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h0unds-of-h3ll · 3 years

Text

Talking to the moon

The rumors and trauma lived inside his head in fact it ate him alive. Each and everyday lifeless and a black cloud hung over his head. Except when he received and a test message from an unknown number. He knew it was unknown for three reasons. 1) Everyone knew to not text him or disturb him unless he contacted them first. 2) He could recite his entire list of contacts over anything else in his life. And the third was that he didn’t know that this unknown message would change him forever.

Word count: 15,000 *im so sorryyyy*

This is another dreaded Bucky Barnes x reader fic.

Viewers beware you are in for a scare with the: fluff, Bucky is a wanna be alcoholic, blood, angst, cheesy tropes *wrong number,etc*, bad jokes, one liners, awkwardness, sexual innuendos, mentioned sexual harassment, suicidal thoughts, depression, murder, slight dark Bucky who’s just trying to get through life, Sam Wilson mentioned, astrology and planets, knifes, ptsd, nightmares and terrors, flashbacks, sad bitch Bucky missing Steven and using the reader as a better therapist then the certified one, she/her pronouns used for the reader, mostly from Buckys POV, she/you referring to the reader JOHN WALKER SLANDER NO HATE TO THE ACTOR, glass.

(This is dedicated to my friend, tiny adjustments to buckys story and I am dearly sorry if I didn’t write bucky true to his character!)

He choked awake on the air that never left his cold lungs, meanwhile, his skin was afire. A coat of sweat coated him, he slept shirtless since this occurred so often. Always waking in the depth of night to little to no light, only the low gleam of the moon shone through his window near his kitchen along with the soft luminosity of the television sat in front of the sofa. One that he refused to sleep on. He couldn't even sleep on the soft bed tucked in the back corner of the room down the hall in his apartment. He debated why he just wouldn't move into a studio apartment instead of the one he resides in.

He huffed staggeringly and his eyes falling to the ground, searching for something that was never there. Tranquility. His brain trying to calm itself in some form, it never worked it took hours for it to. Even then it never lasted. He suffers another day's trauma trying to sort the world back into order. Sam would often notice but knew to never ask him about it. He knew from the months working together asking and attempting to comfort Bucky often led to arguments. Bucky strongly knew this was nothing and that others were just blowing it out of proportion.

That also led to bias work and Bucky not doing his best, since Sam put him in a bad mood beforehand. Bucky went to therapy. He was more forced than offered, the government felt he was more of a ticking bomb than anything else. Bucky thought of it as more of a joke than anything.

There was no sense in for him to go to the sessions. He often found himself trying to find excuses to skip sessions. He thought that the past is the past and trying to fix it wasn't a possibility. Bucky dealt with it the way he could. He pushed it deep, deep, down in the roaring sea of his mind and dealt with it later. Only in his dreams did it resurface to haunt him. Always making him uptight and tired from the lack of sleep.

However, at this point, he was use to the torture of it all. His brain is his worst enemy. Through shaky breath fanned on his arm, he was crouched over his left leg up his metal arm resting over his knee his other arm holding his weight. He watched the glow of the tv, his chest heaved in exasperation.

Nothing piqued his interest in broadcasting. It was all the same mumbo jumbo of stereotypical things like romance, the reality that was depicting the species as inhumane, the comedy he didn't understand, only one channel did hold his interest.

Perhaps it worsened his mental state but he didn't care and it was the news. It was all the current disasters of the world and the avengers trying to stabilize the circumstances and the best part of it all how disturbing the world is. Even if his bringing was normal to where he is now, he'd most likely be a deeply tormented individual.

He nearly had heart failure when a banner at the bottom of the screen read "John Walker elected as the new Captain America." In blinding letters. Above the banner was John Walker himself standing in front of the podium a hand raised in a gesture to recognize the audience's howl.

Buckys head burst with memories of Hydra and the way it evoked him. The way of how Hydra forced him to be something he wasn't. John Walker was the perfect example of an alternate reality with a substitute Steve. Everything Steve was for John Walker was against.

Images flashed in his head. He put his hands on his head his natural one warm and clammy, in contrast to the bitter cold one. It just gave his flashbacks even more fuel. Living with a constant reminder of who he is. A monster.

He grabbed tightly onto his hair the strands were being plucked as this was being written. He felt small patches of balding from this happening so regularly. His legs parted and creased by the knees. His face strained into pain. His extensive wrinkles from age, noticeable, and worsened from him doing so.

His blanket thrown away to the side with disregard, he started to rock softly front and back. The wood floor burned his tailbone from him sitting on it for so long. Suddenly he felt a different pain. A killer one.

The beige cabinets thrown open papers and documents scattered everywhere. The dark grey of a ceiling of the shelter peered over him judgingly. His arm pushed down into the metal of the chair burned from the uncomfortable position. The bolts leaving deep indentions in his skin. The helmet pressed tightly to his skull leaving him render less against the horror of hearing the words. So many times he had to go through this routine, the monitors loud and buzzing. He bit down strenuously onto the guard in his mouth and squeezed his eyes shut. The electricity drumming into his head, his brain setting fire to its system, he feels it in his muscles, in his blood, the veins that pop in his neck. The tubes behind his head generated and pumped large amounts which umped higher and higher in velocity each time an activation word was spoken loud and clearly. Spat carelessly not in his mother's tongue, he would never think of the language to be beautiful only to be a monstrosity of the world one of the greatest. His dull fingernails dug into the chair it did nothing other than to give him some sort of balance. He screamed but it was muffled to an extent of the guard doing its purpose. "Daybreak."

The announcer spoke into the fuzzy black microphone that's the only word he made out to hear. The daily news report drone on for what of which he came back into reality.

He opened his azure eyes and looked to the left the window that sat in the middle of a pale white wall and his kitchen showed the red bloom of the sun and the tall buildings of the city.

He felt resentful towards the time of day since his flashbacks usually only lasted a minute or so.

Lately, they've grown in duration and that stroke dread into him. He was horrified that someone would say or do an act that would put him in a state of mind. One that he wished to not be in.

Somedays he just yearned to be left for dead in the snowfall of the forest. Notably, so far from the arm that was taken from him that it would be hidden to the world for eons. And from the pessimism of the clouds above him.

He grew irritably hot and damp from the excessive sweat he did to himself, he felt everything was his fault, enlisting, going on the train, helping Steve.

He hated himself for a moment realizing what he thought, he felt selfish for thinking that Steve did this to punish him. He sighed and laid his head tilted to the plastered ceiling.

His neck outstretched. His legs and his arm, limp from the compression of him tensing them for so long. His muscles trying their hardest to relax. His figure seeming to be the equivalent of a sack of potatoes.

He didn't care about how he presented, perhaps it was his past with being a soldier the constant thriving to be the strongest and the son of Hercules. He pushed so far that his body couldn't endure the strength he put it through.

Super soldier serum and all, he was still just a man. He was still human deep into the last atom of his DNA. His eyes nonchalantly examined his ceiling a soft pale white like the rest of his apartment, it reminded him of the moon outside.

If he were to take out his ceiling it'd be right above him. He was enamored by how it seemed to have an ever-lasting glow. He let out a shaky huff then fell ever quiet. Until the day grew old.

Yori had scheduled a lunch meeting earlier that week, they had a routine. Yori attended and Bucky paid. This happened every Wednesday they would meet up and discuss whatever they wished. Yori was just an old decaying man who lived in Chinatown, he lived across from Bucky's building. Yori was kind to the ones he knew.

It was otherwise to people he didn't. After Yori's son died it was hard to, if he only knew who Bucky was entirely he'd die out of shock. Bucky swore to tell him but honestly, Yori was his only friend he had out of work, and even that he couldn't let himself go and confide in Sam.

So here he was in a plain-back leather jacket, some jeans and the same pair of boots he had since the war. He didn't understand the fashion trends of late. Last week he and Yori saw a woman in a bright suit, it looked like a second skin from how tight it was.

Yori was simple-minded as he was and had similar morals and interests. It was disheartening to say that Bucky had a sort of envy for Yori, Bucky wished to have lived a normal life of maybe dying in the war or growing old and gray like Yori.

Get married, have a couple of kids, live a normal life. He understood greatly why Steve went back but he never fully forgave him for it. He felt like Steve was selfish for doing so, but isn't everyone? Steve got a normal life while Bucky had to rot in the world alone and was terrorized by his brain.

He crossed his arms, the leather making a strange sound since he gripped himself so tightly. He sat up straight, his shoulders back, his face set with a profound scowl. It forever imprinted on his face the dark scruff of a new beard growing in.

He hated how it meant uncleanliness, but he didn't have the motivation to shave it off, there wasn't a reason to anyway. He hadn't been on a date in years, centuries even.

He poked and played with his sushi that Yori said was great to try at least once. Bucky felt bad and tried a bite, he had to give credit for a thing so small having to be so spicy. That was about the first and last bite Bucky had. Since then he just jabbed at it with one of the sticks.

The other laid across the small complimentary plate with the rest of the remains of the sushi he failed to eat, he lost his appetite a few weeks ago.

He's been nursing a strong drink called Shōchū. Every time Bucky ordered it Yori said that he put an accent on it and that it made him sound like a foreigner. Although Bucky didn't know how since he was fluent but that was an argument for another day.

The employees there grew to know that they should just leave the bottle there since he usually drinks half their supply on each visit.

He just simply didn't think eating was something he needed. Recently things just seemed to bore him to the point where things that he needed to do he couldn't.

All because his brain tells him this doesn't matter. He's just lived so long from numerous life-ending things and he'd be damned if he'd kick the bucket from starvation.

"That scowl of yours is going to scare the women away," Yori spoke, breaking Bucky out of his trance. Bucky only saw the select few people around them and the women that Yori was referring to were a few older women with smiles and when Bucky turned to look they suggestively waved their fingers.

When Bucky looked back Yori smiled and waved and went back to inhaling noodles. Bucky looked at the man across from him in the small sushi restaurant he grew to know too well, they always sat in the same place a small table near the front of the glass doors.

Some posters and decorations were scattered throughout the small building. The dim lanterns gleam radiantly against the cryptic night. It rained before and the droplets of rain still reside on the windows behind Yori.

Yori slurped pounds of noodles into his mouth at a time, the residue of it was left behind on Yori's pale-white mustache. Bucky was surprised that the stick didn't break from the weight of it. Bucky's eyebrows furrowed together in thought, his posture relaxing.

He laughed inside his shoulders coming up and the side of his lips curved in a smirk. The demeanor he held was appealing from afar, (specifically to the cougars adjacent from where they were.)The conversation always breaking Bucky's previous mood, Yori was very light-hearted when he wasn't in a mood. Especially when he had food and good company. He decided to further it:

"What do you know about the ladies here that I don't?" Yori swallowed a big round lump in his throat slowly going down to his stomach, he must've had a pile of noodles in it by now.

"Well first off all, don't test my ways of making them swoon over me," Yori stated it more of a threat than a declaration. He used his chopsticks and pointed them at Bucky and a warning manner.

His eyebrows perked up and the wrinkles on his forehead worsened similar to the ones that grew on Bucky. His eyes became wide at the thought of being disrespected like the way Bucky just did.

"Second of all, you don't understand how to look without your eyes." And with that Yori chowed down once again on his bucket of noodles. Bucky couldn't perceive Yori's advice, what does seeing without your eyes even could mean?

His smirk faltered into his normal resting face which Yori liked to remark and say was the equivalent to people putting the trash into his garbage can. There was no rhyme or reason for people to do so but they just did.

Just like the way Bucky was always in a sour mood it reminded him of himself always being angry at the world because of other people.

"Have you been seeing anyone lately, if not that might be the cause of your problems," Yori spoke as if he knew everything about Bucky and maybe he could Truth it since Hydra and after being the winter soldier and Steve passing.

Bucky hadn't really been ready to mingle. He just knew he had too much baggage for a partner to put on deal with him. Every now and then when he felt completely alone he downloaded some dating app he didn't actually want and deleted it on the same night.

He had flings here and there and since he met Yori he had been setting him up on dates whether Bucky liked it or not. None of them worked out since Bucky didn't try; he was too wrapped up in his own problems to be listening to hers.

Bucky's gloved metal hand wrapped behind his neck and scratched his stubble coming back down.

"You know Yori surprisingly enough I haven't," Bucky spoke grimly and clutched his teeth. He knew Yori was going to tell him off. He winced when he heard Yori's chopsticks fall into the cup of noodles. Yori sat back into his wooden chair, his arms crossed and a displeased look came across his face.

"And why is that?" Bucky began to open his mouth "Don't give me some excuse that you always give me or this will be our last meeting." Yori stated in a harsh manner with his face twisted in that fatherly manner. "I don't understand why it's a great value to you, to know about my love life,"

Bucky spoke of it as a statement but it came out more as a question. Yori quieted and thought for a moment thinking of the proper words to say. "The stars are aligned in your favor, in which that means you should try and put effort into those small details in what is grief, if not love persevering."

Bucky sat there thinking over the things Yori told him. Bucky stretched his arm out to sip on the Shōchū. He was about a quarter way through. They'd only been there for two hours.

Since Yori met Bucky he learned that people can't always be that bad. Unless of course, you're the type who knocks over his trash can and the men don't pick it up and so it rots to hell when he fills it.

Bucky sighed and reached for the half-full glass of Shōchū. Yori never favored seeing him drink. It was too similar to him drinking when his son passed.

So Yori being Yori he made a little catapult with his chopsticks and put a small piece of noodle into his device and flicked it at Bucky. Bucky glared at him and touched the spot where it hit. Right in the middle of his creased eyebrows. The residue of the noodle followed his fingers Yori went back to eating but before he did so he gave a word to Bucky

"You're not supposed to think about how to see without your eyes. It defeats the purpose entirely if you think about it as strongly as you do, I may have some years under my belt of practicing but you are going to go nowhere soon with the troubles that live in your scowl."

He paused searching into Bucky's storm-driven eyes, Yori saw nothing that lived behind them other than sorrow. It pained Yori to see his friend in such a state.

Yori rested his hands on the table interlaced in front of him, trying to find anything worth reviving if it wasn't already killed behind Bucky's aurora. But then all of a sudden a glimmer, a spark you could say flitted inside the fellow in front of him.

Yori leaned back in his chair and smiled softly, his eyes creasing. "Ah, there it is," Yori spoke softly. Bucky confused more than he had ever been in his life questioned everything.

He had no idea what Yori was doing or as to why he endured the unwanted staring contest they just had. Then his answers were spoken by the one who created the questions.

"The way you see without your eyes is simply to be at peace with yourself, look at the moon and the stars.

They have no troubles or worries and they are the most looked at things in the entire universe no matter where you are. They see everything, yet they still choose to have no regard for the ones that judge them. For you young sir, for them to have that happiness you take that amount doubled."

Bucky scoffed that he didn't intend to be disrespectful, but how in the world was he supposed to be calm when he knew Yori's speech was literal. Yori never made jokes or metaphors, he learned that the hard way.

He uncrossed his arms for the first time since they sat down, and rested his elbows on his knees, and leaned forward in the wooden chair. He squinted his eyes, questioning Yori's statement.

He knew Yori hated to be questioned and tested, they always led to night and day-long arguments that never fully were resolved. Maybe it was the half bottle of Shōchū he drank that made him confident. He spoke rough and dry from it taking over his throat and liver.

"So let me get this straight. the only way I can find peace and happiness is if I talk to the stars and the moon? Yori, you've got to be joking." Yori grew agitated but his composure remained ever the slightest of relaxation.

Yori reached towards the back of his pants to retrieve something while glaring at Bucky and the staring contest resumed. Bucky thought for a moment that Yori was going to shoot him in point-blank range in front of the small company that was set at different tables all over the place.

Instead, Yori pulled out a small crumbling paperback book with the cover filled with stars and galaxy-type depictions and inscribed above it was

"Talking to the moon, and other astronomic casualties"

Yori sat the book gently on the side of the table he got up and before he left he looked at Bucky for a long while before turning and walking out the door. Not another word was spoken between them until the next Wednesday.

Bucky walked home that night by himself. Usually, he would walk with Yori but what happened at the sushi place he felt disturbed by. He lost his temper and he never should've.

He's been put in worse situations than thinking that Yori made him out to be a fool for believing that the stars could talk. Who knows if they do. He should've been more open-minded, he's just been riled up from the flashbacks.

Shōchū seemed to make things worse but he'd forget about things for a while. He wanted to apologize to Yori;

he severely drowned the urge. With the rest of the bottle. Yes, the restaurant let him take the rest. He had to pay handsomely. He thought it was worth it until he had to walk up the stairs to get into his apartment. He swayed back and forth mostly to the left. The arm weighed more when he was like this.

He had not a thought in mind about the world other than seeing the bottom of the clear bottle made of glass.

He tried to walk up the stairs he really did but his chunky boots made it hard to judge the height of the stairs. He got about halfway up them and then he fell. He smashed his chin against the wood and his chin started to bleed. He didn't try to stop the fall.

His right hand was occupied with the bottle. His thick scarred fingers tied around the neck of it securely. He'd kill anything that would try to take it away from him. He pushed himself up off the stair and he winced in pain when his right hand was now in the pile of glass. It fell and broke when he did.

His back burned with being indented from laying on the stairs. His chin seeped down onto the pit of his neck where his jaw formed.

He pushed slowly up off the stairs entirely putting his damaged hand behind his back. How ironic that his normal flesh is the damaged one.

He lifted off with the metal one. He clutched his wrist and pinched it tightly with the metal one.

Trying to cut off blood flow so it won't get more infected than it already had. He walked to his apartment shamefully. His head hung down low, too insecure and awkward about what happened. His jaw stern and gritted he was embarrassed.

The alcohol dimmed it but it was still a major event. He'd hit the rock bottom of an endless pit.

He dug out his key in his pocket and went inside. When he entered he always felt worse than he had left. Yet he never had a problem leaving. It always felt like he was welcomed back into a deep aurora of depression.

He stepped on the back of his boots and left them by the door. He walked to the bathroom but he stopped and turned to look at the tv. There he was again in all his glory. John Walker.

Although this time in his clutches was Steve's shield. He grew saddened by the fact Sam gave it over. He felt betrayed. Sam was the only one he knew other than him how valuable that was and John Walker out of all people had it in his possession.

He'd have a long discussion with Sam in the near future about this. He was always infuriated by John but now he couldn't put it into words. Except for the word imposterous.

Bucky felt a sharp pain in his wrist and when he looked down. He soon found that he was nearly fracturing his wrist with his metal modeled fingers. He also took into mind how deep the glass shard was. Some tiny, some huge. He cursed under his breath a soft and crude

"Fuck."

He quickly loosened his grip and shook his head in regret when he looked down to his wood floor. He realized that blood trickled from him since he opened the door.

He hastily shuffled awkwardly to the bathroom trying his hardest to not make more of a mess than he already had. He walked with long strides and his white socks dirtied from blood.

The bathroom was small, with half tiled walls and a tiled floor, beige paint covered the rest of the wall. A shower shoved to the left of him, an off-white bulb accentuated the room.

He swore to change it but he never did. A mirror and sink in front of him, the mirror was a small white rectangular one, matching the shape of the sink. Sandwiched in between the shower and sink was the smallest white toilet imaginable.

He hated going into the bathroom for this reason alone. He saw how weak he was in the mirror.

A busted bleeding wound. That crept close to the imprint that marked the middle of his chin, dark drunk eyes, shaded pink lips, sharp cheekbones accompanied with a keen jawline, scars littered across his body. His face had a few abrasions, and cheeks hidden in the scruff that continued to grow.

His hair tousled and strewn every way it pleased. He never cared about it; he never tried to style it since he'd just put his hands in it. His shoulders were clad in leather and a beige henley that matched the walls. The calmness after getting pounded reminded him of when hydra made him fight the other soldiers. Then suddenly he was there.

It was a day that Bucky would think about for the rest of his life. Bucky had a lot of those days but this one, in particular, was one that made him feel excruciating pain. The fight he was trained to lose. The compound was a dimly lit walkway in between the cells. Two would fight momentarily continuously one was declared the winner and fight the champion. Bucky or the soldier.

The commanders of hydra love to evoke fear. Seeing the men riddled with fear. Some vomit, others beg. Some are like Bucky. Ruthless. They don't care who they are or what they want to be. All they strive to be or do is fight and the blood splatter after winning against the enemy, releases stress so sometimes it's a release unless you have a guilty conscience. For Bucky, it's the latter. He has nightmares, sure, but everyone does.

Bucky had perfect posture, his head tilted into the way hydra trained him to do or to be brainwashed until he was complicit. Bright ocean eyes were unknowingly dead. The thunder of the other candidates to fight by the cells on the sidelines until it was their time to fight.

Although before they went to fight they would have a fistfight with Bucky to higher their combat skills. Bucky was the best soldier they had to let them practice on. That being said Bucky wasn't being used to his full potential. Bucky hadn't fought anyone to his skill level, everyone was either at a lower or average level. They were put into groups of two in fighting whoever won would fight either Bucky or another soldier even crueler than Bucky. Bucky had some remorse and would hold back. He still deep down was a person but the other soldier killed many from going too far. And today was the day that Bucky had to fight that soldier. Bucky had three other men for the soldier to fight until it was him, all skinny and small, scrappy.

The soldier was big and unruly. He was undefeated, sure Bucky was scared but at the compound, it's kill or be killed.

No one knew the soldier's true name, just the series of numbers he was given. His confidence may be the death of him. Bucky believed-knew that he was more than the average man. He had courage, a heart of gold, and the endurance of a bull and here he was amping himself up and nervously fidgeting wondering what would happen if he won this fight. He wondered if everyone would think of him as superior or if he'd be more of a black sheep.

He heard a crack of a hydra man yelling to start. The man in front of him was next and the one that lost had gashes to the bone and blood oozing out of places where he didn't know could.

Bucky felt exposed when the man in front of him went to fight, there was still a very long list behind him to fight but he was next up. The soldier looked at him, his demeanor felt like the grim reaper and Bucky was fixing to pay his toll.

The soldier had muscles upon muscles and as broad as one can ever be. The word powerful couldn't even describe him in the lightest.

Bucky chewed on the inside his cheek he was nervous.

The soldier was known to put the others in the infirmary for days on end and those he hurt abnormally bad gotta not fight for a while and rot in their cell until. More often than none they'd put you back out in the field.

The stories of this soldier were the type you'd tell sitting at a campfire to scare kids, instead, it was grown, men. Even if Bucky was the bravest out there he wasn't like the soldier.

Bucky observed all of his techniques and styles over the weeks. Preparing himself for his scheduled fight. It was an algorithm for the soldier to react to specific hits and counter them with the same thing over and over. The hydra men taught all of the soldiers the same moves except the one Bucky was going to go against. They knew Bucky was their best soldier so they had to at least put him in a good fight. Bucky caught on to this pattern and that made him think that he could win.

The man in front of him laid in a fetal position with mud and red splatter across his pale form, the boisterous crowd making the shame feel unbearable.

Then all of a sudden Bucky felt a harsh shove on his back. One of the hydra men shoving him into the pit with the soldier. Bucky nearly fell face forward on the cement. A burst of loud booming laughter deafened him more than the crowd on the sidelines.

The soldier crouched low and Bucky knew what he was going to do. He took out the legs then beat his component to a pulp like a gorilla. Bucky did the same stance. He looked foolish, his hair stuck to his forehead, sweat-soaked his clothes which were already tightened to his skin from the excessive working out he did. Courtesy of Hydra wanting him to be in top shape. The other soldiers grew restless as they psyched one out. They went into circles staring at one other like vultures testing who was the quickest. Whoever blinks first wouldn't blink for weeks after.

A screech came from the soldier and he came after Bucky.

Now imagine a vicious lion combined with a cyclops coming at you. Bucky psyched him out and pivoted. That just angered him more since the battles never lasted more than a couple of minutes. This one was already the longest. The soldier turned slightly and looked over his shoulder and before he could do so Bucky had gotten close enough to kick the left of his knee in and he fell. It was as loud as the thunder when he did.

Although Bucky wasn't watching his feet and the soldier took his left foot and grabbed Bucky. He fell. The roar of the other soldiers boomed. His ears went out painfully, a ringing sound, and the rain flew harshly against his face.

He couldn't move, the wind knocked out of him that he couldn't breathe. He felt ashamed to have even thought that he could win. The black ceiling littered with golden beams.

The gold reminded him of the stars behind them, how someday he could be out of this dungeon to see them again. Abruptly all the ringing in his ears came back. He heard a low hum of breathing; he thought it was his own until he saw the beast above him. The soldier grabbed his arms and Bucky struggled even through his stupor. Bucky wiggled and tried to get out from his grasp but he was a god amongst men. Bucky then thought of how Steve felt when he'd get cornered in an alley and he'd come and save Steve from being killed. But Bucky didn't get saved. The barbarian struck Bucky over and over. The nurse would later tell him that she was surprised that he didn't have any brain damage. Bucky waved in and out of reality. Every time he tried to open his eyes it'd be welcomed with a fist. Bucky spat the blood out of his mouth onto the soldier. The soldier was just too strong. He was impossible to win against. The soldier rubbed the blood into his face and laughed. He leaned to Bucky's ear only so he could hear "puny."

Bucky screamed loud. Loud enough that the neighbors awoke from their sleep and he'd sure have a lot of complaints to address in the morning. In a split second, he found himself with his fist through the mirror, the glass falling every way onto the tile into the sink and toilet. Into the already damaged hand of his, the glass poked through his palm, and through the other side, the previous glass dug deeper into his flesh.

Severing the tendons. All he could think about was the pain of having to clean everything up. He didn't feel the pain he caused himself because that didn't matter. It made him feel the least bit human. Pain. Everything living thing felt alive and once he lost that. He'd feel like a complete and utter monstrosity.

He looked up from his hand and to the mirror. Shards still hung and it displayed a perfect depiction of what Bucky was. Damaged.

Bucky spent the rest of the night with a bandaged chin that kept bleeding like a waterfall. Hw picking out pieces of glass with the smallest tweezers known to man, that too ruby red water ran down the sides of his hand onto his bare beefy thighs and pooled in the middle of his palm.

He had calmed down after a couple of hours by sitting on the bumped-out window.

He often likes sitting there and watching the city. The cars zooming past the bright casinos.

The one thing he enjoyed the most was watching the constellations and making them out to be the things he liked. Often he'd see a star in the moon and he saw the shield.

He hated that one since it put him in the pain of remembering Steve and how he had no one.

He didn't need anyone. That's what he told himself but he was very wrong. His jacket was thrown over a wooden chair in the dining area. The sleeves of his henley rolled around his elbows showing the veins in his forearms.

He changed out his jeans for a random pair of dark shorts, he threw off his dirtied socks.

To say the least, he was at comfort for the first time this week. He started to read the book a little, the pages were torn and faded. Yori must've read this multiple times.

Bucky wondered why. The book was small and petite and was only a hundred or so pages. It was interesting, it was all about philosophy, it was written as if it was a big life poem.

He hated a lot of it but here and there were a few good points. He was about halfway through the book when a paragraph struck him.

Heart. Mind. Body. Soul. Great beings of life and they can only communicate by stars. Life and everything between can be carried through them. So if you speak to the sky of night. You will often hear a reply.

He thought of it as silly but then his brain began to wonder. What if he could talk to whoever he wished dead or alive. Just from talking to the stars. It seemed too easy and childish.

Although what did he have to lose the majority of the world hated him and the other half tolerated him.

He put the tweezers down and wrapped his hand with the bandage used to box. He had leftover wrappings since he used to do dirty street fighting when he got dumped from S.H.E.I.L.D's payroll.

He picked up the book that was under his thigh, holding the book open. He held it there since that was where the most light surfaced. He didn't exactly have the expenses to pay the electric bill so he always kept it off.

His eyebrows furrowed ever close as he came across a sentence he seemed to not understand.

The book looked like it shrunk in the size of his hand. His fingers twisted and ran over the cover and the letters on the page fell off onto his lap. The shorts rode up about mid-thigh and engraved their way into his skin.

He couldn't read anymore. He sighed when he read the same paragraph twice over.

All he could think about was being able to talk to Steve. He pushed it into the back of his mind, he carried the book carelessly in his hand, the feeling an odd one since he hadn't read anything for ages.

He walked over to his little place where he slept and laid down.

The news wasn't showing anything interesting. He became quite bored. He wondered if Yori was doing okay.

Maybe he should check up on him even if they weren't on the best of terms. He drifted in and out of consciousness, he played with the wrapping of his hand to try and keep him entertained.

He sat up against his wall observing everything around him how bland and monotone everything was.

He felt a buzz in the pocket of his shorts. He begrudgingly went to grab it. He didn't know who or why they were messaging him. Whoever it knew that it was just for emergencies.

He swears that he was going to murder Sam if he sent him one of the pictures with a caption that never related to the image. Sam said that supposedly there was a joke in the caption but that just made Bucky even more confused.

Bucky didn't know why he kept the phone. He never answers it and usually, he finds out everything he needs to know by watching the news.

When Bucky did finally open his phone to see the lock screen. He stared at it in bewilderment for a long while trying to make sense as to why someone messaged him.

He noticed that it was from an unknown number. That being said there was a one in a million chance for someone to know what his number was. He sighed he was going to have to change his number again. He was surprised what the message was.

"Hey! I had a wonderful time on our date today, I was wondering if we could go on another this week? If not I completely understand I'm new to this..um..blind dating thing. I really enjoyed meeting you instead of talking to a screen! Lol! Anyway, Ttyl!"

Bucky didn’t know how or what to feel. What date? Why was she (he assumed so since the person seemed vibrant and bubbly.) So happy to see him? He didn’t even know who this person was! A thought crossed Bucky’s mind.

Perhaps he could initiate the partner she went on a date with. He wasn’t exactly busy and had a girl on his arm. He realized that if he were to go on this hypothetical date that it would be very obvious that he wasn’t the man she was interested in.

He subconsciously stood up and paced his living room to his kitchen to and fro. The soft glow of his phone illuminated his face in the dark. It was wrapped tight in his metal fingers. The yellow stripes that were like a snake coiling around his arm grew more visible.

He threw his right hand into his hair, his henley slightly rising and showing a patch of skin between the waistband of his shorts and where the sweater laid. It allowed a drooling sight of a teasing view of his defined “V” of his hip bone that flowed below his shorts.

It's been a while since he felt any blood circulate under his shorts. He didn’t understand what this girl did to him but it got him going and that was certainly uncommon under his circumstances of life.

Don’t get him wrong back in his day he was a player. Now it's lessened to nothing. Not even dates, so this could be big for him. He stopped when he concluded. What the hell did ttyl and lol mean? It took an embarrassing text to Sam and Sam merely laughed at him and told Bucky to google it. That just made things worse.

What was google? He went through every single thing on his phone until he found the icon labeled google and he did google it. ‘Talk to you later and 'laugh out loud' Oh. Bucky was embarrassed how long it took him to figure that out.

He sloppily used both of his thumbs and stood in the middle of his living room texting out a reply.

'I'm totally down to go on another date with you, sweetheart."

He was proud of himself since he remembered Sam using the word totally in a sentence before. He was confident that the confidence and the suaveness from his past never left. And then the regret started to hit him with a bat.

Why’d he called her sweetheart? What if she didn’t like to be called that. God how could he be so stupid?! He started to give up after he didn’t seem to have a reply in his future.

He sat down, crisscrossed in front of his tv and his couch, and began to swim ever so quietly in his mind. His eyes burned with strain as he watched the bright screen in front of him. A festival celebrating the new captain he nearly lost his mind until he felt a buzz against his thigh and when he looked down he saw that the mysterious girl messaged him again.

He opened his phone to find three little dots appearing and disappearing continuously. He wondered what she was writing that required that attention to thinking of what she was writing to him. He wasn’t anyone special. He was a natural disaster but that was about the unique thing about him.

He grew impatient and shifted his weight every few seconds. He was very nervous about what she was going to say. He felt like a schoolboy asking out his crush and being afraid of rejection. Lord help him because he missed feeling something other than pain. Then another buzz ran up his arm and under his spine, it was the message she sent. It was short and simple of the lines of what remembered to be:

"..."

Bucky nearly threw his phone across his apartment. But then sucked a huge breath through his teeth when another buzz went through.

"It's just no one has ever called me 'sweetheart' before."

That made Bucky feel like he wanted to crawl into the deepest darkest ice chamber and live there for the rest of his life. This was it he destroyed his life by trying to flirt with someone hundreds of years younger than him. He exposed himself and he could never redo it. He should've known that this was a bad idea.

Technically he did but he just ignored it. How could he be so idiotic to spoil his chances of getting out of this cage of death. This was the epitome of a fish drowning. He was overreacting and hyperventilating solely because he doesn't know how to flirt like the modern age. He was doomed.

His fingers resisting the strength of his mind telling him not to type out sent her the message reading:

"Do you like being called sweetheart or do you prefer doll?"

He swore he died when he saw that he sent that. SWEETHEART AND NOW DOLL? He wanted to take a steaming hot bath and maybe splurge with bubbles and fall asleep and hey maybe he'd drown.

At this point, he didn't think it wasn't that bad of an idea. He put his palms on his forehead, his knees on his thighs staring at the pitch-black rectangle below him. Impatiently waiting for her response.

An on-set headache developing from all the stress he's had under the last thirty minutes. His heart jumped at the sight of the glow lighting up his screen. He quite literally jumped out of his sin to read it:

"You have no idea. It's way better than getting called mama and shawty by the fuck boys. Lol!"

Bucky was now in the crisis of not knowing what was a shawty and an *ahem* fuck boy. It was so worrying the amount of googling Bucky has done just talking to this girl. He noted to never call her..shawty or mama and to never be a fuck boy.

When he did figure out what those things were he wasn't exactly surprised. He was jealous and angry that she'd been called things that she didn't want. The feeling was common but never this strongly. It was an odd feeling it rose from his stomach to his throat and made it dry and hard to speak.

It made him clutch the sides of his phone so harshly that webs started to hatch from within the glass. His eyes cold and dead staring at the screen reading over her sentence once, then ten times over.

A little buzz came from his phone gasping for air from Bucky choking it out with his metal hand. (You wish that was you, huh?)

"I do love how polite and gentlemanly you are tho. It's hard to find guys like you."

Such short sentences made his heart gallop so fast in minutes. The logical side of his brain kept telling him that her compliments weren't for him but the attention for someone was much louder.

Maybe his old ways of flirting were beneficial, which caused him to be more at ease. His tensed shoulders relaxed along with his metal arm. Although his body felt he was burning alive. His free hand pulled his collar off his velcro skin, letting his structured collar bones come breathable. His breathing became shallow.

"It's hard not to be when you meet someone so radiant."

He didn't even know who this girl was but all he knew is that he didn't want to lose her and become utterly alone again. Not this time. His hair stuck to his face. He was going to have to take the coldest shower ever to get rid of her and even that he won't.

"LOL, Speak for yourself, I'm nothing compared to you."

He scoffed and typed furiously, how could she think such things about herself. He was deeply frustrated he didn't know why but he felt very drawn to her. He'd do anything in his power to just want her to promise him that she'd never leave him.

God, he sounded like a psycho and maybe he was. Maybe this was his last straw and when she'd break off he would too. He was so afraid of going back to the way things were to going back to being the winter soldier that he felt like he lost his mind trying to prevent it.

"Alright doll, how about this, we meet up this Friday for dinner and a movie at nine o'clock?"

He was scared that she would reject him. Fuck. She didn't even know what he looked like. What if she took one look at him and saw past his facade and into how broken he was and decided that no. All these feelings are what drew Bucky to stop searching and to think that he was a burden to everyone. Maybe that's why he felt the only place he could be himself was when he knew that he was 100% alone.

He huffed softly and threw his head back against the couch staring up at the ceiling once again. His Adam's apple bobbed as he listened to the soft murmur of the tv. All the world's troubles put onto Steve's back for years and he gets a little tongue-tied and that was it for him.

He needed help. He needed to get better. He laughed softly, his face breaking out into creases of his tanned skin, his lips parting and his teeth glowing against the white flush. He was insane and there was no going back. He laughed at himself for what seemed like an hour until he felt the familiar buzz against his heated skin.

"Hell yes man as long as we watch sharknado!"

Bucky's smile grew more and stretched his face into a radiance that made him look like he did when he was young.

Bucky didn't know what the hell sharknado was but he was glad to know she liked him enough to go on a date with him. Bucky Barnes had a date to go on Friday and he couldn't be happier. He didn't have any nightmares that night but he'd rather have a life-ending one than what he told Yori in the morning.

It was a couple of days after the fight with Yori. Bucky finished the book the day after he read it that's why he was here along with wanting to apologize for his actions at the restaurant. He was currently sat on the wise man's couch. His son's shrine right on the small table in front of him. He bit the inside of his cheek hard and let his eyes fall elsewhere. He was ashamed to have kept this secret for so long but he couldn't find a way to tell Yori.

"Yeah, hey I murdered your son but it was fine since I was brainwashed by wanna-be nazis?" He let out a small nervous laugh and ran a hand through his hair. Yori was going to find out somehow sooner or later. Bucky just hoped it was later. He didn't want what he had with Yori to end because of his past.

"What's worrying you?" Yori said softly as he walked briskly into the living room with a cup of green tea. He sat down on the couch on the right side of the Bucky. Nearest to the door. Bucky couldn't but think Yori was in some form afraid of him since he tested him that night at the restaurant. No one ever tried to test Yori.

Bucky was different. A way that Yori wanted to understand. But Yori saw the trouble of the glass downstairs when he went to put the trash away. The brand was still visible and Yori only knew one person who drank that. Bucky. Yori figured bad things came from it.

Partly the reason since he knew what came after from drunken mishappenings. Yori sat the green tea on the brown coffee table in front of them by Bucky and put his focus back onto Bucky.

"I asked a question," Yori said softly. It seemed that Bucky was in a trance his head downward and his eyes shifting searching for something maybe an answer to Yori's question but there were so many things going through Buckys mind that it'd take months for Bucky to explain to Yori everything.

Bucky looked up to Yori with a smile but in his eyes were nothing but disaster. Yori sat uncomfortably. He was disturbed not once in the few months of knowing Bucky did not smile.

Bucky ignored the question instead "I finished the book you gave me," Bucky spoke with a waver in his voice making him sound unsure. While he reached into his pocket to grab it Yori pursed his lips.

"I didn't want you to read it I wanted you to return it to the library," Bucky's smile faltered and his eyes dimmed even darker than the way they did before. "Oh" is all Bucky said before he put the book back into his jacket pocket. He messed with the wrapping on his hand that Yori took notice of. Bucky was acting odder than usual and Yori couldn't put his finger on it.

Yori took out a scratch piece of paper and handed it to Bucky. In scratchy handwriting, Bucky assumed it was another book 'life on mars.' Then Yori spoke up "Are you going to drink your tea if not I will," Yori jabbed a finger pointing to the white cup. Bucky cleared his throat "I'm not that thirsty,"

Bucky handed over the glass cup to Yori and he glared over to Bucky and he glared back. Yori smacked his lips together after he finished. "If you're here just to have a staring contest with me, then I'm afraid you'll be here for a very long time,"

Bucky readjusted his posture and breathed roughly. "I wanted to apologize for the way I acted at the restaurant. I know I shouldn't have lost my temper at something so minor."

Bucky stopped thinking of words to say he gave up. Yori got up and left the kitchen uninterested in Bucky's apology. His son's portrait started yearning to be alive again. He stared brutally into Bucky's existence. It asked to switch position with Bucky and Bucky swore that he was out of his body and then sucked back in when Yori started to swirl a spoon around the top of the lip of the cup.

"Sugar makes green tea flavorful," Yori sat down when he was finished he swirled it into the now full cup. Bucky guessed he made a few more for later. Yori came back up to the lip and dampened it with tea it made and a remarkably loud song.

Around and around it went putting Bucky into a trance his posture regained to straight and his shoulder back head high with eyes dead. "When my son, RJ, was one he used to sing this song 'a longing rusted freight car coming to an end where it went when the furnace descended.' it was quite a beautiful song when he sang it,"

Bucky heard bits and pieces before his brain went to a mush of the activation words being said in his head. "When he was nine had a tumor and we took him to the doctor but we found out it was benign."

Bucky couldn't hear. He couldn't see. The sky was filled to the brim with stars. The moon brightened and removed his appearance from the trace of a normal eye. He stepped carefully on the roof of the building. His suit blending him into the shadows. His hair stuck to his face closing him in and disguising him more than he already is. He saw RJ through the roof's window. This couldn't have gone more perfectly. He slipped behind one of the paintings and was quiet, his breathing irregular. He heard footsteps and assumed it was RJ and punched through the painting and grabbed tightly onto the neck of the man he mistakenly thought was RJ and tossed him back into the debris of the painting. A man came after him and he quickly threw the knife from the back of his belt and plunged it into the neck of his victim. Another man slammed into the stairway when he flew out of the painting the rest of the men flew down the stairs in pursuit of fleeing the winter soldier. As they shot at him he was faster and killed them first he jumped off the stairs and threw the other spare knife at the man in front of him. An old man grey in the green leather jacket he smashed against the wall even threw metal Bucky could feel the man's heartbeat quickening and then faltering to nothingness. "Hail Hydra'' The last words the man heard as he dropped from Buckys grip to a heap of a corpse in a matter of seconds. Bucky turned to his right and watched the RJ struggle to put the key to escape Bucky. Bucky wanted to laugh at how weak and puny his attempt was to get away; he was constantly looking behind him at Bucky. Closer and closer Bucky's strides were to capture his life. Bucky's shoulder swayed a demeanor threatened with authority and anyone who dared to test it would feel the stupidity of their choice. When RJ started to beg Bucky thought that was all he had in him. Bucky didn't care. He raised his hand and straightened it perfectly matching the hilt to the RJs head.

"I KILLED RJ!" Bucky yelled standing upright. Saliva flew onto Yori when he screamed. Bucky's metal arm was tightly tied around Yori's throat. Yori was in pure terror, his eyes wide, his hands in front of him wrapped around the metal as he leaned back to get away from Bucky as he confessed to him who killed his son.

His mouth was wide in shock gasping for air. Bucky's eyes widened in horror, his mind running thousands of thoughts per second he took his hand off Yori's throat and choked on air. Bucky stared down at his metallic pitch-black hand and then Bucky ran. He ran to his apartment. Hands in his hair pacing kitchen to the living room.

What the actual fuck did he just do? He felt tears brim his eyes and he couldn't believe what he just did. He ruined everything he worked for since Wakanda. His reputation was obliterated just like that in a matter of seconds. His breathing became ragged; he managed to take off his dark black leather jacket and tossed it to the couch.

The black t-shirt he had on raised slightly from his arms being on his head. His wrapped hand tore into his skin making him even more upset from the broken mirror in his bathroom that he still didn't clean up. The memory just kept running itself over in his head he couldn't stop thinking about it. Yori's reaction.

There's no way he'd be able to repair what he did to Yori and he'd had to live the rest of his life knowing how badly he fucked up. He wanted to so badly tear this goddamn arm off with everything he had. He remembered trying the old one off that Hydra gave him it never worked. He still had the deep gashes from his nails where they latched onto his shoulder.

The scars never really healed right, instead of being in the skin, they rose like mountains from it. Bucky clutched his head tightly, his form shaking with tremors. He just kept thinking of the word stupid.

"I, John Walker. Captain America has taken the super-soldier serum and in my disregard, I feel as if there are no consequences and it should be open to the public. And in retrospect of the world, I personally think that Steve Rogers was too soft on his components and since I have taken the serum I will no longer be tolerating the life of the terrorists. That being said I will in no regard will hold back. I will do everything in my power to rid this Earth of the monsters we know until their last god-ridden breath."

Bucky lifted his head from its place hanging down into his hands, his jaw gritted tight, his nose flared, and his eyes full of fury. John Walker. He was going to kill that man one way or another. Bucky was pissed so beyond natural anger that he stood up and walked straight in front of the tv.

This man was beyond no right in having that televised. What he said could destroy the world in an instant. Who or why did he get the serum from? And Bucky was the time bomb? Bucky closed his eyes, his hands turned into tight fists, and let the image of John Walker in an interview with a lady sat across from him at John's old school burn in his mind. The white noise of the crowd cheering John's opinion made Bucky's blood boil.

Bucky thought he had calmed himself until he opened his eyes he saw John look into the camera and point.

"The world would be a better place if there were more brave soldiers like me."

Bucky reared his metal fist back and pounded the tv until the screen was ridden of John Walker's face. Bucky came to the idea that when he got another tv maybe he shouldn't watch the news for a while. Glass fell on the table and pieces on the wood floor by his feet.

He fell to his knees. His knees cracked from all his weight on them with no support. His knees being crushed by the glass. His hands hiding his face from the world.

His cheeks and face grew warm from how he felt. His nose burned when tears started to fall ever so gently down his cheeks. Grey eyes becoming the most vibrant of blues. He choked softly, his throat closing as he sat there in the middle of his destroyed living room. His apartment is the greatest amphitheater in the world.

His shoulders rising and falling and stuttering when he gagged on air. He parted his hands from his face and sat upright. His hands fell into fists, his arms tensed and the veins in his neck pulsed when he let out a blood curdling scream. It was a long screech filled with his voice cracking his vocal cords giving upon him.

His tears despite his yelling still fell and stained his cheeks. He thought so many things at once and everything involved him being a monster. He was hurt and this was the worst self-harm. The arm was given to him and the brain that wasn't his own.

He decided that he needed to go on a walk to calm himself down. Maybe he'd go and return Yori's book. All he knew is that the world for Bucky Barnes was getting darker and worse by the day. Who knows how long until he loses who he is. But one thing was for sure. It wasn't going to be for long until he does.

He stayed home for the rest of that day. It was in the evening when he had gotten home from Yori's. He was still greatly upset by what happened. He couldn't think about it until he grew angry with a suicidal rage. He was alone. All over again the monster that kids are scared to go to sleep over.

He sat by the window again just in the same random shorts and no shirt out of fear of coating it in sweat. It was the least of his problems but it was still a burden. He wished he had something to listen to, his thoughts were so loud that he was surprised that mind readers didn't go deaf from it. He watched the people below him walk past the building complex.

Not batting an eye at the monster in the window above them. He wanted to laugh at how normal people were and how he was once like them but now turned into this creature. His shoulders broad and held his form up by the sides of his sculpted waist.

His legs crossed over another he leaned against the wall that joined the window in the corner. He sat across from the kitchen. His stomach growled at the thought of food, the last time he could remember eating something was at the restaurant and that was just a nibble. It wasn't like he could eat something. He never splurged on food, all the food he had was fruit sitting in a white complimentary bowl on the middle of the island.

He pushed his head against the wall swallowing thickly debating whether he should or not. He decided he didn't deserve it after what he's done. Disrupted from his thoughts he felt a buzz on his thigh in the pocket of his shorts.

He fished out the stupid little box and saw that it once again another text from Sam. He's been ignoring them since he's had Sam's contact; he deemed them not worthy of a response. They were all on the lines of are you okay? Bucky smiled at something so incredulous. He started typing out

Yeah. Just losing my mind but other than that I'm just fine. But went against it. When he read more of the missed messages one did pique his interest. Did you hear about the rumor of Steve being on the moon? Bucky's eyebrows furrowed and his face contorted. What? How could Steve be on the moon? Sam and he literally watched Steve grow old in front of them. How absurd to say that Steve was on the moon. But when Bucky thought more of it, it reminded him of what he read in the book.

Talk to the stars and they'll talk back. Bucky groaned in annoyance. Was this what he was resorting to in a desperate measure for interaction? Talking to inanimate things. He let out a deep breath his chest rose then fell shortly after. He closed his eyes imagining Steve back in Brooklyn and all the mischievous things they did.

He remembered the day Steve got rejected and then Bucky being deployed the next day. The day that started it all. The downfall of Bucky's life. Bucky didn't know what he would say to Steve but he thought he started out well enough.

"Do you remember when we were kids and we'd always have to act like we were soldiers because of you. God Steve even when we were kids you had your mind made up. Always wanting to be something when I couldn't even choose what cereal I wanted,"

Bucky stopped and thought over the words he said. It was true. Steve was always headstrong about everything he wanted. Bucky remembered that Steve was going to create this comic of this monkey who shot bananas out of a bazooka. And Steve did.

It never took off or anything it was just the thought of if anything Steve wanted he would never stop until he got it.

While Bucky always had his priorities elsewhere, the majority of the time he made Steve do his homework so he wouldn't fail. Two opposite people were the best of friends, who knew that one of them would turn out to be the villain.

"You know Steve I enlisted because I felt like I had to prove something, I had to prove that I was better at something than you. Just that one thing I ended up not even being better than you at."

Bucky's voice was dry and raspy when he spoke. The screaming fried his throat when he talked. It burned like a good bottle of Shōchū.

He'd kill for a bottle right now. He was starting to understand that this wouldn't work but he grew angrier at the thought of Steve trading him out for some girl. Bucky knew how much Peggy mattered to Steve but he still never got why he'd trade him out for her. He was jealous in a sense over the life Steve got.

"If I could I would change places with you in an instant, to be at peace. You got to live your life and I had to decay for years without my best friend. Maybe this was for the best so you couldn't see me become who I am now. Someone that we swore to never be ever since we were kids, the bad guy."

Bucky chewed on his lip after that. Til the end of the line his ass. Bucky ran his hand through his hair, the strands comforting his hand. He got up from the window and walked over to his little bed and went to sleep. The night's toll took everything out of him.

The only thing he currently wanted was this thing he had with this girl to be good. How wrong he was.

He decided that he was going to go and return the book Yori gave him. He still hated what happened and he knew trying to fix it would make it worse. The least he could do is get him the book he wanted. So Bucky put on his washed-out jeans, his shirt he wore yesterday, shrugged on his jackets and slipped his feet into his boots, and a black glove to hide his metallic arm, and went to the Library.

The library was a little old place with the roof caving in not far from the complex building. He wondered why Yori didn't just go and get it himself, Bucky didn't really care about having to go but he just wanted to know if Yori was okay and doing well.

Bucky went down the stairs and found a few remaining pieces of the glass bottle he broke last week. The memory of him falling and breaking it etched in his mind vividly. He felt a chill run up his spine at the feeling of someone seeing him like that.

He hurried down the last of the stairs and opened the glass door and went outside. The warm air wafted itself around him in a soft summer breeze. It was warm but not hot enough for him to go without a jacket and the chilly breeze lightened it up. It felt relaxing since he forgot how long it's been outside of his apartment.

He took long strides on his walk. But he couldn't shake the paranoia of being stalked. He was about halfway when he saw a shadow mock him. He walked faster not wanting to have to deal with this today.

The other person's shadow grew larger and bigger as Bucky walked further. When Bucky saw the library and a few he nearly bolted to the building. When he was inside he saw that it was just a lost dog. He was losing it. He sighed his mind relaxing and then jolting when he felt a hand touch his shoulder.

"Hey, are you okay mister?"

A warm voice made his heart pump faster than it already was he felt like he was going to have a heart attack. When he turned around he was met by easily the most beautiful girl. It was you. He thought in that instant that everything about you was perfect the way your eyes looked at him, the way your face was adorable, the way your hair fell behind your ears, the way your lips looked the most perfect shade along with your eyes. He promised himself when he got home that he'd paint his whole apartment that color.

He went cross-eyed from staring at the shape of your lips and how they shaped around the words he couldn't hear from being so entranced by you. He started to feel his heartbeat out of his chest. When he thought of how you'd look with pretty lips wrapped around him and dull bedroom eyes looking up at him through thick eyelashes. He needed to stop, he just met you and now he's so hard against his jeans that he was sure that he was bruised.

And your hands on his shoulders shaking him wasn't helping him. His trance was broken when he realized what was happening. "Huh?" That is all he managed to make out through his lust-clouded mind. You did this face that made him die, it was when your eyebrows furrowed and your lips went to one side pursed together. Your eyes were cut at him and he knew he was in trouble but he just couldn't help being enticed by you.

"I asked if you needed help," You stopped and wagged a finger in his way "You're all sweaty." He looked down at himself and you were right, his hair stuck down and his shirt showed pools. Shit. Way to embarrass yourself, Buck. You're sweaty, you're horny for some girl you just met. He was a trainwreck embodied. "I'm okay, it's just the heat," Bucky spoke with uncertainty. He had no idea what was happening why he was acting like this. He usually never felt like this around a girl, especially one he just met.

Your face was still cut, your lips went back into the fullness of how they are naturally. "Weird but okay." You spoke under your breath since it wasn't sweating weather outside. You were going to be the death of him and thankfully there were only a couple of other people in the library since it was the morning of a weekday.

"There's a cool spot where the ac is over there." She turned and pointed towards the left somewhere. He couldn't concentrate in the slightest even if he tried. And god your body from just the standard shirt and jeans you wore he felt his turn into skinny jeans.

"But anyway if you need me just yell, its y/n." And you left and when you walked away to assist someone else he got the perfect view of your ass. He scurried into the thick of the bookshelves and triple-checked if anyone was around him and adjusted himself.

It was so painful to not jump your bones right there. He rubbed his face with his hands and groaned. Get it together Buck. He realizes that he was going to have to go and talk to you again since he had to check the book in. He mentally stabs himself in the neck.

He calms himself down enough so that he could talk to you again. He feels like a prepubescent boy talking to his crush. Bucky guessed that he lost his cool with talking to girls over the years since he stopped. This was hell. You were at the front desk, the one in front of the door. You were reading some book that he didn't know.

He took a moment to admire the way your hair frames your face, the way your ass jutted out so you could lean over the desk on your forearms. Your free hand, the one not holding your page was used as a support beam for your face under your chin. God you were so beautiful, he hooked his finger under the collar of his shirt and started to flick it back and forth to generate air.

He was the human-dog drooling over a mate. He hated himself for not getting to know you and he already felt like this towards you. He was a monster but he wasn't impolite; he drew the line there. He was in the clouds that he didn't notice you staring at him with squinted eyes. "Can I help you, sir?" Your voice hung on sir in his mind.

He couldn't help but envision you beneath him moaning sir. "Uh, yeah, there's this book" He startled himself when his voice croaked out a response. He patted the pocket of his jacket and had a crisis when he thought he left it at home. But when he shoved his hands into his pocket he let out a smile of relief and grabbed it and slid it over to you on the other side of the desk.

"I need you to check that in and then" He stopped and searched for the piece of paper Yori gave him. He found it crumpled as lint in the bottom of his other pocket and the words faded. "Shit, uh, and check out this." He shoved his hands in his pocket and looked at his feet afraid of confrontation. You silently grabbed the book and checked it in and grabbed the note. You couldn't make out a single letter. Your eyebrows pinched together and when he looked up quickly and then darted his eyes away. He knew that you couldn't.

He wanted a sinkhole to open up and swallow him whole. You scratched the back of your neck trying to decipher the note "I can recommend something similar to the book you turned in, I'm sorry but I can't read this." You spoke with sincerity. And walked out behind the desk and poor Bucky followed you like a lovesick puppy.

You cursed Jordan, another employee for putting the desired book on the top shelf. The bookshelves were very tall and you weren't short but you weren't 7' foot either. You pinched your nose shutting your eyes and put a hand on your hip. "Do you see the book at the very top with the red back?" You muttered and Bucky looked up and saw the issue. "Do you want me to grab it for you?" Bucky looked at you with the softest eyes and you couldn't help but admire them.

You shook your head and lord you were about to melt. His body was brushed up against yours, you could've moved but you really didn't. You could feel the texture of his jacket against your soft skin and you cursed yourself for blushing. He took notice and let a small smile creep on his face when he handed you the book and your head was hung low when you walked back behind the desk.

Bucky guessed that he didn't completely lose his effect on girls. When you were checking out the book he noticed the book you were reading. It was The hobbit. He actually enjoyed the book when he read it when it first came out. He didn't take an interest in fantasy and so he shrugged it off until he actually read it.

When you stamped the books inside the page and slid it back. Bucky smirked "You know they all die in the end." The pure confusion on your face was amusing and with that, he left.

When he got home he started to feel the metal of his arm become rusted and thinking back it had been a while since the last time he cleaned it. He was wanting it to fall off so bad that he forgot he actually needed it.

He wondered where the girl went that texted him before. He didn't want to bother her by texting her first that to him was unnatural. It didn't bother him that much since he used to. And that the date was tomorrow so she would either show up or not and he'd suffer the consequences either way.

He went to the bathroom to grab the grease and a rag he uses every time in the cabinet under the sink.

He stopped shortly catching himself in the shattered mirror. The bandage on his chin began to fall off God forbid it started to at the library. He took it off slowly, the hair of his stubble getting caught in the crossfire. There was a bright pink little scar where the gash was. His skin healed relatively fast but it never cured the scars. He figured if his chin was healed that his hand should be.

He unwrapped his hand slowly for some reason he was scared of what it looked like. When he finally finished unwrapping his palm was littered with scars ranging in size. He touched the scars to see if they hurt with his metal hand and nothing.

Just a scar.

Bucky grabbed the grease and took off his jacket and boots and the first time he moved in he sat on the couch.

It was stiff as ever and it never got out of the store phase. He poured some grease on the white rag and it turned brown and he started to put it in the creases where he noticed it too slow. His mind ran back to you that never happened to him. God he was caught red-handed too, he'd have to take a very long and cold shower when he was done cleaning his arm. The rest of the evening all he could think about was what would happen tomorrow and how he'd destroy the girl of his dreams.

Bucky spent Friday constantly checking his phone for two reasons.

1) to see if his admirer would message him and

2) always checking the time.

He honestly couldn't wait; it's been forever and he was excited about something new. For change. The only source of entertainment he had was the book he checked out earlier. It wasn't the book he was supposed to get. The book in contrast was called American Psycho.

Bucky was about halfway and he fairly enjoyed it. Although it disturbed him since he found similarities in himself with Patrick Bateman. Bucky laughed at all the dark jokes and liked all the points where Patrick lost all sanity; it was the highlight of the book.

Bucky flipped one of the knives carelessly in the hand that wasn't occupied by the book. Bucky loved the power a single knife had. A single slip of the wrist could end something as fast as it began. Time flew by when simple hobbies turned into jobs. He cursed himself because it was seven o clock and he had only an hour to go to the restaurant which was the sushi place that he and Yori used to eat at.

He texted the directions to the girl, he grabbed his glove and jacket and shoved the knife in the back of his belt and fled down the stairs and out the door, and ran the rest of the way.

You sat at the small petite table, your phone clutched in your hand carefully watching the time. When it turned to 8:55 your gut twisted. Maybe he didn't like you as much as you liked him.

The waitress came by once again asking if everything was okay and if you'd like to eat and each time and you'd have to politely decline. You crossed and uncrossed your legs, they grew numb from you sitting in the wooden chair for the past hour. You didn't know what to wear so you opted for a sleek white dress and some heels.

You hoped you didn't overdress and make the wrong impression. You sipped on your water looking through the window to find any hint of your lover boy. You knew what to look for since you knew who it was. But maybe he didn't come and you were set up. How embarrassing this was. Yori told you that he was stubborn but he seemed pretty into you at the library. You know Yori through Leah, an employee at the restaurant who was a friend of yours.

She promised you that she would pay for your meal every time you ate there. How could you refuse? You sighed and began to get up and leave since you thought Bucky gave up on wanting to go on the date. You quickly sat down when you heard the bell of the door ring open and then there he was in all his glory.

Bucky Barnes, in the same leather jacket but you couldn't believe how good he looked underneath the dim light. His bandages were now gone and his face was sullen and structured from the shadows that made his face deepen. You smiled your ruby lips catching Bucky's attention and he hadn't seen something so pleasing to the eye in ages. Although he was confused since he didn't know that it was you who he was texting was there something going on that he didn't know about?

He pulled out the chair and sat across from you with his face stern. "Why didn't you tell me it was you that I was talking to?" He spoke slowly and his head tilted in question like a puppy's. "Yori told me about how you are with dating and he was afraid of you always being alone, and he gave me your number, I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

You fiddled with your fingers when you talked you were nervous about his reaction. You knew all about Bucky's reputation and embarrassing enough growing up you developed a crush on him, so you jumped for this opportunity.

You loved how strong and brave he was and even though he was brainwashed you thought of him as a good person. He chewed on the inside of his cheek thinking of what were the right words to say. "Just no more secrets from now on." With that, he waved down the waitress for a bottle of Shōchū.

After the half, the bottle was gone you couldn't help but be in wonder from how he managed to be able to drink all that meanwhile you were still sipping on your first shot. Every sip you took you gagged and your face turned into a kid who took their first sip of alcohol which made Bucky laugh.

Dinner was going along nicely there were many jokes and stories shared but Bucky couldn't help but be skeptical of how this could work. Bucky was severely messed up and couldn't care for another. He wanted to but he was just incapable, maybe he could just live this lie and things could be normal.

When they called for closure Bucky finished laughing at some remark you made, you and he were sat there talking for a couple of hours. It was just so easy to talk to him. Although you did notice a few times he would wince in pain and put his face in his hands. You thought it was odd but shrugged it off from his excessive drinking. Speaking of the devil he asked

"Do you want to go to my place. There have been complications with my tv so we can't watch a movie, but I can keep you company." You smiled a drunken buzz of Shōchū. Not nearly did you drink as much as Bucky but it was still written across your features. Your face flushed pink and your body made of jello hung off of Bucky's arm the whole walk to his house and Bucky every now and then had to pick you up.

Bucky didn't want to do anything rash to you but in the back of his mind, something kept itching it made it so painful that he couldn't ignore it. It kept making him shake his head and wince it was like a headache but much more painful. When he got into his apartment you took notice of what he meant by complications of a totaled tv. You shed off your heels and sat on the tv nervous to be in Bucky's house, your form off-putting to Bucky.

He sat down across the couch from you and he became hurt by you sitting so far away from him. "Are you scared of me or something?" He spoke grimly staring at the floor, his face holding no emotion to his words. "What? no!" You were shocked by his words. How could he assume that you were scared of him? Bucky looked your way and a strange look appeared in his eyes.

"Then why are you sitting so far away from me?" He gritted his teeth and his hands turned into fists, they were clamped tightly together on his thighs and this side of Bucky did scare you. He wasn't Bucky, he looked like him but his whole persona changed in the span of minutes. You wondered if it was something you said or did.

You became fearful when he fell off the couch onto his knees his head clutched in his hands. He started to scream not like the ones before this one was full of pain and torment. The moon's light made this scene unfold a lot more sinister. What was happening to him, why was he acting this way? Then all of a sudden he grew very quiet nothing could be heard other than your breathing.

You were confused and scared but you did care for Bucky and in his position, you assumed he was in serious need of help. You walked carefully taking notice to not step loudly to provoke him. You crouched down your dress falling over your feet, you reached your right hand out hesitant towards Bucky.

You stayed with your hand on his shoulder

"Bucky?"

You whispered softly, scared to disturb him. Everything was at ease at a calm one that felt too unrealistic.

That was true because a few seconds later Bucky grumbled out

"Who the hell is Bucky."

He slung around his body twisted and grabbed a knife from the back of his belt and stabbed you straight into the heart with it. Before you could even have time to run it was over.

The white of your dress now became a soaking deep red. The way your eyes forever open to the moon the way the moon took your life. And that day was when Bucky Barnes lost his sanity and forever came the winter soldier.

*A few months later*

She sat with her legs crossed, her hair tied up perfectly.

Her posture evenly to the ceiling while sitting. The only one that a soldier would perfect. She read over his portfolio over and over to get every last detail to stick in her mind so she wouldn't forget.

She breathed heavily finishing the last sentence. She took off her glasses and shut the case file on her lap, and put her right elbow up on the white seat, her glasses in the same hand.

She pursed her lips staring at the man in front of her and sat on the white couch in front of a forest mural. He was in all black a blank face, his hair a little longer and his stubble now thicker.

He played with the pink protruding scar on his right hand. Pushing and watching the blood rush to it. She wrote that in the notebook.

When he caught notice he stopped and tilted his head slightly. He narrowed his eyes and stared at her.

He was convicted of third-degree murder and numerous accounts of other convictions.

She thought over all the things that were stated in the portfolio but what struck her the most was that he drank excessively and faked being drunk just to feel

"more human."

She thought of a way to form a sentence to not upset him about what he's telling her to see if what he recollected matched what was in the documents but there was no easy way to do that.

She listened to him finish the last of what he was telling her:

"And that's how the story ended."

Fin.

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nostalthicc · 4 years

Text

send your regards | jeff wittek

mobster!jeff x reader

summary: y/n and jeff both find out some pretty unsettling things about their relationship

warnings: cursing, horribly written, hella mistakes, im just not that happy with it

3k words

y/n didn’t find herself in a relationship very often, so she understood why her friends were so eager to hear about this new guy she had been seeing for about five months. they’ve had to watch y/n come home in the early hours of the morning, new designer items pop into her closet and her mood suddenly shifted from her usual unbothered attitude to a brand new happy woman and hadn’t even heard a peep about who caused all these changes in their friend’s life.

but today was the day, y/n’s small group of friends sat crowded around her bed as she started to tell them about her newfound relationship- if she could even call it that. “we met at sandy’s, the club near the outlet mall. and you know me when i have one, two many drinks. i thought he was gonna kick me out in the morning but ended up making me breakfast and asked for my number.” y/n said, pausing as she noticed the girls were dying to interrupt her story with questions.

“how was it?”

“what does he look like?”

“what’s his name?”

“eggplant and baby carrot?”

“does he have a brother?”

y/n’s eyes widen at the abundance of words thrown her way, she knew they were curious but not this much so. “one, that’s for me to know, court. two, he’s really fucking hot, i’ll show you guys a picture in a second, three his name is jeff wittek-”

before she could go any farther, her older friend, nora blurted out: “What?! Jeff?” y/n gave her a questionable look, urging nora to quiet down and explain her sudden outburst. “y/n, no, you have to end things, you can’t get involved with him.” she said frantically. “h-he’s not a good person.”

“what are you talking about?” y/n asked, her eyebrows furrowed. jeff was one of the kindest people she met whenever they were together, she couldn’t imagine a bad bone in his body. what nora was saying didn’t add up, it seems her friend must have been confused and was talking about the wrong jeff. since the first time she met him he had been nothing but nice to y/n and the people around them and every one of jeff’s friends were also highly kind to her.

“are you stupid, y/n? jeff wittek is the mob boss that haunts this god forsake town. how could you be so clueless and naive?” nora whispered harshly, causing all the girl’s eyes to widen. they’ve never seen nora act this way, she was always chill and down to earth so to see her blowing up as she was, was shocking.

everyone had their attention focused on nora they completely missed the look of horror on y/n’s face. little pieces of the puzzle were starting to come together, she knew he was hiding something but y/n never thought it would be of this capacity. the late-night or early morning phone calls, they obnoxious amount of weapons hidden throughout his house, jeff’s constant stance of authority with everyone around him, the bloodied clothing he swore were nose bleeds or bar fights, and the never-ending pit of drugs he had handy at all times. it all made sense now, y/n had dismissed it because she wanted jeff to tell her what his secret was when he was ready but now y/n really regrets her idea. why would he not tell her? how many people has he killed? would he ever hurt her?

“do you know what he does? he kills people, y/n.” she seethed, earning unprovable glares from surrounding customers- not that she cared. nora knew what she had to do and she was willing to do it at any cost. “you better get away before he kills you as he does with all his little whores!”

“nora!”

y/n had heard enough, she swiftly grabbed her coat and purse and made a beeline for the door despite her friend’s calls. frustration was building deep inside her, why had everything gone to shit in a matter of minutes? y/n slammed her hands down on the steering wheel multiple times before resting her forehead against the cool leather. when her mind drifted to jeff a new emotion emerged, fear. she was scared.

y/n knew she needed to confront jeff or it would eat at her alive, she wants to hear the words come from his own two lips before she made any rash decisions. meanwhile, nora had escaped the mob of anger girls and was standing behind the cafe with a burner phone pressed to her ear and a cigarette between her lips.

“hello?” a gruff, agitated voice answer on the other line.

“do i just have the funniest story for you?” she was met with silence from the man. rolling her eyes she continued. “you assigned me to keep on an eye on y/n after you two called it quits but you’ll never guess who’s bed she crawled into...wittek.”

the sound of glass shattering course through the speakers, he was angry, very angry. “jeff wittek?! you had one fucking, nora! one job, how did you manage to fuck it up?”

“it’s not my fault.” nora defended herself, she was not threatened but the anger pouring through the phone and she was not going to be blamed for something she didn’t do. “i was finding out right along with her dumbass friends, apparently y/n’s not one to openly talk about relationships because it’s been going on for three months but guessing from her reaction when she found out, i don’t think it’ll last much longer.”

“if something happens to her because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut, so be it, i will put a bullet in your head.”

nora chuckled, blowing out a puff of smoke. “don’t joke around like that i might get excited.”

⇉⇉⇉

todd met y/n at the front door of jeff’s overly large house, he offered y/n a genuine smile but it quickly fell when she didn’t return the gesture and kept her eyes trained on the floor. “hey, are you okay?” he asked, reaching to rest a comforting hand on her shoulder but y/n hopped back before he could come into contact with her. todd took her weird demeanor and silence as a sign to go get jeff, he can always cheer her up.

y/n was terrified to even be in this house, so many awful things must have gone down on this very floor, so much blood. y/n wanted to vomit at the thought. nora’s words continued to fill her brain, how could she have been so clueless? why did she ignore every sign of danger? y/n shook her shook, trying frantically to think of what to say when she heard the footsteps approaching. jeff walked into the entryway with a pair of tan cargo shorts loosely hanging on his hips. he was beautiful, his dark hair and tanned skin, his eyes, his lips, her eyes wandered down to his toned abs. on any other day, y/n would be quick to pounce on the man, she was still urged to greet him with a kiss even after the newfound news.

“s-stop. stay there.” y/n tried her best not to stutter but nothing could have prepared her for this moment, she wished she would have stayed in the car and driven home but her brain never worked when she wanted it to. y/n held her hand up when jeff ignored her wish, taking a few steps back. “please, jeff.”

“baby, what’s wrong? toddy said you seemed upset.” jeff whispered softly, in hopes of not pushing y/n farther over the edge.

“why didn’t you tell me?” a sob fell through the girl’s lips, a sound jeff swore he never wanted to hear as long as he lived. his mind raked with confusion until he noticed the look hidden in her eyes, his girl was scared of him, practically shaking with fear. how had he let this happen? how did she even find out?

jeff took a slow stride towards her, putting his hands up in defense. “baby, listen to me-”

“stop! don’t lie to me again, i don’t want to hear any more lies! i want the truth jeff!” y/n shouted, her body simultaneously stood a little taller on her toes until she remembers who she was talking to. y/n went into a frenzy apologizing to jeff, while still keeping her distance but he kept coming closer and she knew this was most likely the end for her. “i’m sorry, i’m so sorry, i-i- please don’t hurt me.”

jeff froze as he watched y/n break down in front of him, he watched in silence as his nightmares came true. “no, no baby.” he reached a hand out to her cheek, whipping away the tears as new ones took their place. “please don’t say that. i couldn’t even imagine laying a finger on your precious body if it wasn’t to worship every inch. i would never hurt you, ever. okay, y/n, do you hear me? now, tell me who told you.”

y/n sniffled, taking deep breaths at their close proximity. “nora did. she said y-you’d kill me once you were done with me.” her limbs felt numb and hollow, this was all too much. jeff cursed under his breath, looking down as he tried to make any type of connection but he had y/n pretty well hidden.

“i would never hurt you, i could never hurt you. please, please stop saying that, you’re breaking my heart over here,” he said.

“but you hurt other people.” she whispered, a lump forming in her throat. “how many people have you killed? how many people's lives have you claimed? what’s to stop you from doing the same to me?” y/n rambled on, asking so many questions, too many questions, pumping more worry into her head.

“because i love you, goddammit.” jeff shouted, running his fingers through his hair, he watched in horror as y/n flinched away from him, snapping her eyes shut tight, awaiting the blow. “i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i just wish you’d listen to me. i love you, i really do. i wanted to make you my queen, we would lead together. i promise i was going to tell you.”

y/n shook her head. “whatever made you think i’d want to do that?” before jeff could answer she raised her hand to stop him, y/n had heard enough. “i-i need time, this is all too much.” she stood up slowly and started backing away from the man towards the front door, y/n wanted to bolt away but she didn’t know how he would react to that. by the time y/n made it to the door, she looked back a jeff to see todd’s hands on his chest. her heart broke but if he truly did love her jeff would let her think things through.

“my dear y/n, i knew i’d be hearing from you soon enough.”

for the few days y/n had been with ricky she started to remember why she broke things off with him in the first place. he was obsessive, power-hungry, an asshole and he wasn’t him. ricky wasn’t jeff and as much as y/n wanted to deny it, she missed him greatly. maybe she was realizing she loves him but her mind couldn’t shake the thought of who jeff really was and how he had lied to her for so long.

“god, y/n, i told you no one could treat you better than i can and you went ahead and got involved with a fucking psychopath.” ricky ranted, lighting another cigarette before turning to y/n, eyeing her carefully. y/n knew what he was waiting for and that’s exactly why she bit her tongue. ricky wanted y/n to defend jeff so he could spit a thousand more reasons why jeff is a horrible person and she was stupid for leaving him in the first place but she was not giving him the satisfaction. y/n was starting to realize calling ricky in the first place was a mistake, he clearly had gotten worse since she left; he took her phone, won't let her leave the house, monitors all her meals, and even controls what she wears. ricky was sick.

“my sweet doll, you naive, pathetic precious being,” ricky brushed his fingers across y/n’s chin, scowling as she pulls away from his touch. he was right where he wanted to be, he not only had y/n in his clutches but he had something he could use to bring jeff down. “how do you think i know so much about wittek?” he asked bitterly, the name burning his tongue as he spoke.

y/n's eyes widen in realization. “because you're just like him.” y/n spoke, defeat clear in her voice. while running from one leader she ran straight into the arms of another mobster, she now more than ever she could be back at home cuddled up with jeff on the couch not stuck in a prison with her crazy ex-boyfriend.

“no!” he shouted, slamming his fist on the wall. “i am nothing like him, i’m so much better. jeff wittek wishes he could be like me, lead like me, own what i have.” his eyes cast down to y/n’s frightened face, a wicked smile gracing his features. this wasn’t the same ricky y/n used to know, he changed, became a violent version of himself. before he had always been obsessive and controlling but never once had he been violent towards y/n or anyone for a matter of fact.

“you’re sick, ricky!” he would have thought she knew to keep her mouth shut but y/n was never one to bite her tongue. it infuriated ricky that she didn’t fear him the way she feared jeff, when y/n first called him to pick her up her voice was trembling with fear. why wasn’t she scared of him too? he was just as horrible as jeff, so he thought. ricky grabbed y/n’s arm, dragging her to the living room towards the stairs when a voice halted all movement in the room.

“it’s taking everything in me to not rip your throat out with my teeth.” jeff smirked at the ricky while basking in his frightened appearance. when he finally found out where y/n was, he went out of his mind, doing everything he could to formulate a plan to get her back or away from that psycho. it was supposed to go down two days from now but when jeff got a text from nora he knew he couldn’t wait any longer to retrieve his girl.

ricky’s mouth opened and closed, he became a stuttering mess as he tried to form words. “h-how? what are you doing here?” he asked, his grip tightening. sure, he was scared shitless- he’d never actually seen or been face to face with jeff fucking wittek -but he wasn’t going to back down just yet, everyone had a weakness and ricky seemed to have found jeff’s.

a chuckle could be heard from the mob boss. “newbie’s, man.” he mumbled, turning to todd who had a fancy-looking gun pointed at the rookie. “they’re always so naive.”

nora made her appearance next to ricky, shoving a needle in his neck before he could react. he slipped to the floor, the hand constricting y/n falling swiftly to the ground with the rest of his limp body. she yelped, jumping away from nora and ricky’s body. y/n was sure everyone in the room could hear her heartbeat rumbling in her chest, all eyes were on her and all y/n could do was stare blankly at them.

“y/n, come on.” nora coaxed the girl over to her side with a warm smile and a desperate expression, jeff narrowed his eyes as he watched the scene unfold. he knew nora wasn’t completely loyal to him or the mob but he didn’t think she would try and take y/n away from him after all he’s done for her.

“no, y/n come to me!” jeff countered, earning a highly confused look from the girl. jeff sucked in a sharp breath when nora lost her patience and wrapped her arm around y/n, moving her into a chokehold and pointed a gun to her head. both of the guys pointed their guns at the hostage and her capture, nora had officially crossed the line of his mercy and she would not be leaving this building alive. but before jeff or todd could do anything y/n nailed nora in the stomach, grabbed her arm and pulled it back causing her to drop the gun she held onto right into y/n’s awaiting hand. not a second later she hit nora in the head with the butt of the gun, knocking her out cold.

“god, she was annoying.” y/n muttered, dragging her hand along her throat. when she finally turned to face the boys with a smirk matching their confused and perplexed expressions. “i can tell by the look on your face, you knew, didn’t you.”

“i prayed it wasn’t true. ignored it because i loved you, y/n.” jeff said, balling his fist at his side. even aiming a gun at his girlfriend felt foreign, it felt wrong, like he was betraying her and himself at the same time. “after your performance i didn’t believe the rumors but i guess that was a lapse in my judgment, huh?”

y/n internally flinched at the jeff’s use of ‘loved’, she wished the could have met in another light, where they were free to fall in love and be normal- rather than stuck in the life of mobs and mafias. “loved? god, jeff, you both were my targets but somehow i’m gonna get on this helicopter only eliminating one.” she explained painfully, her life with the boy she cares for so much a mere spec now, the life she built was years gone with the simple wave of a hand. “i-i love you too and i won’t kill you, not now at least, baby. i’ll send your regards to my father.”

#jeff wittek imagine #jeff wittek x reader #jeff wittek au #jefft wittek #vlog squad #vlog squad imagine #vlog squad au #david dobrik #jason nash #natalie mariduena #corinna kopf #scotty sire #carly incontro #toddy smith

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happys-crazy-queen22 · 4 years

Text

Title: The Future Brings The Past

Gif credit @timbradford

I hope you all enjoy.

Happy Reading Dollies.

Taglist: @jesseswartzwelder. @nocturnalherb16.

Warning: Suicide, attempted murder of a unborn child.

Hank came home after a tough shift, the case he was working on had something to do with Justin. Justin seemed to be up to his old ways again.

He walked into the house like he always did, put his keys in the bowl by the door, kicked his shoes off and locked his gun in the safe. But something was off tonight. There was no sound of you in the kitchen, no humming to music that softly played in the background. No smell of food cooking like always.

Hank felt uneasy, he got his gun out of the safe and pointed it towards the living room as he tip toed across the hardwood floors. He wanted to call out your name but he knew that wasn't a good idea, if there was someone in the house. As he got to the kitchen he saw your painted toenails, he followed your legs they were tied to a chair. He saw that you were tied up and tape across your mouth. Then he noticed the big man beside you with a gun pointed to your head. You were crying and trembling. Your chest was heaving up and down as you panicked.

Hank reached for his phone, he got it out but that was the last thing he remembered as he was struck on the back of his head. Another intruder came up behind him without him knowing and hit him over the head with the end of a gun. You struggled to get loose as you saw his body drop in front of you. A spot of read on his head.

Hank groaned as he moved. His body hurt, felt like he was run over by a mac truck. He brought his left hand to his head and hissed as he grazed the gash in his head. He tried lifting his right hand but he was handcuffed to the heating radiator.

Hank looked up seeing you still tied to a chair and the intruder from last night standing over you. He suspected the one that hit him over the head was standing beside you as well.

"Sergeant Hank Voight, its a pleasure to finally meet you. Justin has talked about you so much". Said the one that had the gun pointed to your head with a chuckle. Voights gun to be exact. The other stood snickering.

"Whatever you want, take it. Just let her go". Hanks husky voice was dry as he spoke.

"I'll keep that in mind. But for right now I need you to give me the combination to the safe in the basement or your pretty little girlfriend gets it". He nudged your head with the gun.

"No, I can't". Hank struggled agains the cuffs.

"You better tell us or I swear I'll kill her. I'll make you watch as she slowly and very painfully dies". The other one stepped in front of Hank. Which Hank took the opportunity to kick the guys legs out from underneath him and put him in a visegrip with his own legs. Squeezing the life out of him.

"Let him go now". The bigger intruder put the gun on Hank. But Hank didn't blink a eye as he starred into the man's eyes with the barrel of the gun pointed to his head.

"Let him go now". He warned again and cocked the gun. Hank resisted at first but he looked behind the man in front of him and saw you crying and your eyes tightly shut. He let go and the second intruder started coughing and wheezing. Hank met the end of the gun again but it didn't knock him out.

"So you're playing hard. I like the challenge". The big man took out a trash bag and threw it over your head. He was suffocating you. You struggled to breath. The air was being sucked from your lungs as you gasped.

Hank started screaming, kicking his legs as the second man came closer.

"Let her go. She's pregnant". Hank yelled his face turning red, the little vein bulging out on his neck.

The big man laughed as he loosed the bag, letting fresh air in. You sucked it in as fast as it came.

"So you're telling me we have the Sergeant of Chicago's girlfriend and unborn child in my hands? Wow. That will be an amazing reward if they found them both dead. Killing two birds with one stone".

"Let them go and you can have me. I'm worth more to Chicago then they are".

"But they're worth more to you than your own life so I think im going to keep them". He tightened the grip on the bag, taking your oxygen away once more.

"Please, stop". Hank screams as he saw your body go limp.

"Tell me the code".

"Fine". He said with a whisper, his head hanged low.

The big man let go of the bag, still on your head and walked over to Hank, who had tears running down his face.

"I suggest you tell me or after I'm done with your girlfriend I'm going to cut your child out of her. Then I'm going to kill you and leave you on the steps of your sons".

"8-6-12-26". Hank said beat.

"See now was that so hard"? He tapped Hanks cheek with his hand. He got up and walked with the other guy to the basement. Hank struggled again with the cuffs. Pulling and trying to get his hand free. He managed to get out but at the cost of his hand. It was broken and bleeding as he ran to you. He ripped the bag off your head and checked your pulse. It was there but hardly. He went to the house phone and called 911, they were sending his team and a ambulance to his address.

Hank went to his desk and got out the gun he keeps hidden, he carefully and silently went down the basement steps. The two intruders were going through the safe. Their backs turned as Hank hit the bottom step.

"Find what you were looking for"? Hank spoke spooking them. The big man drew his gun as Hank shot off a shot towards the little man wounding him in the abdomen. He fell to the ground, the bag he had all the contents scattered on the floor.

"I'm leaving and you're going to let me. Or I'll finish your whole family off". The big man demanded. Hank shook his head, the sound of boots hitting the floor above him scared the big man. He fired off shots. Not looking where they went as he lunged towards the window. Hank ran after him as the glass was broken and he was crawling threw.

Hank grabbed his feet, trying to pull him back in but the big man kick Hank in the face. Planting Hank on the floor.

"Hank"!! Antonio's voice rang threw out the basement. The big man got free...for now.

Hank didn't bother to let Antonio look him over or to see if the other guy was alive. He took off up stairs and saw you were being taken out of a stretcher. He followed you out and got in. He was going with you while the team searched.

Hank got his hand bandaged up and the doctor was checking you and the baby out. You were with out oxygen for a little while so they monitored the baby but you on oxygen and made sure you were stable.

Hank kicked himself as he saw the state of you and his unborn child. He could get what the big man said out of his mind.

"Sergeant"? Jay approached Hank with caution.

"Yeah"?

"The suspect didn't make it but we got a name from his ID". Jay handed Hank a piece of paper.

"Any leads on the second guy"?

"No. But we're working on it. We're going to find this guy". Jay reassured him.

"I know we are. I won't stop until he's dead. Now Jay you're going to stay here and make sure no one comes in this room without a ID. If they look suspicious or you get a weary feeling call me. Got it"?

"Yes, Sir".

"Good. I'm going to pay my son a little visit". Hank gritted his teeth as he walked out of the hospital and into Jay's SUV. He gunned it to his sons house to get answers.

"What kind of trouble are you into"? Hank growled as his son backed away from him.

"I don't know what you're talking about". Justin's voice trembled. Hank chuckled and gripped the chair that was in front of him but that chuckled turned into Hank picking the chair up and throwing it against the wall. Justin jumped back.

"You don't know? Two men broke into my house, tied Y/N up and knocked me out. They cuffed me to the radiator and made me watch them put a bag over Y/Ns head as he suffocated her. She's pregnant Justin. Do you know what lack of oxygen can do to a expecting mother and her child? You could have gotten them both killed". Hank sternly yelled.

"I didnt know they were going to come after you. I just wanted out".

"They didn't come after me, they came after my family. So what have you gotten yourself into, Justin? Tell me the truth".

"I'm sorry dad. I'm in deep". Justin broke down in front of Hank. Hank sighed and walked over to his son bringing him into a hug.

"It's going to be okay. We're going to get through this but you have to tell me the truth from now on. No more secrets".

"Okay". Justin sniffled, wiping his nose with the back of his hand.

"So who were they"?

"Some guys I met at a bar. They were asking around the bar, they wanted guys to help with a job. But it seems they knew who I was and singled me out".

"Names, Justin? Addresses"?

"I just know their names. Brad and Mark Willson. They're brothers".

"You did good, Justin. I'm going to send someone to get you and take you to the hospital. You can help Jay watch out for them".

"I'm sorry dad".

"It's all going to be okay". Hank rubbed his sons shoulder, comforting him. Justin went to pack a bag as Hank called the station putting out a ABP about the brother that escaped. He called Jay to warn him.

"Voight"? Mouse spoke over the phone.

"Yeah? What do you got"?

"The Willson brothers are the sons of Andrew Willson". "The brother you killed in the house was Brad, the other is Mark, the oldest".

"I've heard that name before".

"You should. You arrested him early last year for six counts of murder. He got killed in prison. His family sued the state and lost".

"So they sault out Justin to get to me. They want revenge. They blame me".

"I'm assuming that. Yes".

"Okay, just keep a track on his phone and find him".

"Yes, sir". The line went dead as Hank heard a crash upstairs. He grabbed his gun from his holster and tip toed up stairs. The noise got louder as he came to justins room. A familiar voice made Hank grip his gun tighter, his finger on the trigger.

"You're gonna die, boy". Mark hand his hands around Justin's throat as they wrestled on the floor.

"Let him go. Your problem is with me, not my family". Hank pointed the gun at Mark's head.

Mark let go of Justin and got off him standing with his hands in the air.

"You figured me out".

"It was easy. I just saw the resemblance of a murderer in your eyes".

"My father didnt kill those people".

"There was tons of evidence to put him away, its not my fault he got himself killed".

"It is, you put him there". Mark drew a gun and pointed it at Hank.

"I was doing my job".

"But you were wrong. My dad wasnt a killer. He loved his family".

"That was just a cover. Deep down he was a serial killer. If we didn't put him away, he would have killed you, your brother or your mom".

"You're lying". Mark screamed, his gun shaking in his hand.

"Did you happen to read those papers in your hands when you got them out of the safe"?

"No".

"Then you would have seen your father's confession. Telling me everything he did to those people. How he cut them up and fed them to the sharks. How he did it in your garage. He did it right under your nose and you knew nothing. That's how he fooled you. Always being there but he was never really there".

"Shut up, you're lying".

"I'm not". Hank shook his head.

"Now put the gun down".

"You think I'm stupid? If i walk out of this house I'll be put inside and killed just like he was".

Mark turned the gun on himself, je rested the gun under his chin.

"Don't do it, it's not worth it. Think about your mom, do you really want her burying two sons at once"?

"It's better this way, to save her from the embarrassment". Mark shut his eyes and pulled the trigger, Hank tried to grab the gun before it went off but it was to late. Mark's brains were all over Justin's celling and wall. His body hit the ground with a thud. Hank rushed over to Justin who was still out, he called for back up and a ambulance.

Justin was treated on the scene and Hank gave his statement. All he was thinking about was his family in the hospital.

After they let Hank go and sent Justin to the hospital for observation. Hank went to see you.

You were sitting up in bed, talking to Jay.

"Hey there". You say as Hank walks in.

Jay excused himself and Hank took his seat beside you.

"Everything okay"? You asked, taking Hank's hand in yours.

"Yeah, just a hard couple of days".

"How's Justin"?

"He'll be fine. Well at least until I send him off to training".

"Don't be to hard on him. We're fine. The baby is healthy and doesn't seem to be hurt".

"You sure? I was there". Hank rested his free hand on your stomach.

"Yeah, the doctor did tons of test and ultrasounds. Our son is happy, healthy and kicking up a storm".

"It's a boy"? Hank lite up as he heard.

"Can you handle another son"? You asked with a chuckle but was serious.

"Yeah, but I'm doing things differently this time".

"Don't change to much. Justin's a good kid, he just gets mixed up with the wrong people".

"Then our sons friends will have a back ground check and so will their parents. I'm not taking any chances".

"Oh, Hank". You rubbed his cheek with your thumb.

"I'm also going to be more careful with bringing my work home and into my life".

"I know. We'll take it one day at a time". You kissed his lips. Hank was worried about his unborn son and the life of a cop coming to haunt him. But he'll do anything to protect you and his sons.

#hank voight imagines #hank voight x reader #hank voight chicago pd #hank voight fanfiction #hank voight #chicago pd fanfiction #chicago pd #chicago pd imagine #happys crazy queen22

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slut-for-a-cowboy · 4 years

Text

(So this is gonna be pretty damn long. I hope you enjoy it tho. Basically a hunting trip goes wrong. You've seen it a thousand times, but here's my take on it.)

COTORRA SPRINGS

ARTHUR MORGAN X CHARLES SMITH

"Charles. Will you come here a second?" Charles lifted his head from the arrows he was fletching only to see Pearson waving him over with a smile. Charles set his stuff down on the table, taking in a huge breath of the fresh rain that fell last night. It was early, round six.

He stood up and walked over to the man, "What is it?" His voice was still hung over with sleep. Might grab a cup of coffee.

"I over heard some fellas talkin. Talkin about up north near Cotorra Springs there's something big. Something that would keep "them" eating for days and how they were gonna go soon. So I was thinkin that just maybe you wouldn't mind going up there and seein? It sounds like it could be a really big elk. We are really running low on food and that sounds like it would help."

Charles nodded and thought for a second. He doesn't know where that is, "where?"

"Just follow Dakota River north until you find the train station. Go west of that and Im sure you'll see it. Take someone with you if you go. It's a big haul, I'm sure at least."

"Okay. I'll check it out." Charles spoke. He's a man of few words. Not one for talkin much. Especially in the mornings.

"Thank you Mr.Smith." Pearson said with a smile earning a nod from Charles. Walking back over to the table he picked up his arrows and was headed to the hitching post with them. He put them into a quiver on Taima's saddle so that he could draw them quick when he needed too. Now, who to bring...?

He wants to bring Arthur, but he's always so busy and he doesn't wanna bother him if he has any sorta free time. But then again hunting isn't stressful and he does enjoy being outta camp. Charles decided he'd ask if Arthur wanted to come so he looked around for him.

He wasn't asleep, usually up this early anyways. Sometimes he sits on that tree stump facing the mountains and writes in his journal. He was this time too. The sight was beautiful. The sun just rose and it's light seemed to drape over the mountains like the sheet of snow did. It looked innocent and peaceful but after just coming down from there they can all say it isn't as nice as it looks.

Arthur looked to be drawing something. His hat sat in the grass next to him, this time he was sat up against the tree stump with his knees pulled in so that he could prop his journal up against his thighs. Charles couldn't help but smile, but shook it away before it was noticeable.

"Goodmorning, Arthur," he walked up beside him. Arthur didn't close his journal. He continued drawing. When anyone in camp would walk up behind him when he was doing anything in his journal he would shut it immediately as if he held all the worlds secrets in it. Made everybody around him all the more curious. Charles was proud to have that kind of trust between them; didn't wanna lose it. He tried not to look too much, but the drawing looked like a buck. He had just started so it was hard to tell, but the way the lines came together and the way he morphed the graphite into whatever he wanted seemed genius in a way. Shows he thinks a lot more than what people believe.

"Mornin' Charles." His voice was rough and worn but it sounded content with the other's company.

"Would you like to come hunting with me? Pearson told me something about Cotorra Springs and said I might need help." Charles asked. Hoping he'd say yes.

"Y'know. That sounds really nice right about now," he put his journal is his satchel and grabbed his hat. Charles offered him a hand which Arthur gladly took. He whispered under his breath "anything to get outta here for a day or two... What are we hunting?"

Charles only chuckled as they walked towards the horses to saddle up, "I have not a clue what we're hunting," Charles said as he threw Taima's saddle over her and began to strap it down, "Pearson said he over heard some guys talking about something big around there that they were gonna go hunt. He reckons it's an elk, but it could be anything. Might as well look."

Arthur mounted Biscuit and waited for Charles to do the same, "Well if we don't find what we're looking for we can always get something from there. There is plety of game wondering around up there." Charles mounted Taima.

"You've been there?" He asks. Arthur nods in response, "yep, not too long ago. It's beautiful. I can lead the way if you want me too?"

"Sure." Charles answered and Arthur got in front. His horse trotting down the path through the thick trees and bushes that covered the camp pretty well. As soon as they got on the main road Charles pulled up beside Arthur as they found a steady trot, "what were you doing up North?" He asked.

"Well. I found a sorry man near Dakota River. He's full of himself. Claimed to be famous, but I didn't know him." Arthur chuckled to himself, "He sold me a treasure map because he didn't have enough time to look for the treasure. I'm a fool for taking it, but I did. It was from the Jack Hall Gang. Supposedly to have hidden gold? So far I've been led to the springs, but I was having trouble finding the other map. Said I would go back up there some time."

He hung his head down, his hat blocking his face, and all Charles could see was his shy grin, "You'd like it up there" Charles tried not to get lost in his thoughts about that smile.

"I didn't figure you for a treasure hunter." Charles joked. Arthur lifted his head back up. "Me neither"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the time they got there it was late afternoon. It was obvious they were in no rush to get there and back. They both enjoyed each other's company and surely didn't wanna leave It.

The air was warm and crisp. Breathing in this air was so nice. Arthur stopped Biscuit near a shady spot in the thick woods, hitching him to a tree and Charles hitched Taima next to him. They got off and Arthur grabbed his bow, Charles doing the same. The two pushed through the few bushes to reveal the springs. Pools of vibrant green and blue waters where everywhere amd geysers that smoked. Charles truly never had seen something like this in all his years. Guess it's a one of a kind thing. Although it did smell of sulfur which was one downside of it.

"We're here." Arthur said while throwing his bow around his shoulder. After Charles had taught him how to use it, with a bit of practice, it became his first choice when hunting.

"You were right. This is beautiful. Little barren might I add. What would be hanging around here?" Charles practically marveled at it, but his eyebrows knitted in confusion. There was much here he had never seen before. Like the bright colors that stirred in the pools.

They both walked through the springs and the trees seemed dead. The ground was just dirt, dry dirt at that, "Why is there no grass or leav-" a geyser errupted making Charles nearly jump outta his boots. He accidentally backed into Arthur and stayed put against him as it shot water high. They weren't near it, but he could feel the water mist down on them as it was cool now, but it clearly exploded in heat.

Arthur laughed, his ears turnning red at the contact that they made, but he still found it funny that he jumped so hard, "You've never seen the hot springs before I'm guessing?"

Once it stopped he pulled himself away only just realizing that he was pushed up against Arthur. He was a little embarrassed it scared him like it did, "No apparently not. It's weird. Why does it do all that? Seems a little obnoxious and... a tad bit scary if you ask me." He practically whispered that last part not wanting to admit it, but Arthur still heard it.

"Im not entirely sure. All I know is that it is scalding water. Heard about some kids playing a game, seeing who would get closest to the geyser, one got boiled alive. The pools around here feel nice though. I may have fell in one the day I was here and it scared the devil outta me. I was afraid that I was gonna be burned to death, but to my surprise it was a pleasant warm." The thought of Arthur slipping and falling into one of these things was kinda funny. A little scary but cute. He's absurdly clumsy, flat footed.

They walked on, looking around, almost forgetting what they were doing before Charles walked away to go check the bushes and around the wooded area. Surely this huge animal would be able to be seen miles away with the flat and dead ground of the hot springs. It was smart to check the woods. That was until Arthur saw something. It looked like a trail.

He looked down and saw a paw print. It looked huge. He squatted down and put his hand in the print and he marveled at the size. It was as big as his hand. His face became pale, but then he became curious. A little too curious.

"Charles?" he asked as he followed the trail, "I think we might have a problem."

Charles walked over and saw the prints, "you think that's our animal..?" It was a stupid question, he was just in a bit of disbelief. That's a wolf's prints.

Arthur continued on the trail as it was getting closer to the undergrowth. Charles' eyes widened and blood began to rush to his finger tips, "Arthur this isn't a good idea." It's like it didn't get through to the man that this was stupid. Charles had the strongest feeling in his gut, he felt the eyes that were stalking them, "Stop moving, now." His voice was stern and hushed this time.

Arthur stopped before the bushes and stayed put. He could feel it now. It was close and he knew he made a stupid decision. This wasn't gonna end well and he knew it. Charles seemed to be focused on every noise he heard, completely still. Arthur heard a growl right in front of him. He really did mess up didn't he. A couple of wolves came out the bushes in front of him. They snarled and walked towards him, slow and cautious.

"Back up towards me. Slow.." Charles whispered. Before they knew it they were surrounded by five normal looking wolves, but as they backed up a huge wolf emerged from the bushes, fresh blood on it's face, snarling. Clearly it was the leader of the pack, and he had his eyes on Arthur.

They're backs met. Charles could feel the deep breath Arthur took before whispering in that growl that he can't control, "You seem to have a plan."

"Let them think they have us and then start shooting once I do. Just try to keep our backs together. Don't wanna let them get us." Charles' hand was steady on his sawed-off shotgun, ready to pull. Arthur did the same. The drooling beasts closed in a bit more. The adrenaline pumped in their veins. It was about to get scary yet they knew they had to fight. It's what they did best.

BAM

That was all Arthur heard followed by the whine of dog. He whipped out his shotgun from his front holster and unleashed hell. He shot the first one, down.. The second one, down. He had to reload. He felt Charles be pulled away and heard him yelp in pain. Without thinking he turned around to try and help only to see another dog pulling him by the arm he held his gun in. Arthur finished reloading and pulled his gun up but before he could pull the trigger he was slammed to the ground; his gun was knocked outta his hand, hat flying off as well. He quickly turned over to face the thing. This wolf was huge.

Everything slowed for a second. The wolf's nose wrinkled up. Blood and saliva dripped from its mouth onto Arthur's face. It's nose was a copper color and it's fur was a dark grey. Arthur's eyes went wide, hands pushed into it's neck. Fear began to strangle him. This is not how he wants to die, but he had a feeling it might be.

Everything started happening so fast all of a sudden. All he could see were teeth and fur. It was trying to get his throat. He grabbed it's snout trying to muzzle it, but he then realized his hands were far too small and weak for its jaws. It opened its mouth clamping down on Arthur's hands. It started pawing at him, ripping his shirt and cutting him up while chewing up his hands. He desperately tried to keep the wolf away. All he could smell was blood. Heat rose from his chest and his hands were being chewed on like a damn dog bone as he kicked and squirmed to get out from under this thing.

Charles slung the wolf that had clamped onto his arm off and shot it. He turned around only to see Arthur getting mauled. It was huge. It was bigger than Arthur which was new to see in anything really. He lifted his gun and pulled the trigger only to hear a click. He quickly reloaded before he saw the teeth that were dug into Arthur's hands dug into his neck. He aimed his gun and shot. The wolf flinched, but wasn't dead, it was relentless. Charles shot again and then the wolf turned and looked at him. He had to reload again.

Arthur saw how the animal was distracted and pulled out his knife. With all his strength, he rammed it into the wolf's throat and dragged it across. Blood shot in his face as he ripped the knife out. It fell on top of him choking for air, suffocating.

Charles huffed and practically ran, sliding on his knees next to Arthur. He pushed the heavy ass wolf off with a grunt, "Are you okay?"

Charles was breathing heavily, the gash in his arm was huge. Arthur had not a clue what he looked like, but he's sure he was one ugly bastard now, 'even uglier' he thinks. Arthur scoffs and let's out a breath of hot air as the adrenaline faded and pain began to kick in, his voice was rough, "still breathin', aint I?"

Charles helps Arthur up, ignoring his smart ass answer, he wraps one arm around him, pulling them both up. Charles walked them towards the horses, setting him down against the tree he tied Taima against. He began to search his bag for water and ointment, "do you have a needle in your bag?"

"I-.." He swallowed, tried to though his mouth was dry, " I do. I also have some fishing line.." He raspped knowing what Charles was looking for. Charles' arm stung as he held it against him. Grabbing what he could from both their bags, he layed the stuff down in front of Arthur as he sat down to face him. He began to unbutton Arthur's shirt that was ripped to shreads, exposing his chest. The sun had just started to go down. The sky was yellow and fading to an orange. It was starting to get cold.

He opened the canteen of water, "You got a pretty bad bite there, Charles. You need to clean that before you worry abou-" he hissed and bit his torn lip as he felt the cold water run down his chest.

"Don't worry about me, I'll be okay." Charles spoke as he continued to pour the water. He took a rag that he found in his saddle bag and wet one side with water. He began to whipe off the blood and dry his chest.

"Please Charles.. At least pour some water on it for now." His blue eyes were pleading. Charles stopped for a second and met his eyes. They were full of worry. Charles' felt his fingers twitch at the state of the man and the pain that shot from his arm to his fingers.

He looked at his arm and poured some water on it. It was bigger than he remembered but shouldn't be hard to stitch up. The water stung. He closed his eyes and then returned to Arthur as soon as the sharp pain began to leave.

"Let me see your hands." He didn't wanna ask that cause he was afraid to see them. He lifted his hands and they were full of dirt, wolf hair, and saliva. Not to mention the holes that the animal left in them. They were dripping with blood. He had to clean and wrap them fast. He cringed at the sight.

He didn't have too much water left but it should be enough. He rinsed Arthur's hands off the best he could and used the wet side of the rag to get what was left.

Even if Arthur was in a lot of pain the feeling of Charles holding his hands and touching him all over made butterflies flutter in his stomach. He could feel his face getting red, or was that the heat of the scratch on his cheek? He tried to relax as best he could, but it didn't feel nice everytime Charles touched his wounds.

Charles put the rag down and opened some strange looking medicine and picked up a few bandages, "this is gonna sting at first but trust me, it works." He opened it and grabbed a good bit of the stuff and lathered it on to his hands. Arthur could feel a few tears prickle in his eyes. Charles wrapped his hands and stood up. His hands lingering on Arthur's as if he didn't want to let go, but he did.

"Do you think that water is safe to drink?" Charles asked as he dared not make eye contact with the other man.

"Heared it was perfect water. The rocks clean it or something crazy like that." Arthur said as he went to get up but Charles stopped him.

"You're not going anywhere." Charles said holding him down by his shoulders.

"But it's getting cold. I could start a fire. I'll be okay. You're hurt too y'know." He insisted. Charles only sighed and gave in, nodding and walking away with the canteen. Arthur got up and searched for the wood that was dry enough for a nice fire.

Charles walked back out into the springs getting chills when he saw all the dead wolves and blood shed on the ground. He saw Arthur's hat and gun laying out next to that big wolf and it made the image of Arthur laying under that wolf, trying with everything in him to get away, flash back. His eyes wide with fear and arms flexed with the adrenaline that pushed him through the whole thing.

Charles picked up Arthur's hat and gun but noticed that he only had two hands and one wounded arm. He also didn't wanna make a second trip with the love of his life bleeding by himself. Charles can feel his face flush with shame when he realized he just thought that. The love of his life. A tinge of sadness hit him.

He looked at Arthur's hat for a long second. He put it on. He could feel a warm feeling stir in his stomach. He shook off the warmth and walked to one of the pools, feeling his canteen. He walked back to the woods and found Arthur facing the fire he just made, against the same tree. The horses were untethered and free while both bed rolls were layed out. He sure did make quick work of things didn't he?

The sun was all the way down now and it was cold. Especially with being up north. He sat back down in front of Arthur and set the shotgun down beside him. Arthur smiled at him and let him work on him. He grabbed the fishing line and needle and stiched up a few of the big gashes, especially the one on his cheek. He soaked those with the same stuff he used for his hands.

"You.. look good in my hat." Charles completely forgot he had it on. He took it off quickly, but then Arthur objected, "No no.. Keep it on." Shyly, trying to hide a smile, he put it back on.

"Do you have a change of clothes in your bag?" Arthur thought for a second as Charles stood up.

"No. I don't. I meant to put them back in this morning but I forgot." Arthur said as Charles walked away. Charles opened his bag and grabbed his shirt that he usually wears. He was wearing his white one today beings he just washed the one he has in his hands. He walked back over and dropped it in his lap and continued walking so he could get close to the fire.

Arthur seemed a little taken away by this act. It smelt like him too.. "I'm sure I'll be okay without it.." Arthur spoke quietly. Charles didn't say anything. That means he isn't gonna take "no" for an answer.

Arthur sighed and put in on. It was so soft. It was clean too. The shirt was a long sleeve, blue and polka dotted, he always wears it. Arthur would usually roll the sleeves up, but he was really cold so he didn't this time. It was big on him, it felt really nice.

"Will you let me fix up your arm now?" Arthur asks. Charles turns around and meets his eyes. He breathes in and then nods. He was tired. Arthur could see it in his eyes.

Charles sat back down in front of him and showed Arthur his arm. The man picked up the rest of his fishing line and needle and began to stitch his arm up. Charles hissed once the needle pierced his skin and he could feel the thick line pull through it.

Arthur was quiet as he worked and all Charles could do was admire him. His shirt looked nice on him but he hated the way his cut seemed to bruise his face and his lips shown dried blood. He didn't like seeing the rings under his eyes from multiple sleepless nights. Guilt hit Charles heavy. Arthur was still one hell of a sight to look at though. He was beautiful. He particularly liked the way his fingers moved. He saw the way Arthur held the needle. He was making sure not to hurt his hand much more. His other hand held Charles' arm up.

He finished rather quick, making sure that everything was neat and right. He picked up that stuff Charles used on him earlier. He was right, it does help. He put it on Charles' arm and began to wrap it up with the rest of the bandages.

"There." He smiled as he set the stuff down. Getting up, he grabbed everything and started putting stuff up before Charles could. He came back, holstering his shotgun, and sitting on top of his bed roll staring at the fire. His knees were close to his chest, arms wrapped round his legs, wanting to push himself further into the man's shirt if at all possible, yearning for his touch.

Charles did the same, sitting on his bed roll. It was quiet. All you could really hear was the crickets and frogs singing. The geysers went off every now and then. It wasn't often. Though it was quiet, words wanted to be spoken. You could feel it.

"I'm sorry about bringing you along on this. I know better than to just go by hear say." Charles said. He hated that Arthur got hurt the way he did. Christ, he could was almost killed.

Arthur only chuckled, "I'm glad you brought me out here." He breathed in Charles' sent. He was content, though his body stung.

"Seriously, you were nearly mauled half to death?" Charles questioned.

"I'd rather be here and go through that than find out you became some beast's supper. I'd gladly go through it again. For you of course." Arthur felt like he said too much as he felt his ears start to flush red. He bit the feeling back. What he said was true and he wasn't gonna take it back for his own sake.

Charles felt his heart beat quicken. That may have been one of the nicest things he's heard in a long time. Maybe even the first time, "I'd do the same for you."

Arthur smiled as he relaxed. That was a nice thought to hold onto. Nice to know Charles thinks the same. Though Arthur feels like he doesn't deserve that. He ain't no good.

Pushing those thoughts to the back of his head he closed his eyes feeling the heaviness of sleep weigh on him. That was until a cold breeze ran up his spin. Arthur was shivering now, it was so quick. Even the fire didn't seem to help. Maybe he was getting sick? He crossed his arms cautiously, didn't wanna ruin the handy work of the man that sat next to him.

Arthur looked over at Charles who was watching the fire. He was in his own world, but he looked like he was doing alright, "y'know," Charles blinked once or twice then looked at Arthur, "you could make it up to me if you want to. I have an idea."

Charles was more than glad to do such, "What do you have in mind?"

Arthur hesitated. His eyes drifted to the side as he bit the inside of his cheek starting to regret what he was gonna say, "I'm really cold.."

Charles looked at him for a second. He was stone faced as usual and quiet. He debated it. Arthur became more red by the second. The anticipation killed him. He was now terrified. Charles stood up and Arthur avoided all eye contact. He flinched when Charles stopped right next to him. He hated how small he felt just because the man never answered. He's the only person that could do that to Arthur.

Charles sat down behind Arthur and wrapped his arms around him, "as you wish." Arthur could hear the smile in his voice. He perked up as if he were a dog hearing a supper bell. He felt like a kid again, new to the feeling of being loved. Or was this actually new to him? He couldn't tell.

He sank into the other's arms. He was still shivering, but he thinks it was more because this was actually happening rather than him being cold. Charles felt it and squeezed tighter. Arthur almost fell asleep, but wouldn't let himself. Three days of almost no sleep is really getting to him. He should probably start sleeping right.

"If you want me to I can move my bed roll over here." Charles practically whispered as he found a nice spot in between Arthur's shoulder and neck to rest his head.

"No no.. Well, not if you don't want to. I jus-" Arthur began to ramble but was cut off before he could continue.

"Arthur.. I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to. Also it wasn't much of a question. I was gonna do it anyways." He chuckled as he got up and grabbed his bed roll bringing it over to Arthur's.

Arthur kept quiet. Charles was always straight to the point which he was more than greatful for, sometimes. Setting Arthur's hat down beside them, Charles laid his roll out next to Arthur's and laid down on his side. Arthur laid down as well, back towards Charles yet it didn't feel right. His heart beat quickened as he turned over on his other side, carefully. Charles had the warmest smile. Arthur just about melted at the sight, but felt relieved.

He took another risk, but at this point he felt like Charles wouldn't mind. He curled into Charles, face burried in his chest. He tucked himself neatly underneath the man's chin, scooting down a bit so that his hair wasn't in the other's face. Charles wrapped his arms around him only to feel the man relax to his touch. Charles sighed, content, it felt nice to hold him. Something he's longed to do. He hasn't smiled this much all week.

The fire light was dying down as they drifted to sleep, keeping close to keep warm. Arthur was out first with soft snores, not even snores. Just even breaths and an occasional soft mummer or sigh. It was always so quiet and gentle it didn't bother Charles at all. If anything, he really liked the sounds he made. It was a little exciting to see the man that was made for a brute, with a harsh tounge, and no empathy for anyone in his path, blush and stutter, becoming a mess without realizing it.

After awhile of thinking and listening to Arthur and the crickets he fell asleep. He doesn't remember when, but that was okay. The two slept the best they slept in days and even slept in an hour late.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Arthur woke up first, he was sore and in a lot more pain than he was yesterday, but at least he wasn't bleeding out. He had no intetions on moving yet anyways, especially when he felt Charles' arms still around him. Arthur scooted up so that he could see Charles, the man didn't stir. Arthur gently brushed the hair that was in his face behind his ear, admiring him in the faint morning sun. He was beautiful. Arthur smiled.

#charthur #arthur morgan #charles smith x arthur morgan #arthur morgan x charles smith #charles smith #gay cowboy #hurt #hunting trip gone wrong #jkjk #they did get lovey dovey tho #ngl

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jasontoddiefor · 4 years

Text

Sunday Batfam Fanfic Recs!

Today I got some painful fanfics for you! 27 ones to be precise! Have fun! Cry a lot and leave these authors many tearful comments!

I’m a little busy right now, which is why I didn’t do any fanfic rec lists in the last weeks, but I’m trying to get back on schedule!

Title: (re)incarnation Summary: "Shut up," one of the men hissed. "Do you want a beating, brat?" "No," Dick said. "But maybe I deserve one. I mean, you did just shoot a kid like he deserved it. How should I know what I deserve?" "Shut up, or you might just end up deserving one," the other guy snapped. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16044062

Title: Anathema Summary: When a new crime lord in Gotham gets the upper hand, Red Hood and Batman are dealt crippling blows. When faced with near death and an inability to hide behind their masks in the weeks after, Jason and Bruce have to deal with some old haunts between them. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18604273

Title: An Act of Mercy Summary: "You're gonna be okay," Tim keeps saying. "I'm here. We're almost home. You're gonna be okay." Or, that time Bruce gets hit with Fear Toxin. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19036840

Title: Break Summary: In which Jason is dead and Dick has reached his breaking point. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18496762

Title: Frightening but not afraid Summary: When the family is hit by a new strain of fear toxin, safety is in numbers. Unfortunately, three members of the flock are still out there, afraid and alone. Bruce may not be the best at comforting his children, but apparently, he can let his wings do the talking Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20120557

Title: goodnight, gotham Summary: In the wake of shooting penguin, Jason Todd's world is torn to shreds. And perhaps found again. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16572116

Title: I survived (but I paid for it) Summary: sometimes, the only way to survive is to go numb. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20418752

Title: I’m in paradise with Dad Summary: Jason dies in Bruce's arms rather than before he gets there. It messes some things (and people) up Link: https://archiveofourown.org/series/711570

Title: I’m just fine Summary: After rescuing a group of children (including himself) from being kidnapped and sustaining injuries in the process, Tim has difficulty thinking about anything except his guilt over what he could have done better. Based on a story from the comics. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18935299

Title: Like Any Other Kid Summary: Damian's had nightmares every night since he was resurrected and has refused to tell anyone about them until now. Tired of dealing with them, he does what any other kid would do and joins his father in bed. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7588219

Title: Liminal Spaces Summary: Bruce's habit of collecting strays is not limited by dimension. Or: When Young Justice Batman comes across an angsty, seemingly abandoned by his Batman Tim Drake, he decides to step up to the plate and parent the crap out of him Link: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1414078

Title: little misunderstandings Summary: Bruce has heard that line hundreds of times, mostly in his own thoughts, when he sets his eyes on the clown. Clark was the one to tell him first. He would have done it. He's known for years that those words were the only thing that kept his one rule intact. Unfortunately, they are a lie. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1506059

Title: More Like a Nightmare Summary: The criminals in Gotham are gross. Stephanie knows this. Stephanie had a bad childhood. Bruce knows this. One patrol, these two facts come together. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19374331

Title: No Silver Bullet Summary: Everyone knows Batman's origin story. Everyone has heard about Bruce Wayne's tragic past, and his orphaning. It's also common knowledge that Batman doesn't like guns. However, Bruce's PTSD and triggering because of guns isn't often explored... Here are five times that Bruce was triggered, and one time something was different. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20633273

Title: Of Gunshots and being Enough Summary: Stephanie Brown is Robin, but no one seems to believe it. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18056402

Title: Papercuts Summary: They've always said that lies hurt the ones you love the most. None of Bruce's children had any idea how important it was for him to know the truth. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20895134

Title: Tell-tale Summary: " 'Hey,' Jason calls, and Tim turns around with a start. Looks surprised he’s been addressed at all. And Jason says, 'You tell ‘im, Babybird. He feels guilty he doesn’t love you.' " Or, the kids compete to see who should give Bruce bad news. But Jason doesn't take Tim and Bruce's fractured relationship into account. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/series/697095

Title: This distance between us Summary: He wondered where Jason was right now, what he was doing. Probably sleeping, he hoped. Yes, that was it. Fast asleep in his apartment, probably wrapped up like a turtle in the covers. Drooling on his pillow. Blissfully dreaming of muscle cars and guns, or whatever it was teenagers dreamed of. Even though he was twenty now, and not a teenager anymore. Or, Bruce deals with some late-night drasticizing and reacts like a traumatized father of a dead son would. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17749808

Title: the blood stuck beneath his fingernails Summary: Jason is alive- he knows he's alive- but the dreams of the damned, of the dead, drive him near insanity. Luckily, he has people who care for him and motivate him to move forward from the deep melancholy he so often gravitates towards. Features talks with his annoying older brother, his awkward dad, a few mental breakdowns, and the constant wonderings of which gods set Jason up on this path. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1441537

Title: the bridge to nowhere Summary: Jason and Bruce take care of an injured Damian. It forces Jason to reflect on some... unpleasant things. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18239213

Title: The Jason Project Summary: Jason had just wanted to see his autopsy report, he had only wanted to know what information Bruce had about his death. And when Bruce hadn't given it to him, he had stolen it. He hadn’t meant to stumble upon the bucket list of a dead child and the footage of a grieving father crossing one item after another off the list. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19899613

Title: Ugly memories in third person Summary: “Cover your drink.”[Damian's words have consequences and Bruce's mind is not the bomb-proofed system of boxes and compartments he forces himself to believe it is.] Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20301352

Title: Unravel Summary: He doesn’t notice it at first. He’s too happy. He’s back. For good, now. Damian’s alive, and talking to him. Jason and Tim are mad at him for a little while, but they both start talking to him soon enough, too. Cass gives him smiles and hugs, and she lets him kiss her cheek occasionally. So, yeah. He’s too caught up in his family to notice what’s happening at first. In which Dick's trauma catches up to him before he's ready. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/series/822048

Title: Used to the Darkness Summary: “I’m not there,” he said, trying not to sob. “I’m not in my grave, I’m not in the ground.” “I know,” Bruce whispered, bringing Jason’s hand to his lips. “I’m not Icarus or Ophelia.” Jason’s voice grew louder in an attempt to reach that hidden part of Bruce. “I’m not my death. I’m not a tragedy.” ~ Wherein death is haunting and love is painful. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20921330

Title: What Possesses You Summary: He knew Bruce was eyeing him, surely assessing what his son’s young, unchanging face implied. Jason wanted, desperately, to look back and see that stony face. He wanted to know what lied behind those eyes when Bruce realized that he hadn’t aged a day.~ Immortality is a curse that few can bear Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17852552

Title: when you coming home Summary: Dick speaks to his father after five long years. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20307529

Title: whip-poor-will she sings Summary: What if Jack's emotional abuse of Tim took a more physical turn? Link: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1536047

#dc #dc comics #batman #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #stephanie brown #batfamrecs

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gingrrfrog · 4 years

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these nights (4)

word count: 5.6k :/ kinda long sry

warnings: angst

summary: jeno, yejin, and jaemin were a team. they told each other everything, they trusted each other. jaemin nor jeno would lie, right? right?

a/n: hi idk how many of u like this but since the c*ronavirus has me locked inside my house im just gonna write until this is over :/ hehe enjoy also here’s a masterlist I concocted just for timeline purposes :]

After an hour of chatting, Jihyun finally decided that she was hungry. They both argued over who should cook, Jihyun’s reasoning being for coming over unannounced while Yejin’s reasoning was that Jihyun was the guest—and she would be a horrible host if she made her cook. The bickering ended instead with her calling her sous chef, Taeyong, secretly while Yejin was in the bathroom. Yejin begged, the last thing she wanted to be was a nuisance during but Jihyun only assured her by informing her that Taeyong lived in this same building, asking a small favor before ordering him to shut the restaurant down due to the snow outside.

“You really didn’t have to do that, Unnie. I really could’ve made us something to eat.”

“And I’m telling you that Taeyong owes me a few favors anyway! Plus, it’s not like he’s far from where you live and he lives right upstairs. I promise you it’s fine.”

Yejin sighed heavily, “you’re unbelievable.”

“Believe it or not, it’s not the first time I’ve heard that.”

Yejin could only laugh as they continued to talk. Yejin opted to sit on the floor criss-crossed as they talked about littler happenings in Jihyun’s pregnancy. Yejin looked at the coffee table while she spoke, noticing a few incriminating photos from the night before, haphazardly shoved under magazines.

Fuck you, Na Jaemin. She hissed to herself. After this, she was never letting Jaemin clean anything. It’s almost as if he planned this. Just then, Jihyun reached over to take the magazine after noticing Yejin’s attention was on the magazine.

“Is there something on the magazine? Oh pictures! Oh—pictures—“

Yejin could do nothing but watch in horror as Jihyun stared at the polaroid in her hands. It was almost like staring at a car crash, she wanted more than anything to look away, but the picture of Jeno’s dick in her hand almost demanded her attention.

“Holy shit, is this Jeno?”

Yejin blanched, her hands catching her hand in pure, unadulterated embarrassment. If she could call Jaemin right now she would scream his ear off, “I am so fucking sorry.”

“No it’s—“ Jihyun tried her best to stifle a laugh as she placed the polaroid back on the coffee table. “It’s…reassuring to know that Jaehyun and I aren’t the only one who do this.”

“But you and Jaehyun oppa don’t keep the photos stupidly hidden under a magazine,” Yejin groaned, her head still hiding in her hands. “I’m going to fucking kill Jaemin.”

“That’s very true. If anyone saw me naked Jaehyun would skin them alive from pure jealousy,” Jihyun failed to hold her giggles back any longer, pulling at Yejin’s arm. “Don’t be embarrassed! I’m not embarrassed! Shocked, maybe, but it’s healthy!”

“You have an amazing body—“ Jihyun mentioned, laughing harder when Yejin screamed out in pain, covering her ears from anymore bullying.

“I need to see your naked pictures now, then,” Yejin said out of nowhere. “There’s no way I can go through this embarrassment on my own.”

“First of all, I have nothing to embarrassed about. Secondly, Jaehyun has them under lock and key, I don’t even get to see them.”

Yejin blinked, “he keeps your photos under lock and key?”

“Ah, well, the disgusting ones are on an old phone, but there’s more to the old phone that made Jaehyun lock it up. It’s not just my asshole on display. However, if you want a conception story for this,” Jihyun pointed to her belly, “there’s an hour long video on that phone.”

“Oh, Jesus, gross,” Yejin meant to say internally, but it came out as a whisper as Jihyun threw a pillow at her.

“Gross?!”

“I don’t really want to think about Jaehyun oppa that way! It’s weird,” she mumbled. “As beautiful as you are together, he’s not my type.”

“What is your type then?” Jihyun asked, taking another pillow under her chin, “dopey eyed and nagging?”

Yejin snorted, “yeah, actually.”

“And you couldn’t find it in one so you gathered two?”

“Jaemin wasn’t planned, it just kind of happened.”

“I’ve heard that one,” Jihyun grinned, running her hand over her stomach, causing Yejin to laugh.

“I’m serious! I thought he hated me at first, Jaemin. He only glared at me for the first two weeks, but he had to get used to me. Jeno was the only person I knew in Korea when I got here, and I followed him almost everywhere. Jaemin had the key code to our apartment then, and I was always there when Jeno wasn’t, and he kind of had to settle for me until Jeno got home from wherever he was.”

“Jaemin has always been like that as a kid, especially if it was towards Jeno.” Jihyun took the time to reminisce of Jeno and Jaemin when they were younger, always offering fleeting touches whenever they were around or always searching for the others hand when they were far. “Jaemin is possessive, just like Jaehyun, but he likes to pretend he isn’t.”

“What about Jeno, then? What was he like as a kid?”

“You’re going to hate this, but Jeno was a normal kid. He played video games after school, he ate played outside with Jaemin or whatever friend he had at the time, and then he went home. There really isn’t a difference from the Jeno you’re seeing now and the Jeno then.”

“Can I ask you something?” Yejin sat up on the couch, next to Jihyun’s head as she peered up at her. “I guess I’m just a little confused, and I know that this all works with families and stuff, but did you really grow up with Jaehyun and his brothers?”

“I did. I mentioned that I was always with my dad during his jobs, and he was Jaehyun’s dad second-in-command at the time. I was always at their house, playing video games with Jaehyun because he couldn’t go outside a lot because he got sick easily. I played with Jaemin when he got older and I babysat Jisung when he was born. Jaehyun and I grew up together but we didn’t realize we had feelings for each other until we were fifteen…”

“Well, I didn’t realize I had feelings for him until I was fifteen. Jaehyun said he always knew, but I think he’s a liar.” Jihyun laughed.

Yejin smiled fondly, “that’s…kind of amazing. It all makes sense now, I guess, but what about Jeno?”

Jihyun hummed slightly to herself, “Jeno’s family…it’s a little difficult, I’m sure you gathered that already. Jeno’s dad died pretty young, and Jeno’s mom left after that but you know all about his sister.”

Yejin blinked. She racked in her brain for a mention of a sister—Jeno had mentioned his parents several times, about how his father died and his mother left, this was knowledge she had gathered from Jaemin. But a sister? Jeno nor Jaemin mentioned a sister.

Jihyun looked up from her hands to see Yejin contemplating and trying to remember. Jihyun bit her lip and sat up quickly, her head spinning.

“Jeno…Jeno hasn’t told you about her?”

“I mean no but maybe he forgot—or maybe we never got to it or maybe…” Yejin admitted defeat as she realized that Jeno never mentioned his sister and perhaps never made any plans to do so. Jihyun offered an awkward grimace.

Jihyun pondered for a moment, wondering how much she could say without offending the walls Jeno very obviously built. Should Jeno decide to tear the walls himself was one thing, however, it was not up to Jihyun to determine when and how. But, considering the hurt behind Yejin’s eyes, she gathered that it was now the time to play damage control.

“Please don’t be mad that he never told you. Jeno…he likes to be happy. He likes to feel loved and surrounded by the ones he loves—so please be understanding as to why he never told you. I don’t think he ever wanted to remember.”

“Jeno’s sister was my best friend in school. Like Jaehyun, we grew up together too and I considered her my older sister too. We were a set—Johnny oppa and Jieun unnie, Jaehyun and I. When I wasn’t at Jaehyun’s house, I was at their house after school while Jeno was always asking if Jaemin was with me. Jaemin was always attached to my hip at the time, so I guess that’s how Jeno and Jaemin got to be as close as they were.”

“Sorry, I just—“ Yejin shook her head as she tried to digest new information. Five years together and Jeno never gave a hint to a sibling. That being said, this opened a new family tree, one that was huge. “Jeno’s sister, Jieun unnie was with Johnny. Johnny’s first wife died before I got here, so that means Johnny—“

“Is Jeno’s brother in law? Yeah.”

“Then, all of Johnny’s kids are his nieces and nephews?”

Jihyun gave a sheepish smile, “…yeah.”

Yejin let her head fall against the couch, her hands on her face once again as she gripped her scalp, “what the fuck. What the fuck, Lee Jeno?!”

“This isn’t going well, is it?” Jihyun asked, her bottom lip in between her teeth as Yejin reappeared from her hands.

“What happened? Why isn’t she around what the fuck! Why didn’t Jeno tell me anything?!”

“It’s not his fault!” Jihyun quickly tried to explain. “A lot... a lot happened before you got here, Yejin. Jaehyun’s dad died earlier than we thought, alliances that we had were broken at Jaehyun’s sudden inheritance, it was a war we weren’t even slightly ready for.”

“What happened to Jeno’s sister?” Yejin asked again, noticing that Jihyun was trying to divert the conversation. Once the latter realized she had failed, she scooted closer to Yejin, taking her hands in her own and she stared at her with urgency.

“There’s only so much I can tell you, Yejin. Please understand, I was never supposed to tell you about Jieun unnie, that’s above my role. All I can tell you is that once we found out Johnny was a target, he took great care in making sure that she was safe. She took the wrong car that morning, and what was meant for Johnny landed on Jieun unnie.”

Guilt fueled in Yejin’s stomach as she realized she had pressed too hard, watching as Jihyun’s eyes watered at the memory she just barely managed to heal—only for Yejin to come and pick at the wound.

“Jeno lost everything after that. He wasn’t the same, nobody was. He left the day after the funeral and we didn’t know where he was, we looked all over Asia but we never thought he’d be in the states,” Jihyun explained quietly. “Before we could tell him to come back, he came back on his own...with you.”

“That...could be some explanation as to why Jaemin glared at you when you first came up. He was trying to protect Jeno from anything that could hurt him.”

“Jaemin thought i was going to hurt him?”

“...we all did,” Jihyun admitted. “I gave you the benefit of the doubt and thankfully it worked out for this long, but it took me a long time to get me to convince Jaehyun and Johnny oppa that you weren’t going to hurt Jeno. Meanwhile, you took care of Jaemin on your own.”

Yejin huffed, eyes pooling almost instantly as she crashed into Jihyun’s arms, “thank you for trusting me. I love Jeno, more than anything— I would never hurt him.”

She could feel Jihyun’s smile as she wrapped her arms around her body, patting her back, “I know. You don’t have to thank me, if anything, I should be thanking you. I was scared that Jeno would be broken the rest of his life, but you came and it looked like he got better...even now though, I can see that it still hurts him.”

“Regardless, I’m grateful that you were there, and although you had to find out in the most fucked up way, you never asking questions led Jeno to love and appreciate you more.”

“Does that mean that I should never bring this up?”

Jihyun sighed, “that’s a tricky question. I’m not in the position to say because it’s not my relationship and I know you’ll be opening a traumatic can of worms if you do.”

“Should I run it past Jaemin?”

“That might be your safest bet, but you’re not entirely safe from his defensiveness either, fair warning.”

Yejin sighed, still wrapped in Jihyun’s arms as she felt another member begin to squirm against her arm.

“Oh—someone’s awake.”

“She has really good timing.” Yejin mentioned quietly, lifting herself up from her Jihyun’s hold.

“She’s good at that,” Jihyun smiled gently.

Yejin took the time to lay down, watching Jihyun’s stomach stretch and pull as her baby practiced what seemed like yoga inside her. Yejin has never had information overload, but if she did, she imagined this is what it was like. Jihyun took her turn to sit on the floor then, resting her arms on the couch with her head resting against them as she carefully studied Yejin’s face.

“Talk to me, Angel.”

“I’m...just trying to process, I guess.”

“I’m sorry. I should’ve never said anything, this is my fault—“

“No, it’s not. I’m not blaming anyone but I’m definitely...upset that no one told me anything until now.” Yejin played with the frayed ends of the pillow she was laying on, staring blankly at the floor. “Jeno is the person I’m supposed to spend the rest of my life with, Jaemin too, so how long were they planning on keeping this from me?”

“We all have our demons, Yejin.”

“But we also have people that help us fight them. I just don’t.. I don’t understand.”

“Is there anything you’ve never told Jeno?”

“I mean, I try to be as transparent as I can with him, because I expect the same thing but—“

“—you said try?”

Yejin chewed at her cheek, “maybe I’ve kept things from Jeno and Jaem too, but it still doesn’t reach missing sibling and family information level.”

“Like?”

“Like...I don’t know! Nothing important! Little things!”

“That’s subjective.”

Yejin huffed in disbelief, “I know what you’re doing and it’s not going to work on me, Jihyun unnie.”

“I’m not telling you to not be mad at Jeno. I’m just telling you, try to see why he hid it in the first place.”

Yejin grimaced, sitting back up and noticing that her stomach was fully growling at this point. It took a few more seconds for the door bell to ring, Jihyun turning her neck and chuckling to herself quietly.

“Looks like Taeyong oppa also has good timing.”

Yejin helped Jihyun get up from the floor to open the door. Yejin would only be around to thank Taeyong for coming all this way, to which she already had the entire conversation scripted in her head. Taeyong would say it was no problem and that he would do anything for Jihyun, while Jihyun would kiss him goodbye before Doyoung killed her for keeping him from his boyfriend.

The conversation went almost identically in real life, with the exception that Taeyong playfully whined from being discharged from work before greeting Yejin and kissing Jihyun goodbye.

“Let’s eat, hm? everything is better after a good meal.” Jihyun tried her best to comfort while Yejin gave her dull smiles and nods of affirmation.

Maybe this is the feeling of uncertainty and fear she was feeling the morning?

Jaemin

Sometimes Jaemin wished he didn’t have the job he did. It was nothing against his brother, everything he started and created, and he definitely didn’t feel this disdain because of the danger that came with it. If anything, he wished he were a little further along, near Jeno’s league, doing things like staking out and shooting things…and…well…just doing the cool things that wise guys did.

But Jaemin? Jaemin is nothing but a dirty accountant and that bored him. He doesn’t understand completely why he’s here, sitting in the room along with his brother and Johnny, listening to them vent and scream to the other people on the phone about why a certain action is reckless and why Kun isn’t allowed to do x,y,z.

This is so fucking boring, and Jaemin is barely allowed to go out to take a piss.

During these times, Jaemin would usually entertain himself with Jihyun if she was home, taking time to bond with his soon-to-be sister and take advantage of her cooking, but Jihyun was over with Yejin doing God knows what and probably having ten times more fun than him. Jaemin holds back a groan before Jaehyun gives him a look.

“Jaemin?”

“Yes hyung?”

“Have you gotten a call from anyone yet?”

“Nope, it’s almost like you forgot to pay the phone bill or something.”

Jaehyun smirked before going back to his call, “no—no Kun hyung, I’m not yelling at you, I just want an explanation…”

Jaemin cleared his throat as he heard the phone ring, noticing that Mark’s number was on. He answered it quickly, eager to talk to anyone that wasn’t himself.

“Hello?”

“Oh! Hey, Jaemin, I thought I called Jaehyun hyung’s line sorry—“

“Please don’t hang up,” Jaemin cried quietly. “If I have to listen to myself think one more time I’m going to kill myself.”

Mark laughed on the other line, bright and annoying as it always was, “well Jaem! I don’t really have anything to tell you really, but I can think of someone who does.”

Jaemin perked up on the other side of the phone as there was silence, a few shuffles, and then a familiar voice on the line, “Hello?”

“Hey stud,” Jaemin grinned.

Jeno scoffed on the other line and he could almost imagine the roll of his eyes, “behave—Mark hyung is right here.”

“It’s not like he can hear me, you’re the one making a big deal,” Jaemin defended. “How are you? Everything okay?”

Jeno hummed, “yeah. It’s pretty boring right now. The suspected building is an orphanage—we really aren’t seeing anything but a whole bunch of kids.”

Jaemin narrowed his eyes, “you think they’re doing work in an orphanage?”

“I’m not sure, I guess that’s what we’re here to find out. But what better way to recruit than build a false sense of family with illicit business.”

“You’re the one to talk.”

Jeno chuckled, “I know. Anyway, the phone service here is suspicious and goes in and out every two hours. It might be really hard for me to call Yejinie later…do you think you could tell her?”

“Of course. She might cry.”

Jeno whined, “why would you tell me that? I’m going to feel awful all day.”

“I’m kidding. Odds are she’s going to be pretty disappointed but I honestly doubt that she’ll cry about it—not over the phone at least.”

“Just tell her I love her and that I’m sorry. I’ll call her as soon as I can.”

“I’ll pass it along.”

“Thank you. And Jaem?”

“Hm?”

“I love you too.”

Jaemin’s ears burned before he could laugh and react, “I love you. Don’t forget to call.”

“I won’t. I’m nearing the end of the hour, service is about to shut off again.”

“Okay, okay—I’ll talk to you later. Bye.”

Jaemin hung up the phone at the same time Jaehyun and Johnny had, both with grave looks on their faces. Jaehyun was the first to exhale and rub his face harshly before pulling it back, staring at the phone in front of him.

“I can’t wait til this blows over,” Jaehyun groaned.

“It’s only two more days, we should be good,” Johnny cleared his throat. He looked over at Jaemin and cocked his head, “did Jeno tell you anything?”

“How did you know I was talking to Jeno?”

“Do you usually tell anyone else you love them?”

Jaemin snorted and recounted the quick information he was told from his boyfriend, not long before Jaehyun nodded.

“It’s the same thing Mark just told me,” Jaehyun ran his fingers through his hair before glancing over at Johnny. “Hyung, what if we got this all wrong?”

Johnny shook his head, “it’s only 6:30. We don’t have the slightest idea as to what they do at night, and if we got it all wrong then we keep looking. That’s all.”

Jaehyun stood up from his chair and stretched his neck, “I’m going to take a break. Take one if you all need one.”

Without another word, Jaehyun exited the room as Jaemin watched Johnny sink in his chair further.

“Hyung,” he started, carefully. “Do you think we have it all wrong?”

Johnny used his knuckles to rub the underside of his chin, scratching at the prickly hairs that were forming as he stared at the wall mindlessly, “I don’t have a clue, Jaemin.”

Jaemin’s jaw tensed before staring at Johnny for a few moments, not long before he decided to take a break and call Yejin now that he had the change.

The call went as he expected, she was delighted to hear from him and disappointed to find out she wouldn’t be hearing from Jeno tonight. He had asked how it was going between the two of them, both Jihyun and the baby and Yejin recounted that it was going great, and that it felt nice to have someone around the two days that neither he or Jeno would be around. They chatted very little, as Jaehyun reentered the meeting room before Jaemin did, prompting him to end the call a little earlier than he would’ve liked.

So then, the cycle continued. Jaemin continued to stare at his phone in silence as Johnny and Jaehyun returned to arguing with whomever was on the phone at that time. Jaemin couldn’t begin to think how people in office jobs could do this—quite honestly, it made him sick to his stomach. Regardless, noon came around quicker than he thought it would, and they had delivered Chinese food considering his brother was being stingy with the food in the fridge. Hour passed quicker after lunch as they were allowed another break, but Jaemin took advantage of this to take a nap, falling asleep on the meeting room couch before being woken up two hours later, graciously as Jaehyun had let him sleep in.

Jaemin peeked at his brother through his eyelashes, watching as he discussed quietly with Johnny over the plan time and time again, feeling sick to his stomach as he felt a wave of deja vu hit him like a truck. Jaemin, when he was younger and before Jisung was born, was often attached to his father and always sat around in his office despite his father lecturing him on secrecy. Granted, at the time, Jaemin didn’t know anything that his father did, nor did he care, he just remembered sitting on the couch playing on whatever handheld device he had while he argued with his right hand man, who was then Jihyun’s father.

Jaehyun now looked almost identical to their father in his earlier years. The same frown, the same hand on his chin whenever he was thinking…even the way he stood over the phone to speak into it was the same, as well as the same curses and swears their father used to say. Jaemin closed his eyes all the way and pretended, just for a moment, that he was the same 8 year old boy taking a nap on the dusty worn out couch, hiding from his eccentric mother only for a second’s worth of silence. It didn’t work, however, as he heard his landline ring, and he was rushed out of his daydream.

He noticed it was later now, closer to dinner time as he reached to answer the phone. The number was Mark’s again, and he answered swiftly only to hear him cut off just when Mark answered hello.

“That phone cut off is a bitch,” Jaemin groaned, still somewhat bleary eyes and cranky. “How are we supposed to call them if someone over there is cutting off the phone lines every two to three hours?!”

“That’s what we were talking about just now,” Jaehyun sighed. “I feel like we have the right place, they aren’t cutting phone lines for no reason, much less a good one, so the orphanage has to be a front.”

“Unless they’re trying to save money?” Johnny pressed.

Jaehyun shook his head, “an orphanage? Cutting off service? Hyung, the orphanage should be the first place that has phone service, delivery calls, emergency calls, calls from adoptions agencies. There’s no reason why those phones shouldn’t and wouldn’t be ringing off the wall.”

“That’s what you would think.”

Jaehyun blew a short breath out of his nose before rubbing his chin, “yeah. That is what I would think.”

Soon after, dinner time came along but neither party was hungry enough to eat—just from the sheer anxiety from Mark’s incomplete call. More so because it’s been two hours, and he has yet to call again. A clean-up operation rarely goes wrong, especially if Mark and Jeno are behind it, but Jaemin still can’t help to feel a sense of unnerving fear to him, one that threatens the lunch in his stomach.

Ten pm and Johnny had left to his room, Jaehyun and Jaemin being the only two in the rooms, both waiting for someone to say something. After a few minutes, Jaehyun turned to Jaemin and gave him an awkward smile.

“You can go to bed, Jaem. I’ll probably be up late anyway.”

“I think I’ll stay here for a little bit, if that’s okay,” Jaemin returned the smile before Yejin came to mind. “But, I’ll take a break real quick. If that’s okay.”

Jaehyun nodded, “of course.”

Jaemin got up from his seat, freezing once he heard Jaehyun clear his throat, “hey, Jaemin? You don’t have to but—“

“Yeah, I’ll ask about Jihyun noona.” Jaemin smiled widely, relief washing over Jaehyun as he gave him a genuine smile this time.

“Thank you.”

Jaemin left the room for a bit of privacy, opting for the smaller meeting room and taking a seat in one of the armchairs. After a single dial tone, Yejin answered almost immediately.

“Jaem?”

“Hi Angel,” Jaemin smiled, fatigue flowing out of his fingertips as his heart beats happily. “How are you?”

“I’m good. Jihyun unnie went to bed kind of early, about an hour ago.”

“Jaehyun hyung asked me to check on her, is she okay?”

“You won’t believe it but she’s given birth and the baby has taken it’s first steps.”

Jaemin laughed, “you’re lucky I’m not my brother, I wouldn’t have found it remotely funny.”

“I wouldn’t dream of saying any of this to your brother in the first place,” Yejin laughed. “How are you, baby? Is everything okay?”

“Everything is okay here. I slept for a while so time went a lot faster,” Jaemin reassured, “it really is the most boring fucking job in the world. It’s like a call center but for illegal things.”

Yejin giggled, “when we’re old we can go to a farm. You, me, and Jeno raising chickens.”

“That’s all I want, let’s buy a farm house right now.”

“God no, if I’m around a farm I’ll kill myself.”

Jaemin grinned and played with the hem of his shirt, taking the time to listen to Yejin’s soft sighs before she continued, “have you heard from Jeno?”

“I haven’t. I’m sorry, baby. When he called the line went flat and I wasn’t able to talk to him.”

“oh. okay.”

“I’m sure I’ll talk to him tomorrow morning. He’s leaving the site tonight for another one, hopefully this one has better reception and I won’t have to play messenger.”

“Hopefully. It feels weird not having either of you here, it’s too quiet—more so now that Jihyun unnie went to sleep.”

“I told you you’d miss us when we’re not around.”

“How was I supposed to know I’d miss your annoying whining?”

“You’re supposed to miss me, every single waking moment of your life.”

“You’re psychotic,”

“Psychotically in love…with you,” Jaemin cooed, laughing wholeheartedly when he heard her gag over the phone.

“Just now I was beginning to think I believed Jihyun unnie when she said Jaehyun oppa gave you a run for your money in affection. But you really are disgusting,“

“Babe he really does give me a run for my money,” Jaemin grinned. “It’s actually disgusting.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,”

“Yeah right, over his dead body. Major tsundere—maybe even abusive.”

“Now you’re just being an asshole—“

Jaemin jumped at the sound of the door swinging open, his brother shoving his coat on as he gave Jaemin a frantic look. “We have to go. Now.”

“What—?”

“Now, Jaemin!”

Jaemin scurried on his feet, “Yejin? Baby? I’ve got to go, okay? I’ll call you in a little.”

“Jaemin? Is everything okay? What’s going on?”

“I uh,” he cleared his throat and ran to grab his jacket before shoving it on with his phone pressed between his cheek and shoulder. “I don’t know yet, angel. I’m sorry. I’ll call you.”

“O-okay. Be safe, I love you.”

“I love you, sweetheart. So much.” Jaemin blew a kiss into the receiver before hanging up, shoving the device in his pocket as he caught the gun Jaehyun tossed him midair. Johnny had already started the car outside as he was being led inside.

“Hyung, what the fuck is going on?” He asked after settling in his seat.

“Mark called. He told me Jeno was bringing the car around when they flipped the car over.”

Jaemin felt his heart fall to his feet and the bile rise in his throat, “what? What do you mean? Who’s they? Is Jeno okay? Is he still there?”

“We don’t know. I don’t know anything.” Jaehyun admitted quietly.

Jaemin clenched his jaw, “what do you mean you don’t fucking know anything?”

“He’s at the hospital, unresponsive.” Johnny added sourly. “Your brother didn’t want to tell you that bit.”

Jaemin’s breath is shallow as he glared at Johnny through the rearview mirror, somehow also begging him to tell him that this was some kind of sick fucking joke. Jaemin tried to regulate his breathing until he got to the hospital, Johnny dropping both Jaehyun and Jaemin at the doors.

Jaemin pushed through people, causing his older brother to apologize for his behavior despite Jaehyun calling out for him to wait for him. He reached the reception desk and demanded for Lee Jeno’s room, only to make the nurse behind the desk stare at him in confusion.

“Are you fucking deaf? Lee. Je. No. Do I have to spell it out—?”

“Jaemin, take a seat,” Jaehyun suddenly said behind him, taking his arm and gently nudging him to the side before Jaemin snatched his arm out of his hold.

“No.This is all your fault, this would’ve never happened if-“

“Excuse me,” said Jaehyun suddenly, giving the receptionist a smile before bowing. He took Jaemin’s arm again, this time much harder as he pulled him in an empty hallway.

“Is that how you speak to someone who is trying to help you?” Jaehyun seethed quietly, glaring at his youngest brother as his grip tightened around his arm.

Jaemin’s jaw was set as he glared at his brother in return, tears filling his eyes as he refused to reply.

“Speak.” He growled, “you had no problem speaking up when you were in front of the nurse and you will do the same now if you had something worthwhile to say.”

Jaemin remained silent as Jaehyun let go of his arm, “that’s what I fucking thought. I give you a lot of slack because you’re my brother Jaemin, but don’t disrespect me again. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, hyung.” Jaemin spat, his eyes now on the floor as he watched a tear fall onto his shoe.

“You will stay here, I will go speak to the receptionist. If you make another scene, so help me God, Jaemin I will fuck you up myself. Do I make myself clear?”

Jaemin nodded, falling against the wall as he slowly slid down while bystanders walk past him.

He felt as if he had been staring at the wall for hours until he heard a familiar voice next to him. He looked up to see Mark with a grim look on his face. Jaemin stood up and Mark didn’t waste any time in taking his hands and bowing deeply. He was saying something but even then he could pinpoint what the words were.

“…so sorry, Jaem. It should’ve been me, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be like that, hyung,” Jaemin felt like he was speaking underwater, too calm and too distant. “I’d feel just as awful if it were you.”

“He’s okay, though.” Mark continued. Jaemin must’ve not been speaking this entire time. “He’s concussed, real bad. A lot of broken bones, but he’ll be out of surgery soon. He’s alive, Jaem.”

“Where is he?” Jaemin barely got out, surprising Mark.

“In surgery still, it’ll be a few more hours, but we can go to the waiting room,” Mark wrapped an am around Jaemin’s shoulder. “Do you want to call Yejin?”

Jaemin shook his head, looking at the time on his wrist before looking back at Mark, “no. She should get some rest, I’ll tell her tomorrow.”

“Are you sure? She’s probably worried right now.”

“She won’t sleep if I tell her tonight, it’s best if we wait until morning.”

Mark grimaced before nodding, leading Jaemin into the waiting room where Jaehyun and Johnny sat on the opposite side. Jaemin made sure he didn’t sit down until he glared at his brother once more, listening to Mark give him his entire story.

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halorocks1214 · 4 years

Text

ბარტერი (a Thunderbirds fic)

Chapter 1: გატაცებული

AO3 Link

Word Count: 3892

Summary: And here they thought getting their father back was the least of their worries.

i make no promises for this fic. the upload schedule will be totally willy nilly because i havent really been feeling the whole writing thing and because of my other fics and projects and irl shit. i hate to admit it but im on the fence on whether or not this will actually be completed, BUT, i still am surprisingly proud of this so im posting it anyway. hope yall enjoy!

“Okay, what’s the dealio?”

Gordon easily skipped around his younger brother with a slightly faux-naive voice. They were currently out in the field, damn tsunamis not being picked up by the D.A.R.T. soon enough, and while Gordon knew better than to talk about personal things during a rescue, it was the first time in a while he even had the chance to talk to Alan.

Who was currently more forlorn than Gordon was aware he could be if the way he watched his toes kick whatever small rock they strutted past was any indication. It took a moment for Alan to register his older brother’s question, but when he did, he blinked a few times before looking at Gordon with a raised eyebrow, “What?”

Gordon was going to play this slyly. Treat it as banter, not an interrogation. Gordon idly leaned over and picked up a stick. He started to twirl it, never meeting Alan’s gaze directly, “I don’t know, you seem off. Just wanted to see if it was anything I could help with.”

Alan went back to kicking the pebbles, shrugging his shoulders in a way that said ‘this was a big deal but I don’t want you to know that’, “Oh, sorry, just tired. It’s not my fault I was having a wonderful nap in the closet only for John to make me tumble out of it due to the alarms. The fact that we’ve been out here for God knows how many hours doesn’t help.”

Gordon’s chuckles at that statement were slightly fake. Alan was hiding something, and if Gordon had to imitate Scott, well, then it was only Alan’s fault, “Yeah-huh. Sounds good.” He focused on the stick, pretending it was a wand and waving it around as such, “Decided on a college yet?”

Alan still didn’t look up, and Gordon could hear the noises of rocks getting kicked and traveling a foot or two. Alan answered him monotonously, “Uh, not really. I’ve narrowed it down to three. I haven’t brought them up with anyone other than Grandma though since the last thing I want to do is create a World War between our older brothers about which one is better.”

Gordon snorted but then got serious again. Dammit, Gordon, you are not letting him worm his way out of this. Again, “If I promise Scout’s Honor will you tell me them?” He cheekily grinned at Alan, which got a small smile out of the younger brother. Nice, getting closer. Now Gordon was doing that rubber pencil trick with the stick, way more immersed with the visual illusion than he probably should be, “Hmm, is it girl trouble?”

Alan rolled his eyes, but Gordon could tell he was getting annoyed, which meant the older brother was getting close. Alan kept his facade up, crunching a stick underneath his feet as he started walking just a little faster, “If you mean ‘Kayo chased me for accidentally spilling paint on Shadow’s nose’ then yes, I’m having lots of girl trouble.”

Gordon winced wholeheartedly and sympathetically. He remembered when he accidentally tripped and spilled water all over the front of her one night. He wasn’t aware she was a fan of throwing them into the pool just as much as he was until that night. It was in annoyance, but still, Gordon considered it a similar hobby between them regardless, “Yeesh, sorry for bringing up traumatizing memories bro.” Squinting at the stick he was playing with, he put it over his lips like a faux-mustache, lightbulb dinging in his brain with joyful glee, “Boy trouble?”

Alan groaned at started walking way faster than Gordon. Once he was about three feet away from Gordon, he shouted while still facing forward so Gordon could hear him, “Oh my god, let it go, Gordon!”

Bingo, Gordon thought he hit the jackpot. Throwing the stick away and keeping his distance from Alan, his grin went ear to ear with excitement at what he thought was figuring it out, “Oh man, okay, wait, hang on, is it that Bear kid? The one Scott rescued for the umpteenth time last week? Or, wait, didn’t Conrad visit you up at ‘Five two weeks ago during your rotation?” Giggling, Gordon rubbed his hands together mischievously, “Allie, how dare you. Romantic or not, it’s my job to help you out with these things--”

Suddenly and abruptly, and shutting Gordon up, Alan turned around and glared at Gordon while his fists were haphazardly clenched at his hips, “Fine, Mr. Nosey, you wanna know? It’s about Dad, okay?!”

Well, there went any ability to joke in this situation. Gordon lost his smile completely and stared mindlessly at his younger brother, who was breathing heavily and still glaring, but Gordon could tell there was a hint of anxiety behind his eyes.

Dad had been back for about two-and-a-half months now, and the Tracy family seemed to be settling into a new routine with him. Everyone was happy Jeff was back in one piece, none more so than Jeff than himself. They quickly figured out how to slowly integrate him back, starting with daily chores, reaching him having permission to help out with IR, and now they were getting ready to reintroduce him back into Tracy Industries.

The anxiety in Alan’s features was suddenly all Gordon could see in them, followed by Alan shaking his head and turning back around, “Shit-- forget I said anything, that’s not why--”

Before he could even think, Gordon shot his arm out to grab Alan by the wrist, his amber eyes wide with careful thought. He needed to think these words through. The idea that Alan was nervous regarding talking about his own dad was... “Allie… I know you didn’t have as much… time with him, but he’s your father too. You don’t have to hide any opinion about him for me, for us.”

Alan still wasn’t looking at Gordon, but the older brother definitely saw the tiny and hidden flinch the younger brother made at your father too. Gordon barely held back the sharp inhale he wanted to make. Okay, that was an entire suitcase, one he, unfortunately, couldn’t unpack right now (as much as he loathed to admit it that was a Scooter problem), so he focused the first problem he figured out, “Allie, are you upset Dad is back or?...”

That got Alan to turn around, “No! Jesus, Gordon, of course, I’m happy he’s back. The only reason I graduated right before we left was that Scott and John both told me to go do something while we waited because “the way you’re bouncing on your toes is going to burn a hole in the ground and Grandma won’t like that,” remember? I’m ecstatic he’s alive and back home.”

Letting Alan gently go, Gordon took a deep breath to reorganize his thoughts, “Okay, then what about Dad has got you so worked up?”

Alan was suddenly much younger than the fresh, getting-ready-to-go-to-college, young man Gordon saw this morning, “You remember that argument between Scotty and Dad, right? The one about five weeks ago that we shouldn’t have listened in on but did anyway?”

Gordon flinched, not wanting to remember that argument.

The two have made up since then, but it was a shock to just about everybody on the island, including John and Virgil, who the blondes nervously told the morning after so they could get some kind of reassurance the world wasn’t ending. In the Tracys’ quest to have their Fairytale Happily Ever After, it never occurred to them that their father might not like how they were running things.

Scott made a decision that didn’t sit well with the older man, and he let his son know that in tactless, Jeff Tracy fashion. Scott’s decision wasn’t the best per se, certainly not the worst, but he could’ve waited for some better options, but Jeff couldn’t just say that outright, that he was concerned about his son taking risks like that. He had to immediately jump to the idea that Scott’s leadership might be lacking suddenly.

It also didn’t help that Scott couldn’t just fucking say that, while he was sorry for being slightly rash, he didn’t like being undermined after years of successful leadership. He went straight for the fact that Jeff had been gone for the past eight years. Scott didn’t blame the man for it, God no, but the insinuation that Jeff wasn’t any better than Scott because of it stung everyone in the room. Because being reminded of the fact that Dad was technically a dead man for a big portion of all of their lives wasn’t bad enough.

Gordon forgot that Scott could be too much like Jeff for his own fucking good, as well as the fact that Scott did get it from Jeff Tracy of all people.

Adult men Gordon’s ass, two old and stubborn as hell mules more like it.

They were both stuck on the fact that now there might have to be challenges of authority, and frankly, now that the oldest outside of Grandma put that idea on the table, it bothered everyone else barely more than those two combined.

Jeff apologized for how he acted after Grandma ripped him a new one, and Scott apologized for jumping the gun a little bit too (after Grandma yelled at him as well), but there was no promising no second fight, least of all one like that.

It was a little like being a kid and watching Mommy and Daddy fight for the first time.

Long story short: it sucked ass.

Alan took a shuddery breath and brought Gordon down from that memory. Alan then proceeded to wrap his arms around himself, rubbing up and down in a weak attempt to ground himself, “I just… what if he had all these ideas about me while he was up there, and what if I’m completely different from those ideas and it disappoints him?”

Oh, sweet Jiminy Cricket.

What the hell was Gordon to say to that? Jeff was a loving a supportive father, more so than others. Gordon remembered all of his swim meets and such for a good reason, so his first response to that statement was easily of course he would be proud of you!

But there was an ever so tiny thing that grabbed Gordon’s tongue from saying that outright. It was honestly minor, so he wasn’t sure why it kept hitting him like a fucking truck.

Eight. Years.

Jeff Tracy was a remarkable man, and even more remarkable father, but nobody spent eight years in isolation, let alone spent it thousands of miles up in space, without it having some kind of consequence. Jeff would never outright disown his sons for anything as long as it wasn’t illegal or got themselves or others hurt, but he was human, and he had preferences just like the rest of them had.

So, disappointed? Hell no. But potentially shocked and uninterested? Less supportive than other endeavors? Gordon loved his father, but he had to admit that he was at a loss. There weren’t Dead Men for Dummies books anywhere, and it sucked to say it, but Jeff was different. They were different, and the only way they would know how this Jeff reacted to things would be an in-the-moment experience, and if Scott’s and his argument was the first concrete example they had...

With how different Gordon was to the rest of his family, he always worried that he would never fully fit in. When Jeff came back he was excited just as much as Alan, as the rest of his family, but Gordon was always worried about his dad the most. He cheered him on at his swim meets, sure, but Gordon was always keenly aware of how the man, outside of taking him to and from them and, well, cheering, lots and lots of cheering, never really asked more than How did it go, sport?

Gordon wanted to be the only Tracy with that fear. It sucked, but in the end, his family always came through even if they weren’t aware of his anxieties. Now that Alan has them, over his father no less…

That just brings them right back around to the start: Gordon would be lying to himself if he knew what Jeff thought of him, let alone Alan.

Alan was a perceptive person, and if Gordon lied to himself, Alan would see that and know Gordon was lying to him as well, and that would very easily make the situation worse.

However, before Gordon had any chance to say something, words pulled from his ass or otherwise, anything to ease his baby brother’s low thoughts, footsteps rustled in the distance, causing the two blondes to snap their heads to look to the side. What they saw were two men, one larger and older, another younger and seemingly out of his comfort zone, in a sense. Gordon was going to chalk it up to ‘being a rescuee after a tsunami’, but his squid senses were tingling, and he felt himself easily go slightly taut.

The younger stranger blinked a few times before snapping his head up to look at the two IR Operatives in front of him. His eyes lit up, and Gordon suspected it wasn’t because he was about to be rescued.

“Oh, shit, these guys are young. How much do you think they would sell for?”

And just like that, Gordon’s gut twisted into a killer pretzel and was dropped off a five-story building. This had to be a joke, had to be. These kinds of people were only supposed to exist in horror stories. In the dark parts of the internet that are mainly regarded as myths, created to scar the poor children who snuck onto their parents’ laptop without permission. Even if they were real, Gordon and Alan couldn’t have had that bad of luck to--

“Remember what we said about famous people? Forget the ages, these guys are International Rescue. Most clients will throw physicality to the wind if something famous is involved.”

Gordon also thought that your pupil shrinking to the size of the tip of a needle when you’re terrified was a myth, but as the blood completely drained from his face and left him white as a sheet, he had to concede he was wrong about multiple things tonight.

Holy hand grenade in a fucking handbasket.

The state of shock his body was forcing him to enter was bad, like, shock-blankets-are-required level bad, but trembles from a different body right next to him snapped him back into attention.

Alan was trembling, his grip on Gordon’s arm so tight that the older brother wouldn’t be surprised to find bruises when his outfit was finally taken off. There was only a marginal amount more color compared to Gordon behind those freckles, and Gordon couldn’t tell if his brother’s pupils were any smaller with the way the kid was flicking them around like crazy, “Wha-- what are they talking about?”

Ah, shock was one hell of a bitch.

Alan was 18 years of age, an adult. He flew a rocket into space for a part-time job. He also lived on an island where he was mainly homeschooled and was soon to be off at some kind of college (maybe even online classes). As embarrassing as it could be, his family wasn’t going to be the puritan fam that shoved the mere thought of sex to the sidelines. Alan had four older brothers who spent a significant amount of time on the mainland around other people more than the youngest could ever dream of. Most time of which was spent in their respective high schools (or Olympics fields, ‘cause Gordon wasn’t exactly of age when he still had school over there) with hot girls and boys-- similar hobbies or not-- that had the same level of hormones flying about.

They knew things and weren’t afraid to answer any question Alan had.

Also, Alan had a huge internet hobby; video games, browsing social media, you name it. The kid’s probably heard stories that would give Scott hernias for days. Alan had to have stumbled across the topic of human trafficking somewhere, whether it was the plot of a teen-rated video game or something as simple as a news article. At the end of the day, this kind of thing was something everyone was subconsciously aware of, but you didn’t think about it because A, it was awful, and B, more often than not, it didn’t happen to you.

But the way Alan stared at Gordon like the prankster held the stars in his palms-- as if he could snap his fingers and bring them to safety in the blink of an eye reminded Gordon that Alan was always a little bit more sheltered than any of them could help it. Alan was one of the last things their mother gave them, and the way John and he essentially became her just split into two people hurt more than any of them would be willing to admit.

Alan knew the horrors of the world firsthand, but he never had to fully grasp it because his older brothers would be there to shoulder it for him.

Always.

Like hell Gordon was going to drop that tradition today.

“Alan, run.”

With a shove and a half, Gordon ripped his little brother’s hand from his upper arm and sent him in the other direction. Gordon also ripped his own heart in half as he ignored the somewhat naive cry of Gordon! as it got quieter and quieter. Despite the guilt, Alan listened and booked it. Like a baby calf being told to run away from starving lions while the mom stayed behind to protect it. Gordon, mostly satisfied that his bro was safe, turned around and swallowed the bile that was rising in his throat.

He was hoping his glare could be as scary as Scott’s or even Virgil’s, but the way the creepy strangers just chuckled as if the threat he posed was no bigger than a tiny kitten filled Gordon with both anger and fear. They knew he was from IR. If they weren’t scared of him, what did that mean they were prepared for?

The older man stated an order, one that had Gordon’s blood run cold, “Go after the other. I got this one.”

Gordon got out half an angry “Hey!” before the man that spoke suddenly charged at him. On reflex, Gordon put himself into a fighting stance and prevented both of them from toppling over. He hardly considered it a victory, though, as the other guy who was ordered to run after Gordon’s baby brother was gone and out of sight before Gordon could even look up after nearly having the wind knocked out of him.

Gritting his teeth and shoving the man off of him, bringing his arms up and curling his fists with a glare brighter than his hair, the only plan he could go with was the one where he took this guy down as quickly as possible. Right now, the only solace Gordon had was the fact that his brother was a quick puppy. He didn’t only need ‘Three to move at the speed of light.

C’mon, Alan, show me why Track was worth it.

Focusing completely on his enemy, Gordon figured the man was intentionally slimy with his words, as the only thing he did in response to Gordon tensing like a cornered animal was to chuckle in cold amusement, “You’re a wily one, they’ll like that.”

Don’t throw up don’t throw up don’t throw up don’t--

Gordon reinstigated the fight with a snarl, landing a punch that didn’t cause as much damage as he wanted, but it was enough for him to gain a slight upper hand. The man wasn’t thrown off balance, nor did he majorly flinch back from the recoil, but he did understand that he had to play more defensively. It was like two stubborn stallions fighting over the mare in the area.

One young and smaller and quicker, his age not a roadblock but an easy strength. If he hit just right his opponent would topple over as quickly as he could throw his fists. The older one, however, was still larger, and while he might have been slower and less agile, his age allowed more wisdom and understanding. He’s probably seen (and kidnapped) many like Gordon, so he knew exactly how to play him like a damn fiddle.

It was hard to say who would win until one of them was either running for the hills, beaten and bloody, or dead at the victor’s feet.

Gordon wasn’t sure how long they went at it, but he knew it was longer than he liked.

He was somehow barely winning it regardless, and he was fully prepared to give Penny a big heckin smooch for the lessons that were currently saving his life, but even with her endless knowledge and background, she couldn’t prepare Gordon for dirty tactics. Stallions fighting over mares usually just involve two of them.

Right as Gordon was able to grab the man’s arms and wring them around his back, a magical third person appeared, different to the second one that went after Alan, like a freaking wizard with his own magic wand.

Which was also known as a cattle prod to most.

The pokey object was jabbed into his side. Fire filled his body, making him scream out in pain. Gordon remembered when he and Virgil messed with one back on the farm as kids and how they learned their lesson the hard way. He was hoping to never “learn” it again. Yet as a couple thousand volts flared throughout his abdomen, even with the suit, he had to relent and let go of his makeshift hostage. His body was on autopilot and it said get away from source of burning pain.

His body tried, oh, it tried, but what was previously his prisoner managed to stand in the blink of an eye and swing a fist into the side that wasn’t being tortured by an agricultural device. With another short, cut off scream, Gordon fell over onto his ass. His wheezes were brutal, the air not wanting to come back into his body despite itself. At this point, the logical part of his brain was telling him he wasn’t going to get away and he should save his energy to withstand whatever these people were going to do to him, but as always, the emotional part was overriding everything.

Shit, guys, help! Scotty, Virg, Dad--

He turned around to be on his hands and knees and scrambled to try and run as Alan did. He might be faster in the water than on land, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t one quick son of a bitch when he wanted to be. It was enough for his gym classes, it was enough when he needed to run away after a successful prank, it was enough when his grandma needed a new test subject...

But it wasn’t enough here.

The cattle prod was shoved into the back of his neck, and with it came darkness and a growing sense of dread.

Please, Mom, get Allie to our family.

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #gordon tracy #alan tracy #my post #my fic #i FEEL like im forgetting tags wtf. im 99% im not but STILL #hang on i added (a thunderbirds fanfic) to this cuz now that i look at it #that title is VAGUE AS HELL lmfao

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bowieandqueen11 · 5 years

Text

You Lied / Losers’ Club Imagine

Request: Omg girl im totally obsessed by your writing! Could i please request an IT (2019) where the reader was a loser but also died like stan, and came back somehow like stan did in his spider part, just not a spider? 💕

I just saw It 2 again, and now I’m back to crying XD

Warning! Swearing!

Mike slammed on the door, his palm trying to crack the splintered wood with every desperate thump and sloppy hit, but Richie couldn’t hear it.

Eddie couldn’t hear it.

Hell, even Bill couldn’t hear it.

All they could see was this fridge. This grotty little refrigerator that hummed as loud as a small truck warming on a wintry morning that they swore they could see it vibrate. The stickiness, the tangy yellow colour, the little bits of black mould that begin to sprout out of the door like little reaching tendrils was enough to make Eddie gag. He had had enough; this wasn’t happening, whatever was in there, he wasn’t doing it.

‘Guys, we have to go. If Pennywise- if he comes out, I can’t do it. Not again.’

‘No....not Pennywise.... much worse...’

Richie slides his torch over the rusting metal, his eyebrows rising in surprise as his brain racks to try and place that voice he knew in his heart, not even realising his fingers had begun to shake lightly against the black metal.

‘All you’re.... regrets...all your lies....your failures...’

Given the state of the outside, Bill prepared to hold his breath as he slowly inched forward to open it, creaking along the tilting floorboards with each step.

‘I-I k-know that voice. I know you. I know you-’

There would no doubt be nothing but disgust when Bill swung open the door, the old seals giving up the door with ease. Yet there was something else too. A small brown parcel, sitting on top of a bubbling pile of goo that splattered against the inside like a rupturing volcano, the spit and boil making Eddie gag into his elbow as he realises it’s the same liquid the leper had thrown up onto his face just a few hours earlier. To his surprise, he let in a gasp of the putrid air; it was every bit as bad as he had expected, but still he leaned in for the parcel, the label half torn away.

‘Belonging to Y/N- For use of the Losers only.’

Bill’s fingers shake as he slowly unwraps the sticky tape from the corners of the brown, crinkly paper. A muscle twitched involuntarily at the corner of his right eye, his mouth forming a rigid grimace as it crumples open in his hand. He clenches his fists tightly, until his nails dig into the palm of his hand, but he barely notices. The only thing he is really aware of is the sound of his heart throbbing against the cage of his chest. It's not until Richie points it out, that he realises his lip is bleeding.

‘Bill-Bill what is it?’

‘It’s her shoe-it’s her f-fucking shoe.’

‘He’s fucking with us, he’s fucking with us guys!’, Eddie shouts, his back slamming against the wall with a sick thud as he covers his eyes with his trembling fingers.

‘I want to go home, I can’t do this.’

‘Neither could I, and look where I ended up.’

The house had seemed to become aware of itself, of the history that echoed within the walls, the bodies that lay underneath its structure like a plague, or a deadly moss. Somewhere within, the walls had become one with the rats who crawled and the sticky spider webs.

As Bill slowly turned around slowly, not wanting to believe the warm voice that filled the cold air behind Eddie’s raven curls. The house shivered again, but in a different way. This time there was a small fragment of warmth, a tiny brave smile in the walls, a small spark of hope.

As Richie swung his torch over your face, his mouth blubbering open and shut as he watched Eddie slowly, slowly, as if his life depended on it, inch away from you with his hands on the wall with wide eyes, no one could look away from you. There was a tense moment of silence, your eyes trained on some invisible spectre, your heavy eyelids a fraction too slow to blink, your irises too stationary. It was as if your brain was suffering a massive short circuit and was struggling to compute.

Bill slowly moved into your line of sight, your head tilting upward to his face, his eyes sliding into focus, but not really noticing the tears that brimmed at their crinkles. He raises his hands, not building the courage to touch your shoulder as Richie runs behind you to Eddie, the sick crunches of your bones as you shift your skeleton forward making them all grimace.

‘You...you left me...’

‘W-we’re here, y/n, we’re h-here now and w-we’re not leaving, w-w-we promise.’

‘Dude’, Eddie mumbles, his breathe starting to catch in his throat as he wraps his fingers around his neck, choking on his own air as he stutters out, ‘where’s her leg? Where’s her fucking leg?’

The way your eyes squint at Big Bill when you glared at him reminded him of a pit viper's slit-like pupils. He gulped nervously. A burning animosity was developing in your orbs, and he could tell the person you once were, his best friend, the person he cried on when Georgie died was gone. He’d done it. He’d killed you as well.

‘I would still be alive, if it weren’t for you.’

The grief surged with every expelled breath as Bill stumbled back, tears beginning to spill from his helpless eyes.

‘Guys..’, Richie starts, ‘I don’t know what the fuck that is, but it’s not y/n. We need to get the absolute fuck out of here.’

‘At least you came back for me, huh Bill? Because it was your fault I died. Or was it big liar liar pants on fire Trashmouth Tozier? Or scaredy cat Kaspbrak who left me to rot with the weeds. You’re not leaving. Not this time. You’re going to stay, and rot with me, just like it should have been.’

Suddenly raising the knife hidden in your knobbly knuckles up high, twisting it in the stray daylight as if it could slice up the sun-rays, your expression was exaggerated by the dark shadows around your eyes, your face split into a grin that arced in a sickly way, never making it to her almost sunken eyes. Bill could barely hear the helpless scream that escaped from Eddie’s lips as he started banging against the door, the helpless ‘holy fuck’ that tumbled from the Trashmouth’s mouth as you and Bill tumbled to the floor, his knees hitting harshly against his stomach as you landed on his lap, the knife skidding away from your grasp.

Your feet kick against his, the floorboards creaking underneath your doubled weight as the tears streak dirty down his cheeks.

‘P-please y/n, please, it’s me.’

He nearly doesn’t notice the small hindrance in your fingers as they wrap around his throat.

‘B-bill? Everything seems so far away Bill. Everything seems so numb.’

Tears rolled down, wetting every part of your cheek before splattering like blood onto his forehead, his fingers digging into and rubbing against yours as he stares into your eyes with a pleading passion.

But all you felt was your own suffocating. In the pain of abandonment you almost forgot how to feel, forgot your life, forgot who you were before Pennywise took you. But this love, this bond, it could never be forgotten.

Before you can speak again however, you feel an unbearable throbbing in the back of your head, tilting down into Bill’s chest as he grips at your shoulders, falling still into his arms as he looks up, dazed and confused, at a shaking Richie, the knife in his hand a second ago now planted firmly in the back of your head.

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nsfw-bnha-and-dangan · 4 years

Text

Commission!

Hello everyone! Im back with another commission, this time its the final piece of the Gonta/reader/Hoshi Yakuza series! Ive had so much fun working on this series and i hope you all enjoy it as well! Its going under the cut for length!

Warnings: Torture, near death experiences, angst, general dark Yakuza concepts, but this time with a happy end!

In this moment, Hoshi wished he were dead.

Death would have been easier than facing the reality in front of him. Death would be preferable to what was going to happen in the next few moments. He had one job. One job given to him in order to keep you and Gonta safe, and he’d fucked it up royally. He hadn't expected such high security, hadn't noticed a carefully hidden camera, and it had been only a second or two after he stepped into the main room of the building that he had been taken down.

His arm felt broken, having snapped when it was forced behind his back as he was searched for weapons. Someone had taken his phone, had looked at the contacts and the texts that made it obvious who he was working for. They whispered as if he wasn't there, tying his arms back before trying to decide what to do with him. Hoshi watched as the seconds ticked by on a broken clock, watching as his final check-in time came and passed. If he didn't call now, they’d know he screwed up, would assume he was dead, and come finish the job themselves.

Silently, he begged the universe to let this end, let them kill him, quick and dirty, so that he didn't have to face the consequences. But, when his request was ignored, he thought for a moment. About what this meant for you and Gonta. It wasn't just him who was going to be hurt by this, you and Gonta… there wasn't much hope for the two of you. With him soon to be dead, one way or another, you would be left to the mercy of the Yakuza as their playthings, toys that would be smashed and broken before you knew it.

Hoshi struggled in his bonds, trying to get his arms free in some vain hope that he could fix this. He was tied up tightly, though, and there was no chance of getting free, not in his weakened state. Hoshi was forced to watch as the men he was supposed to kill chatted about him as if he wasn't even there, everyone in the room jumping as the sound of steel-toed boots kicking down the door echoed off the walls. Hoshi squeezed his shut, not wanting to see the lethal chaos right in front of him, his breathing labored as blood sprayed his face from some poor soul.

“You fucker, think you can just tap your heels and go somewhere else?” Someone spat, grabbing Hoshi by the chin and forcing him to look up.

“I can't fucking believe your alive right now, figured they’d shoot you on sight, weak motherfuckers. Bet you wish they had, too, now that we’re bringing you back to the boss. Better start praying for your little friends, even if I don't know what he's going to do with them.”

Hoshi swallowed thickly as he was dragged to his feet and forced to walk out the door, unceremoniously shoved into the back of a van. They didn't bother untying him, slamming the doors and leaving him in relative darkness as they drove. He didn't say a word, fear gripping his throat until it was hard to breathe.

He didn't give a damn what they did to him, beat him, break him, kill him, it didn't matter.

But you and Gonta… he had to do whatever he could to keep you safe. Although, he was already doing a pretty shitty job of that. Hoshi just closed his eyes and waited for the van to stop, bracing himself as the door was opened and he was yanked out, his injured arm shooting pain through his body. Hoshi just bit his lip and let himself be led inside the warehouse, knowing that now was not the time for fighting. He was taken through hallway after hallway, each one dirtier and darker than the last. Finally, he was pushed into a room, landing roughly on his knees and groaning.

“Well, well, well… If it isn't my fucking lapdog.” Hoshi looked up, seeing the man he had cursed with every breath for the last three months, the man he had wished every horrible death he had ever thought of upon.

“Not talking? That's fine, I have plenty to say to you.” The man stood up from his chair and cracked his knuckles loudly.

“I should fucking put you down, shoot you and get it over with. You had one fucking job, one chance to be the little hero my prisoners see you as. And you fucked. It. Up.” He spat in Hoshi’s face, landing a right hook that had Hoshi toppling onto the stone floor.

“One fucking job! You can't even fail a mission properly, getting your ass captured instead of killed! It doesn't matter, really, who kills you at this point. As long as it gets done. I'm finished with you, you worthless fucking piece of shit.” The man pulled a gun from his pocket and pressed the barrel to Hoshi’s temple, digging it in as he leaned closer.

“We don't fucking need you anymore, bastard. Have to take out the trash sometime.” Hoshi closed his eyes and waited, silently apologizing to you and Gonta, praying that you would get out of here in one piece, if nothing else.

He tensed, waiting for the gunshot, the pain, the darkness, but it never came. He slowly opened his eyes to see the man sneering down at him, crooked yellow teeth shining in the dim lighting.

“Not going to let you die that easily, that's too damn good for someone like you. It's more fun to break you properly, let you see what you’ve done to the ones you love, then have you beg for me to end your miserable life.” Hoshi took a kick to the nose and felt blood spill down his chin, going limp as they attempted to pull him to his feet, passed out.

“Fucker doesn't deserve to rest, but whatever. Throw him in with the other two till he wakes up, then call me.” The men did as they were told, carrying Hoshi like a sack of flour. You jumped when the door to your prison opened, waking Gonta up quickly in case he needed to defend himself.

“Special delivery.” One of the men said gruffly, dumping Hoshi at his feet with a laugh before closing the door, leaving the room in an eerie silence. You felt like you couldn't move, could barely even breathe, as you stared at the seemingly lifeless body of your boyfriend.

You remembered the threats the leader had made, talking about how Hoshi wouldn't survive this mission, no chance of him getting out alive. And here he was, bloody and broken and not moving. Just as tears started to prickle at your eyes, knowing Hoshi was gone, he twitched. You gasped, getting up from the barebones mattress and rushing to Hoshi, draping over him in an emotional hug.

You couldn't speak, only sob as you pressed your forehead to his chest and heard a heartbeat. Gonta followed you quickly once he realized what was going on, smiling through his own tears as you pulled Hoshi close. He was still unconscious, but he was breathing, he was alive. And that's better than you could have hoped for.

“Ryoma is… here. Gonta doesn't know what happened…” You nodded, wiping your face and running a hand through Hoshi’s messy hair.

“Me neither, but he's alive… That's all that matters right now.” In the back of your mind, you knew this couldn't mean anything good, if they had tossed Hoshi in with you and Gonta, he must have done something. But you couldn't force yourself to care, helping Gonta get Hoshi on the bed and wrapping him in a blanket. His hands were stuck tied behind his back, but Gonta managed to break the rope, letting you move his arms to a more comfortable position.

One was clearly broken, so you tried to be careful, hoping Hoshi wouldn't wake up in too much pain. You and Gonta huddled close together, protecting Hoshi from anything that could come, no matter how fruitless it may have been. It felt like hours when Hoshi finally started to stir, groaning and gasping when he tried to move his arm.

“Whoa, whoa, don't move, Ryo, it's okay. We’ve got you, your arm's broken, just stay still.” Hoshi’s eyes flew open at the sound of your voice, his eyes wide with panic as he attempted to sit up. Gonta helped him to gently sit up, watching worriedly as Hoshi looked around the room.

“Oh fuck, no s-shit…” Hoshi muttered, struggling to get to his feet.

“No, Gonta won't let Ryoma get up, he needs to rest!”

“I can't rest! I have to get out of here, if I'm in here with you guys then that means they-'' Hoshi was cut off by a loud bang on the steel door that caged them in, yelping with pain when Gonta pulled him to his chest protectively.

“He’s awake, huh? Damn, I kinda hoped he’d die in his sleep, maybe choke on his own blood or something.” You bit your lip and got to your feet, refusing to cower from the man you knew had hurt Hoshi.

“Someone's feisty today, hmm? Good, I like it when you fight a little, makes it more fun to put you in your place.” You stood your ground even when the man got closer, his hot breath fanning your face.

“Rot in fucking hell.” He laughed, his saliva making fight off a gagging reflex.

“I'll see you there, then, honey.” Your arm was grabbed and something heavy was pushed into it, smooth metal of a gun handle making your heart jump. The last time you had seen a gun, the unthinkable had happened…

“Now, don't get any cute ideas, babydoll, one wrong move and you’re toast. See, you have a choice to make, and the lug over there can help you with it.” Still angry, you chose to reply.

“What, shoot you and die?”

“Cute, but no. You so much as get a twitchy finger and both your pretty boys die, and you become my personal pet. Not a choice I’d make. Instead, you get a shot at freedom.” You paled, trying to will your shaky hand to steady. A chance to get out of here was tempting, but you knew there had to be a catch.

“See, I want that fucking piece of shit Ryoma dead. One way or another, he's not coming out of this, but I'd love to see the look on his face as you pointed that pretty piece his way. Shoot him, right between the eyes, and the two of you are free. Two lives for the price of one, what a fucking deal!”

You bit your lip, cursing yourself for the brief millisecond where the idea of accepting crossed your mind. The two of you had just gotten Ryoma back in your arms, as battered as he was, nothing was worth losing that. Instead, you shoved the gun back in the man's hands.

“Id never fucking take that deal.” You shouted, storming away back to the bed and weaving your fingers with Ryoma’s.

“We’ll get out of here together, or not at all. You can fucking break me, if you want, but I won't hurt either of them.”

“Let's see if you regret that in a few days, darling. I'm more than happy to make your life that much worse.” You kept your calm as the man shot you a toothy grin and left, security goons shutting the door firmly behind them and locking it. Ryoma groaned in Gonta’s arms, shaking his hand loose from your grip.

“You should have just done it…” He muttered, lacking the strength to even open his eyes.

“No, I shouldn't have. I don't want to escape this hell hole without you, Ryoma.”

“Gonta agrees! As much as he wants to leave, Gonta would never let (Y/N) or Ryoma get left behind!”

“It's not as if I deserve to live anyway, especially with what it will cost you guys.” You just shook your head and wrapped your arms around Ryoma as gently as you could, forehead leaning on his shoulder.

“I meant what I said, I don't care what happens, I'm not letting either of you get hurt.”

“And neither will Gonta.”

Ryoma only hummed in response, body giving in to instinct as he passed out again. Like that, you and Gonta were able to lay him down easier, covering him in the thin excuse for a blanket and curling around him protectively. Taking a stand left you exhausted and it wasn't long before you fell asleep as well.

Unbeknownst to you, it would only be a brief respite from torture. It could have been minutes or hours until you were woken up by a shock of freezing water, ice cubes smacking against your skin and making you yelp.

“Aww, did we wake you up? Too fucking bad.” You barely had time to blink the water from your eyes before you felt a weight lift from the mattress, Gonta squirming as two sets of hands pulled him up. Senses dulled from sleep and arms yanked behind his back, he wasn't able to fight back enough to stop them, shouting as he was dragged away. The men stopped briefly in the hallway, just long enough to tie Gonta’s hands and wrap a blindfold over his eyes before escorting him further and further away.

Just when you stopped being able to hear the yelling and struggle, you and Hoshi were pulled up, tossed over someones back like a wet sack of flour as your own eyes were covered, shutting out any light. Still, that didn't stop you from squirming, trying in vain to get free as the man carrying you cursed.

“Fucking bitch, settle down before I make you.” Something sharp was pressed against your back and you went still, knowing they wouldn't hesitate to cut you if given half a reason.

“Ryoma! Are you okay!” You heard a pained groan in response, knowing he had been given the same rough treatment, if not worse.

“Alright, let's go.” You were carried out of the room, whimpering every time the man hefted you higher, your soaked shirt clinging to your skin as the chill set in.

“Shes fucking heavier than she looks, damn.” The man grumbled to himself, kicking open the door to a dog kennel. You cried out as you were shoved inside, hitting your head on metal bars. You didn't struggle for long, barely having any room to move inside the cage. Your head throbbed where it had connected with the metal, breath hitching as you tried to figure out where you were. Bars surrounded you entirely, with only a few inches in any direction to move. Blindly, you kicked out, gasping when your foot smashed into stiff metal, unbending no matter how hard you fought.

“Where G-Gonta? What did you do with him? Gonta! Hoshi!” You screamed, hot tears pouring down your cheeks.

“For fuck's sake.” Someone muttered, opening that small gate to your kennel before you could kick again. A sob caught in your throat as the sharp blade of a knife was held to your windpipe, going quiet.

“Good girl, that's better. Now sit pretty and shut the fuck up, got it? He’s closer than you know, so don't get all excited.” You couldn't find the words to respond as the knife disappeared, curling around yourself in the hard darkness and doing your best to listen for any sign of Gonta. It wasn't long until you heard sounds of a struggle down the hall before they suddenly went quiet.

“Yeah, that's what I thought. I've got it from here, this little shit isn't much trouble on his own.” Hoshi swallowed thickly, deciding that silence was the best choice as he was marched down the hall, cold barrel of a gun once again finding his temple. He wobbled unsteadily between the pain and having his eyes covered, doing as he was told and hoping it would be enough to keep you and Gonta safe. Finally, the man told him to stop, standing in a room far from the one they had been kept in before.

“Where am I? Where the hell are Gonta and (Y/N)?”

“What, you still want to see them? After they refused to put you out of that miserable existence of yours? They’re right fucking here.” The leader tapped the top of a cage, flicking his dirty nails against the bars until it clicked. He had caged you, like an unruly pet, locked you in a tiny box and hurt you, somehow or another.

“What the fuck did you do to them? Gonta? Hey, (Y/N), say something.” Hoshi got no response, chewing his lip with the effort to not fight this. He called out again, ignoring the slight snicker from the other man.

“You fucking killed them, didn't you? What did you do?” Enraged, Hoshi lunged blindly, easily shoved to his knees when he lost his balance. The leader roughly shoved the gun against his head again, leaning close enough to Hoshi’s face that he could smell the rancid whiskey on his breath.

“You think I would do that? Let it end so soon?” Hoshi could hear the sound of the cage doors opening, shuddering when you cried out as a heavy boot kicked you a few times. He gave Gonta the same treatment, hitting him hard enough to wake him up, in tears from the pain.

“See? Still breathin’. Happy? Now, in.” Hoshi groaned as he was kicked into his own cage, crawling blindly inside. The door was slammed shut and laughter echoed throughout the room as the man left, abandoning the three of them like unwanted animals. Hoshi stayed quiet for a moment, fighting panic and trying to keep his head. They wouldn't be left like this forever, would they? Surely this would be no fun for the sadistic leader, they couldn't be left in here long.

“R-Ryoma…” You called out softly, reaching your fingers through the bars. You couldn't feel anything, neither cage was close enough for you to touch.

“Are you alright? What did they do to you?”

“Just roughed up a bit… I'll be okay. I'm more worried about Gonta, he's so quiet…”

“Gonta is awake, mostly, but he can't see or move.” Hoshi sighed, hoping he could keep the two of you at least somewhat calm.

“We… they put us in cages, like damn animals, blindfolded us as well. Can you get out of your ropes, Gonta?” A few groans of pain later and Gonta made an excited noise as he freed himself.

“Gonta managed to, yeah, are Ryoma and (Y/N) okay?” Hoshi nodded to himself, shakily taking off his blindfold and blinking quickly. You managed to get your own blindfold off, but only more darkness awaited you. The room was pitch black, the only light coming in from the crack between the door and the stone floor, barely enough to illuminate the vague shape of the other two cages.

For a moment, your strength slipped, the face you had put on for Gonta, to not give the men what they wanted, faded. A sob wrenched its way from your throat and you curled in around your knees, shaking with the effort not to cry.

“H-how long… will we be in here?” You managed, trying in vain to stay calm.

“I don't know… It'll be okay, (Y/N), we’ll be okay.” You finally burst into tears, fear overwhelming you. You were freezing cold, clothes soaked through with water, trapped in a cage barely big enough for you to move in. And yet, you felt weak for crying, fighting to stop the tears and get control of yourself.

“S-sorry…” You muttered, sniffling.

“Gonta wishes he could hold (Y/N) and Ryoma…” Gonta said softly, Hoshi humming in agreement. Time went by in weird ways while you were trapped in those cages. At first, the three of you talked, if nothing more than to just fill the silence until Hoshi fell asleep. The darkness eventually lulled you to sleep as well, unsure of how long you were out before waking up again.

Time passed achingly slow in the cages, especially when one of you was usually asleep at all times. It could have been a few hours or even a day before the door was open again, the sudden light making you groan and shield your eyes. Once your eyes adjusted, though, you were able to see the rough condition Ryoma and Gonta were in, chewing your lip.

“Let us out,” You demanded, throat dry. The man, who you didn't recognize, didn't respond to your pleas, even when you started shouting.

“Don't hurt yourself, (Y/N), it's okay,” Gonta said softly, a worried look in his eyes. You nodded and sighed, sending Gonta a faint smile. Before you had a chance to think, the door to your cage was being opened, a package of crackers and a water bottle tossed into your lap before it was shut again. You didn't have the time to react or try and bolt, just blinking silently.

Gonta made no effort to move when his own door was opened, gulping down water quickly. Hoshi, however, sprung forward the moment his own cage was opened up, only to be met with a gun barrel pressing against his forehead.

“Sit down, now.” The man commanded, cocking the gun when Hoshi hesitated. Finally, he relented, sitting back down and making a pained noise when the water bottle connected with his broken arm. The man disappeared just as quickly as he came, leaving the three of you back in the darkness.

“I'm sorry…” Hoshi muttered, apologizing once again.

“Don't be, Ryoma.”

“I should be, though! It's my fault you two are here, being tortured for weeks on end! If I hadn't let myself love the two of you, if I hadn't thought I could be happy and make you guys happy, you would be safe! If I had just died, or never gotten out of-”

“Shut up!” You shouted, frustrated and with tears in your eyes. You quickly lowered your voice, though, taking a deep breath.

“Ryoma… it doesn't matter how we got here, alright? I'm glad that you let yourself be happy, with Gonta and I. Because even though we ended up here, we’re still together. We got to have those good times. I fucking love you and Gonta, and I don't give a damn what happens, nothing is going to change that. Got it?”

Gonta perked up, moving around a bit in his cage. “Gonta agrees. He wouldn't want to have a life without Ryoma, even though things went badly. Gonta loves Ryoma, and (Y/N), and he's glad that everyone is together now.”

Hoshi was silent for a while, heels of his hands pushed against his eyes in an attempt to fight off tears. “Dammit, why do you two have to be so… good?”

You didn't skip a beat, smiling softly into the darkness. “Because you’re just as good, Ryoma. You just don't see it. We’re gonna get out of this together, got it? Don't… don't give up yet, alright?” Hoshi nodded before remembering you couldn't see him.

“I'll try.” You breathed a quiet sigh of relief, trying to relax as much as you could. Things settled down for a while after that, the three of you eating slowly and talking about anything that came to mind. After everything that had happened, especially in the past couple of days, it was almost… nice. Nice to be able and just ignore your situation and chat, reminiscing about better times.

At one point you even laughed, giggling until a sob caught in your throat. You shifted and your shoulder brushed the metal bars, reminding you of exactly where you were right now. The talking stopped after that, drifting in and out of consciousness with your water bottle clenched tightly in your hand. Things were never quiet for long, though, not in this hell.

At one point, you were woken up by yelling as the door was pushed open and Hoshi was dragged out, easily picked up by a mountain of a man despite his attempts to fight. Both you and Gonta shouted after him, searching for answers but only getting silence in return. When Hoshi finally returned, he looked a little worse than before, somehow, and was scarily quiet.

“What did they do to you, Ryoma?”

“Don't… d-don't worry about it.” Hoshi muttered, not wanting to worry you or Gonta any further. What was a little more pain, at this point? They were smart enough to keep him alive and hurting, for now at least. Pain was the least of Hoshi’s worries at this point. He knew the leader of this group well enough to know he would get bored of this before long, having them caged would only bring him so much joy.

And yet, they remained locked up, every so often one of you would be taken away and return with a few more cuts or bruises, usually Hoshi. You didn't speak of it anymore, just tried to comfort one another and keep your sanity. And then it all stopped. For two days, the heavy steel door remained closed.

No food delivery, no water, no torture.

Nothing.

The three of you slept when you could, talked when the silence grew too loud, fought to stay calm. Too much longer and you wouldn't make it out, the mental image growing stronger by the hour. Dying of thirst while locked in dog kennels, beaten to hell and back… it was almost funny. Just as you felt your mind starting to slip, contemplating the idea of drinking your own blood, the door finally opened. You immediately closed your eyes, the light making your already present headache worse.

“Shit, you three look terrible!” A familiar voice laughed, pulling a grimace from your face.

“I guess being turned into pets would do that, huh? Well, good news! You get to take a walk today!” You didn't have the strength to fight as you were pulled from your cage, managing to walk unsteadily as you were led out of the room. Gonta and Hoshi weren't far behind, both struggling to stay on their feet as they were pushed along.

“Where are we going?”

“Oh, you’ll see, darlin’.” You rolled your eyes, nearly collapsing when you were shoved through a doorway. The room was fairly empty, save for a full bathtub and some unsettling stains along the concrete walls. The boys were pushed to the ground, Hoshi sucking in a sharp breath when his broken arm was moved.

“Ryoma, are you-”

“Now, dogs don't talk, do they?” The leader interrupted, forcing you to bite your tongue before you said something you regret. The men who had helped drag you here left, shutting the door behind them with a heavy thunk.

“See, all this time, I've been trying to decide what to do with you three. Keeping caged puppies is no fun, especially when they don't fight back. So, I started thinking. What's the best way for me to hurt all three of you.” You saw Hoshi dig his nails into his palm, almost too exhausted to do much else.

“Not interested in being chatty? That's alright, I got plenty of shit to say all on my own. Honestly, Hoshi, it's no goddamn fun hurting you anymore. I've kicked your ass a few too many times to really enjoy it now, so I ruled that out. If I beat up these two again, they just might not make it! So, what the hell else can I do?”

The silence was nearly tangible in the air as you stared at the floor, having no interest in looking at the man behind your captivity.

“I gotta start getting creative! Maybe even bring in a little outside help, you know? Could hunt down one of those little friends of yours, it wouldn't take more than a day or two. Let's see… We already got the bratty little detective, what about the pretty maid? The ditzy space cadet? I could pick off your friends one by one, bring them here, force you to watch them suffer until they finally break.”

Hoshi made a move to speak, against his better judgment, but you grabbed his hand, a warning. Talking back now would only end in pain.

“I thought about taking pieces of you two, cut the girly’s hair, take a few fingers, maybe more. But that's not quite as easy as it sounds, wouldn't want you guys fuckin’ dying on me!” You gasped as your chin was grabbed, forcing you to meet the man's eyes.

“You are easily the most fun to play with, I have so many ideas about what to do with you. It doesn't have to be so painful, you know? Could be fun if you let it be.” Bile rose in your throat at the implications of what he was saying, tears stinging in your eyes. Before he could do anything else, though, Hoshi spoke up.

“Don't you dare fucking… t-touch her.” The man looked away, a smirk spreading across his features.

“Take your hands off her right fucking now.” Laughing quietly, the man pulled back, allowing you to finally breathe a bit.

“And what the hell are you going to do, bastard? You think you can save her, save either of their sorry asses? Face it, you are my pets, and I'll do whatever I damn well please!” Hoshi stood up, even when you tried to stop him.

“Do anything you want to me, but don't fucking touch them.”

“You’d rather do it yourself? I don't mind a show, keeps me from having to get my hands dirty.” You cried out when you were grabbed by the hair and pulled over to the bathtub, Gonta receiving the same treatment as he was pushed right beside you. For the first time in what felt like years, you could see your reflection, features distorted by the water's movement.

You could have guessed you looked rough, but the reality of seeing it brought more tears to your eyes. Your face was thin, dark circles under your eyes with dirt and blood smudging your skin. You didn't have time to mourn your appearance, though, not when Hoshi was shoved towards you and Gonta.

“You wanted so badly to save them, you can be the one to kill them. Go on, shove them under for me, why don't you? You wouldn't want me to get fucking bored, I won't wait for long.” The gun reappeared and a shiver ran through your body, not daring to look back at Hoshi, who gingerly placed his hand on the back of your head. You could feel his hand shaking, tense, trying to think of any other way to get out of this.

“Five… four… three…” Hoshi bit his lip, the ticking of the gun being cocked forcing him into action.

“Forgive me…” He muttered under his breath and pushed your and Gonta’s heads under the water.

“See, was that really so hard? Probably a lot nicer than what I would do with the two of them. Don't you dare fucking let them up, either.” Fat tears dripped down Hoshi’s cheeks as he pushed harder, using every ounce of his remaining strength to force you and Gonta under the water. Distantly, he could hear wet screams, the water raging as the two of you squirmed, but being starved in the cages enabled Hoshi to keep you under.

Hoshi’s eyes squeezed shut, unable to bear the sight of what he had been forced to do. Of all the horrible things he had done, of all the lives he had taken, the pain he had caused, this was the worst. His heart was beating out of his chest, barely able to breathe as he murdered the two people he loved. Hoshi only felt worse as your fighting subsided, barely moving under his grip as your bodies began to succumb to his actions.

Finally, the man moved towards him and yanked Hoshi’s hands back, pulling you and Gonta from the water. Hoshi’s heart skipped a beat when you both fell backward, unmoving to his eyes.

“Aw, damn, that was over pretty quick, huh? Shit, looks like you did a number on em!” Hoshi could barely see through his tears, eyes burning as he fell back and hit the ground hard. He couldn't make a sound, even when his mind was screaming, sobbing, begging to take it all back.

“Congrats, you piece of shit, you’ve officially ruined everything you touch, fuckin’ murderer.” That was the last thing Hoshi heard before he blacked out, his body finally giving in to weakness, only exacerbated by the pain that gripped him. Unbeknownst to Hoshi, though, you and Gonta were still alive.

You coughed up water, chest burning worse than anything you had ever felt, mind too foggy to realize what happened next. The three of you were carted back to your old room, dumped in there like trash with little more than a passing thought. It could have been a few hours or a few days before you noticed anything else, body and spirit broken after nearly being drowned. That voice was back and you cowered from it, too weak to do anything but curl into yourself, eyes glued shut.

“Shit, you people are like fucking roaches, just don't fucking die do you? I'm fuckin’ over this, too much damn work.” You were out of it not long after, waking up some time later to only darkness, a blindfold tied tightly around your head. Finally, you were able to squirm, trying to call out by finding your mouth covered as well, by duct tape if the tight feeling was any indication. Still, you attempted to scream until you were slapped on the back of the head, tears springing to your blinded eyes.

“I guess this one's awake too, huh? Time to fill em in.” An unfamiliar voice spoke much too close to your ear, making you shudder.

“See, you three little shits are all work and no play, so the boss is done with you. No point in keeping around toys you can't have fun with. So we have some lovely orders to dump you off in gang territory.” You heard another voice, laughing.

“Not just any damn gang! The Crazy fuckin’ Diamonds territory, and they don't take too kindly to visitors.” You tried to get free, only to realize your arms and legs were bound, body still exhausted even as adrenaline coursed through you.

“You know, there's a lot of rumors about their leader going around, I wouldn't fuck with him if I were you.”

“Yeah, like the one where he fuckin’ merked some shrimp with a dumbbell, just cause he called him weak. Strung his little body up as a warning to anyone else who wanted to cross him.”

“And damn, the story of how he rose to power of the group? Dude killed his own brother, the old leader, in cold fuckin’ blood, just for the title. Mowed him down with a truck, how nasty is that?” You shuddered at the thought that you were only going to be delivered into the hands of someone equally horrible to endure more torture.

“Welp, here we are. Have fun, fuckers, I'm sure we’ll see your sad little stories in the newspaper before long, Crazy Diamonds won't have much to play with.” You were frozen solid with fear as you were moved to the ground, hands stuck under your back as you heard footsteps walking away.

Faintly, you could hear Hoshi and Gonta nearby, trying to get free with no more luck than you had had. It was a gentle comfort as you passed out again, adrenaline leaving your body vulnerable to your injuries. Hoshi, in the best condition out of the three of you, started squirming around, yelling through the tape over his mouth, trying to catch anyone's attention.

It was all in vain, his voice too muffled to be heard from the street, not when they were so well hidden in an alleyway, almost entirely blocked from view by a dumpster. Eventually, footsteps could be heard coming towards the three of you.

“Shit! Holy fuck, please tell me that those aren't… fuck.” Hoshi, unsure of whether this new voice was dangerous or not, stayed still, waiting.

“Hey, Mondo? Yeah, I know you’re with Fujisaki right now, I'm sorry, but we have a situation. You know the alley by the bar? Yeah, there's three fuckin’ bodies here, dude. They ain't movin’, should I- In five minutes? Okay, thanks, sorry again.”

The man hung up and Hoshi breathed as quietly as he could. He couldn't know what was or wasn't true about where they were dumped, it was better just to play dead for now until he got a better understanding of the situation. It wasn't as if he could do much in the way of fight anyway, not with a broken arm and a weakened body. But he would do what he had to in order to keep you and Gonta safe, no matter what happened to him. A few minutes later more footsteps could be heard, coming from the other direction.

“Oh my god!” A soft voice squeaked out, footsteps halting.

“Stay here, Chihiro, don't get too close.” A man muttered, what Hoshi assumed to be his footsteps moving closer.

“Fuck, you weren't kidding, were you?”

“No, sir, I didn't… know what to do.” The new man leaned down near Hoshi, gingerly rolling him onto his back. Hoshi couldn't hide the way his breath caught in his chest with pain, giving him away.

“Wait, this one’s alive! Check those two! They might be alive too! Chi, call Taka, tell him to send anyone whose free, and get Mikan on standby, okay?”

“Got it!”

Anxiety flooded Hoshi as he was sat up, blindfold and gag removed.

“Hey dude, you okay? We’re gonna get you and those two out of here in a few, what the fuck happened to you?” Hoshi couldn't talk, couldn't think, even as gentle hands shook him lightly.

“Whoa, hey, don't pass out on me! Shit! Okay, we gotta get them the fuck out of here, someone did this to them and I don't want them coming back to try and finish the job.” Hoshi was unconscious, his body overwhelmed and, subconsciously, relieved. It seemed as if this man wanted to help them, if the way he called for help was any indication.

When he woke up, he was in a new building, a steady beeping urging him awake. Hoshi blinked quickly, another way of panic running through him when he didn't recognize the room he was in. He started thrashing, ignoring the pain shooting through his arm and trying to get free of the cables and tubes connected to him.

“Let me out, let me go!” He shouted, nearly jumping out of his skin when someone touched his shoulder.

“P-please be careful! You’re going to hurt yourself! Please!” A girl said nervously, urging him back down.

“Mondo?! He’s awake!” She called to the doorway, the man who had helped him up before emerging. He was a character, to say the least, a large pompadour sticking out from his head and a biker jacket covering his body.

“I got it, shit, stay back for a second. Hey, dude, it's okay! You’re safe here, I promise, don't go ripping out all of Mikan’s hard work. Your friends are over there, just lay down, it's all good.”

The man, Mondo he assumed, pushed Hoshi back down onto what he now realized was a hospital bed, sighing with relief when Hoshi didn't fight back. He took stock of the room, finding it similar to a school nurse's office, but with much nicer equipment. The beeping Hoshi had heard before was the heart monitor, connected to his chest with wires that had gotten a bit tangled.

“Where are…” He trailed off, chest heaving as his adrenaline faded.

“Oh, the two you were with? They’re right here, though they haven't woken up yet. We honestly thought you guys were dead when we found you, it still doesn't look too good.” Mondo pulled back the curtains on either side of Hoshi to reveal two more beds, you and Gonta passed out and connected to several machines.

“Um, are they your friends?”

“More than that… they were, at least.” Hoshi muttered, not sure how to characterize your relationship now. Since you three were safe now, he could only assume that you and Gonta would want nothing to do with him and leave once they were able. He couldn't blame them for it, either, he would break up with himself too after what he had done. Hell, he had nearly killed them, Hoshi would be shocked if you or Gonta even looked his way once you woke up.

“They aren't doing too well, they, um… they were in worse condition than you were when you got here. What happened? I-if that's okay to ask!” Hoshi shook his head, laying back down and digging his nails into his palm.

“I almost fucking killed them…” He said quietly, not ready to say anything more. He’d have to tell the story at some point, but the longer he could put it off, the better.

“Hey, you want us to call anyone, dude? Like, your family or something?” Hoshi shook his head, closing his eyes.

“Just want to sleep…”

“O-okay! We’ll leave you alone, you need to rest to heal up. Here, you can press this if you need me to come back for anything.” The girl, dressed in a classic nurse outfit, pressed a small remote into Hoshi’s good hand, closing the curtains and nearly stumbling as she left. Hoshi didn't bother to fight his exhaustion, wondering if you and Gonta would still be here when he woke up.

It was your voice, hours later, that pulled him from unconsciousness, along with several other people shouting.

“Don't come any fucking closer!” You yelled, brandishing a random syringe that had been within arms reach when you woke up.

“P-please put that down! I promise, you’re safe here! No one is going to hurt you!”

“What she said! Come on, put the damn needle away, you don't need a weapon!” Hoshi struggled to sit up, barely managing to reach the curtain beside his bed and yank it open. You were on your knees, still hooked up to machines even as you prepared to fight Mondo and the nurse.

“(Y/N)...” Hoshi muttered, finally grabbing your attention.

“Ryoma! You’re okay! Where's Gonta?!” Hoshi pointed to the other curtain, breathing hard.

“It's safe, you don't need that, they aren't going to hurt us.” You finally lowered your hand, fingers uncurling from the syringe and letting it drop to the bed.

“Oh…” You muttered, still on guard as the nurse quietly took the syringe away and helped you lay back down.

“Sorry… I didn't…”

“It's okay, I-I understand, you were scared. How do you feel? You’ve been unconscious for a long time…” You flinched a little when the woman started taking your vitals, unable to relax even with Hoshi so close.

“It's a little hard to breathe… and I'm cold, too.” The woman nodded, tucking the blanket around you gently.

“Are you in pain? I need to get more x-rays, but all three of you have broken bones. You’re also malnourished and dehydrated… Among other things.” The nurse was soft-spoken but firm as she covered you in a second blanket.

“How are they? Is Gonta… is he okay?” She nodded, walking over and opening the curtain that had hidden Gonta from view.

“He’s not in good shape but… all three of you should recover.” You nodded, trying to take a deep breath and wincing.

“Ow… That's not… that's pretty painful.” The nurse returned to your side, looking over the chart you hadn't realized was at the foot of your bed.

“Would you like pain killers? I'm pretty sure you have a couple of broken r-ribs and your lungs… they’re damaged from water.” Hoshi’s face fell at the mention of the water, memories surging back from when he had held you and Gonta under until you nearly died.

“Please…” The nurse gave a small smile and turned to Hoshi, concerned.

“Your lungs are better but your arm is badly broken and healing wrong, we’ll have to… rebreak it to fix it. Would you like some medication too?” Hoshi shook his head adamantly, even when that much movement sent a jolt of pain through him.

“I'm fine.” He said quietly, falling back against the pillows as the nurse left.

“Why won't you take the meds, Ryoma?”

“I'm fine…”

“You're not fine, Ryo! I can see it on your face that you’re in pain, please… You’ve been through enough, I don't want you to hurt anymore.” You whispered fiercely, biting your lip when Hoshi shook his head. It wasn't that he didn't need the pain relief, not that he didn't want it, but he didn't deserve it. He had almost killed you and Gonta, had hurt you beyond belief, not to mention the countless others he had murdered. The pain radiating through his body was nothing compared to the pain in his heart.

Before you could try to argue, Gonta coughed roughly, starting to wake up. You attempted to get out of bed, jumping when a hand touched your shoulder.

“You’re going to hurt yourself doing that, just stay here.” A man said gently, going to Gonta’s bedside, ready to hold him down if needed.

“Where is… who are you?” Gonta asked, his voice rough and sending him into another fit of coughs.

“Gonta, it's okay, we’re right here!” You shouted, forcing a smile even when more pain made you shudder. Hoshi nodded, not able to meet Gonta’s eyes as he sat up slowly.

“Are (Y/N) and Ryoma okay? Gonta doesn't recognize this place…”

“We got dumped off and then rescued, it's okay, we’re… safe.” The word felt foreign in Hoshi’s mouth, like it was a lie.

“Hey there big guy, you scared us there. Thought you weren't gonna come back from that shit. Names Mondo, I guess you guys should know that, huh?” Slowly, Gonta relaxed as Mondo fiddled with the bed, making the head side raise so that Gonta could sit up easier.

“Gonta and the others were saved?” Mondo nodded, flashing him a smile.

“Yep! One of my guys found you and we got you here, Mikan is the best nurse I've ever met, she's the one who’s been taking care of you.” All three of you stared at Mondo wordlessly, not sure what to say. Finally, you spoke up.

“We were told we were being left in gang territory, the…”

“Crazy Diamonds?” Mondo supplied. You nodded, a shiver running through you at the name, remembering the stories the men who had brought you there had told.

“Yep, that's us. I'm the leader, or whatever, it's not that big a deal.” You paled, Gonta and Hoshi no better. Slowly, you shrank away from Mondo, blood running ice cold. So you weren't safe after all… Mondo awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck when he noticed how scared you looked.

“You’ve heard the rumors, huh? That I murdered the last leader for this spot, killed someone else with a dumbbell? Other horrible shit like that?” You didn't respond, discreetly looking around for another syringe, just in case.

“None of it's true, you know. The last leader, he died, but he was my brother. I killed him, but not… like that.” You could tell the sadness in Mondo’s eyes was genuine, you had seen it in your own right before you had been pushed under the water by Hoshi. Before Mondo could continue, a small boy entered the room, short with dainty features, almost feminine. He shook his head, speaking up quietly.

“It wasn't your fault, Mondo, don't make me tell Taka you're saying things like that again.” He smiled and turned to you, biting his lip when he saw the bandages covering your body.

“My name is Chihiro Fujisaki, I was with Mondo when we… found you. Are you okay? I was so worried, you guys weren't moving and… I thought the worst.” You couldn't help but smile back, not wanting Chihiro to feel bad.

“We’ll… be okay.” Chihiro perked up a bit at that, greeting Hoshi and Gonta before returning to Mondo’s side.

“You guys want to talk about how you got this screwed up? I mean, from the shit Mikan said, you three have gone through hell.” You all exchanged looks, tears burning at the corners of your eyes.

“I promise, you’re safe here. Mondo’s group may be known as a gang, but they are good people, they won't anything else happen to you. And I built an amazing security system for this building, no one can get in here without us knowing.”

You took a deep breath and looked towards Gonta and Hoshi, nodding. So, as painful as it was to reminisce, you started telling the story of your kidnapping. Being taken, locked up for days on end with no clue if Hoshi was alive, the things Hoshi had been forced to do in exchange for your safety. You were about to mention Saihara when Hoshi stopped you, taking over.

You understood, letting him explain the death of your friend as fat tears finally slipped down your cheeks. Gonta was in near sobs as Hoshi, stone-faced and somber, caught Mondo and Chihiro up with just how you had ended up there. You got a hold of yourself, wiping your face on the hospital gown.

“And now… we’re here. And we don't, I don't… know what to do next.” You looked up, biting your lip with the effort to not cry again. Chihiro had his hands over his mouth, eyes shining with tears, Mondo’s face worryingly pale.

“And you said… it was Yakuza who did this?” You nodded quickly.

“Shit…” Mondo muttered.

“It was my fault, they wanted me. Those bastards hurt (Y/N) and Gonta to get to me. This is all because of me, if I had just died in jail then-”

“Ryoma, no! Gonta doesn't think that! Gonta knows this is because of the men who hurt him and Ryoma and (Y/N). Ryoma never wanted them to get hurt, he tried to stop them! It isn't… R-Ryoma’s fault!” Gonta’s voice echoed throughout the room, louder than he had meant it to be.

He didn't like to yell, but he couldn't stand hearing Hoshi blame himself when it was the yakuza’s fault, one man in particular. Chihiro ran over to Gonta, handing him a little pack of tissues from his pocket.

“Thank you…” Gonta said softly, coughing.

“But if I had just-”

“No. You don't get to blame yourself, Ryoma! Not when you almost died, multiple times, to save us! No one blames you for this, it's those bastards faults, not yours.” You chewed your lip, flinching when Mondo sat at the foot of your bed, still not used to people being close without the intent of hurting you.

“Yeah, I agree. If the fucker who did this is the guy I think it is, he’s sadistic, loves hurting people just for the fun of it. Toss revenge into the mix and I'm honestly surprised you three got out alive.”

“Barely…” Hoshi muttered, laying down and pulling the blankets over himself. You were about to say something, but Mondo stopped you.

“Let him sit for now, I get how he feels. Seeing you two get hurt, your friend too, and then blaming himself, it's not easy to deal with. Let him go.” You nodded, trying to take a deep breath. You hated that Hoshi blamed himself for this, but he wasn't ready to listen yet, it was better to let him rest. Soon, Mikan returned with medication for you and Gonta, which had you quickly falling asleep as it took effect.

Even when everyone was passed out, Mondo sat in a chair by the door, just in case anyone tried to get in. Chihiro and Mikan came and went, checking up on your vitals and setting up Alter Ego to monitor them remotely, allowing them to keep an eye on you from across the little compound.

You woke up groggily to see Mondo talking quietly with another man, bright red eyes and dark hair, dressed oddly formally for a gang’s nursing wing.

“Do you think it's wise to tell them? It wouldn't be good for a war of sorts to break out.” Mondo shook his head, glancing over at you, not realizing you were waking up.

“If it's Yakuza, those two can help, even just to keep them safe. I'm not letting them get hurt anymore, they’ve been through too much shit as it is.” The other man nodded, looking over as well and frowning at the sight of your injuries.

“It's a miracle they’re alive, are they… stable?”

“Yeah, Mikan says they’ll be alright, but it's gonna be awhile. Not to mention recovering from something like that, mentally, it won't be easy.” The conversation faded as you slipped back into sleep for a bit, grumbling when you felt something cold against your chest.

“S-sorry! I didn't mean to wake you up, I was just checking on your lungs.” Mikan helped you sit up, moving over to Hoshi after a moment to listen to his breathing.

“Odd, your lungs are pretty much fine, aside from your broken ribs.”

“He didn't… we went through different methods of torture.” You said softly, not missing the guilt in Hoshi’s eyes as Mikan moved on to Gonta.

“Your’s are the worst… if they don't improve soon, we might need to give you medication for it, or surgery.” Gonta shook his head quickly.

“Gonta… really doesn't want that.”

“W-well, Gonta, do your best to heal up, okay? It's late, you guys should try and go back to sleep. We’ll need to re-break your arm in the morning…”

“Hoshi, that's (Y/N).”

“Right! Get some rest, if you can. If you need anything, there's a button by each of your beds, a-and Mondo and some of the others have been guarding the door, just in case.” Mikan left quickly, turning down the lights so you could go back to sleep. You were exhausted, but didn't lay down just yet.

“Ryoma, please, talk to us.”

“Gonta hates seeing Ryoma so hurt, he wants to help.” Hoshi just shook his head, not looking at either of you.

“I'm fine, really. I don't deserve your help, anyway. Just lay down and get some sleep, alright? Don't worry about me.” Hoshi was silent after that, leaving you with little choice than to curl up under the hospital blanket and drift off into a restless sleep.

Once he was sure both you and Gonta were asleep, Hoshi tossed off his covers, methodically tearing out his IV and unhooking all of the other cords he was attached to. It hurt like hell, blood dripping down his hand from the poor job, but it would work. He just had to get out of there, he’d figure it out after that. Cradling his bad arm, Hoshi quietly got out of bed, making it no more than a few steps before the door opened. Mondo and Chihiro were there, Chihiro’s phone saying something to him in a very similar voice as the boys own.

“Are you okay? Alter Ego said your heart rate stopped, I-” Finally, they both realized that Hoshi was fine, albeit dripping blood onto the tile.

“I'm leaving.”

“You’re bleeding, fuck, you aren't in any condition to be walking around dude!” Hoshi shook his head, covering the wound with his hand.

“I'm fine, just let me through.”

“B-but why would you leave? You’re safe, you don't have to worry about anything happening here.” Something dawned on Mondo, the things Hoshi had said earlier.

“Chi, can you go back out for a bit, keep an eye on the door?”

“Are you sure?” Mondo nodded and Chihiro left, closing the door softly behind him.

“Would you move, dammit? I don't want them waking up until I'm gone.”

“This is about you blaming yourself, right? For them getting hurt?” Hoshi sighed, unsteady on his feet.

“At least take the chair, man, you’re going to pass out if you aren't careful, and Mikan can get scary when she's mad.” Hoshi scowled but sat in the metal chair, blood leaking past his hand.

“What happened back there that makes you so sure this is your fault?”

“The part where I was the one that bastard wanted hurt? The part where my friend died because of me? Or the part where I held the two people I love underwater until their fucking lungs gave out and nearly killed them?” Mondo was quiet for a moment.

“That wasn't you though man! That was the Yakuza, they made you do that shit!”

“Doesn't matter, I still did it. They still got hurt. They will never be the same after what they had to go through because of me.”

“But they don't blame you. They just want you here, to get better and all that.”

“They’re wrong. They don't see it, because they don't want to see it. If I had died in prison, they would have never gotten hurt. Shuichi wouldn't be fucking d-dead.” Hoshi dug his nails into his thigh, tears burning behind his eyes. He refused to let them fall, he didn't even deserve that mercy.

“You know that rumor about me taking out the last Diamond leader?”

“Yeah.”

“He was my brother. My big brother, he led this gang better than I ever could have, and he was passing me the torch when he was ready to move on. I challenged him to race, tried to show off, nearly got hit by a big ass truck. My brother, he pushed me out of the way, took the brunt of it, didn't get back up. He died, and I was still here, and for a long time, I blamed myself. If I hadn't gotten so damn reckless, he wouldn't have gotten hit. I shut everyone out, until I found out what was happening. My guys, they needed a leader, and Daiya was gone. They needed me. And leading them was more important than wallowing in that pity shit.”

Mondo slapped Hoshi on the back, almost enough to hurt.

“Those two, they need you. And you sure as hell need them too. If anyone was gonna blame you for what happened, it would be them, but they don't. So you shouldn't either. Let them in, ‘aight? It helps. I can't force you to stay, but Mikan is pretty convincing, and if that doesn't work, no one can really say no to Chihiro. So leave, if you want to, but it's not gonna benefit them at all.” Hoshi sat there, silent, trying to make a choice. He stood up shakily, blood loss starting to set in.

“I guess I'm staying, then.”

“Good shit, man, here, lemme help.” Mondo got Hoshi to the bed, pushing the button for Mikan so she could fix Hoshi’s IV. As they waited, Mondo spoke up.

“It gets easier, but you gotta let people in, alright?”

“Yeah… Thanks.” Mikan arrived, immediately fussing over Hoshi and getting him settled back into bed. You stirred from the noise as Hoshi was reconnected to the heart monitor, blinking tiredly.

“Mm, what's going on?”

“It's okay, (Y/N), I'm alright. Just fixing something, go back to sleep.” You smiled and nodded, still half asleep as you laid back down. You woke up again a few hours later when it was finally morning, sitting up and wincing in pain.

“Hey, morning,” Hoshi said from his bed, eating breakfast from a tray.

“I didn't want to wake you up, even for food, you needed the rest.” You smiled, he seemed… better, somehow.

“I'll grab you something, be right back.” Mondo smiled, Chihiro by his side as he left.

“Did they fix your arm?” Hoshi nodded, holding up a white cast.

“Yeah, hurt pretty bad, but Mikan gave me some pain meds, they help. How are you doing?” You shrugged, rolling your shoulders.

“Better, sorta. Still hurts but… I got to sleep, Ryo. I got to sleep, and not wonder who would be hurt in the morning, or if I’d get woken up with cold water, or be let out of a cage… It's weird.”

Hoshi nodded sadly, turning his head when Gonta yawned, rubbing his eyes.

“Gonta heard talking… are Ryoma and (Y/N) okay?”

“Yeah, we’re fine, don't worry. They’re bringing food here in a few, if you're up for it.”

“You better eat, Gonta, you need your strength.” You managed a smile, barely able to keep from drooling when Mondo came back with… pancakes? Bacon? In his hands were two trays with a large spread on them, food you had only dreamed of eating since your capture.

“I'm under orders to make sure you eat this shit slowly, Mikan says your malnourished, you’ll get sick if you inhale it.” You nodded, taking your tray as Gonta was handed his. Chihiro came in, holding a couple of bottles of both water and juice.

“I wasn't sure what you’d like, so I got a few different drinks.”

“Thanks, guys.” You were almost hesitant to eat, waiting for something to happen, some sort of punishment or shouting. But it never came, and you took a careful bite of a pancake. It tasted like heaven on earth, whether that was because of whoever made it or the fact that you had been nearly starved, you didn't know. Still, you forced yourself to go slowly, not wanting to make yourself sick.

“Gonta has never tasted anything so good…”

“We’ve got a guy who cooks for us sometimes when he isn't busy, he makes the best damn food you’ve ever had, trust me. He’s got a restaurant, you should go some time.” The words struck a chord with you, tears prickling faintly at the corners of your eyes. You could go to restaurants now, go anywhere, really.

You were free.

And sure, you and Gonta and Hoshi were all a bit messed up, mentally and physically, and it wasn't going to get better overnight. But without the constant threat of death, of torture? You could heal.

“So, listen. You guys were taken by Yakuza, yeah?” You nodded, confused about where Mondo was going with this.

“We know a Yakuza leader, different from the asshole who you guys were with, he's one of the good guys. He could probably do something to help keep you guys safe after you get out of here, if you wanted.” The room was quiet for a moment, unsure of how to respond. You couldn't fathom the thought of getting involved with more Yakuza, but if Mondo said he was good… you wanted to believe him.

“You trust the guy?” Hoshi asked, equally put off by the idea.

“Entirely, he wouldn't hurt a fly. He can seem a little harsh and shit, but I trust him.” The three of you shared a look, silently agreeing.

“Can we meet with him, then? Here?” Mondo nodded, waving his phone.

“Yeah, he can probably come down today honestly, sound good?” Mondo left the room to make the call, the three of you facing each other.

“I don't like this,” Hoshi said quietly.

“Gonta trusts Mondo, though, he doesn't think Mondo would bring in someone who would hurt (Y/N) or Ryoma.” Hoshi shook his head, fingers of his good hand clenched in the blanket.

“Stay on guard, either way.” You were silent, biting your lip before speaking up.

“Ryoma I think… we have to call the others, too. We’ve been missing for what, months? They’ve probably been looking for us, and… him. We have to tell them.” Before Hoshi could respond, Mondo returned, slipping his phone in his pocket.

“He’s gonna come by later to talk, I gave him the short version of your story, so you don't have to repeat it.”

“Thanks.” You smiled, picking at the remaining food in your lap, not hungry anymore.

“Would, um, would you like to borrow my phone?” Chihiro asked softly, holding it out to you.

“I'll take it, I'll do it,” Hoshi muttered, taking the phone like it would shatter between his fingers.

“Gonta can do it, Ryoma doesn't have to.” Hoshi shook his head, already starting to dial.

“He died because of me, I should be the one to do it.” A hushed, tense silence fell over the quiet room, save for the beeping of various monitors.

“Kirumi? Kirumi, it's Ryoma Hoshi.” You could see how rigid Hoshi went when Kirumi said something back that you couldn't hear.

“We’re… it's a long story, alright? You need to bring everyone here tomorrow, we need to talk. Can I trust you to bring them all? Yeah, Ouma as well, everyone, please. Thank you. I'll text you the address, alright? Okay. I'll tell you when you get here, it's… hard to talk about. Bye.”

Hoshi handed the phone back to Chihiro and stared at his lap as he and Mondo left the room, leaving the three of you alone with one another. “How… How do I tell them that Saihara is dead? Dead because of me.”

You shook your head, shifting around the wires and IV so that you could shakily get out of bed and grab Hoshi’s hand.

“If he's dead because of you, then he's dead because of me and Gonta too. He went looking for all of us, so if we’re gonna blame anyone, it should be all three of us. It's not our fault…” You trailed off, fighting back tears. Saihara had been your friend, and you had watched the life drain out of him through a hole in his skull.

“Gonta thinks it wasn't anyone's fault, except for the man who killed Saihara. He hurt him, Ryoma didn't.” You nodded, going back to your own bed before your weakened legs gave out.

“We’ll tell them together, all three of us. No one blames you, so try not to blame yourself, alright?” Hoshi managed a nod and finally looked up as you fumbled with your blanket. As you did, the sleeve of your hospital gown rode up, revealing a nasty, barely healed scar from the same day that Saihara had died.

Hoshi could almost hear the muffled scream that had followed a cut like that, staring until it disappeared again under the thin fabric. Something like would never go away, not the memories, not the scars. He had almost grown accustomed to death, having seen it so many times, but you and Gonta hadn't until then. Hoshi couldn't fix that, couldn't take that back, just like he couldn't bring Saihara back. He swallowed thickly, reminding himself of what Mondo had said, that putting up walls and hiding behind them wouldn't help any of you heal.

“Hey, guys?”

“Hm? What's wrong?” You replied, concerned.

“If… no, when this is over, do you want to get a dog? Or, a cat, or a pet, or… I don't know, something like that.” The faintest hint of a smile graced Hoshi’s tired features. You couldn't help smiling a bit yourself.

“Yeah, a dog would be nice.”

“Gonta likes dogs, even if they aren't as nice as bugs. He knows that Ryoma and (Y/N) don't like bugs as much as he does, so Gonta is happy with a dog!” Hoshi turned to Gonta, nodding.

“You can have all the bugs you want, I'll get over it, if it makes you happy.”

Your smile widened, thinking about how things could, eventually, get better. “Me too, I don't mind them so much now, so you should have as many as you can.”

Gonta’s smile was enough to make the pain in your body fade, even if for a moment. It was a reminder of before, when the three of you had been happy. Your conversation went on for a while, the most relaxed and at peace you had felt in months now. After a while, you were interrupted by cursing and scuffling behind the closed door, immediately putting all three of you on alert.

“Hey, hands off asshole! I told you, I'm with Oowada! Let us through before I fucking- Peko, no! Put that shit away!” You prepared to get up and run if needed, a glance at Hoshi and Gonta showed them readying for the same fight.

“Guys, it's fine, he's with me! Seriously, they're good, just let em through, okay?” The door opened and Mondo, along with a shorter man and a woman with silver hair, sheathing what looked like a katana, walked in.

“So, this is the guy I mentioned!”

“Fucking hell, you could warn your guys before sending us down a hallway alone, you know?” Mondo rubbed the back of his neck, laughing.

“I can't blame em, I told them not to let a soul through unless I said. So, this is Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu, and Peko Pekoyama.” You stared, wide-eyed, at the odd duo as the man, Kuzuryuu, took off his hat.

“I'm the head of the Kuzuryuu clan and all that, Peko is a friend of mine.”

“And bodyguard.”

Kuzuryuu rolled his eyes. “I told you, you don't have to do that shit. Not the point, though. Mondo told me you got caught up in some shit with a branch of Yakuza and needed some help, yeah?”

You nodded, not sure what to say. Hoshi was the first to speak, albeit tersely. “That's the understatement of the year, yeah. How much did Mondo tell you?”

“I know that your Ryoma Hoshi, and I have a pretty good guess as to who did this, and why. I also know that that bastard has been getting more and more ruthless, and you probably shouldn't have gotten out of there in one piece.” You nodded sadly, coughing before speaking up.

“We almost didn't. And we… We were the lucky ones. Our friend, he didn't… he fucking shot him.” You went on, describing the beatings, the cages, the choices all three of you had been forced to make in order to stay alive. Peko and Kuzuryuu remained emotionless, aside from Peko’s tightened grip on the strap of her sword bag.

“After almost killing us, he tossed us in an alley. We were lucky that the Crazy Diamonds found us, and not someone else. At that point… I really thought we were going to die.” Kuzuryuu nodded, running a hand through his short blond hair.

“Fuck… I’d heard rumors about that fucker and the shit he's done, but this… this is a whole other level of fucked up.” He shared a look with Peko, who nodded quickly.

“From now on, you three are under the protection of both the Kuzuryuu clan and the Crazy Diamonds. Between our two groups, no one will touch a fucking hair on your head. This offer is extended for as long as you want it, and if there are others who need it, just tell us.” Your mouth hung open as Kuzuryuu stood, Peko following suit. He held out a hand to Hoshi, who clearly didn't know what to say.

“I… Thank you.” Was all he said, shaking Kuzuryuu’s hand as the blonde smiled.

“Whatever you need, just let me or Mondo know. Bodyguards, a place to stay where you’ll be safe, you’ll have it. You’re honorary members of the clan now, so I'll be seeing you around.” Peko nodded at you and you waved, unsure of what to make of her quite yet.

“Show them out, thanks. Fuyuhiko, thanks for coming.”

“Happy to help, especially after the shit they’ve been through.” Just as they were about to leave, you called after them.

“Wait! Don't… don't you guys have better things to do? I mean, you shouldn't have to worry about me, really.”

“(Y/N), you deserve this after-” Kuzuryuu shook his head before Mondo could finish.

“Trust me, you guys are worth it. Plus, I've wanted to get this fucker off the playing field since I heard about him, he gives us Yakuza a shitty reputation. So don't worry about a thing but feeling better and shit like that, got it?” You nodded and he waved before turning around, leaving with Peko by his side.

“Like he said, you guys need anything, just ask. Even after you leave here, we’ve got your back!” You smiled, a slight warmth in your chest. You still felt like a bit of a burden for Mondo and the others who wanted to help, but it was nice knowing you were under the protection of not one, but two groups. Soon, Mondo left, allowing the three of you to return to chatting. It was the most normal you had felt in a very long time, and before long dinner was being brought to your beds, along with Mikan checking in and seeing how you were doing.

The lights were turned down and you yawned, wishing you weren't hooked up to so many wires so that you could get up and lay down by Gonta or Hoshi. Mikan insisted that you stay connected to the monitors for now, since it had only been a few days since you had started healing.

“I'm sure you're eager to l-leave, but I'd like to see you guys improve a bit first, especially Gonta. His lungs are better but… I'd rather be on the, um, safe side.” You went along with it, not knowing enough to argue. Your friends would be coming tomorrow, regardless, so it was better to stay put, at least until after that. You soon found yourself laying down, barely able to keep your eyes open as you talked with Gonta and Hoshi.

“If you're that tired, go ahead and sleep, it's okay.” You half smiled, exhausted.

“Mm, okay, you guys sleep too, okay? We all need it, especially for tomorrow.” It was easy to drift off, as relaxed as you felt. Maybe it was a bad idea, trusting Mondo and Kuzuryuu and the others to keep you safe, but your mind couldn't take much more fear and panic anymore. Hoshi soon laid down as well, almost ready to go to sleep when Gonta’s voice made him sit up.

“Ryoma?”

“Hmm? What's up, Gonta?”

“Gonta… feels really bad.” Hoshi looked over, noticing the faint glimmer of tears forming in Gonta’s eyes.

“What's wrong? Should we get Mikan or something?” Gonta shook his head, chewing his lip.

“Gonta said horrible things to Ryoma, right after Shuichi…” Hoshi nodded, remembering the call he had gotten from Gonta right after, where he had called him a murderer.

“Gonta didn't mean any of it! They made Gonta say it, and he didn't want to, but he had a gun pointed at him and he… he h-had to call Ryoma such horrible things. Gonta is an awful gentleman, he shouldn't have said-”

“Whoa, shit, hey!” Against his better judgment, Hoshi got out of bed, dragging the pole his IV was connected to as he grabbed a box of tissues and handed them to Gonta.

“They fucking threatened you?” Gonta nodded, taking a tissue and wiping his eyes before the tears could quite spill over.

“Gonta should have fought him, told him he wouldn't say such mean things, especially when they weren't true.” Hoshi shook his head, hand shaking as he reached out to stroke Gonta’s messy hair.

“They would have hurt you, or killed you, you did the right thing, even if you didn't want to. You’ve been a damn good gentleman, Gonta, considering what you were faced with. A lot better than I could have been in your place.”

“Gonta still feels bad, he called Ryoma a murderer… and disgusting. Gonta would never think that way about Ryoma! Ryoma is a good gentleman too, doing all of those things to keep Gonta and (Y/N) safe, even if he had to do horrible things as well.” Hoshi smiled softly, hand cupping Gonta’s cheek as he got ahold of himself. He had forgotten what it was like to touch someone without violence, just hoping to comfort the much larger man.

“Something like that, yeah. I know you didn't mean it, that you wouldn't have said anything like that if you weren't being threatened, so don't worry about it, alright?” Gonta nodded, leaning into Hoshi’s touch slightly until he pulled away.

“Get some sleep, big guy, you need it.”

“Ryoma should sleep too.”

“I will, if you will.” Gonta smiled softly as Hoshi got back into bed, wincing a bit. He still wasn't in the best condition, but every day it was getting a little easier. Before long, all three of you were asleep, but even that came with difficulties.

For hours, you tossed and turned, caught in the all too realistic plane between awake and dreaming. You didn't wake up, no matter how many horrible images plagued you, tangling yourself in your blanket and soaking your hospital gown through with cold sweat. Hoshi and Gonta were no better, a choked sob from Gonta finally waking you up from your nightmares, your memories.

“Gonta? You okay?” All that followed was hitched breathing for a moment.

“Gonta is fine… bad dream.” You nodded, grateful for the pale light of the sunrise starting to come through the windows. It was still early, but not early enough to go back to sleep, even if you wanted to.

“Me too, I kept seeing that fucking man… Gonta, I can still smell him in my dreams…” You trailed off, stomach turning a bit at the memory. It wasn't long before Hoshi woke up as well, jolting a bit before sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

“What’re you guys doing up?” He asked quietly.

“Nightmares, mostly. How did you sleep?” Hoshi shook his head, stretching and wincing when he moved his arm the wrong way.

“Not much better, kept seeing things I didn't want to see.” You understood the feeling well, thankfully distracted as Mondo knocked on the door and poked his head inside.

“Hey, Chihiro said you guys were up, you want food or anything?” You knew you needed to eat, but after the nightmares and considering what was soon to come when your friends arrived, you weren't all that interested in food.

“Something small, I guess.” Gonta and Hoshi nodded in agreement and Mondo disappeared, soon returning alongside Ishimaru and Chihiro, each with a tray. You could barely nibble at a piece of toast, mind wandering as conversation carried around you.

How did you tell a room full of people that someone they all cared about had been brutally kidnapped, beaten, and murdered by a Yakuza leader?

How do you tell them that you didn't stop it, didn't save him?

How could you apologize for something like that, when you were sitting right there, still alive?

“(Y/N)? Are you okay?” You snapped back to the present, forcing a smile.

“Yeah, just not super hungry, I guess.” You looked over at Hoshi, who hadn't eaten much either. Desperate to change the subject off of yourself, you turned to Chihiro.

“How did you know we had woken up, by the way?” Chihiro smiled and almost bounced to your bedside, showing you his phone.

“I designed a program, with Tsumiki’s help. It monitors your vital signs constantly, and when there's a change, like a quicker heartbeat from waking up, it tells me. I programmed it to be compatible with my other program, Alter Ego, and he can deduce the cause of the change to a certain extent!”

Chihiro went on for a moment about the programming, terms that flew over your head entirely until he noticed he was rambling.

“Oh, u-um, sorry! I really enjoy programming, you probably didn't understand any of that…”

“It's okay, I think it's nice that you enjoy something that you’re so good at.” You smiled, still lost in all of the terminology as Chihiro poked at his phone.

“T-thank you!” His cheeks flushed a soft pink and you couldn't hide your smile.

“Amazing, isn't he? Best damn programmer out there!”

“Agreed, Chihiro, no one could make a program that compares to yours, especially in how little time it took you.” You let the three of them chat, managing to eat a bit more. You gave up eventually, promising Mikan that you would eat more later before she could worry too much. Once the trays were gone and the others had left to do one thing or another, you turned to Hoshi and Gonta.

“They’ll be here soon, huh?” Hoshi nodded, running a hand through his hair, much longer than he usually kept it.

“Yeah, Kirumi said around noon, but who knows.” You went quiet, fiddling with a stray thread on your blanket.

“Gonta is… scared, to tell them. He doesn't want them to have to know, even though he knows they have to.”

“Yeah, me too. But… we’ll just get it over with, and go from there, you know?” Gonta nodded but Hoshi said nothing, drumming his fingers absently on his cast.

“You guys should just let me do all the talking, alright? I got us into this, I should be the one to break the news.” You shook your head quickly, not having it.

“We’re all a part of this, you aren't going to get stuck with all of the burden of telling the story. We lean on each other, so you can start, if you want, but I'm not going to let you be the only one to tell them.”

“Gonta too, he isn't going to let Ryoma be the only one to tell them about Shuichi, what happened isn't Ryoma’s fault.” Hoshi looked like he was about to argue but you shushed him gently.

“It's no one's fault, you didn't pull the trigger, okay? So just… Share the load, alright?” A sad smile made its way onto Hoshi’s face as he nodded, sighing quietly.

“You two make it hard to argue shit, you know that?” You laughed, fighting back a cough that followed.

“That's the point, babe.” As time passed, you got more and more nervous about the conversation, how the others would take the news, what they would do. Saihara was everyone's friend, nobody disliked him, losing him was going to hurt everyone in the room greatly. The man by the door, whose name you hadn't caught, muttered something over a radio before turning to face you.

“The friends you invited are here, alright if I let them in?”

“Last chance to hide under the beds.” You joked dryly, hands shaking as you smoothed the blanket in front of you. You didn't know what else to do as your friends streamed in, one after another, each talking to each other or the three of you.

The room buzzed with more energy than you knew how to deal with and it didn't take long for you to feel overwhelmed as Angie and Kaede swarmed your bed, asking questions you weren't prepared to answer. Finally, Kaito caught on, shouting above the din and getting everyone's attention.

“Guys! Don't scare them, jeez! This is probably a lot for them to deal with all at once, let em talk!” Thankfully, the room quieted down, many people sitting on the edges of beds and others standing. Unsurprisingly, Ouma was the first to break the seal of silence.

“So where exactly were you guys, anyway? Cause you look like total hell, especially you! And where is Saihara-chan?” He pointed at Hoshi, who swallowed thickly. The moments that passed may have been only seconds, but they were weighed down by the knowledge that you didn't know how to share.

“Fuck, I guess… we should start at the beginning, huh?” Taking turns, you, Hoshi, and Gonta told your story, hopefully for the last time. You kept it brief, not wanting to saddle your friends with the images of your torture. Anytime one of you started getting overwhelmed, another took over, glossing over moments best left locked away until you got caught up.

“Wait, so this whole time… you’ve been pretty much almost fucking dying?!” Kaito looked pale, as if he couldn't believe what had happened.

“Um… yeah, more or less.” You said sheepishly, unable to meet anyone's eyes. The room burst into sound once again, questions streaming in one after another until Kirumi spoke up.

“Please refrain from all speaking at once, it can't… be easy to talk about something like this.” You nodded, thankful. Ouma’s voice stood out from the others as he hopped off Gonta’s bed, hands on his hips.

“That's a craaaazy story and all, but you dodged my question. You three are here, but Saihara isn't. So where is he? You didn't even mention him! Unless this is all a lie?” He quirked an eyebrow and you barely refrained from rolling your eyes.

“Was he involved with this somehow?” Maki asked, picking up on your anxiety.

“Atua hasn't said anything about him either… hmm. Maybe he's just been on a vacation to a faraway country!” You shook your head, sparing Hoshi a glance before continuing.

“Saihara… he came to look for us, not long after we disappeared.” Kaito nodded, pacing the room a bit.

“He did say something about a case, he ditched training and stuff a few times for it but never really said much more.”

“Gonta and Ryoma and (Y/N) were the case… Saihara started searching and asking around about them, but Gonta thinks he talked to the wrong person.”

You continued as Kiibo stroked Gonta’s hair comfortingly.

“The men we were involved with, they don't take well to people looking for them… The kidnapped Saihara and brought him to the same building we were in, threatened him, but didn't do much at first.” You trailed off, trying to push away the mental image of Saihara tied to that chair, body slumped forward while he was unconscious. You wished he had stayed that way, hearing him plead for his life at the end had only made it hurt more. Hoshi picked up the story, hand holding the covers with white knuckles.

“They ordered me to kill him. They put a gun in my hand and forced me to kill my friend.” You opened your mouth to argue, Hoshi hadn't been the one to pull the trigger, he hadn't had a choice in the matter anymore. But it was fruitless, Hoshi continuing before you got the chance

“He's gone.” Was all Hoshi said, the room exploding into chaos and questions.

“What do you mean he's gone?!” Kaito yelled above the sound, met with several noises of agreement from the others. No one responded, the room growing heavy with the things they knew, but didn't want to say.

“Saihara is dead. He’s dead, because of me.” Hoshi’s voice was barely audible, but enough people heard it to send the room spinning into shouting and crying. Kaede clasped her hands over her mouth as she realized what had happened, sobbing. Ouma looked ready to hit someone, small hands clenched into fists as he glared daggers into Hoshi, eerily quiet.

The room was buzzing with reactions, some shock, some disbelief, some sad and crying. You didn't know what to do, blindly grabbing Kaede's hand as if it would ease her pain. You didn't bother to wipe away your own tears as they fell, breathing hard to keep from absolutely collapsing into sobs.

“What the fuck, Hoshi?!” Kaito shouted, moving closer than Hoshi would have liked.

“Why did you do it? Why did you fucking kill my best friend goddammit?!” His voice was loud enough to hurt your ears, Kaede squeezing your hand a little tighter.

“Kaito, don't, that's a little-”

“I don't care! He fucking murdered Shuichi! He murdered him and he's here, just fucking fine now!” The argument only escalated as Kaede and a few others tried to calm Kaito down, Hoshi stone-faced and staring at his hand. Finally, Mondo entered the room, groaning at the chaos before raising his voice.

“Hey! Shut up! You guys are screaming loud enough that the entire building can hear you and that shit isn't what they need right now! So either be quiet, or leave!” You were grateful for the interruption as it finally got Kaito to quiet down, at least for a moment.

“And you, you and Gonta. Why the fuck didn't you stop him, huh? You were there too, you could have done something!”

“Gonta’s supposed to be all big and strong right, you couldn't get a gun out of Hoshi’s tiny fucking hands?!” Ouma chimed in from across the room, his voice much more flat than usual.

“Exactly! You didn't stop him, so your just as much at fault here as he is, you fucking killed-”

Your head snapped to look at Hoshi as he finally spoke up.

“Shut the fuck up!” He screamed, louder than you had ever heard him yell. It was almost scary, seeing such rage spread across Hoshi’s features.

“They didn't have a choice to stop me! They would have been killed if they even fucking moved!”

He took a breath but held up a hand when Kaito moved to speak again.

“They gave me a choice. They told me to either kill Saihara or let them get beaten until they could hardly breathe. They couldn't have done a thing to stop it, they got it bad enough as it was. He cut them, and made me fucking watch while they got hurt, because I couldn't go through with it.”

“What? What do you mean?” Kaede asked, still tightly gripping your hand.

“I dropped the damn gun, I couldn't pull the trigger on Saihara. And they still killed him. But Gonta and (Y/N) begged me to just let them get hurt instead, but I couldn't let them go through that. Blame me all you want, hate me forever, that's fine. But you don't get to fucking blame then when they were tied up and hurt and begging me not to choose him.”

Kaito glanced between you and Gonta, noticing how you were in much worse condition, between the scars and bandages, while Hoshi mainly had only his cast as evidence of his pain.

“I don't give a damn what you think about me, cause it's probably true. But don't you dare fucking blame them for his death.” The room went quiet enough to hear a pin drop as Kaito finally relaxed a bit, no longer looking like he was ready to hurt someone.

“Fucking hell… so he's really dead, huh?” Kaito muttered, sitting on the edge of Hoshi’s bed.

“Yeah,” Hoshi responded, finally looking up from his lap.

“I'm sorry about what I said man, you didn't… you didn't deserve that, especially when I didn't mean it.” Hoshi just shrugged, looking around the room.

“Doesn't mean it isn't true, but thanks. The things that happened in there…” Kaito just nodded in understanding as the atmosphere relaxed a bit. Still sad, mourning, but no longer tense with so much anger.

“Are you guys going to be… alright? No offense, but you look like shit.” You laughed softly, running a hand through your hair.

“They think we’ll be okay to leave in a couple of days, if we want to.”

“Gonta isn't sure he wants to go back home anymore… he remembers the house being all messed up from being taken.”

“Yeah, it's… not great. I was staying there between… jobs. It's pretty bad, honestly, I never had the energy to fix shit or clean or anything.” Kirumi looked between the three of you, and then to the others.

“Don't worry about that, we’ll handle anything that needs to be taken care of before you return home.” You met her eyes, as sad as anyone else's over the loss of Saihara, even if she hadn't shown it.

“Are you sure? You don't have to do anything for us, really.” She shook her head, a small smile appearing on her face.

“It's my pleasure, you deserve to have a nice, clean home when you are released from here, and I prefer to keep myself busy in times like this.”

“Me too, I'll help. You guys have been through enough, we want to make it a little easier for you to adjust and get better!” Kaede smiled sadly, and you didn't have the heart to tell her otherwise. It would be nice, not having to fix the wreckage of your kidnapping on your own. Others began to chime in, offering to help with cleaning up, getting groceries, anything you could have needed.

Soon the entire room, even Ouma, was in agreement that they were going to help you back on your feet, no matter what it took.

“Gonta… is very thankful that he has such generous friends.” Gonta sniffled and Himiko patted his head.

“It’ll be easy to fix things up with my magic, as long as I'm able to recharge my mana beforehand…” After that, people streamed in and out of the room, some leaving for the day with things to do, others hanging out a while longer until the sky began to darken. It was nice, albeit a bit overwhelming to be around other people again, people you knew and trust, who wanted to help you. Soon, it was only Kirumi and Kaito left, both getting ready to leave.

“Is it alright if I return tomorrow? I'd like to figure out the best way to go about restoring your home, among other things.” Hoshi nodded, smiling a bit.

“Sure, if you want. Thanks again for helping out, it really means a lot. Especially after what we told you.”

“At moments like this, it's best for people to be together, to overcome their hardships. So, frankly, you’re doing us a favor by allowing us to help. Also, Gonta, your glasses are missing, would you like me to bring you another pair?” Gonta nodded eagerly.

“Gonta would really like that, he hasn't been able to see in… a long time.” You smiled, having almost forgotten that he usually wore glasses. It had been so long since you had had the mental capacity to worry about things like your boyfriend's eyesight, really, it was a miracle he had managed to get by without them this long. Kirumi left after another few minutes, promising to return the next day to make a list of tasks to get done with the house, even when you insisted it wasn't that big of a deal. Kaito stood up to leave, lingering a bit.

“Sorry, again, man. I said some pretty horrible shit to you earlier, I really shouldn't have let my temper go off like that, not cool of me.”

“You just lost someone you cared about, I get it. Someone told me something like that, I probably would have gotten mad too.” Kaito nodded and held out a hand for Hoshi to shake, which he did.

“We’ll get revenge for Shuichi, you know? We’ll make sure the bastards who did this to him, and you guys, pay for this.” Mondo, seemingly already on his way to you, held out his phone to Kaito.

“Looks like someone beat you to it.” He had pulled up an article on his phone from the news, detailing the death and almost meaningful placement of the body of a nearby Yakuza leader. Kaito read the article aloud before showing it to you, a picture making a wave of nausea rise in your chest. It wasn't the violence or death that bothered you, it was the man in the photo.

“That's him…” You muttered, torn between being sick at the sight of the man who tortured you or celebrating his death. You looked to Hoshi and Gonta, who seemed equally tense.

“You didn't hear this shit from me, but Fuyuhiko? He takes care of problems like that guy, when he has to. My guess is you won't have to worry about those fuckers again, not after this.” You just nodded as Kaito left, mentioning he’d be back later. Quickly, you turned to Gonta and Hoshi, a sigh of relief leaving you.

“He's dead… that asshole, he's fucking dead!” You covered your mouth at the sound of your joy, unsure of how to feel.

Mostly, though, you felt relieved. The man who had kept you captive for months, threatened you, beaten you, not to mention what he had done to Gonta and Hoshi, was permanently out of the picture. You no longer had to wonder what he was planning, whether he would come looking for you again, not now.

“Good.” Was all Hoshi said, smiling alongside you. Briefly, the three of you talked about what had happened, about leaving the building soon, about figuring out a way to hold a memorial for Saihara. You had no clue where his body would be anymore, so he couldn't be buried, but surely you could set up something to say goodbye, to thank him for trying to save you. It was easy to fall asleep after such an exhausting, emotional day, laying down and letting your eyes fall closed when you felt you had nothing else to say.

“(Y/N)? Gonta?”

“Mm?” You responded, eyes still shut.

“Love you guys.” His voice was soft, quiet, and you smiled.

“Love you too, Ryo.”

“Gonta loves Ryoma and (Y/N) as well!” You giggled, too tired to even sit up. You drifted off happily, feeling more at peace than you had in quite a while. It didn't last long, however. Just like the night before, nightmares came at you quickly and constantly as you tossed and turned in your bed.

This time, Hoshi was the first to wake from his dreams, startled and gripping the blanket tightly in his good hand. He flexed his fingers, trying in vain to forget what he had seen. His nightmare had been of the day that he had held you and Gonta under the water, pushing you in deeper even as you squirmed and the air bubbles indicating your screams started to stop.

He held you and Gonta under until you were lifeless and even when he pulled you out, you didn't come back. Your chests were still, no matter what he did, you were gone. He woke up after giving up on bringing you back to home, glancing between you and Gonta and watching as you breathed and turned over in your sleep. It was enough of a reassurance that you were alive for him to lay back down, counting your heartbeats on a monitor until he was able to fall back asleep.

It was an ongoing cycle for a couple of hours, one of you waking up from a nightmare where the others died or got hurt, making sure they were okay, and then going back to sleep, only for another nightmare to occur. Mondo, taking a turn on guarding the door, noticed as Gonta woke up for the second time, the faintest sob escaping him as he wiped his eyes and tried to calm himself down.

“Hey, are you alright?” He asked, leaving his chair by the door and sitting on the edge of Gonta’s bed.

“Gonta had a nightmare, he’ll… he's okay.” Gonta forced a smile and tried to slow his breathing down a bit, wondering how late it was.

“The others have been as well, they keep waking up and checking on you.” Gonta looked over and noticed the pain in Hoshi’s features as he tossed and turned a bit, you in a similar position. Mondo and Gonta chatted for a moment, passing the time until Gonta felt a bit better. You shot up in your bed, panting and clutching your chest, heartbeat thrumming in your ears. You had had a nightmare about being back in that room, a gun forced into your hands and told to choose between Gonta and Hoshi, kill one or both would die. You could still feel the cold steel against your skin as you returned to reality, quickly looking over at Gonta and Hoshi.

“Hey, did I wake you up?” You asked softly, not wanting to wake Hoshi up as well.

“No, Gonta had a bad dream as well, Mondo was helping him calm down a bit. Is (Y/N) okay?” You nodded, not wanting to worry him any more than necessary.

“I will be, now that I'm awake.” Mondo looked at you curiously, thinking for a moment before getting an idea.

“Here, I want to try something.” You watched with wide eyes as Mondo started pushing Gonta’s hospital bed towards the middle, not stopping until he connected with Hoshi’s bed, startling him awake.

“What's going on?” He muttered, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes.

“Nightmares, again.” You replied, jumping when Mondo started pushing your bed towards Hoshi as well. It took some arranging, between the IV poles and all of the wires, but after a few minutes, your three beds had become one large one.

“Mikan and Taka might kill me for this, but you three need to be able to hold each other when this kinda stuff happens. It helps, trust me.” All three of you exchanged glances, unsure of what to do.

“Let me know if you need anything, ‘kay?” Mondo left the room and you started to scoot closer to Hoshi, mindful of your IV line and his cast. It had been so long since you had been this close to him, without fear, without having to protect him from someone. Still, old habits resurfaced as the three of you cuddled together, overlapping blankets and getting comfortable.

In the end, Gonta had his arms wrapped around you both, Hoshi sandwiched between you gently to keep from making his arm worse. No one needed to speak, just enjoying the familiar contact between each other. You pressed your face against Hoshi’s chest, listening to his heartbeat as you started to fall back asleep. This time, you stayed asleep, the comfort of having both of your boyfriends right there warding off any nightmares.

All three of you slept soundly, relaxed by each other's presence until morning came and hushed whispers caught your attention. You didn't move, barely awake as it was and not wanting to disturb Gonta or Hoshi.

“They needed this, you know? I get that it wasn't great, like, medically, and something could have happened, but Alter Ego would have let us know if something changed.” You recognized Mondo’s voice and the little sigh that followed sounded like Mikan.

“They do look peaceful… Just warn me next time, so I can keep a closer e-eye on them.” You drifted back off, smiling softly. You were too comfortable and safe to care about what time it might have been or the repercussions of moving the beds. All that mattered was that the next time you woke up, it would be wrapped in Gonta’s arms, face buried in Hoshi’s neck. You groaned as someone shifted, not ready to get up.

“Stay.” You whispered, trying to pull Hoshi back to you as he moved to escape Gonta’s hold on him.

“Gotta get up, it's late.”

“Gonta doesn't want to yet, he wants Ryoma to stay for a little longer.” You didn't miss the little huff that Hoshi replied with, but he stopped moving, letting you pull him close. You didn't go back to sleep, just rested, thinking.

It would be a long time before the three of you were okay. Physically, maybe a few weeks, but mentally, you would never be the same.

Fear would creep up on you from seemingly unimportant things, you’d find yourself looking over your shoulder, unwilling to be alone.

You would have scars to last you years, and you would never be the same person that you had been before this happened.

But, cuddled close to Hoshi and Gonta, you could have hope. Hope that someday, you’d be alright, all of you would. Maybe no overnight, maybe not soon, but one day, this would only be your past.

#gonta gokuhara #ryoma hoshi #gontaryoma #commission #mondo oowada #chihiro fujisaki #kaito momota #ndrv3 #Mikan Tsumiki #sdr2 #danganronpa

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