up, my hands held upwards instinctively. I wasn’t in the mood to be touched.

He sighed again. “From the boys.”

I swallowed thickly before nodding weakly. “I think you should go now..”

“You deserve so much better than that ass-“

“Stop.” I said immediately. I didn’t need to hear this now.

He looked at me in defeat before turning.

I sank down on the floor outside my apartment. I guess I was just another notch in his belt. Joke’s on me.. joke’s on me.

I ignored Jimin for the rest of the weekend. He obviously thought nothing of it, assumed that I was busy perhaps. I wasn’t ready to face him and hear the truth. But I wasn’t gonna take another person’s words just like that too. I knew I needed to face him. But do I have the strength to?

I didn’t see Jimin at all the whole day. So here I was, at a cafe staring blankly outside because I didn’t know what else to do, let alone think. I sighed loudly. Come on, Hana you just had to pluck up the courage to call him and ask him to see you.

Yeap- that’s what I was gonna do, or so I thought.

Until I froze at the sight of Jimin outside cafe.

Except that he wasn’t alone.

Even from afar, there’s no mistaking the girl with blonde hair next to him. It was Yoo Nara. I felt bile rising in my throat.

He had led her into an exquisite restaurant. I struggled to remain composed. No, I cannot cry, yet.

And so here I was standing outside the restaurant like a complete idiot five minutes later. Why was I doing this? I only stood there blankly and well assured that several people passing must’ve thought I’m some sort of weirdo standing outside the restaurant.

Someone pushed the door open from the inside. I gasped when I saw Jimin came out. Didn’t he just enter about 5 minutes ago?

I wanted to bolt but somehow my feet stood rooted at the spot in that exact moment. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to react. And my brain completely froze when his gaze landed on me.

He walked towards me, a slight frown marring his face.

“H-Hi.” I said lamely.

“Hana? What are you doing here?” I couldn’t reply because all of a sudden I felt so overwhelmed at the sight of him my eyes started to sting. It’s so unfair how he still looked so gorgeous standing there- completely oblivious to all the hurt he caused. “Hey, are you okay? Baby-“ he stepped closer.

“Don’t.” I croaked, barely audible.

“Hana, what’s wrong?” His brows furrowed deeper.

I struggled to remain composed when all the insides of me were just waiting to explode and crumble.

“Would you tell me what’s wrong?” His voice slightly raised.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Jimin..? I saw.. I saw- you came here with... Nara.” I barely whispered her name.

He paled. And for a second I’d hoped that I was wrong. That this was all a complete mistake and that I’d illusioned everything.

But then he said something that crushed my heart even further. “I can explain.” He said calmly.

Explanations are more than often welcomed. It gave us some sort of understanding. But when it came from the mouth of a guy... in this kind of situations.. it usually meant “I screwed up and unfortunately you caught me so here’s an excuse”.

“Is it true..?” I whispered.

“What?”

“About your arranged marriage..”

“Who the fuck told you that?!” He snapped and I flinched at his sudden outburst, instinctively taking a step back.

“Yes it’s true.” A female voice said. We both turned to look at the owner of voice. Yoo Nara was walking towards us, towards Jimin more specifically. She stood beside him. “You never had a chance since the beginning.”

I felt my heart was ripped and thorn to pieces.

“Shut the fuck up.” Jimin growled, sending a death glare towards Nara. His face softened towards me. “Baby..” he stepped closer slowly, as if approaching some wild and unstable animal.

“Don’t.” He froze.” I’m- this, between us, it’s over.” I turned on my heels immediately and started running away.

I heard Jimin screaming behind me but I didn’t turn. At some point, it started raining, hiding my tears away as I sobbed wordlessly.

How many days had I been cooped up in my own bedroom? This felt familiar. The heartbreak.. the reason for the heartbreak.. It just seemed that heartbreak would always follow me as long as I’m in love with... him.

Jimin did come. He had my house’s passwords. He could’ve just come in. But he didn’t. It made me wonder where do I stand in his life.

And then eventually he stopped coming. He won’t call anymore and he stopped texting me to see him. I kept staring at my phone even when he stopped- and there would be huge lump in my chest when there’s nothing. How twisted was that? It was all I wanted- for him to go away. It should feel right.. right? Except it didn’t feel that way.

I tried to stay mad at him. I really did. But even so I couldn’t keep lying to myself that I wasn’t missing him so badly.

Jimin made feel the way I never felt before. And for once, I thought I could believe in love. Why? Why would you do that to me, Jimin..?

Had he known this beforehand..? He knew he was bound by an arranged marriage yet he made me fall hard.. so hard for him.

Seeing Jimin hurt me.. it hit me like a sucker punch. So I religiously avoided Jimin at school. I bolted at the first sighting of him.

And just like that, a month went by and seasons changed. At night I stared at the window as snows thickened and filled the world with whiteness.

Why did it have to hurt this much..?

Because I’m in love.

I’m in love with Park Jimin.

And love hurts you in ways you can’t imagine.

“Alright, come on. I’m getting you out of here.” Through my half opened eyes, I peeked to see Ah Young standing with both her hands on her waist, staring down madly at me.

“No.. I’m not going out..” I pulled my blanket tighter.

“You’ve been locking yourself in your room everyday after class. This is not healthy, you little shit! I’m not letting this go on anymore. You know what you need? You need to have fun. Let’s hit the club and let go of all these depressing shits!”

Wait what? I frowned, peeking my head from over the blanket. “Won’t Eunwoo be mad?” He’s a mad protective boyfriend though.

She smirked down at me. “He’s not here. He’s in Taiwan with his dad meeting some client.”

“Oh wow.” I went silent for a moment. “Still not going out though.”

But who really possessed the skills to go against Ah Young? Yeap, no one.

So here we were, an hour later, standing outside a glamorous looking club? I swore we were only 2 seconds outside and I almost felt like dying from the coldness. Who on earth goes to club during winter? Oh yes, Ah Young does.

I was trembling as I shrugged my coat off my shoulder as soon as we got inside.

“Ah Young I really don’t think this is okay..” I pointed at my outfit, constantly tugging the hem of my tight short skirt down. I didn’t wanna come here, let alone get myself ready so Ah Young conveniently did everything for me- chose my outfit, did my makeup, even blew my hair. It was a mistake, apparently. Beneath my winter coat, I was so scantily clothed, a short blouse that didn’t even cover up to my bellybutton and a tight mini skirt. I just hoped the club has a sufficient heating system.

“No.. come on! You look hot! Park Jimin doesn’t know what he’s missing.” She winked at me.

“Uhh..” Before I could think of any answer, she was already dragging me inside.

My eyes struggled to adapt with the dim lights and as she led me in, the music started to get clearer and soon the blaring bass thumped along with my heartbeat. The club was crowded but wasn’t as packed as usual. The bar was kind of filled though. More people seeking the warmth from booze in this cold weather.

We both settled at the long lit up bar. Ah Young quickly ordered some drinks from the handsome bartender and held it out to me.

“Park Jimin can fuck himself.” Ah Young said.

I grinned as I took my drink from her. She knew everything since I already told her and without a doubt she’s on my side. “Cheers to that.” We clunk our drinks and I immediately chugged down mine. I felt my throat burning slightly as I finished it in one shot. Damn- that tasted bitter but nice too.

“Okay babe- let’s go and burn the dance floor!” She tugged on my wrist.

“No.. I think I’m gonna stay here for a while. I need a little bit more alcohol before dancing.”

“Okay... don’t take too long! We haven’t hit the club together for so long and you really need to practice shaking that ass.” She giggled and started to head towards the dance area where it was filled with dancing bodies tangled together. “And not too much alcohol!”

I simply waved her off. To be honest, I was already feeling a little bit lightheaded. Damn me and my alcohol tolerance.

I placed another round of drinks, shutting my eyes closed.

“Hey there, you okay?” A male voice said.

I opened one eye. He’s a blur. I had no idea how but I could tell he was good looking. He propped one arm on the bar. Am I okay? I tried asking myself. I don’t know..

“Can I buy you a drink?”

...but I like the idea of someone buying drinks for me. It made me feel wanted. I giggled.

“You’re cute.”

“Ha.” I said. The blush wasn’t working because clearly I was already red to the toes. My brain felt weird and started to get fuzzy. I was getting drunk, I realised. But not that drunk for sure, I thought.

I opened both of my eyes. The guy was still staring at me. For some reason, my gaze landed at a figure somewhere far in the corner. I thought I saw Kim Taehyung but perhaps my mind was playing tricks. After all, I was drunk and my vision was blurring.

I tried to stand. “I think.. I need to pee.”

To my relief, the guy let me go just like that without stopping me at all. Good boy. I started to head towards where I think was the toilet and whoah- I reached my hand out for support since my legs went wobbly all of a sudden and my head’s spinning. What on earth did I drink?

And then someone came, grabbed both of my arms, swirled my body around and pinned me to the wall.

And suddenly I was well aware that I was drunk out of my mind. Shit.

The guy was all over me and with the little strength I managed to gather, I pushed him away until I no longer had to.

Someone had pulled him away. Everything seemed hazy and unfocused. I couldn’t even make out faces. Kids, this is what happened when you don’t usually drink and when you do, it hits you like a freight train.

My body staggered but before I could sink to the floor, someone wrapped their arms around my waist and pulled me into a warm hug.

Suddenly my brain could only think of one thing.

“Jimin...?” I mumbled.

I felt the guy stiffened.

And then I realized I was being stupid. It could be anyone. There’s no way in hell Jimin would knew I was here when he’d been busy with that Nara chick.

“No, I’m Kim Taehyung.” The voice replied calmly.

Kim Taehyung??? I tried to put my sight into focus but to no avail. He pulled me tighter as he led me out of the club. I panicked when I felt darkness closing in on me. I fainted then.

Link to Masterlist

200830 10:38PM

#serendipityjxmn #serendipityjxmnihateyouparkjimin #parkjimin #jimin smut #jimin au #jimin fic

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vantaestummy · 4 years

Text

Chocolate Chip Pancakes

A/N: thank you to the amazing anon that contributed some of their lovely ideas that i included in this fic! much love to you all! happy new year!!!! ✨🎆💘🎊🎉

TW/// emeto, mpreg

Taehyung giggles as his three year old makes to grab the tray of pancakes and orange juice.

“Uh uh baby, I’ll carry the food. Why don’t you come with me though, so you can wish Papa and your baby brother a good morning?”

“Yes!” Little Taesong exclaims with excitement, so thrilled to spend another day with his Papa and baby brother. Yesterday, he and his parents spent the Saturday watching movies and eating all kinds of great food. Both of his parents have also expressed to him, that he is soon to be a big brother, and that he must be a good influence, and take care of the younger with all his might. He can’t wait to make his parents proud.

But sometimes Papa doesn’t feel well, and his stomach is a little bigger than usual, so Taesong wonders if it has something to do with him being a big brother. He just hopes that today is not one of those days, where Papa isn’t feeling good enough to play with him.

The little one follows his father into the bedroom in which his other father lies, buried under the covers and sleeping soundly, or so he thought.

But Papa looks very tired, and not at all asleep. Yes, his eyes may be closed, but they are screwed so tightly that it feels forced. He is also hissing through his teeth so, Taesong knows that his Papa is awake.

“Good mo’ning Papa!”

Still, his Papa smiles softly, even if the smile is wound with pain.

“Good morning baby.”

Taehyung raises a brow, setting the tray onto the bedside table and moving to sit beside his husband with caution.

“Hyung, you okay? I know you’ve been craving sweets since last night so, we made you pancakes. But if you’re not feeling up to it, we can hold off on these.” Taehyung encourages in a whisper, a soft hand on the swell of his Yoongi’s belly, the other, sweeping his husband’s hair back so that he can kiss his warm forehead.

Yoongi gulps, looking to Taesong who, is clearly troubled, a worrisome glint in his eyes. Yoongi flexes a soft smile.

“Papa is okay baby. Don’t worry about me, okay?”

Taesong pouts, not believing a word that his Papa says. Taehyung chuckles at the adorable, pinched expression that his son holds, before turning back to Yoongi.

“What hurts?”

Yoongi bites his lip. “I just feel really nauseous Tae. I would try to eat but I just know it’ll come back up.” He responds quietly. Taehyung nods quickly before turning to their three year old, ruffling his hair.

“Baby, can you be a big boy please and get your Papa and I some napkins?”

Taesong of course nods, the biggest grin on his face as he jumps at the opportunity to help whenever he can. Taehyung beams with pride as he looks back to his ailing husband, the other’s head buried in his hands.

Yoongi groans into his palms. “I’m so sorry. I don’t want him to be upset. I just can’t eat right now. Even the smell is making me want to vomit.”

Taehyung clocks that with ease and moves the tray far, far away from the bed. He also gets a trash can to place at the head of the bed, just in case.

“Don’t worry about that. Just try to breathe for me, okay? You’ll be fine in a little while.”

Yoongi does as his husband instructs, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth, as deeply as he can to calm the nauseous coiling of his pregnant belly. Unfortunately, he catches a whiff of the breakfast in the room and his body lurches with a harsh gag.

Taehyung lifts up the trash can as he pulls back at Yoongi’s fringe. “Don’t push too hard love. Try to relax, I know it’s hard.”

Yoongi braces himself against Taehyung’s knee as his shoulders roll, another gag forcing a trickle of stomach acid and saliva to coat the bottom of the trash.

Taesong takes this moment to come back with a large handful of napkins, his eyes blown wide with fear, and tears.

“Dada! What’s wron’?”

Taehyung sighs as he pats the side of the bed. helping his baby to climb up and cupping his cheek.

“Remember how we told you that you’re gonna be a big brother soon Tae?”

The boy nods, excited at the prospect but, still wracked with nerves at how pained his Papa looks.

“Well,” Taehyung continues, “I’m sure you’ve also noticed that Papa’s stomach is bigger, right? That’s because your baby brother is growing in there, and sometimes, in order to grow like he’s supposed to, Papa gets a little sick. He’s okay, but sometimes he doesn’t feel well, don’t worry though. It’s normal, if not, a good thing. Okay?”

Taesong can’t believe what he’s hearing. He doesn’t fully understand what his father is saying. All he knows is that his new baby brother is stopping his Papa from enjoying the delicious pancakes that he worked so hard to make! Not to mention, he hates how ill his Papa looks. He doesn’t deserve this.

Taesong frowns as tears gather in his eyes. “Bad baby!!! Let Papa eat!!!” He shouts, causing Taehyung to gasp comically, not expecting the outburst. He truly wants to laugh but, he is alerted by a sudden heave that adds weight to the trash can in his other hand.

Taehyung rubs Yoongi’s back, the pregnant male lurching with a grated retch that sends a thick wave of bile into the bucket. Taesong starts to cry.

“He’s hurting Papa!!! I hate my brother!!!”

Taehyung groans, feeling way too overwhelmed with the vomiting as well as his panicked son.

“Don’t say that baby. It’s not his fault.”

Yoongi coughs, vomit sputtering from his lips and into the trash. He gags a few more times, with each jump of his stomach, comes more mouthfuls of bile. Taesong’s sobs become louder. Thankfully, Yoongi’s stomach gives him enough of a break so that Taehyung can carry the screaming child out the door. Yoongi’s newfound retches can be heard even from out the room, and Taehyung knows that he needs to get back there as soon as possible. He sets Taesong on the living room couch, a stern look in his eyes.

“Baby, I need you to be brave for me, okay? Papa isn’t feeling well and I need to take care of him. I also need you to help me, can you do that for me?”

Taesong sniffles, his nose red and his big bright eyes, ones that are carbon copies of his own, swimming in unshed tears. The sight breaks Taehyung’s heart, but there’s no point in giving his son this speech if he can’t even follow his own words.

“H-How, how c-can I help Dada?”

Taehyung chuckles before wiping away at the baby’s tears and kissing his son’s head.

“I need you to smile for me, okay? I need you to calm down, and smile, okay? Your Papa being sick is protecting the baby, and I know it doesn’t make sense right now, but if you cry, then your Papa will be sad too, and he already doesn’t feel well. Can you be brave for me?”

The last thing Taesong wants is for his Papa to be sick and sad.

“O’tay.” He nods, and his father’s smile makes him want to be an even better big brother.

“That’s my little tiger. Why don’t you play with your anpanman, okay? I’m gonna check on your Papa. He might be feeling better now.” Taehyung kisses Taesong’s head one last time before returning to the bedroom to find Yoongi blowing his nose with the napkins that their son brought. His eyes are also wet but, Taehyung can’t tell if that’s from the vomiting, or if he’s actually crying.

“What’s wrong love? Are you crying?”

Yoongi chuckles bitterly, sniffling as he wipes at his eyes with the sleeves of his night robe.

“Tae hates his little brother and he’s not even born yet.” Yoongi murmurs, his lips pouted as he eyes the bin of puke. Taehyung intercepts his gaze.

“Don’t look. You might get sick again. Do you think you’re done baby?”

Yoongi thinks on it for a second before nodding, his throat burning from the constant heaves as he rubs at his stomach. Taehyung moves the bin so that it’s out of his husband’s sight. He cups Yoongi’s cheek.

“You know he doesn’t mean that. He just doesn’t like seeing you in pain. I don’t either to be honest. Are you sure you’re okay? Do we need to make an appointment to see a doctor?”

Yoongi shakes his head slowly. “I’m okay Taehyung, I promise. My morning sickness is finally that, morning sickness. Remember when I was pregnant with Tae?”

Taehyung sighs with a small smile, remembering how awful Yoongi’s morning sickness was when he was pregnant with their first. He would barely be able to make it to the bathroom before he was spewing his guts, mornings, afternoons, and evenings. It was horrifying. It got so bad that Yoongi had to spend a few nights at the hospital, just to make sure that everything was alright with the baby. Thankfully, their second baby isn’t so bad.

“He’s gonna love little Yeonjun, I just know it. And if this is anything like when you were pregnant with Tae, then you won’t be getting sick like this in a month or so.”

Yoongi closes his eyes, leaning against the headboard, the tears drying on his even chubbier cheeks. Pregnancy suits him, Taehyung thinks, because his cheeks get rounder and more squishable. Makes Taehyung just want to kiss them. So he does, making Yoongi shove him away halfheartedly with a small giggle.

“I’m sorry if I ruined our breakfast plans.” Yoongi says with another sniffle, his hand draping down his husband’s chest as he finds the other man’s hands, intertwining their fingers. Taehyung wipes at his tears.

“I’ll forgive you if you stop crying. I hate seeing you cry.” Taehyung kisses Yoongi’s knuckles as well as his palm, his husband blushing profusely. “How are you feeling now? Can you stomach a piece of fruit maybe? I want you to eat something.”

Yoongi nods slowly, humming in agreement as Taesong comes back with tearful eyes.

Even so, the boy is smiling, just like his father asked him to.

“P-Papa, are you o’tay?”

Yoongi giggles. “Yes baby, I’m okay. Come up here and hug your Papa. I didn’t get my morning cuddles and now I’m sad.”

Taesong almost cries, tears of joy this time, as Taehyung hoists him up and into the bed so that he can wrap his tiny arms around Yoongi’s swollen middle. Yoongi plays with his hair and Taehyung admires the sight for a short while before standing, grabbing the trash can as well as the tray of beyond soggy pancakes.

He cleans up a bit before cutting up an apple into slices, returning to find his husband and their baby fast asleep in bed. Taehyung sighs, the biggest, boxy smile on his face. Apple slices can wait.

He definitely wants to get in on this morning cuddle session.

#sick!taegi #sick!yoongi #caretaker!taehyung #mpreg #bts vomiting #bts emeto #sick bts #bts sick #bts sickfic #sickfic #bts taegi #emeto #my fic

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bbrandy2002 · 5 years

Text

The Fall of Cordonia

Chapter Seven (Final)

A/N: Sorry it has taken so long to get this one chapter finished. I have had several things in my personal life that have been quite stressful, I can't even begin to explain what I've been dealing with and I won't bore you with details. I do want to thank @kingliam2019 for asking about this fic several times, it gave me the little boost I needed and for pre-reading chapters for me. Also @burnsoslow for pre-reading snippets and giving me advice. And @sirbeepsalot who has advised me throughout and is just truly a wonderful person.

C/N: I was told I shouldn't end it this way and didnt plan to, however I had a change of heart. I hope its not too disappointing.

Warnings: DARK!! Gun violence, murder, mental illness, major character deaths, suicide, its brutal....but...its not (you will see what I mean).

Word count: 2909

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"Hello Son, I've been expecting you."

Liam and Drake stopped dead in their tracks, slack-jawed as the woman who stood before them became clearer. The once image of virtuous beauty and kindness, now an aged souless boor. Her blonde hair now silver, and her flawless ivory skin had heavily creased and worn.

Her voice cut Liam like a knife as it was a sound he had not heard in twenty five years. There was no love or nurturing in her flat blue eyes, just a haggard woman caught up in her own destructive nature.

Liam fought the temptation and overwhelming urge to run for Eleanor. He needed to feel her long awaited gentle arms wrapped around him again -- to soothe his hurts and wipe away his tears. Like any child would covet from his mother, he wanted her to want to do those things. It soon became clear she was neither interested in entertaining his boyish fantasy nor rekindling their bond.

Cradled in her arms was Liam's infant son-- his own flesh-- and a child he was prepared to give life and limb for if need be.

He stepped forward to approach them. As both of his arms reached out in desperation for Nikolas, Eleanor pointed her gun at him.

Liam fell to his knees in surrender, weakened by the sight of a weapon aimed at his only child. He begged earnestly for her not to hurt his son.

Drake cocked his gun and was ready to enact his own vengance if she hurt the baby.

"You always were soft, my boy," she said wryly as she lowered the gun to her side and shifted a crying Nikolas in her arms.

Liam gave her a pleading look with an arm outstretched towards her. "Mother, I'll do anything if you give him to me. I"m begging you...just give him to me please."

Eleanor rolled her eyes and huffed with annoyance. "Stop your groveling Liam, you sound like your father -- may he roast in flames for eternity." She signed the cross from her forehead to her chest and both shoulders with a dry smile, still clutching onto her pistol.

He eased to his feet cautiously, his mind wracked with confusing thoughts of who he was now dealing with. "Okay." He nodded. "What do you want?"

Eleanor crossed the small sitting room and laid Nikolas in a bassinet. She then placed a pacifier in his mouth to sooth him. She stood, hovering over the baby before flashing an icy glare back to Liam. "I want what I set out for thirty three years ago -- Cordonia."

Like a tidal wave mounting in intensity and wrath, Liam's emotions began to build in ferosity. "You fucking had Cordonia, Eleanor!" He snapped angrily, pounding his fisted hand on the table before tossing a lamp off of it.

"Did you forget that? You were the queen, goddamn you! You had everything a person could ever dream of!" He trailed off and shook his head into the palms of his hands. With his breaths labored, he looked back up with tears in his eyes, "Was any of it real?"

Eleanor ran her tongue over the front of her teeth and stepped away from the bassinet to approach Liam. She stopped just short him and looked up at her towering son, her hands clasped together at her stomach. "I was never supposed to fall in love with your father, you were never supposed to be anything more than a spare to tie me to that kingdom. I had a part to play ... and I do believe, my boy..." She patted Liam's cheek with a cold smirk. "I played it magnificently."

Liam looked down at the petite figure standing before him, a shell of the woman he once knew -- or thought he did at least.

She had the pistol still glistening in her ragged, cold fingers, aimed straight at his heart. Eleanor could pull the trigger right then and nothing would make him feel any worse than the words she just spoke.

Liam swallowed the bile that burned his throat, his eyes dancing upwards, shocked by her admission. His whole entire childhood was a lie and that was a bitter pill to swallow. "I see," he muttered softly with a nod.

"Oh Liam, don't look so glum, it was just politics. I planted all the right people in your brothers life to ensure he would turn into the low life piece of shit he became. I needed to make sure MY heir would sit on the throne. All you had to do was accept the alliance offered to you. You, your sister and I could have conquered the world."

"You are one sick, twisted bitch," Drake spoke coldly through the tension.

She smiled back at him amused. "Why, thank you, Drake...I could say the same of your precious little momma."

"Leave my mother out of this," he growled defensively, playing her words off.

A look of pure delight beckoned Eleanor whose eyes began to glisten as she cast her focus on Drake, "Oh, I could never leave Bianca out of this, she was quite helpful to me at one point. Its amazing the lengths one would go to when blackmailed.", she laughs with a cackle, "Your father never saw it coming from her". She feigns shock before acting like she was shot in the chest.

"Drake, she's a liar, don't listen to her". Liam tried to reason with him before Eleanor got completely under his skin. He didn't know if what she was saying was true, but, he knew he had to plant a seed of doubt before she could plant the seed of revenge.

Drake could only stare at her with teeth clenched and eyes squinted, "What does she mean Liam...what the fuck is she talking about?"

"Bianca was a whore.....", Eleanor continued, with a slight grin.

"Shut up Eleanor", Liam interrupted her.

"......she fucked everyone at court..."

"Shut up!!", Liam raised his voice over hers.

"....I caught her on her knees with Constantine..."

"I SAID SHUT THE FUCK UP!!", Liam continued.

"She killed your daddy for me Drake, she thought she could be one of us....such a dumbass, that common trash bitch. She was an easy quick lay according to the men at court. Your daddy stuck around for you and your sister, unlike Bianca, who left after her worn out pussy couldn't pay the bills any longer. That was your momma....that is your momma", she emphasized.

The gun shook in Drake's hand as his finger coiled the trigger backwards. His fathers death and his mothers absence growing up was always a sore spot for him. He could feel his blood boil and an intense heat burn though his body.

Liam shook his head at Drake with an empathetic look, attempting to halt any impulsive reactions. One wrong move from either one of them could be deadly and he couldn't take a chance on Nikolas's life.

"Go ahead Drake", Eleanor continued her taunts, "pull the trigger...like mother, like son...avenge your fathers death and your sisters too...I hear she died nice and slow, exactly as Bianca sucked dick".

"Drake, NO!"

The blast of a gun was inevitable.

--------------------------------

Riley was sitting up on her bed with a blank stare, her back resting against a pillow propped up on the headboard. Bertrand was seated in a bergere across the room, holding a sleeping Bartie.

Liam had texted him earlier about checking on Riley, citing her psychiatrist was a part of Amalas' cronies. When Bertrand arrived to her quarters, it was eerily quiet, passing only a nurse exiting with a full tray of food, Riley hadn't eaten.

As her eyes remained fixed forward, not having moved in the hour he had been there, he felt her gaze shift onto him. Bertrand looked up from Bartie and watched his Queen shed one lonely tear. The look of nothingness, sent a chill down his spine; what was she thinking, did she even have thoughts? What could cause such distress that it would break her daze enough to spare a tear.

Bertrand sat up with the resting Bartie cradled in his arms and laid him in the chair, gently swiping loose hairs to the side of his head. He walked slowly towards Riley, pausing briefly, dumbfounded that her eyes continued to follow him. "Riley?", his voice low and tepid.

He inched closer until he was standing at her bedside, easing himself down to sit next to her on the bed.

Her lush, brown hair now dull and lifeless, clung to her face and pillow; golden skin now ashen and pale. Bertrand thought of her as a sister and it pained him greatly to see such a beacon of personality and life, lay waste. He gazed at his reflection in her eyes intently, searching for a pathway into her mind. "Riley, its Bertrand, talk to me", he whispered, inching closer.

Bartie began to moan and whimper in his sleep and caught everyone's attention. Bertrand's reflection immediately disappeared from Riley's, now covered by a sinister glare. She gritted her teeth and gripped tightly to the sheets covering her frail frame.

Bertrand turned away from her to look at his son who had resumed his peaceful slumber.

"BRADSHAW!!!", Riley screamed so loudly it would curdle rushing blood, swinging a large, golden, candle holder brutally until it met resistance from the scalp of Bertrand. He slid limply from the bed, crashing to the cold, marbled floor below.

Riley watched the blood drip from the candle holder onto her perfectly white sheets, trembling at the realization of what she had just done. Her eyes rolled back as she tossed the weapon across the room, grabbing both sides of her head, rocking back and forth in a state of delirium. Chaos and noise ripping into her weakened mind, driving her further into insanity.

Her anxiety level peak, sweat pouring from her forehead, she now covered her ears to block the sounds that only she could hear.

"Liam is dead, Riley....he.is.dead", Bradshaw spoke with a sardonic laugh.

"No....no....Liam....don't leave me", she spoke through labored breaths and sobs, her dainty nails clawing at her face, leaving deep, jagged marks. She gasped deeply in anguish and pain, and muttered, "Liam....not my Liam".

__________________________

Drake flung backwards, his feet tangled in knots of imbalance, tripping over themselves from the momentum of the blast. He had a soul crushing wound, the one meant for Liam, straight to his heart. He rested after a hardened thud against the wall and slammed face down to the floor.

"Drake!"

Liam lunged forward, grabbing the still, hot barrell of Eleanor's pistol, her finger still tightly woven around its trigger.

Nikolas's startled cries echoed out with the blast, as Liam slung his mothers arm to and fro. For all her fragility, she clung to her gun as if her life depended on it....and it did.

He bent the gun so that it was pointing back at her and wrapped his finger over hers, the one that gripped the trigger so profoundly, and pulled it himself.

Eleanor fell to her knees, clutching her lower stomach, a look of anger and shock, mixed with defeat staring upward at the son she betrayed in every way, "You son of a bitch".

Liam scoffed at the irony of her words, "You're right, I am... a son of a bitch".

She slunk to the ground, lifeless with a pained scowl. A pool of crimson collecting around her like a dam bursting wide open.

He hurried himself to the son he had not seen in weeks, who was still letting out frantic cries as large tears burst from his reddened eyes. Liam wiping his own tears at the sight of his infant child, safe and unharmed. "Its okay Little Love...daddy's here now". As reached in to pick up Nikolas, he felt a seering sting in his back, causing him to let go of his baby before he could even lift him into his comforting arms.

Liam's hands instictively flung to the pain he was experiencing, feeling the warm shred in his shirt and the liquid that seeped through his fingers. It hurt to breath, to even move, but, he turned to see his mother on the floor, pointing the smoking gun up at him.

He inhaled what little air he could, closed his eyes, and spoke silently one last time to himself, "I love you Riley and Nikolas, I always will".

The next sound was the kill shot.

_____________________________

Riley jolted from the bed, tossing the sheet aside, her physical pain mired by the emotional turmoil she was experiencing.

She felt Liam slip away, a deep loneliness sweeping across her heart. She plundered further into her despondant state, knowing she could never live without him, his love, his touch, his arms wrapped around her.

Lost and battered, she found herself alone in the room they shared all their best memories, with a man she thought of as her brother, murdered, accidently, by her own actions.

She slipped to the floor on all fours, weeping softly to herself as she began the long, painstaking trek to the balcony. She crawled over Bertrand, squeezing her eyes tightly closed so that she wouldn't have to see the evil sin she had commited.

She lifted herself up at the balcony railing to a standing position, her knees wobbly from the distant crawl. With the moonlight glowing brighter than she had ever witnessed, Riley admired the stars twinkling and the sounds of crickets singing harmoniously. Her thoughts took her back to her first night in Cordonia, a race in the maze leading to a kiss with a prince. A night very similar to this one.

She peeked over the railing of their fourth floor balcony. The sweet, fragrant aroma of the rose bush below, giving her a sense of calm and ease.

Riley wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing her ams for warmth from the cold night air before closing her eyes. She spoke softly to herself, "I'm coming to you Liam and Nikolas", feeling happiness for the first time since The Fall of Cordonia.

Her tiny body leaned over the railing and she let herself go. Peace and relief would soon overcome her as she flew through the air. The impact was quick and welcomed.

__________________________________

A bright light flickered as chilly hands poked and prodded at her face, fingers forcing an eye open. She squinted and winced as the light was too much on her unadjusted pupils.

"Welcome back, Your Majesty, I'm Dr. Layton. Do you know what happened to you?".

Riley's eyes flickered as she continued to adjust to the lights of the room and the image of the voice who had spoken with her came into focus.

"Queen Riley, can you hear me....do you know why you're in the hospital?"

Riley swallowed hard, realizing how dry her lips were. She tried to moistened them, yet, her tongue was bare, as well. A hand tilted her head forward and a straw was offered to her. Confused, she drew in the cool water that soothed her palate before resting her head back against a pillow. "I...I...died".

"Not exactly", the doctor spoke again while checking her vitals on the monitor, "..you were brought in after the earthquake, a piece of the ceiling fell at the restaurant you were eating in and you took a nasty hit to the head.....you've been out for a few hours".

Riley reached up, tugging the IV cord in her hand, to feel a bandage clinging to the top portion of her forehead.

An older nurse checking on Riley's bandage, asked if she wanted visitors, to which she nodded affirmatively. Not completely sure of what had happened or what was going on, she watched with anticipation as the nurse finished up and walked to the door of her room.

Riley burst into tears moments later when she saw Liam, holding a bright eyed, Nikolas, rushing into her room and racing to her side. They shared a long awaited kiss and exchanges of love, before Liam placed Nikolas in her needing arms. A flurry of emotions passing through her, knowing they both were safe and with her.

Over the next several hours, she learned that several people had been injured in Valtoria from the earthquake, but, no deaths were recorded. Her friends visited or called her one by one and she wept with joy with each person...Mara, Maxwell, Savannah, Bertrand, Drake, Leo, Olivia, Madeleine, Regina and Bastien.

During the quiet still of the night as she laid restless in her hospital room, with Liam and Nikolas laying at her side, she hesitantly shared her dream.

Liam kissed her temple reassuringly, "My love, it was only a dream...I'm here, we are all three here together, our friends and our country are safe....it was just a very bad dream".

"I know", she uttered, "it just felt so damn real...like it was a warning or something".

He wrapped his free arm around her back as she shifted to her side into his embrace, trailing her thumb gently across Nikolas's cheek. "I promise you we are more than prepared for anything that comes our way, we always come out on top, love".

"I hope so....I love you, Liam".

"I love you too darling".

-----------------------------------

"Amalas!", Bradshaw stands from his desk to greet her, "what brings you all the way to Auvernal this late".

She grins slyly with a gleen in her eyes, as he kisses both of her cheeks, "I have an offer I don't think you can refuse.....shall we discuss, Cordonia".

Bradshaw's lips curl with intrique and desire as he offers her a seat, "It's like you read my mind".

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maryqueenofmurder · 5 years

Text

Fear your reflection||uoy sraef tI

Inspired by @kool-aidd‘s fic I can’t stand to look In the mirror. @ihavenoconsistentname more Ex angst for you. Part (2/?)

Tw: Misgendering, deadnaming, heavy dysphoria, anxiety, panic attack, vomiting, transphobia, and self hate.

Ex wasn’t ready for the next phase of his plan. He’d kept chickening out, and he wasn’t sure how he’d get the courage to do this. Then he’d accidentally blurted it out. Maybe this was a blessing in disguise? Xisuma had called out for him in the hallway, called out for Xanthia in the hallway, and Ex had slipped up.

“Xanthia-” Xisuma started cheerfully, staring at his sister, who was barely paying attention.

“Ex.” She corrected ambiguously. Was she calling him Ex? Did she have an ex boyfriend?

“What?” Xisuma asked, turning to stare at her.

Ex froze up. !@$%#$%$%@#@$@^$%%$&^$#&% I did not just say that out loud. Ex decided he wasn’t going to squander this opportunity.

“My name is Ex. Call me Ex.” He said nervously.

“Why?” Asked Xisuma, confused beyond belief. Why did she want to be called Ex?

“There’s this girl, Xanthia, and she’s mean to me. Also, people keep mixing us up. We look nothing alike! People just assume who I am! Besides, Ex sounds like Xanthia, it’s basically just a nickname.” Ex ranted. Xisuma had seen a girl say some... less than nice things to Ex. But she’d always just fired back some witty quip or one-lined, and brushed it off. Xisuma could understand not wanting to associate yourself with someone like that.

“Sure... Ex.” Xisuma said, giving him an awkward smile. Ex positively beamed. One step closer to his family seeing him as a guy! Being a man, a dream that had always seemed, well, impossible to achieve, suddenly seemed attainable.

All of a sudden the knowledge of just what he was and who he was pretending to be slammed into him. The dress felt itchy as it brushed against his skin. His skin just- just felt wrong. Ex’s breathing sped up. His stomach roiled, and he felt nausea. Oh no. He’d felt this before he’d better-

Xisuma looked at him, concern obvious in his eyes. Ex gave a shaky smile and rushed off, looking sick. Xisuma stopped and stared at her as she ran off. He shrugged it off. She probably needed to use the bathroom. Xisuma went off, heading to his class, unbothered and unaware.

——————————————————————————————

Ex raced down the halls. Why oh why was I so far from the bathroom?! He thought, panicked. He raced into the girl’s- the girl’s girl’sgirlsgirlNOTAGIRL- the girl’s bathroom. Luckily, the first stall he came upon was unoccupied. Ex locked the door, bile rising in his throat, leaned over the toiled and vomited. The sight of the sick in the toilet set him off again, and he gagged, throwing up until he couldn’t anymore. His throat burned, and his muscles felt weak.

Ex slid to the floor, his breathing speeding up until he was hyperventilating, his thoughts whirling.

Why am I like this? Why am I so broken? Why do I keep lying, why don’t I trust them? Because you are an awful person, his mind sneered. Because you want to be a man, you are deluding yourself, you are wrong. His mind sounded like his parents. You don’t deserve this, just shut up and take it. Why can’t you just be grateful?! Panic crashed into Ex in waves. Overwhelming him, dragging him down, trying to- to- Trying to make him give up. But he wasn’t going give up now. HE was going to do this, HE was going to make everyone see who Ex really was.

Ex stood up on shaky legs, determined but drained from his panic attack. He wiped the vomit splatters off the the toilet with some toilet paper, threw that in the toilet and then flushed. Ex unlocked the door and went to the sink to wash his hands and face. Once properly cleaned off he left the bathroom to head to class, hoping he wouldn’t be too late.

Luckily, Ex had enough experience with his dysphoria induced vomiting to not get any on his clothing. And his hair was short enough not to get in the way. Though he wouldn’t consider it luck that he threw up often enough that he was good at not getting it on himself. It just seemed sad.

——————————————————————————————

When Ex and Xisuma got home Xisuma nudged Ex towards their parents. They didn’t notice at first, Ex was pretty good at lying and subtlety. He had to be. Xisuma headed upstairs, intent on not intruding.

“Is... Is there something you want to tell us, Xanthia?” asked Ex’s mother, who seemed rather nervous. Probably because Ex was a rather private person.

“I want you to call me Ex. There’s a girl at school named Xanthia and people get us mixed up.” Ex said with confidence he didn’t feel.

“Well, since we are hardly going to mix up our own daughter with a girl we don’t know, I think I will continue to call you Xanthia.” Replied Ex’s father. His mother nodded in agreement.

“It also sounds like a boys name.” His mother added on.

“It’s basically a nickname.” Ex said petulantly, before heading upstairs. He walked past Xisuma’s bedroom and into his, and put on some headphones to listen to angsty music. So sue him, he wasn’t in a happy mood right now.

Xisuma heard Ex walking past the door, then he heard a slam. Ex was probably in her room, listening to music. Clearly, the talk with their parents hadn’t gone so well. Maybe they would do something about Xanthia bullying Ex, if they refuse to call their Xanthia Ex.

And so it went for the next week and a half. Xisuma called his sister Ex, and their parents called their daughter Xanthia, until on Friday when they came home, their father called Xanthia Ex. Nothing was verbally acknowledged, but their parents continued to call Ex by his chosen nickname, Ex.

#evil xisuma angst #evil xisuma #trans evil xisuma #Who am I?||.ma I ohW #xisuma #Xanthia #Fear your reflection||uoy sraef tI #my fanfiction

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thegalacticmoth · 4 years

Text

Sanders Sides: Tangled AU (LAMP/CALM) Chapter 17

Prompt: Virgil leaves to get Roman, Logan and Patton thank-you gifts, but doesn't tell anyone He was going out, and comes back to find everyone freaking out.

Virgil rode on Thomas's back with Remy on his shoulder and a satchel over his shoulder as the trio made their way back to the castle, no longer sneaking around since they were on their way back.

He'd snuck out earlier that morning when the sun was just coming up, avoiding all the guards and tossing on a haphazard disguise after he'd made it out of the castle grounds.

He'd gone and found Thomas while Remy kept an eye out for any guards around, and then the trio waited a bit before actually heading into town, since none of the shops would be open that early.

He had wanted to head out later, but lately the other three had taken to surprising him in the mornings with cuddles and such, which he did appreciate, but he doubted his ability to break away from the other three without either lying to them or without them noticing. He was already skipping his first few morning lessons as it was, disputed knowing that he'd have to learn double the stuff tomorrow.

As he, Thomas and Remy drew near to the castle he noticed quite a few more guards than normal patrolling the grounds, and a group of them stopped as soon as they saw him, looking shocked.

"Your highness!" One of them said as the guards rushed over to him. "Where have you been? Are you hurt?"

Virgil brushed them off as he slid off of Thomas's back. "I'm fine, sorry for worrying you." He said.

"We need take you to the king and Queen at once, you don't know how worried they've been about you all day." One said as they gently grabbed Virgil's arm and began to lead him into the castle.

"Wait, I can explain what was hap-" but Virgil was ignored as he was quickly ushered inside the castle and towards the private room his parents had for meetings.

The doors were opened and he was quickly pulled inside.

"Your majesties! We found the prince!" One of them said as they walked to wear the king and Queen had been standing, or in the queens case pacing.

Both of their heads snapped over to look at them, and looks of utter relief showed on their faces as the seemed to un-tense and rush over to him, wrapping him into their arms.

The guards were waved out, and the two worried parents began to fuss over him.

"Virgil darling are you hurt? What happened to you? Where did you go?" His mother asked as she cupped his cheeks and began to check him over, turning his face this way and that way as she looked at him, trying to find signs of injuries that weren't there.

"Mom, dad, I'm fine, really I-"

"Sweetheart what are you wearing?" His mother asked, accidentally interrupting him.

"What? That just, um ah....hmmmm." Virgil trailed off, not know what to say.

"Dear," His father began, "maybe you should let him explain, you might be a bit overwhelming for him right now." he said.

She looked at him for a few seconds before nodding, then the two turned to look at Virgil.

"Well," he began. "You can't tell Roman, Logan and Patton." He began.

"Your three friends?" His mother asked.

"Yes, my three...friends." Virgil said with a nod.

"You see, it's been almost three months since they rescued me and brought me here, and I realized that I never properly thanked them." He began.

"So, I decided to sneak out and go get them something." He continued as he absentmindedly gripped the strap of the satchel. "But I didn't think you two would let me, and I wanted it to be a surprise, so I had to leave before they came to find me this morning." He said.

"Oh Virgil, we would have let you go." His father said with a smile.

Virgil looked up at him in surprise. "You would?" He said.

"Yes, we woul-" his mother cut his father off.

"With a guard or to that is." She said.

"That would have drawn a lot of attention, and I didn't want people to gossip or make a big deal out of the prince being in their shop or something." He said. "Thats why I wore a disguise." He added as he gestured to his outfit.

The queen sighed. "Well, I see why you did it, but I would have liked to know before hand, we though you had been kidnapped again..." she said softly as she looked down at the ground.

Virgil winced. "Sorry," He said. "I had planned to be back earlier, but then I accidentally bumped into a old woman and knocked her groceries down, so I helped her pick them up, and then I realized my gift had been crushed and I needed to go back and get new ones." He said shyly. "I didn't mean to worry anyone, I realize sneaking out might not have been the best option."

"Well, at least you understand that." His father said with a reassuring smile. "Now, go run along and find your friends, they've been worried sick about you as well." His father said.

Virgil winced again, thinking about all the worry he'd caused.

"Yeah, I probably should." He said. "Thank you for understanding and not being mad," he added.

"You're welcome," His father said. "Just try not to do it again." His father added with a small wink that his wife didn't see.

Virgil smiled and nodded before leaving the room.

He quickly made his way to his own room, planning on changing before going to find them since he had no clue where they were, but ended up finding them there instead.

He quietly opened the door, having heard voices inside, and saw Roman pacing back and forth across his room as he talked to the other two, Patton sitting on his bed holding a pillow against his chest, and Logan scribbling something down in a small book, looking slightly disheveled and not nearly as calm and collected as he usually does.

"We can't just sit here doing nothing! He could be hurt, or being sold somewhere cause he’s the prince, or unconscious, or-or-" Roman ranted, trailing off as he turned around to pace the other direction and caught sight of a shocked Virgil standing in the doorway, his voice getting stuck in his throat as he froze.

He stared at him for a second before rushing forward.

"Virgil," he muttered as he quickly wrapped the smaller male in his arms and practically dragged him the rest of the way into the room.

The other two, having noticed that Roman had stopped ranting, looked up and saw him holding Virgil, and rushed forwards quickly.

"Virgil!" Patton said as he scrambled off the bed and rushed over to him and Roman, turning him so that he could look him over worriedly.

"We were so worried!" He began. "We came into your room this morning to surprise you and you weren't there and then we couldn't find you, and your parents didn't know where you were, and then they sent out a bunch of guards but told us we should stay here to be safe, but we were to worried about you to do anything else and-and" Patton had tears welling up in his eyes as he continued to ramble on.

Virgil quickly wrapped him up in a hug, guilt bubbling up inside of him like bile as he began to try and calm the other male down.

"Shh shhh, Pat, I'm fine I promise." Virgil said. "I'm sorry I worried you, I didn't mean to be gone for so long, please don't cry." He said as he began to wipe Patton's tears away from his cheeks, feeling his own eyes beginning to well up with tears, although he didn't know why.

Patton whines softly and yanked Virgil into a bone-breaking hug, pressing his face against the younger males neck as he did.

"Where were you?" Roman asked as he moved so that he was looking at Virgil again. "We couldn't find you anywhere, and neither could the guards." He said.

Virgil blushed from embarrassment and looked down at his feet.

"Uh, well..." he began. "I kinda snuck out..." he said, trailing off.

"You snuck out?" Patton asked softly. "Why would you do that?" He asked as he looked up at him. "Is it something we did? Were we annoying you and you needed a break from us?"

Virgil’s stomach sank, feeling more and more guilty by the second.

"No no no, Patton, you aren't annoying me, you guys could never annoy me, not to the point of driving me away at least." He said as he quickly cupped his cheeks in his hands.

"I was...I was out getting something." He said as he looked down.

"It was important to me, and I wasn't really thinking, I shouldn't have snuck out." He said. "I made everyone worry over nothing," he looked back up at Patton. "I made you cry." He said.

Patton shook his head. "I was crying because I was happy to see you safe and sound," he said. "I'm not mad at you, I was just worried."

Virgil frowned, but nodded slightly.

"What were you getting?" Roman asked softly as he gently placed a hand on Virgil's back, in between his shoulder blades. “If you don’t mind my asking.” He added.

Virgil blushed again, and looked away shyly.

"Well, you see....it's been a few months since you guys saved me and brought me home," he began. "A-and I realized last night while I was trying to fall asleep, that I never actually thanked you, not properly at least." He continued.

"So I decided to get you guys gifts, but I wanted it to be a surprise." He chewed on his lip a little bit. “So I snuck out.”

"I didn't mean to stay out so long, I should have been back much earlier, but then a few things happened and I ended up taking longer and causing a bunch of panic." He said as he looked down sadly.

"Oh Virgil," Patton said softly as he cupped Virgil's chin and made him look up at them.

"Virgil, you didn't need to get us anything, we saved you because we loved you." He said. "And if anything, you're the one who saved us." He added. “You were ready to give yourself up to keep us alive.”

Virgil blushed brightly from embarrassment, before looking over at Logan, who hadn't said a word.

"Logan?" He asked hesitantly, shyly stepping out of Patton's arms.

Logan looked at him blankly for a few second, before taking a few steps forwards and wrapping him in his arms.

"Never scare us like that again." He muttered softly as he held onto him tightly.

Virgil nodded as he hugged him back. "I promise I won't, I'm so sorry I scared you." He said as he pressed his face against Logan's neck.

They stayed hugging for a bit before slowly pulling away and moving to sit on the bed, where Virgil let Patton curl up in his lap.

"I should probably give you your gifts now..." he said nervously as he glanced around at them.

"I mean, you can if you want to, but you really didn’t need to get us anything." Roman said with a smile.

Virgil lifted the satchel off of his shoulder and carefully opened it, frowning a little as he looked inside.

"They got a little crushed," he began, looking a bit upset about that. "But I got these to remind us of the festival." He said. "From before the whole Stabbington brother's stuff." He continued as he pulled out four slightly crushed flower crowns from his bag.

One was made up of mostly rich red roses with little bits of caraway flowers and some marigolds mixed in.

Another was made primarily from blue hyacinths, a few white mini-roses and some caraway flowers.

The third one was made up of large clusters of daisies with forget-me-nots wrapped around and twisting throughout the flowers elegantly.

The forth flower crown was made of lilacs, a few giant daisies, and a couple purple crocuses.

"I know they're not the same as the ones we had before, but they're pretty close and I thought you guys would like them." Virgil said. "We can even dry them out and still keep them later on after the flowers die." He added.

“I know it’s not a super fancy gift, but I thought you guys would like them.” He said shyly as he blushed.

"They're so pretty." Patton said softly as he accepted the one Virgil passed to him.

“They’re perfect,” Roman said. “You didn’t need to get us anything, but I, no we, really appreciate it.” He said as he leaned forwards and kissed Virgil’s cheek.

“Yes, it is a simple gift that has a fair amount of meaning for the four of us,” Logan said. “I couldn’t be happier with anything else.” He said.

“Except for you three.” He added with a smile, making Virgil, Roman and Patton blush a bit.

“Who would have guess you’d be the sap of the group.” Roman said as he pressed a kiss to Logan’s cheek after putting his flower crown on.

“You’re one to talk.” Virgil said with a laugh as he took Logan’s crown and put it on the taller males head, before putting his own crown on as well.

The four of them decided to cuddle up on the bed, only separating when there was a knock on the door.

It had been a messenger, saying Virgil was allowed to skip his afternoon lessons, but still needed to go to his evening ones.

After that the four of them cuddled up again, chattering softly and exchanging occasional kisses.

Virgil still felt a bit guilty about worrying everyone, but it turned out okay in the end.

Note: I’m still taking requests in whenever, so don’t be afraid to ask, I’m willing to do almost anything. If I don’t do a request of yours right away it’s most likely because I couldn’t figure out a good way to write it, but I’ll continue to try and make it in the future.

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galfridus1 · 5 years

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Geldris Week Day 3: Broken Seals

I’m excited to publish this piece I wrote for @nntzine which fits today’s prompt. I hope you enjoy it.

The room was quiet, silver light and dark shadow flitting across the polished stone walls. A soft breeze wafted through the window, filling the space with the pensive still of night. There was no sound to be heard save for the gentle wash of the lake as it lapped at the shore, the familiar splash of waves against rock. The soft air, perfumed with the scent of seaweed and brine, mixed with the hot oil of the lanterns as it gently ghosted over her skin. It was as if the earth was holding its breath, as if it too wished the night would never come to an end.

Gelda’s eyes fell on the demon lying beside her and her heart was instantly filled with tenderness and longing. It was rare that they were able to spend time together in this abandoned castle on the very edge of northern Britannia. The humans who had constructed the simple stone edifice, on a island in the middle of a salt-water lake, had long since retreated, fleeing the dragons which sometimes stalked the area. Zeldris had found it and painstakingly restored a few rooms, creating a sanctuary where they could hide from the war, where they forget their responsibilities and prejudice of their clans.

Yet, much as she did not wish it, the night was drawing to its close. The sharp calls of guillemots and the noise of cormorants as they made their almost comical grunts heralded the imminent coming of dawn. Even as she watched, the sky grew lighter, streaks of pinks and golds lighting the now-visible cloud. She sighed, forcing the air from her lungs in a failed attempt to control her emotions. It would soon be time for them to leave one another’s arms, and who knew when they would see each other again.

As if sensing her perturbation, Zeldris stirred, his eyes flashing dark as they gazed into her own. The mark on his forehead swirled with his power and she had to stop herself reaching out to trace over the patten. He too glanced out of the window, then made as if to go, before evidently thinking better of it and relaxing back into the pillows. Gelda fell into his comforting embrace, relishing the feel of his skin under her palms and the way his hair brushed against her cheek. It was almost without thinking that their lips brushed together, their kiss slow and chaste; she struggled to breathe, the ache of longing and loss threatening to overwhelm her.

[[MORE]]

“We have to go,” Gelda murmured reluctantly as she pulled away, shivering slightly as she left the warmth of his arms. “My clan’s hunting party will return soon.”

Zeldris wrinkled his nose, before checking himself and smoothing his countenance into an expressionless mask. She laughed at this, the sound swallowed by the soft drapes and comfortable furniture, so different to the echos one would make in the great halls of Edinburgh.

“I know what you’re thinking and it’s alright,” she reassured, forcing herself to push her sadness aside. She had to make it so they enjoyed these last moments together. “I can’t see myself eating dragon any more than you could drink human blood.”

“I did try if you recall,” he replied, an edge of complaint to his tone. “It was… an experience.”

“Is that what you’re calling it?” she asked innocently. “It looked more like a diplomatic disaster to me.”

“I was not prepared for the taste,” he grumbled as Gelda broke into fits of giggles. “How was I know it tastes like liquid iron? I have no concept of how you vampires can possibly enjoy it.”

Gelda smoothed back the dark hair from his forehead, running her fingers lightly over his scalp, and she felt him grow still under her touch. “Anyway, no harm done,” he continued, swallowing slightly as she scraped her nails lightly along his skin. “It passed off without incident.”

“Only because I covered for you!” She pushed herself up on her elbows, pleased to see him looking sheepishly up at her, before his brows drew together in apparent confusion.

“I have wanted to ask you for some time why you did that.” He sat up in bed, head cocked slightly to one side. “We had not set eyes on each other before that day, and had barely spoken two words together. You had no reason to come to my aid.”

Gelda felt a blush creep up her neck and into her cheeks, her gaze sliding sideways to the woven coverlet. She bit her lip, wondering just how she was supposed to answer that question, whether she could bear to reveal the truth. She jumped slightly as Zeldris cupped her face, forcing her eyes to look into his own.

“What is it?” he demanded more forcefully as she remained silent. “Will you not tell me?”

Several more seconds passed, his gaze never wavering until the pressure to talk became overwhelming. “Alright. If you must know. But it’s really embarrassing,” Gelda felt her blush deepen, heat pooling in her face, and she could feel the cool air moving over her glowing cheeks.

“I… I had seen you before,” Gelda admitted, and Zeldris looked at her with keen interest. “It was in the demon realm. My father dragged me and Ren along to the negotiations as token females. The alliance with the demons meant a lot to him and he didn’t want to leave anything to chance. My cousin and I were supposed to, you know...” She could not continue past the lump in her throat. The memory of her mission, as explained to her in no uncertain terms by the vampire king, caused her revulsion even now the ordeal was over.

“I’ll kill him,” Zeldris muttered as he pulled her into his arms. “Or hurt him at least,” he seethed as Gelda opened her mouth to protest. “I hate the way he uses you.”

“I was lucky. Nothing happened,” Gelda said quietly as she pulled back a little, noting the look of black fury on her lover’s face. “Your clan were surprisingly respectful. Ren and I were shown around by one of your colleagues, Melascula was her name if I remember rightly. We went to the library, the research stations and then the training grounds.” Zeldris froze as she added, “We watched you and Meliodas sparring.”

“Well, I bet that was a humiliating sight.” Gelda could see Zeldris’s jaw working as he forced the bitterness out of his tone. “I still do not understand…”

“You almost beat him,” Gelda said softly as she took his hands in hers. “I’ve never seen anyone move so fast. Then after that you took on this tall brute in spiked armour, and he was clearly out of his depth.”

Zeldris chuckled as his fingers slowly interlaced with hers. “Galand is a hot head, but he is useful enough.”

“You let him land several blows.” Their eyes met as Gelda continued, “You didn’t have to do that. It puzzled me, then I worked out why. You wanted the fight to be fair.”

“He gets very despondent sometimes,” Zeldris explained.

Gelda’s heart thrummed in her chest as a little warmth coloured his cheeks. “I thought it was kind,” she murmured over his hesitation, “and I haven’t seen anything since to contradict that impression. I wanted to get to know you more. And besides,” Gelda added, a smile curving her lips, “you looked so… you know...”

“What?” Zeldris asked as she trailed off and he looked at her closely and she struggled not to laugh out loud. “Are you saying you were influenced by my physical appearance?” He stared at her, incredulous. “Gelda! I would never have imagined you could be so brazen!”

They fell back to the bed, laughing as their arms wound around one another. Her heart ached as she watched his dark eyes lightening, emerald shining in the early morning light as the mark on his forehead faded to skin. “I love you,” he murmured, and she reached for him, only to find her fingers brushed over air. Alarmed, she pulled back, fear gripping her insides as wind rushed painfully in her ears. Her insides jolted sickeningly, and she felt a splash of bile hit the back of her throat as the world around them spun sharply, the room swirling like a vortex before it faded to black...

In my deep sleep here in the seal, Zeldris… I’ve been dreaming about my days with you.

Waking was like returning to the surface from the depths of the sea. Her lungs screamed in protest as she struggled to breathe, her limbs shivering, weakened from millennia of lying in a space on the edge of sleeping and waking. She felt sick, dizzy, disorientated, a metallic taste permeating her mouth. But as she looked around at the rolling hills of Edinburgh, darkened by the deep velvet of night, memories returned to her in a flood of hope. She had been sealed and released, imprisoned then freed. After all these centuries, Zeldris must have finally come for her.

Gelda fanned out her powers, scouring the area, searching for even a trace of the energy she loved, but her efforts became increasingly desperate. Something was wrong. There was no one, nothing of significance to be felt for miles and miles, and certainty no sign of demon magic. Human settlements were all she could find, with a party of that race fast converging upon them. Evidently the humans had felt the crack of the seal and come to investigate, a fact not lost on the remains of her family.

“Spread out!” the vampire king yelled. “Don’t let any of them get away.” She heard the rush of wind in her ears as her brethren flocked to obey his command, followed seconds later by the screams and shrieks of despair from their prey. The vampires had returned to Britannia, bringing with them destruction and death.

And she knew as she smelled the rich aroma of blood, gaging in revulsion as she tasted the tang of iron on the air, that she could never be the same again. She wanted nothing, none of this morbid reality, only the dreams she had been forced to leave behind.

As her clan continued their macabre feast, Gelda stood still, detached from the world, remembering the feel of comforting arms, the soft timbre of of Zeldris’s voice as he whispered in her ear, knowing with certainty that she would never see him again. Blinking back tears, the princess gazed up at the sky, love and loss gnawing painfully at her insides.

“Please kill me,” Gelda murmured to herself as she closed her eyes and prayed for death.

#nnt #zeldris #gelda #geldris #geldris week #fanfiction #long post #because my read more links are not working it sucks #sorry everyone #nnt zine

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prettylittlebrownskingyal · 6 years

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I Need A Favor ✨

Damian Wayne x Reader.

Request: Can I please request # 11 (“my mom keeps setting me up, so i need you to pretend to be my boyfriend.”) from the fake dating trope prompts with Damian Wayne?

Notes: Don’t we all know an asshole like Chad? Requests still open!

Warnings: a male character that overlooks consent.

Prompt List Here.

“I need a favor.”

You don’t know what exactly made you think it was a good idea to ask him. Maybe it was because he seemed to be the most suitable person to stump all of your mother’s prying questions, or maybe it was because you had known him long enough that he wouldn’t judge you for asking for this particular favor amongst friends. Or perhaps, and this seemed most likely, it was because asking him to fake date you was easier to do than confess your actual feelings to him.

“What is it?” he asks, book shutting with a snap. He always looked at you so intensely, it made you long to peer into his brain and see what he was thinking.

“You’re not going to be thrilled. Er…it’s kind of mundane.” You tried very hard to return his stare, to maintain level contact with his eyes but as a dark eyebrow went up in intrigue, you felt an immense desire to sit down, legs buckling a little. He was so effortlessly striking.

“If it doesn’t involve matters of life or death, I’m sure Grayson or Todd would be happy to assist you,” he says nonchalantly with a brief flicker of a grin, swinging his legs back up on the table and resuming his reading.

Just spit it out, you chastise yourself. How hard is it to just ask for a favor? It was Damian after all, he would never tease you about it. Besides, he was right. If he declined, Tim or Dick would be nice enough to help you out. In fact, you were sure even Jason wouldn’t mind, although that might just make your mother even more insistent on picking out your new boyfriend. You take a deep breath and his eyes flick up to you as you exhale, mouth quirking in amusement.

“My mom keeps setting me up, so i need you to pretend to be my boyfriend,” You say in one quick breath. Thankfully, Damian doesn’t laugh but he doesn’t look compliant either.

“And why me?”

You look down at the rug, moving a foot from left to right as though you were coaxing the earth to open up and swallow you whole. Why him? Because you had undeniable feelings for him that ran so deep that you were sure his name was written across your heart, imprinted in your bones and weaved into your soul.

Instead you say, “If it’s you, she won’t ask questions. She knows you’re a private person.” You unwittingly move around the table to sit next to him on the other side. His body heat radiates off him in waves and you feel a little light headed when he leans in towards you. He doesn’t say anything, just stares.

“Please Damian,” you start when the silence becomes too overwhelming. “Please, please pl--”

“Alright I’ll do it.”

“You will?”

“Yes. We’re friends are we not? I do not appreciate watching you suffer,” his smile is as warm and genuine as his words. Your stomach swoops and you feel a little dizzy but you manage to stutter out a thanks. “Plus, Talia has been doing the same to me.

November marked the beginning of the new financial year in Gotham city and as the chill of October bled into the frigid cold that meant autumn was at its peak; Gotham City’s elite prepared for the season where summer luncheons and October masquerades seamlessly shifted into dinner parties and extravagant galas under the glow of twinkling lights.

You and Damian had agreed on simple terms. At the next major gala of Gotham’s elite that Wayne Enterprises was set to host, you’d introduce him to your mother as your boyfriend; claim that it was a new relationship which would shut down her quest of finding you a life partner, and after that you’d both slink of to do whatever you wished.

Except, as most plans go, things went awry pretty much at the start at the evening. Damian had gotten caught up in a mission with Jason and had texted you several times to apologize but promise that he’d be there, he’d just be a little late, which didn’t seem that bad. Until you had arrived and your mother warned you to be on your best behavior before immediately ambushing you with three potential suitors all at once; a pretty blonde named Celeste who was fun to hang out with but quietly ran off to another party when her parents weren’t looking, Jeremy, who barely even glanced your way most of the night, instead spending most of his name stalking off to take heated phone calls and Chad, whose father was an accountant at Wayne Enterprises, and who was very clearly on steroids. He spent most of the evening regaling you of tales of his lacrosse victories and drinking a continuous stream of champagne.

You feigned interest valiantly. Across the room, your mother caught your eye and mouthed “Smile. Act more interested.” You briefly contemplated jumping off the nearby balcony, deciding against it because it was very likely that one of the Bat-kids would swoop in to rescue you, the bastards. But as the evening wore on, Damian absence seemed to tear a hole in your heart. You couldn’t help but wonder if this was his way of backing out of the plan. Perhaps it made him too uncomfortable to fake that kind of interest in you? You didn’t blame him. But it still stung.

As Chad reminded you that he was the star player of his team for what seemed like the millionth time, you noticed that he was invading more and more of your personal space with each flute of champagne. Something akin to bile began to rise in your throat as his arm slipped from your shoulder to your lower back, dangerously close to your butt. You fought hard to maintain a neutral expression, but this close the scent of his cologne was suffocating you and you wanted nothing more than to snap his grabby arm and run away. You tried to formulate an excuse in your mind. If you played sick and left early, your mom would just wait until the next gala event to try again and if you out rightly told her to cut it out, she’d get all offended and you’d never hear the end of it.

You briefly succeed in shaking him with the excuse of needing to speak with your mother, whilst he went in search of more drinks. You expected her to at least hear you out but she barely even let you get a word out.

“Go dance with Chad. He seems to be treating you nicely enough.” Yes mother but he’s also been trying to cop a feel all night and I’m not keen on giving him an opportunity, you thought bitterly. To add insult to injury Chad re-appeared with two glasses and an even stronger interest in getting you alone with him. He tugged on your arm, face set in what you assumed to be a pout but much rather looked as though he was constipated.

“Come on. I know you want to. Don’t you want to have some fun?” he slurred into your ear, his fingers digging too tightly into your waist. Bile began to rise in your throat again as you mother nodded approvingly at the sight of you. You couldn’t decide if you were about to be sick or if you were going to burst into tears.

“Come on!” he tried again, a little more forceful this time, “I know you want to.”

“No, I don’t.”

“You can’t be dressed like that and expect me to believe you.” He said arrogantly.

“Excuse me?” you could feel the angry tears threatening to burst like a flooded dam. Regardless of what happened next, even if you broke his nose, you were probably going to start crying. You felt so trapped and overwhelmed. Hurt enveloped you like a blanket; your perfect plan in ruins, your mother refusing to save you from the clutches of a creep and said creep becoming increasingly agitated by your rejection of his advances.

And just when you thought all was lost, when you thought your only option came down to violence, Damian appeared through the grand doors, looking like an angel of salvation in a suit. His dark hair was artfully tousled, one single strand falling across his forehead just so. His skin looked a little wan and he had dark circles under his eyes but he marched towards you with purpose, adjusting his blazer and fixing Chad with a dangerous leer. You didn’t miss the way his jaw ticked or his fists clenched. He played the part of the jealous boyfriend really well.

“Oh thank God, you made it,” you say, walking towards him, positively delighted to let him rescue you, “I was just hmph-”

And then he was kissing you; it was something fierce and primal and a little desperate on your part. His lips were warm and his pink mouth is just as soft as you had imagined it to be. Your hands slid into his hair as he licked into your mouth and when he’d kissed you thoroughly breathless, he pulled away from you slowly with his eyes closed as though the lack of air had made him a little intoxicated.

“Sorry I’m late beloved,” he says, smoothing his thumbs gently across your cheeks.

“It’s ok.” You stutter the words out softly as your head spins; you want him to kiss you again and then again and then forever.

“Who’s your friend?” he asks incredulously, head jerking in Chad’s direction

You bite back a satisfied smile at Chad’s obvious horror, forcing yourself to keep your words pleasant you say, “This is Chad, his dad’s an accountant for your dad, Dami.”

“Oh, really? And in all the years of your father having that position, did he never find the time to teach you about being a decent human being you irreverent leech? You were turned down multiple times and you kept trying to force her. I sure hope that you don’t usually behave like that and I sure hope your father can still be proud of you when he learns of your behaviour here this evening.” You’ve never heard Damian talk like that before. Usually his anger is biting and fierce, but his tone now is calm, only dangerously slow. You feel it necessary to keep a palm against his chest, tethering him to you.

“He’s right. I’d like an apology.”

He stutters out a sorry with wide eyes and a slack jaw and the turns away as fast he can. You make a mental note to ask Barbara to run a background check on him before turning back to Damian.

“How long have you been watching Damian?”

“Long enough .”

Still wrapped in his arms, you lean up on your toes to look directly into his eyes. They still sparkled brightly with amusement, hazel/green pools that were flecked with bits of honey-gold told you that his anger had subsided. You both let the moment linger unequivocally enthralled by each other. His nose brushes against yours and as your breaths mingle; his minty and yours smelling of champagne, he leans in to close the distance and capture you into another kiss.

“Is my mother looking?” you say against his chin once you’ve pulled away.

“Yes,” he says, his voice hoarse. It’s one word but it sounds so delicious that you shiver against him.

“Good. Thank you Damian, you’re the best fake boyfriend ever. I owe you one,” you whisper into his neck.

“Actually, I need to ask you for a favour,” he tilts your chin up, pinning you with his gaze, “Forgive me, but I lied before. I didn’t agree to this just because we’re friends, or because my mother is setting me up; TT she couldn’t care less. I agreed to this, because I could no longer conceal my feelings for you.”

He loosens his arms around you, taking your palms gently into his as you stare at him with confusion written all over your face.

“I said yes because I thought this would make it easier for me to ask. Would you…”

“Yes.”

“You don’t even know what I was about to say, beloved,” he smiles, brilliantly.

“I don’t care Dami. Just keep calling me that and keep kissing me.”

He complies.

#damian wayne x reader #damian wayne imagine #dc imagines #lilbrowngyal writes #requests #fluff and angst

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