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strayheartless · 4 months

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Anti-Hero: an ASGZC angst ficlet:

**A/N: I’m back at torturing Cloud again! This time by poking at his negative self talk and intrusive thoughts! If that’s triggering maybe give this one a miss! Also ⚠️trigger warning ⚠️ for panic attacks and Cloud having some issues with food (no ED but he’s depressed and struggling appetite loss), also I have highlighted a perceived possible power imbalance, but I want to make it clear that ASGZ take their power relation to Cloud seriously and rank does NOT get brought into the relationship.**

“It’s me, hi. I’m the problem it’s me. At tea time everybody agrees. I’ll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror. It must be so exhausting always rooting for the Anti-Hero.” -Taylor swift, Anti-Hero

***

Cloud stirs his spoon through the soup Angeal has very kindly spent all afternoon cooking. It’s good, great even, it’s just a shame Clouds appetite abandoned him at the beginning of the week. He’d make up for it once he’s got his head on straight he promises himself, but right now he really can’t face eating all that much.

As he looks up through the hair curtaining his face he see’s his ridiculously beautiful boyfriends chat easily back and forth, swapping anecdotes about work or missions they’ve been on. Cloud has nothing to add. His job is seriously lacking in interesting anecdotes compared to actual first class SOLDIERS. If he opened his mouth to speak he knew he’d only be met with polite smiles and internal cringing on his own part.

He was nothing compared to these literal gods among men. Sometimes it was enough to make him feel like a mako monster sat at a dinner party. You could put lipstick on a wererat but that didn’t change the fact it was a rabid animal.

He looked back down again, trying desperately to convince himself to at least swallow a spoonful. Anything to let Angeal know the food was appreciated. Next to him, Zack laughed easily and slid an arm across the back of clouds chair; his own soup demolished.

“There’s no way you let them get away with anything less than Latrine duty!” He pressed, and Cloud realised he had no idea what the conversation was about… he’d zoned out too hard.

“Oh I had them on worse than that!” Genesis replied, and Zack lifted his hand off of the chair back to scratch at Clouds nape. “I’ve court martialed men for less.”

“You’ve set men aflame for less” Sephiroth pointed out.

The hand in Clouds hair felt like too much. The conversation was grating at him for no reason. For one horrifying second Cloud felt a yell well up in his throat before he stamped it down viciously and tried to wrestle his expression into something attentive.

He moved forward just a touch making Zack’s hand fall lazily between his shoulder blades, in a move that seemed like he was simply leaning into his own bowl. Zack at least, didn’t seem to notice or catch the discomfort in his face. Instead he mildly watched Cloud shove his spoon into his mouth and force himself to swallow.

The soup tried to force its way back up in protest but Cloud swallowed hard against the feeling. He would not make himself look like more of a fool than he already was.

How could he think he belonged here? How could he think he could possibly date these men who had achieved more in one year then Cloud was capable of in a lifetime. How could he simply sit here and play at being anything more than what he was… a lesser being.

Cloud wanted to push himself away from the table and run. Just throw open the door and go find a nice cave to hole up in. Maybe in twenty years time he could re-emerge and pretend he’d never tried to be more than he was.

His hands started shaking, the spoon falling from his grasp and making a loud clattering sound against the rim of the plate.

He was having a panic attack.

Shit.

“Cloud?” Angeal was looking at him with his beautiful mako ringed eyes. Cloud could hear his own breath trying to break his chest cavity open. He grasped at the neck of his t’shirt frantically trying to claw it away from his throat. It felt like he was being choked.

Every eye in the room was on him. Genesis had placed his wine glass on the table; Sephiroth’s hand on his arm, having apparently silently pulled his attention to Clouds pathetic display. Zack was leaned forward and rubbing at Clouds back.

“Stop!” Cloud cried out. “Stop! Stop touching me I- I can’t,” he panted and Zack pulled his and away fast, giving a placating apology.

“Darling,” Genesis spoke soft but firm. “You need to breath,”

Oh, Cloud wanted to throw something at him. He wanted to spit in Gen’s face and rage that he didn’t have the perfect control that they did. Instead he pressed the heel of his hand into his breast bone and leaned heavily against the table top. The feeling in his chest was getting worse, the elastic band on his lungs tightening.

Angeal, slipped deftly off of his chair and knelt to the side of Clouds own, taking the hand that was curled, white knuckled, against the edge of the table.

“Here,” he murmured, placing Clouds hand against his own chest. “Follow my breathing,”

Angeal took a deep breath in, held it and then let it out slowly. He kept up a steady stream of reassurances as he did so, making sure Cloud knew he was safe and that the attack would pass.

“Good, you’re doing so good Storm Cloud,”

The pet name was something Angeal had picked up from Claudia last time they’d visited Nibelheim, and much to Clouds outward irritation, but inward pleasure, he’d started using it at home too. It had a pretty settling affect on Cloud, as his brain registered the name as something safe. Something innocent.

“That’s it,” the ravenette cooed. “Easy does it, there you go.”

Once the immediate danger of passing out had passed, Cloud tried to pull himself into the smallest ball possible on the uncomfortable dining room chair. He tucked his feet just under his butt and wrapped his arms around his knees, hiding his face between them.

Was he ever not going to embarrass himself in front of them? He guessed not.

“Sunshine, what’s going on?” Zack was touching him again. Just a light touch of his finger tips to Clouds elbow, but it felt more grounding then before.

“Imtoomuchofawasteofspacetobedatingallofyouanditmakesmewanttocraoutofmyskin,” Cloud didn’t lift his head or try to enunciate properly. The exhaustion had made his accent thicken and his brain feel like it was filled with treacle. It was seeping out of his ears.

“I’m sorry, we don’t speak mumble.” Genesis ribbed lightly.

“Gen,” Angeal said warningly.

“Cloud, you need to speak clearly. If we can’t understand we can’t help” Sephiroth said in place of Genesis’ retort.

Cloud looked up a little and whispered “you shouldn’t be dating me.”

“Oh for goddess sake!”

“Genesis!” Angeal warned sharply this time. He turned his attention back to Cloud. “Baby why would you think that?”

Next to him, Zack had made a pained sound and pulled Clouds chair closer to him so he could wrap his arms around the smaller man. It didn’t feel as overwhelming this time, but it also didn’t feel deserved.

Cloud shrugged helplessly. “I just feel like I’m some kind of broken monster dressed up like a real person… I don’t feel like I can match up to what you guys are,”

The sentence hung in the air between them like a loaded gun. They were all aware of how their individual ranks within Shinra effected their relationship with Cloud.

Between the four firsts it wasn’t such an issue. Sure there was a hierarchy to follow while at work but that got left at the door. They were all first class. They all were working at similar levels.

With Cloud it was different. He was Infantry and while he may have been working towards third class with more clear cut success this time, it didn’t change the fact that they were operating at a very different level.

There were things, information, they were all privy to that Cloud was not authorised to know. Conversations that had to be cut short when he entered a room. It was incredibly isolating to be on the outside of that while pretending to be in a fair and equal relationship.

“You surpass us all darling,” Genesis leaned over the table and placed his hand on Clouds.

“I don’t. I’m not even a SOLDIER…”

“And what does that matter? You are strong in other ways. Besides, with all the work we’ve put into you these bast months and then knew research on mako sensitivity you are sure to pass.”

Clouds frown deepened.

“Don’t you feel used? Like I’m just using you to achieve my goals?”

It was Sephiroths turn to roll his eyes impatiently.

“Are you?” He asked

“No! Bu-“ Seph cut him off.

“Cloud getting into SOLDIER is not about how you utilise the resources available to you. It’s about your physical ability. We could put all the effort in the world in you and it wouldn’t matter if you didn’t meet the requirements,” he said, “you are not using us, and we would not let ourselves be used. Zack can tell you himself that his progression into SOLDIER was mostly possible because of Angeal.”

Zack huffed in amusement. “Hate to admit it spikes but he’s right. If Angeal hadn’t taken an interest in me I wouldn’t have gotten far at all.”

“That’s not true,” Cloud narrowed his eyes but Zack just shook his head at him.

“No it is. Before Angeal I was scrawny, hyperactive, undisciplined and really fucking forgetful. Ang used to say I’d forget my head if it wasn’t screwed on.”

Angeal chuckled, “not much has changed really,”

“Aside from all of that nonsense,” Genesis pressed on irritated at being sidecarred. “We have never, and will never see you as less than. You could put in your voluntary withdrawal tomorrow and we’d still love you and want you with us. It’s not your status we love Cloud it’s you.”

Cloud blushed deeply. Love. It’s funny how a four letter word can kamikaze straight into the side of his insecurities and drag them off a cliff.

They loved him. He kept forgetting that.

“I love you too,” he murmured staring deep into Gens eyes. The red head smiled at him adoringly, and Angeal placed a hand on the back of Clouds neck.

“Then stop playing the roll of the anti hero,” he squeezed once, tight enough to send sparks down Clouds spine.

“Okay,” said Cloud “I’ll try.”

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theo-grayson · 2 months

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Anyone who's taken a look at my notes knows I Fucking Ramble, so don't look here unless you wanna see me share way too many thoughts about Our Life: Now and Forever (including way too much about my personal life)

youtube

Guys. Oh my god. Where do I even start. Maybe with just:

Little things I love about the demo

I am a sucker for character customization, and this game delivers that in spades. You can choose so many different things, from your appearance with a doll maker/picrew type thing, your gender and pronouns (with a BUNCH of customization), to what your bedroom looks like, to little stuff like what kind of drink you get at a restaurant. This was present in the first game too, Our Life: Beginnings and Always (OL:BA), but it's more in-depth here, and I love it. And I love that you can see your little avatar when your character speaks. I feel like it just flows so nicely, and it makes me wanna replay it with different characters. Of course, you also get many different dialogue choices, and there are so many choices to pick from. I LOVE it.

So, I absolutely adore OL:BA, and I love Cove with my whole entire heart. But man, inside of me there are two wolves: one of them is a Summer Disliker, and one of them is a rabid Autumn Pinterest Girlie. I ADORE fall, colourful leaves, mushrooms, rain, etc etc etc.

So seeing that Our Life: Now and Forever (OL:NF) takes place in a sleepy town in the AUTUMN?? With scenery like THIS???

I want to live here in real life.

The art style in general is just so beautiful. The colours, the softness of it all, the spritework, the cg art: everything is so stunning. The soundtrack is absolutely amazing too.

On a different note, the extent to which you can customize your relationships with Qui and Tamarack is so cool. You can go through a slow-burn romance, as neighbours to childhood friends to crushes to partners. You can have a cute love-at-first-sight childhood crushes story. You can avoid romance altogether and have a chosen-family dynamic. You can have a poly relationship and date both of them. Not ONLY that, but even the way that they interact with you can be customized;

That's so cool!! You can choose whether a character looks up to you or takes care of you, or whether they prefer to compliment you or tease you. And you can choose the same kind of thing when you interact with them in turn! A visual novel having this level of depth in a relationship is so awesome. The game will even remember things: like, if you react negatively to certain types of interactions, the characters can remember and act accordingly in the future. That's so cool!

I like that this story seems to be a little bit more serious than the last game. OL:BA has basically zero stakes, and very little serious conflict. That's not a bad thing at all, it's very much supposed to be a comfy, indulgent game. But OL:NF begins Step 2 by showing that the main characters have drifted apart as they've grown older. Not only is that nice realism, but it also adds both possible comfort potential (bringing your old friends back together and having good times) AND possible whump/angst potential (watching who used to be your best friends drift apart completely). The (optional) jealousy mechanic could also add to this. Obviously the game isn't finished yet and I could totally be off the mark, but even if this kind of thing doesn't end up happening, the fanfic potential is also there!

I really like how complex the characters are. Even as kids, they have wants and motivations and flaws, and they're so likeable. They change throughout the story, because not only are they growing up and older, but they have their own experiences and personal struggles. And speaking of characters:

Quick thoughts about Main Characters

> Tamarack Baumann

Oh my goodness. Ohg. Tammy. She is so so important to me. She is so sweet and supportive, and she's so pretty. Look at her. Oh my god I love her.

I absolutely adore Tamarack, and part of it is that I relate to her in a couple ways. I grew up as the insecure fat girl. I love frogs and toads. The cello is my favourite instrument, and I would love to learn to play one day. When she first said that she lived with her Omi and Opa, I literally gasped in real life, because I lived with my Omi and Opi for about a year, when I was her age.

> Qui "Autumn" Lin

QUI!!!!!! I love them so dearly, their mannerisms and the way they speak are so so endearing. They change a lot throughout the story, which is going to be so interesting to see. And they are ALSO so so pretty. Oh my god.

As a trans person myself who is definitely playing as a trans MC, I'm so curious to see the interactions with Qui, since they struggle with their own gender identity as well. Also, when they do figure out their identity in Step 3:

What??? That's so cool!!!

In which I get a little bit too personal:

This is probably tmi but I don't care. To make a very long story short, I had a really shitty traumatic childhood. Especially around ages 10-15. Even disregarding that, I was always a 'mature for my age' child, who followed all the rules and was terrified of ever stepping out of line. I never got the chance to be a normal kid.

So, getting the chance to go through this game, being able to experience growing up in such a beautiful area, with a supportive family and no trauma and friends that care about you. It's just. So nice.

Anyways. I'm gonna go now and make a bunch of OCs to play through the demo with and make different choices, because the hyperfixation is truly all-consuming

#our life now & forever #our life #olnf #ol:nf #olnf mc #olnf tamarack #qiu lin #tamarack baumann #gb patch games #theo rambles #long post #Youtube

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selfindulgentpixies · 9 months

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So i got a plot bunny from @strawberrystepmom or she helped me spawn one. This is angst with comfort at the end. Spoilers for the jjk manga and the end of season 2 i'm sure. I felt absolutely possessed writing this. The most rabid plot bunny possible.

Satoru Gojo x Gn!reader

Things we should have said

It was so stupid, so fucking stupid, and worst still you can't even remember why the two of you had argued. You were both just stressed by what was about to happen in shibuya that something small boiled over. You did something so stupid. You'd probably be saying that to yourself for the rest of your life no matter how long or short it ended up being, though probably shorter at the rate the world was going to shit.

Satoru had told you he loved you before parting ways for the mission and you'd ignored him, all you did was wave with your back turned. And now? Now you have to live with the fact that you may never be able to tell him you love him back, that you're sorry that such an insignificant argument led to you holding onto your love instead of giving it freely to him as he had you.

The circumstances only made it worse. Among all the death and carnage of the incident you'd learned from Mei Mei that some bastard had taken over Suguru's body and was the one to seal Satoru away. Some evil bastard wearing the face of one the people most precious to Satoru who was supposed to be dead. Killed by Satoru himself and he'd had to deal with that alone. So much guilt crushing down on you, making you want to fall to your knees, cry and scream and give up.

But you don't give up. You're still needed. Needed more than ever with him gone. You were so close to him, his spouse, which means without much thought a lot of people turned to you in their search for someone to lean on. It was a burden you took without complaint because you wanted to protect what was precious to your beloved. You wanted him to have something to come back to. Shoko was the only person you let see you crack even just a little. She was also one of the few people who kept using your name instead switching over to Gojo, You think most people started doing that to grasp at the comfort of having a Gojo to turn to. She hated seeing you become a shadow of yourself though, and hated more that you were suddenly trying to shoulder it all alone.

"Don't do what he did, ___, don't do what they both did. You're not alone so don't shut me out," She said to you while angrily stubbing out her cigarette. So you let yourself break just a little, crying into her shoulder and once you'd finished she helped you fix that determined look back on your face that was needed for your students and everyone else who'd decided to look to you for guidance.

The silence was deafening at what supposed to be the unsealing. Your heart in your throat and then nothing. Absolutely nothing. You grit your teeth trying your damnedest to not break in front of everyone. "I have to go," you speak lowly to Shoko.

"___, wait-"

But you're already gone.

You're curled up in your lonely bed, hugging one of his old shirts that you'd taken from the hamper before going into hiding with all of his other supporters. It doesn't smell as much like him now and you wonder dejectedly how long until this scrap of him will be gone too.

You're so lost in your emotions, your face buried in his shirt that you barely register someone entering the room. "Go away, I don't want to be around anyone right now," you croak.

A dry laugh, "Now is that anyway to greet your husband after 19 days? Or are you still mad at-"

As soon as that laugh had passed by your ears, as soon as he began speaking you're sitting bolt upright in the bed, the old shirt falling from your hands and before he can even finish speaking you're diving from the bed and straight into his chest, drawing a small grunt from him even as his arms come up to wrap around you.

"You're really back, you're really really here." Your voice is hoarse and your eyes are burning with the threat of fresh tears. "Satoru I'm so sorry i-"

"Shhhshhh, hey it's okay, I know" One of his hands leaves your waist to tilt your head up toward him.

"I-it's not okay though! I shouldn't have walked away on that god forsaken mission without telling you i love you. And god.... Satoru I love you so much. I've missed you so much." And tears are pouring down your face and you're sniffling and his face blurs so you furiously wipe at your eyes afraid he won't still be there when your vision returns.

Suddenly you find yourself being lifted followed by being crushed into the mattress by him. His weight anchoring you back to reality. He's here, he's okay. His slightly chapped lips press to your forehead, down the bridge of your nose, the apples of your cheeks and finally your lips. You can taste your own tears but more importantly you can taste him. All your senses are filled by him him him.

It takes several minutes but you calm down. Your positions changed once he'd felt like your were grounded and now your head rests over his heart while he sits against the head board. You look so small curled up on his lap like this.

"I am sorry you know.."

"And I hope you know I forgive you, i wasn't ever mad at you for it," his voice rumbles through his chest, soothing parts of your soul that you felt would never be right again.

"You'd have every right to be if you were. I know better than to see a fellow sorcerer let alone my husband off on a mission like that without letting them know they're cared for." You shift on his lap, turning so that you're able to cup his face in your hands.

"Live and learn," he replies, letting you trace his features, a barest hint of one his grins.

"Lucky to have lived and gotten the chance to learn." You relent though. You weren't going to make it seem like you desired his anger, even if a small part of you felt it was deserved. That wouldn't be fair to Satoru who clearly was just glad to be here with you. So you lean up and kiss him, kiss him until you're breathless and feel as if you've poured all your love into him and he does the same.

It doesn't go beyond that though, you're both drained and you're weak with relief. He tosses the old shirt from the bed and raises a brow at you as slides you both into a laying position. You give a half shrug. "It uh...it smelled like you so i.." You feel bashful suddenly and he brushes your hair from your face.

Even in the dark room and fully clothed you feel bare before him as he studies your face. "To be fair if I'd somehow known what was going to happen I would have taken something of yours with me. I spent a lot of my time in there thinking about you, wondering if you were safe." he pauses seeming to consider his words, "I talked to Shoko before coming here. She said you took on a lot while I was gone." He pulls your face to his chest and rests his chin on your head. "I'm proud of you for that. Proud of you being there for everyone even if I wish you hadn't needed to. I won't ever let you be forced into a position like that again if i have any say in it." He feels your tears soaking into the collar of his shirt more than anything else. He doesn't bring attention to it though, instead simply strokes a hand over your hair.

"I love you, ___"

"I love you too, Satoru."

@nanamikentoseyebags @gojoest

#gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gn!reader #jjk x reader #jjk x gn!reader #rossi writes #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x gn!reader

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otomes-and-tears · 4 months

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Wondering what your thoughts and opinions are on the rest of the jerk squad boys, especially Nate?

Know that asking me this was a mistake because I’m RABID for them. I’m FOAMING at the mouth and shaking just at being asked to ramble about my boys because I am plagued by thoughts of them that I’m absolutely going to unleash upon you now.

This is not going to be coherent at all. I apologise for that.

By the way— since I already talk about Shiloh way too much, he’s not going to have his little section here. If you want to see my rambles about him, please check my masterlist!

I’m probably going to talk about Jeremy separately because…. I actually haven’t finished his route. It’s the only one that’s left.

Since you asked about him first, Nate is one of my favourite boys. I have a special place in my heart for him because he kind of reminds me of my girlfriend, and I do think that his dynamic with JB is one of the most entertaining in the bunch. He’s always snapping back at her and it’s so fucking funny. Every time they’re out together I keep getting this mental image of JB being strapped in a baby leash with Nate trailing behind her like an exhausted parent.

Like Shiloh, he’s also a character that I think about a LOT, particularly about the way he handles (or does not handle) his emotions and his obsessive need to have control over everything around him.

I think it’s really telling that Nate continuously strives for perfection and frequently neglects his own emotional needs when he practically raised himself, admittedly saw the school as his home, and when we know for a fact that he was seen and treated as a mini-adult throughout his life.

Like, you cannot tell me he wasn’t praised endlessly as a child for being independent and self-sufficient and then when he grew older people were constantly exasperated that he was too independent and didn’t know when to ask for help when needed! Nate is probably endlessly confused as to why something that was touted as being such a good trait for a good portion of his life suddenly became a problem.

Anyways, I think it’s kind of tragic how he spent most of his life at that school and I legit teared up when they graduated. It’s also very sweet how despite being a perv and living to make him uncomfortable, JB is surprisingly respectful of his boundaries regarding physical touch and doesn’t push him to kiss or hug her. Yeah, she teases him about missing the perfect moment but she’s happy to let him decide when he’s ready to do all of that!

It’s also nice that she tries to support him, even if she isn’t exactly good at it. SHE’S TRYING HER BEST BC THEY LEGIT LIKE EACH OTHER EVEN IF THEY BOTH HAVE ISSUES!!

Regarding Everett… I didn’t expect to like his route as much as I did, but he has SO MUCH ANGST POTENTIAL.

Like, his whole relationship with Nate? The fact that he’s a momma’s boy?? HE WAS REJECTED BY PRAN In like, the WORST way possible??

It’s just, chef’s kiss. A whole lotta angst wrapped inside a tiny, hipster-shaped package. Pure perfection.

My only issue with his route is that the whole time, I felt like JB was getting in between him and Nate. This is my headcanon, but I feel like after high school, if JB and Everett don’t immediately have an explosive, dramatic breakup there are only two possible routes: either he leaves her for Nate or they add Nate into the mix.

I’m sorry, but no other alternatives compute for me, not after their conversation in the tunnel of love. That shit goes way past just a codependent friendship.

I think I’ve mentioned this once before but Bae is likely my second favorite jerksquad guy. I can’t really explain why his condescension is so funny to me, but it might be because my favorite parts of the game were the group meetings and Bae’s borderline paternalistic attitude towards the other characters (because he’s mAtURE and knows what’s best for them) and his sarcasm made for some really great dialogue and some of the funniest scenes in my opinion.

Just as a side note— I played xoxo blood droplets and Bae’s route made me realize how much potential he has to be a yandere in an au! And now that I’m thinking about this I NEED to write about it. Even if it’s just headcanons or something.

I love him in game. I’d probably throw hands with him three minutes into a conversation if he existed IRL. I sent my girlfriend screenshots of his sons of his scenes while I played and she said that I was a bit like him. It made me reevaluate my life LOL

Okay so, I’m going to be real with you: Pran is my least favorite of the boys. I’ll admit that when I played through his route last year I kept complaining about not having that much fun and not liking him a lot as a character. My view changed as I got to the end of the game:

Pran’s is still my least favorite route but he’s one of the most interesting guys to analyze.

In the end, even if it took me a bit to get into it, I still ended up enjoying it immensely anyway.

I think what made me dislike him at first was that, ironically, I think that Pran as a character works best in group scenes. He’s a contrarian and he’s very quiet most of the time, which makes his very occasional interjections some of the funniest moments in the meetings, but that’s also why I didn’t find his dates as fun LOL

I think that with the other characters I had a better time because how they played off JB during their dates, while with Pran it was funny to see JB trying so hard to engage with him or get a rise out of him just for him to barely react (and it makes the instances where she does manage to catch him off guard very rewarding) on the first few times, but it started to get old for me. There’s only so many times I can hear him say no, and that he doesn’t care before it gets annoying.

For me the highlight of his route was seeing Shiloh have a weird, one-sided beef with him. Shiloh pretends to like everyone but this is where he draws the line apparently 😭

Anyways, you might be wondering why I said he’s one of my favourites to analyse if I didn’t have much fun playing through his route. That’s mostly because of his backstory, which I genuinely find to be fascinating.

He’s basically a textbook example of avoidant attachment, which is due to the severe neglect he suffered as a child. Honestly, I could make a whole post about this alone if anyone is interested.

That coupled with having to adopt a mentality where nothing he ever did or said was ever right, because either his parents or grandparents would get upset, which led to him always being quiet or choosing the contrarian option, and you get a pretty fascinating character to think about. It’s interesting to examine his relationships through this lense: it makes complete sense that Pran has a difficult time engaging with JB and connecting to her emotional needs. The few relationships he has maintained exist out of necessity! And he tries so hard to push her away, in the same way he pushed everyone else away, but she just refuses to leave. Refuses to accept defeat. She’s fully determined to figure him out and make their weirdass relationship work and it’s something I admire JB for. That girl is a TROOPER.

#by the way this is going to be a take™️ but I think Shiloh and Nate are more similar than either of them would like to admit #they both need to feel in control of a situation in order to feel comfortable but they express that need in basically opposite ways #I can elaborate more on that if anyone is interested #bee rambles #xoxo droplets #shiloh fields #nate lawson #everett gray #bae pyoun #pran taylor #xod shiloh #Nate xod #everett xod #bae xod #Pran xod #xod

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finny-boys-corner · 21 days

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Dazai angst go brrrr :D

(Hello once again!! Welcome to more snip-its! Lemme know if I should start writing this as a fic and post it on ao3!! I'll need beta readers tho so if anyones intrested hit me up!! My discord is thesecondgayestmanalive :D) Fuck. thought the brunet as he leaned his head back against the cold dungeon wall, trying to breathe as calmly as possible. He knew he really fucked up as he let the night fury escape, mori’s overly menacing grin sent shivers down dazai’s spine. Mori knew dazai all too well, and dazai knew this. He knew exactly what was coming for him. The blood in his veins pulsed faster than normal, his palms were a little more clammy than usual, and his bandages felt like they were stuck to his pale scarred skin. The rope was so tight it was gnawing at his wrists. Dazai started to hear the wolves howl. No no no no nononononononononono he couldn’t deal with this again. His heart went stone cold as Mori walked in with the three wolves. The boy would gulp but his throat was far too dry, he stared lifelessly at the biggest of the three. He quickly backed into a corner, curling into a ball, his arms over his head. This was one of the few things that could make dazai feel raw emotion, and it was clearly very strong as the doctor took off the rope around their snouts and the leads. The rabid wolves began to charge. Pain, a very agony inducing sensation.

#soukoku #skk #dazai osamu #fanfic #current wip #angst #dazai angst #harsh topics

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hannibals-favourite-meal · 2 years

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The Step-Mother

Rick Grimes x Dixon!Reader

TWD Masterlist | Main Masterlist

The Dixons were an odd bunch, an asshole older brother, the quiet and noble middle child, and the youngest, a beautiful young woman with the heart of a lion. Rick can’t help but fall for her even in the middle of an apocalypse.

Warnings: death (not reader), angst, Rick’s POV, smut, unprotected sex, walkers, mentions of abusive parents (specifically fathers), panic attacks, typical TWD violence, injuries (specifically Carl being shot, twice), mentioned sexual assault and cannibalism, swearing

WC: 3.7k

Minors DNI

I am ill for this gif 😍🥵

The Dixons had always confused me, there seemed to be a vast difference between each of them. Merle was the first I encountered, shooting wildly from the roof of a building as the herd closed in on us. Daryl had nearly killed me when he learned that I handcuffed his older brother to that roof. But then she appeared, pulling the rabid man off of me and calming him with only a single pointed look. Then she had turned around and comforted Carl when I had to leave again, holding him to her breast and running her fingers through his hair, obviously having done it before.

She was by Carl’s side when he was shot, distracting him perfectly while he was awake, then slipping away at night to hunt for Sophia. “You need some rest, Y/N. You can’t keep going like this.” I had pulled her aside one night as she was preparing to leave. “I’ve survived most of my life on one or two hours of sleep a night. Don’t worry ‘bout me, worry ‘bout ya boy in there. I need to go find that girl.” Her smile was bright but I could see the pain behind those e/c eyes, the same look in Daryl’s.

I had let her go, Lori glaring at her as she passed. Y/N grabbed a large hunting knife, the handle being held together by duct tape, and slipped through the door, her booted feet not even making a sound. I sighed and ran my hand down my face. “She puts herself in too much danger.” “She’s an adult, it’s her choice.” My wife huffed, crossing her arms across her chest. “She’s valuable, we can’t lose anymore people.” She rolled her eyes and pushed past me and into our son’s room.

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Hershel’s farm was gone. Burned to the ground. Daryl was quiet as we traveled, more so than usual. His brooding was only counteracted by Y/N trying to keep Carl engaged in his learning while Lori mourned, I suspected not for Sophia but for Shane, the obvious biological father of the child in her belly.

We needed to find a place to live for the winter fast. If Lori gave birth while we were on the road, I doubted that either of them would survive. It was getting to be too much. Food was getting scarce and everyone was looking at me like I could provide all of the answers, but I was grasping at straws. The Dixons kept us alive with their hunting skills and ability to get everything possible from their catches, it wouldn’t last forever though.

The fire was dying but I made no move to add more fuel, only watching as the flames grew smaller and smaller. “Ya know the whole point of being on watch is to keep the fire lit, Sheriff.” Y/N threw a few small sticks on the pile, they were quickly engulfed. “Guess I was lost in my thoughts.” I had given up reprimanding her for calling me ’Sheriff’ a long time ago. “What’s goin’ on in that brain o yers?” She didn’t even look at me, studying the fire as it grew again. “I honestly don’t think we’re going to make it. We need to find somewhere to live and soon or we’re all going to die.”

She nodded before sighing and sitting back onto her hands, stretching her legs out in front of her. “I’m not gonna sugarcoat it for ya, it’s gonna be hard. Really fucking hard. But you have a kid and yer a good dad. You’ll do whatever it takes to save him, just the same as Daryl and I. If the only good we can do in this world is protecting you and yer boy, we’ll do it. Jus’ keep goin’, Sheriff. We’ll be ok, as long as we keep goin’.”

She placed a comforting hand on my shoulder and squeezed before leaving me alone by the fire again.

By the next month, we were safe behind cement walls and two sets of barbed wire fences.

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The moment I saw Carl, with his sheriff hat sitting low on his greasy hair and tears running down his face, I knew. I knew that Lori didn’t make it. The world closed in on me. After everything I had done to get them back, she had slipped through my fingers.

I couldn’t even feel as a set of arms surrounded me and brought me back into their soft chest. Carl’s cries filled my ears, just breaking through the deafening ringing.

I needed to get away, I shoved the arms away from me and grabbed the first weapon I could find. “Rick! Stop!” I ignored her, pushing into the uncleared part of the prison. I was lost in the blood and guts, my mind blank, only filled with rage. I don’t know when I ended up at the other end, a trail of death behind me.

The darkness had enveloped me, but like a lighthouse in the middle of a storm, she emerged, gently taking the machete from my shaking hands and cupping my cheek. She said nothing, only taking my hand and guiding me back to the light.

Cold water ran down my body, making me shiver. She had not stripped me of the filthy clothes I was covered in, now soaked in dried blood, before shoving me under the chilling spray. “It’s going to be alright.” She never let go of me for a second, letting me rest my head on her collarbone, ignoring the tears that streamed from my eyes.

Y/N never said a thing, only running a hand through my hair, subtly rinsing all of the gore from it. The shower room door slammed open, an angry Daryl marching in. “Yer a damn fool! You almost got yerself killed!” His face was beat red, the vein in his neck throbbing. I opened my mouth to respond but was cut off.

“Enough Daryl.” Her gaze was fierce, burning into her older brother as he fumed. I saw the rage start to die as he looked upon the smaller woman, something flashing behind his eyes. The hunter sighed and nodded, an unspoken agreement reached between the two. “Don’ do anything stupid like that again, ya hear?” The door closed quietly behind him.

“It’s a girl. Daryl’s been callin’ her lil’ ass kicker. Carl wants to call her Judith.” I sighed and leaned back into her. “Thank you.” “Always.”

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“Dad!” The blood blurred my vision, my head throbbed as I searched for my son. I could hear the walkers getting closer but couldn’t bring myself to stand. Pain radiates through my body, the Governor’s beating taking its toll.

“C’mon dad, we gotta go!” Carl wrapped an arm around my waist, hauling me to my feet with the strength that a boy shouldn’t possess. We stumbled into the woods, letting the prison burn behind us.

Everyone was lost, I could only hope that Y/N had gotten Judith onto the bus with the other kids but I had seen the bloody baby carrier and the torn sweater that the youngest Dixon had been wearing earlier that day. I could feel Carl’s tears on my shoulder as we ran blindly through the trees, hoping for some kind of safety.

I had no idea how long we ran for before we collapsed on the floor of an abandoned house. My bones felt like they were scraping together, my blood had long since dried on my skin, my mouth and throat were incredibly dry. Carl sighed as he slipped down next to me, the dark circles under his eyes a testament to my failures as a parent.

“We need supplies. You stay here and I’ll go out.” “No, we either go together or just me.” I wheezed, my lungs felt like they were on fire. He sighed, “You’re hurt, I’m not. If I see a walker, I’ll come back, promised.” I tried to stop him but he had slipped out of the door, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

“Rick. It’s time to wake up love.” I groaned, feeling a smile creep over my face. “Darlin’ it’s too early to get up.” A soft body fit itself against mine, lips kissing up my jaw. “You have to go to work.” Her voice was right by my ear, I moaned as she bit down on my lobe. “I’d much rather stay here and have some fun with my gorgeous wife.” Her laugh made my heart skip a beat. I was so incredibly beautiful, like the ringing of bells. “The kids need to be taken to school and I have to meet up with my brother today. You know that, Sheriff.” Something was wrong, a deep feeling inside me.

Lori didn’t have a brother.

My eyes fluttered open and I was met with something I thought I’d never see. Y/N was hovering over me, a beautiful smile gracing her features, her s/c skin was glowing in the dawn, her e/c eyes sparkling, her h/c hair perfectly framing her face. “Good morning handsome. I love seeing those blue eyes.” She bent down and kissed along my jaw, slowly working her way up to my lips. “I love you, Sheriff.” She bent down to kiss me.

I groaned as my head bounced painfully on the floor. I heard heavy breathing near me, “Dad?”. I tried to answer him but my mouth was incredibly dry and I could only groan. “Dad, please.” Carl was crying. I heard the click of his safety being switched off and I reached out to try and stop him. “Please.” He sounded so defeated.

“Carl.” I rasped out, causing him to sob louder and pull me into a hug.

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Alexandria was paradise compared to what we experienced outside these walls. Our group was so much smaller now, the light slowly dying out, even with this perceived safety.

Daryl hadn’t been the same since Beth, I suspect losing two sisters so quickly, destroyed him, as well as losing Judith. Carl was the same way, only getting worse after he was shot. I felt like I was still failing everybody even though we were protected.

I dreamt of her every night, her beautiful eyes sparkling with laughter as she held onto Judith and Carl, sitting next to her brother by the firelight, poking fun at him, and those rare occasions where she writhed below me, clothes long forgotten as I took her apart.

The moon shone brilliantly across the quiet streets, illuminating the broken hunter as he lit up another cigarette. “Those things'll kill ya.” He eyed me. “Right.” He moved slightly down the bench, leaving enough room for me to join him on the porch. The world was still as we sat in silence. “I miss her. She deserved a hell of a lot more than dying ‘cause of those things.” Daryl growled as he took another drag. “She was an incredible woman.” I agreed. “She was the only thing tha’ kept me outta jail. She worked hard to become a teacher, to help kids like us.”

“What do ya mean kids like you?” Daryl scowled before he said. “The kids that got beat. The kids that were nearly killed by their asshole parents. She was better than all of us.” He stood and angrily walked away, swinging his crossbow onto his back. I knew I couldn’t stop him from going outside the walls, he needed to be alone, to mourn.

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“Someone’s here!” I watched as the gates swung open, reflecting the bright early morning sun back at me, and a lone figure walked in. They were incredibly emaciated, hair and clothes absolutely filthy. I couldn’t even tell if they were a man or woman. My gun was unlocked and I laid my hand on the butt, a subtle warning to the newcomer.

“Who are you? What do you want here?” They froze, their body shaking. “Rick?” Then they looked up at me and the breath was knocked from my lungs. “Y/N.”

I ran towards her, catching her as she fell, sobbing into my chest. She trembled in my arms with the force of her cries. “I thought I had lost you.” I muttered into her hair. My light was back, my heart returned to me. “I thought we were the only ones left. I thought everyone had died.” Her voice was so raspy, it was obvious she hadn’t had anything to drink in a while. I pulled her away from my chest slightly, looking at her with curiosity. “We?”

That smile I loved so much graced her features as she began to unbutton the large coat she was wearing, revealing a gorgeous smiling blonde baby clinging to her chest, wrapped in a scarf that kept her close. “Judith has been keeping me company.” I burst into tears, laughing loudly.

“Dad?” I turned slightly, making eye contact with Carl who stood a few yards behind us, very confused. “Carl?” He froze, his blue eye that looked so much like mine, shining with emotion. Y/N shoved off of me, but I didn’t mind, and ran to him, pulling him into an embrace. I could hear his sobs as he tucked his face into her neck, holding her as close as possible. “Oh my baby boy. I thought you were gone.” I walked closer to them, just in time to hear Carl murmur, “I missed you so much, mom.”

Judith gave a cry as she was squished between the two of them, making Y/N give out a watery chuckle. “Oh sorry little love, we were squishing you weren’t we?” “You have Judith?!” He yelled. “I do, and she missed her big brother very much.” She pulled Judith from her makeshift sling and immediately handed her over to Carl, who started crying again.

I brought Y/N back into my arms, kissing her hair as my our kids reunited. “Do you want to have a shower?” “You have showers?!” She sprinted off in the direction I pointed, leaving Carl and I laughing.

I had always been indifferent to the smell of the soap in Alexandria but now as the slightly fruity scent wafted off of Y/N’s freshly scrubbed body, I thought it was the most amazing thing I had ever smelled. She crumpled on the bed next to me, sighing. I could see the new scars that littered parts of her body that weren’t covered by the flannel I had given her, the one running from her forehead, over her eye, and down her cheek. I ran my finger along it, causing her to shudder.

“What was this from?” “Some assholes wanted me as a pet and Judith for a meal. I made sure none of them would ever hurt anyone ever again.” Her voice was dark, rage and disdain coursed through it. “You and Judith are safe here. I know I failed you last time but I promise that you won’t have to see those evils ever again.” I laid next to her, intertwining our fingers, they fit together perfectly, like we were made to hold each other. “You can’t promise that, Sheriff.” “I know but I can do everything in my power to make sure you and the kids are safe.”

She turned to face me, those big e/c eyes shining, “Rick, I-“ She was cut off by a shout of joy from outside. We rushed downstairs and were faced with the rest of the original group huddled around Judith, having just come back from a major run, hugging her as close as possible. “Who brought her back?” I hadn’t seen Carol that emotional since my daughter was born. “I did.” Their heads all snapped towards her, making me laugh at the image of their shocked faces.

Daryl ran at her, his huge arms easily encompassing her scrawny frame. She had lost a lot of weight since we had last seen her. “Yer alive.” He gasped through the tears as her fingers tangled in his greasy hair. “I would never leave ya. No matter what, I would always come back to ya.” He held her tighter and I had the distinct fear that he would break her ribs, he was holding her that tightly. They separated slightly and she wiped away some of the tears left on his face.

Glenn broke through first, pushing Daryl away so he could get a cuddle too. “Oh my god! We all thought you were dead! You do look it but you aren’t!” Maggie slapped the back of his head, grabbing the back of his collar so she could get in for a hug.

We sat in the living room, letting Judith crawl around on the ground, going to each person for a kiss and cuddle before moving onto the next. “How did you get out?” Y/N shifted, slightly uncomfortable as she tried to find the words to explain what happened. I wrapped an arm around her shoulders, urging her to continue.

“When the walls came down and the walkers started coming in, I couldn’t find anybody. There was just so much chaos. I saw a bunch of those dead fuckers go after Judith. I honestly don’t know what came over me but I ripped them apart. I couldn’t let them hurt her.” Said girl crawled up to Y/N and raised her arms. She picked her up and set her on her chest, almost immediately putting her to sleep. “I couldn’t see anyone and the bus had gone so I just ran. I don’t know for how long but eventually, there was quiet. We were on the road for a long time, I couldn’t properly hunt since I had this little lady but I scavenged, most of the food went to her. We found walkers a few times but I would always outrun them. Most times I kept Judith strapped to my chest. I don’t know what it was but if she could hear my heartbeat, she was quiet and would sleep. She usually slept on my wrist, ear pressed right up against my pulse.”

Judith whined and shifted in her sleep, making Y/N lean back slightly and she settled again. The sight made my heart melt. “We kept going. I didn’t know if anyone else was alive so we avoided any settlements of people. But I was getting weaker, we had to find someplace safe and then, we stumbled here.”

The night was filled with laughter, the first time in a long time. A weight had been lifted from everybody’s heart, Daryl was actually smiling as he looked upon his baby sister. He made eye contact with me over her head and gave me a nod. He was the first to leave, giving Y/N a small kiss on her head before strolling into the night. The others took the hint and filed out one by one. Carol was the last out, giving us a knowing look. “It’s good to have you back, sugar. Maybe now you should tell him.” I felt the heat climb up her neck and to her cheeks. “Goodnight Carol.” She said rather forcefully, making the older woman laugh. Carl tiptoed over and took Judith from Y/N, kissing her cheek and whispering, “Goodnight mom and dad.”

I waited until the kids were out of the room before turning towards Y/N. “Tell me what?” She avoided my eyes so I gripped her jaw and pointed it towards me. Her pupils dilated, leaving only a sliver of that beautiful e/c around the black of her pupils. “That I’ve been in love with you since we met.” That was all it took for me to kiss her.

Her lips were just as soft as I imagined, even as chapped as they were. She sighed into my mouth, using her free hand to pull me closer to her body. I slipped my tongue into her mouth, making her moan. “I need you.” I whispered. “Upstairs.” She yelped as I picked her up, practically running up the flight of stairs. I threw her on the bed, making her laugh as she bounced on the mattress.

She pulled off her my shirt, exposing her body. “Fuck you’re so gorgeous,” I groaned, laying on top of her after I had pulled off my own top. Her hips ground into mine, trying desperately to get some friction. “I love you.” She smiled. “I love you too, Sheriff.”

Y/N scratched down my back as I thrust into her. Her broken moans drove me to push into her harder. I bit down on her throat as she gripped my ass, keeping me as deep as possible inside of her. The bed squeaked, I was desperately trying to get her to cum before me. I was so close, the feeling of her around me, of her skin on mine was too much. I was too close to the edge.

I slipped a hand between us, two fingers rubbing softly at the place we were joined. Her moans grew louder and she clamped down on me. “Rick!” I watched as her eyes fluttered and rolled back in her head, her back arching up from the bed, pulling me in deeper. “Fuck darlin’.” I shuddered as I pulled out and spilled across her stomach.

Her breaths came out in pants, her limbs still trembling as she came down. I stumbled to the connected bathroom after pulling on a pair of boxers and grabbed a cloth, soaking it in warm water. Y/N was spread eagle on the bed, her pussy was swollen from our activities. I gently cleaned her up, chuckling as she whined when I passed the cloth through her folds. Once I was done, I threw it to the corner of the room, deciding to deal with it later.

I crawled into her arms, resting my head on her chest as our legs intertwined. “You’re my everything.” She whispered into the darkness. “You’re my life.” I told her, giving her another kiss, holding her as close as possible.

The Dixons were an odd bunch. I never knew who Merle really was until after he died. Daryl hid his fear and sadness behind a huge wall that his sister passed through with ease, bringing out the kind and caring man who I proudly called my brother. And Y/N was our light, our guiding star, the mother of my children, the second love of my life. My everything.

Taglist

@im-a-slut-for-fluff

#rick grimes x reader #rick grimes x you #rick grimes x y/n #rick x reader #rick x you #rick x y/n #twd imagine #angst #smut #twd x reader #twd x you #reader insert #female reader #the walking dead #twd

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untaemedqueen · 3 years

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Third Wheeling

CEO!Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Chapter 32 (Final Chapter).

Warnings (Updating Still): Smut, Cheating, Unexpected Pregnancy, Unfaithful, Emotional Damage, Love

Warnings For This Chapter: Daddy Kink, Degradation, Hand Job, Lactation Kink, Milk Drinking, Cunnilingus, Fingering, Pregnant Sex, Unprotected Sex, Riding, Begging, Praise, Spanking

A/N: This is the FINAL, FINAL chapter.... Wah, can you believe it? This is so crazy! I'm so so happy that everyone has enjoyed Third Wheeling so much! Thank you to my forevers @xjoonchildx, @ladyartemesia and @ppersonna for being behind me on everything about this series

The sharp whistle that Yoongi chirps, bleeds through the living room of the mansion.

His two year old son turns to him with round, curious eyes. His small hand is outstretched trying to pick up the million dollar vase you have on display on the coffee table.

"What're you doing, my little troublemaker?" Yoongi murmurs, wrapping his arms around his son and throwing him up in the air.

Honggi squeals loudly, curling his arms around his father's neck like needy vines.

"Maya, please move that vase before Y/N has a fit." Yoongi whispers to the woman he's always admired.

"Yes, Sir." she giggles.

"Dada," Honggi squeals into his neck and Yoongi's heart clenches at the sound.

"Yes, bud?" he inquires, tilting his head to look down at his son.

"Hungry." his son breathes.

"Mommy's making food, let's go see." Yoongi chirps, running his large hand over his son's small back.

Taking in the new mansion, Yoongi is really happy with it.

He didn't bring over a special architect from Greece, he didn't fawn over the marble this time around. He let you pick the house.

And like always, you're incredible.

The house isn't particularly gaudy like the last one which he shared with his ex-wife. It's warm wooden interior and gray and white furnishings scream home. And that's what Yoongi always needed -- a home.

Although, anywhere with you is home, he's noticed.

The wings that spread out far and wide throughout the house have pieces of art that make Yoongi feel comforted and he's astounded everyday by how thoughtful you are.

"Mama!" Honggi screams and it rips your husband out of his daydream.

"Uh oh, here comes trouble." you sing, slinging your towel over your shoulder.

You extend your arms over the quartz island for your son and Yoongi is incredibly cautious.

"Be careful, please," he begs.

You give him a sweet nod, accepting your son into your arms and Honggi leans over the pot curiously.

"Cow?" he asks and you snort loudly.

"Yes, beef." you reply, wiping his chin with your thumb.

"B-Beef," he repeats and Yoongi beams.

Honggi isn't one to stay in anyone's arms for long, despite how much he adored being held as a newborn. He wriggles almost immediately to get down and Yoongi takes a sharp breath between his teeth cautiously.

"Watch mommy's belly, please." he yelps, setting your son on the floor.

"Jesus," he bleats, kissing your cheek.

"It's okay," you promise him, bending down to fix your son's black hair.

Honggi hugs your neck tightly, kissing your cheek so sweetly that it turns you into a puddle of love.

"What should we name your brother and sister?" Yoongi inquires of your son as he leans both elbows down on the island.

He pops a grape in his mouth, looking at his kid expectantly.

"Pororo... Poby!" Honggi giggles, swaying back and forth.

"Oh yeah, good idea! We can name them after penguins!" Yoongi teases, giving his son a grape.

"Poby is a polar bear." you inform him, stirring the stew.

"Yeah daddy! Bear!" Honggi scoffs, tugging on Yoongi's pants playfully.

"Oh, I'm sorry daddy doesn't know what anthropomorphic animals his son watches while he's at work." your husband murmurs.

"An-Anth-Anthr… Animals!" Honggi gasps and you laugh gently.

Yoongi takes a deep breath through his nose, allowing the comfort of being surrounded by his family to enrapture him.

He steps behind you, wrapping his arms around you and your growing stomach.

"I missed you today, little dove." he breathes, kissing your temple.

"You miss me everyday," you state, turning around in his grasp.

"That's true. Because I love you." he coos, pushing some hair back behind your ear.

"I love you too," you giggle, accepting the kiss he gives you.

Since Yoongi became a father he's learned so many things like patience and showing love to his child, the likes of which his younger self never got to see. He wants to give his family the entire world if he can, he wants to give all of you everything you could possibly desire because it was so terribly lacking when he was a kid.

"Dinner isn't going to be ready for a bit." you tell your family.

"But I'm hungry now!" Honggi cries, throwing his head back in a dramatic two year old fashion that both of his parent's laugh at.

"Okay. We'll have yogurt and go play with the Gaesu until Mommy is done cooking." Yoongi announces, picking up his son and slinging him over his shoulder.

"I love you mommy!" Honggi squeals.

"I love you too, bub." you reply, kissing his forehead.

"Give mommy's belly a kiss before we go." your husband instructs, patting his son's backside.

Honggi kisses your growing stomach and you can only snort at your husband's silliness.

"Okay. Now dada!" your son says, clapping.

The CEO kisses your stomach and then your forehead.

"You're gonna wrinkle your suit." you chide him, leaning back against the counter.

"So worth it." he retorts, giving you a gummy smile.

Two years have flown by in the blink of an eye.

There has, of course, been hard work that's been poured into your marriage whether it be for Honggi or just to be able to spend time together but the honeymoon phase has never truly died down.

You bask in each other's company like lizards under the hot sun.

You thrive when you're both together.

It's fate, really.

"He's asleep," Yoongi announces, stepping into your bedroom.

"Oh, nice. It only took two hours instead of three like yesterday." you know you sound sarcastic but it's really true. Honggi never seems to be able to sleep when he needs to, he's hyperactive in waves and thoroughly enjoys spending time with his father.

"Well tonight we read the big bad wolf and then he got scared so I had to calm him down and stay with him until he finally fell asleep." your husband rambles, peeling off his clothes.

You hum in agreement, sitting up gently.

Yoongi's tattoo of the large family tree on his bicep seems to shine in the dull lights of the room and it makes a smile spread over your face.

"How are my other babies?" he inquires, laying down beside you on the bed.

It's no secret that you adored your son and it's no secret that Yoongi wanted you pregnant almost immediately after Honggi was born. He missed your big belly and the closeness it brought the both of you when you were pregnant. But after Honggi was born, your paintings were flying off the art exhibit walls like hot cakes and you needed time to create new works of art.

While your husband had his tantrums and gripes about it, he understood. Being pregnant is difficult and he knows that, so when you told him he had to wait, he begrudgingly accepted it.

Your art was on hold now, with over two hundred pieces out in the world at any given second, you decided to focus on family.

"They're okay," you promise, running your fingers through your hair.

You can remember when you found out you were pregnant again for the second time. All of your symptoms hit so much harder than the first pregnancy.

"Baby? We gotta go. We're gonna be late." Yoongi calls, peeking into the bathroom.

He didn't expect to find you heaving over the toilet but when he does, two things happen simultaneously. There's a sharp bout of worry and a thinner vein of excitement that spread through his bones.

"What's the matter, my dove? You feel sick?" he pouts, entering the bathroom to rub at your back.

You shiver gently, waving your hand to the large gray cabinets beneath your sinks.

"I'm not a mime, I'm sorry." your husband whispers, raising an eyebrow.

"Pr-Pregnancy test," you plead.

He could just about pass out and die from happiness from those two words.

"Really?! You think so?!" he beams, ripping open the doors and tearing open the cardboard box like some sort of rabid animal.

His hands are shaky when he gives you the test and he helps you off of your knees immediately.

His thumbs rub at the tile indentations on your kneecaps and like always he stares up at you like you hang the moon on a string for him each and every night.

"I'm sorry we're late." you whisper, blotting your mouth with toilet paper.

"This is way more important. Fuck that. Jeongguk can wait." Yoongi avows, watching you cap the pregnancy test.

"We probably aren't even going to make it there anyway," your husband breathes.

"Why not?" you inquire, standing up and smoothing out the skirt of your dress.

The CEO wraps his arms around you, burying his face into your neck. "Because if you are pregnant, I'm gonna have to do some celebratory stuff."

You laugh aloud, running your fingers over his arms. "Stuff like what?"

"Like eating your pretty pregnant pussy and fucking your pregnant cunt." he murmurs against your skin.

You shiver at his words, glancing down at the test.

You hope you are pregnant. There's something insane in women's brains which makes them forget just how painful childbirth is so they can always look forward to more.

But the euphoric feeling of having a baby is well worth the pain, that's something you'll always remember.

"God, I think you are pregnant." he hisses, running his hands over your sides.

"Why do you say that?" you ask, tilting your head to look at him.

"You just feel different in my hands."

"I think you're crazy," you retort with a laugh.

"Why?!" he gasps.

"Because you didn't say anything yesterday when we… y'know."

"When we fucked?" he goads, kissing you softly.

You hum in agreement against his lips and he snorts softly.

"You did feel warmer around me." he announces, hooking his chin over your shoulder.

"It should be ready." you inform him, both of your eyes glued to the face down stick.

"Go on, show me that my baby is in you." he urges, kissing your temple.

Your heart races and your fingers begin to shake as you flip over the stick.

Yoongi holds his breath and you find yourself doing the same.

When you flip it over, the plus sign screams at you and Yoongi breathes a sigh of relief.

Your husband groans happily, picking you up off the ground and spinning you around.

"Thank you baby, thank you!" he cheers.

When he sets you down on the ground, you can't help the thrilled giggle that seeps from you.

"Should we head out?" you ask your husband softly.

The scoff he gives only seems right. "Yeah, right. I have more important things to celebrate than a boxing match."

You can only squeal when he scoops you up bridal style.

Putting his head on your shoulder, your husband takes a deep, calming breath.

His fingertips dance over your distended skin and his lips traipse over your exposed collarbone.

"You're so gorgeous," he breathes, letting his eyes flutter shut.

The smirk that spreads over your face is goofy and flushed, sometimes you find it astounding that he can even be so sweet with you.

There's a tiny kick beneath his fingertips that makes his head lift off of your body.

"What are you up to in there, guys? Fighting or something?" he gawks, feeling another flurry of taps below his hand.

"They don't have enough room," you announce, lolling your head back to the pillow.

"Well, just four more months and you won't have to be cramped anymore." Yoongi promises, sliding down the bed to kiss your belly.

"We should sleep, we have plans for tomorrow."

"Caleb's first birthday party." Yoongi remembers, drifting his lips over your skin.

You nod in agreement, tucking your hand beneath your head to get comfy.

Your husband knows just how difficult it is for a woman with a set of twins inside of her to fall asleep and he's nothing if not doting.

"Lemme put my babies to sleep," he murmurs, sliding his fingers over the soft skin of your inner thighs.

It's fascinating how the Kisung CEO can make you feel as if black coffee pumps through your veins even when you're completely exhausted.

He watches you avidly, making sure this is something you're up for. When your nipples begin to pebble and strain under the flimsy nightgown that can barely contain your swollen flesh, Yoongi knows he's got the green light.

His eyelids lower with lustful intentions and the tip of his tongue glides slowly over his plump bottom lip.

He knows you're excited for anything and everything when your hips lift expectantly.

Clicking his teeth, he pushes your body back down to the bed. "Easy now, little dove. You should know who's in charge here, baby."

Your whimper sounds like the most earnest plea as it passes through your parted lips and Yoongi can feel his cock straining against his briefs for some semblance of relief.

He kisses at your clothed pussy, already feeling how sodden the material is getting in a matter of seconds.

It continues to astound him, two years in, how willing your body is for him.

"Daddy," you breathe softly, carding your fingers through his hair.

His hands caress whatever he can find whether it be your thighs, your belly, your breasts.

"Wet little slut for me." he murmurs, tugging your panties off with his teeth.

You're quick to discard your nightgown, wanting nothing more to be touched anywhere you can get it.

Your husband hums at the sight of your core, pussy lips puffy and swollen with greedy intentions and slick with arousal.

"There she is," he breathes, kissing over your belly.

Palming your breasts in hand, you understand why he's taking so long -- to drive you insane.

He wants euphoria and adrenaline to course through you like wildfire so when it ebbs away, you'll be completely exhausted.

"My beautiful dove." Yoongi professes, spreading your legs wider.

Your eyes are glued to his abs, the way the muscles contort and constrict with each shallow breath he breathes.

You can thank each and every god everyday for the man you're married to.

You know the hierarchy in this bedroom, it rarely ends up with you on top, but the temptation of his thick, hard cock straining against his Balenciaga briefs has you throwing all cares to the wind.

He hisses gently against your distended skin when you cup his long length with your hand.

Yoongi will be the first to admit that he's missed this. He's been sweet and caring, not wanting to trouble you for sex with you being as huge as you are. He knows two babies are way more difficult than just Honggi. But, he needs you. In every single way.

"Play nice, my dove." he chides you softly, kissing up your belly to your swollen breasts.

You don't heed his words, tugging down the band of his briefs and swallowing thickly when his large cock bobs in the air before smacking up to his toned honey stomach.

His eyes flutter shut at the feeling and you know you've neglected him for too long. His cock is throbbing and needy as sin, beads of precum endlessly spurting from the top and slowly traipsing down the head.

"Baby girl," he gasps when you pump his cock in hand.

Yoongi kisses over your puffy nipples, scoffing at the pleasure that vibrates through him with each jerk.

He coos softly when you bead milk for him and his eyes snap to yours. "You didn't tell me your milk came in."

"I-I didn't know," you chirp, pumping his cock harder.

He shivers then, wrapping his lips around your peaked nub and tugging softly. He groans happily at the distantly familiar taste of your milk and his needy hands grip and massage your thighs as he situates himself further between them.

"Daddy, fuck!" you cry out gently, arching your back.

The tip of your husband's tongue is quick against your sensitive skin and you can only whimper for more.

Your shaking thumb runs circles over the swollen, red mushroom head of his cock and he gasps above you, pressing his forehead into your breast.

"Ba-Baby, this is about you. Please," he begs, wrapping his hand around your wrist.

You give a smirk, feeling high and mighty at how quickly you can break him down to a mere lustful animal.

Your free hand rubs circles to your stomach and he can just about cum at the sight of you.

His cock throbs wildly and he forces your hand off of him with narrowed eyes. "Behave, little dove. I won't say it again."

You hide your smirk, laying back down for him.

He eyes you wearily for a second before continuing his dissent on your body. His fingers caress over your sodden lower lips and his name tumbles from your mouth with a quickness.

"You're messy." he prods, spreading your lips with his fingers and tapping your throbbing bundle of nerves with the pads of his fingers.

Your body jolts, bottom lip tucking between your teeth.

God, you've missed this.

You've missed him doting on you so eagerly.

Yoongi continues to take his time, enjoying how your entrance clenches around nothing.

You're a needy little thing and you're all his. The way it should be.

"Daddy, please!" you beg, rubbing circles over your distended skin.

"What's wrong, beautiful? You're too much of a slut to enjoy this? You want gratification now?" he quips, lowering his head to your core.

You can't even see him over your belly and it drives you absolutely mad. You can feel the puffs of hot, needy breath that pass his lips but it does nothing but earn more dripping arousal from your center.

"Such a pretty pussy you have," he purrs, suckling your swollen lips.

You gasp loudly, screwing your eyes shut.

He plays with your entrance, swirling the tip of his index finger around it until your racking with sobs above him.

Yoongi presses the tip of his tongue to your throbbing clit and he groans gently at the feeling.

"Shhh, my dove. Daddy is going to take care of you, I promise." he avows, lapping at your nub with slow strokes.

It's so pleasurable, but it's not enough. You're on the precipice and he keeps you there for what feels like eternity.

"God! Daddy, please!" you beg, bunching your hands up in his hair and tugging.

He hums in fake confusion, adoring how your body shakes before him.

He's good at the long game.

He thrives in it.

When he slips two fingers inside of your slick cunt, you're about ready to burst but he pulls away from your core with a devilish smirk.

"My pregnant wife is so needy," he jeers, curling his fingers with ease to the soft patch of nerves within you.

Your chest constricts, heaving for breath. Your skin develops a thin sheen of sweat and you feel yourself possibly going insane within his grasp.

Picking his face up between the apex of your thighs, the sight of his soaked chin and cheeks hurdles you to the precipice.

"Wanna cum, need to cum!" you chant, cupping your belly while you grind yourself down onto his fingers.

"You hold it," he orders sweetly.

You can only scoff and the animalistic pride within you snaps.

You sit up, as quickly as you can, before pushing him down on the bed.

"Baby," he warns you, pulling his fingers from your heat and entering them into his mouth.

"I need it!" you whine, straddling him.

His hands immediately hold your hips to protect you from any imminent danger you might face. He goes to chide you but when your soaked cunt glides against his hard, thick length, he can only take a sharp breath between his teeth.

"I missed your cock Daddy, I missed it so much," you whine, rocking your hips.

"Oh Christ," he murmurs, gliding his hands from your hips to the globes of your ass.

With every rock of your hips, your clit thrums pleasantly at the feeling of the head of his cock prodding against the bundle of nerves.

Your shaky hands grip at your breasts, swiping your thumbs against your leaking nipples until your sobbing with pleasure.

"You're so gorgeous, fuck," Yoongi curses, enraptured with the sight above him.

Your eyebrows furrow and you're losing yourself in the pleasure as your mouth drops open.

His hands knead at the supple flesh of your backside before rearing back and spanking you with a fierceness that you adore.

"Yes, more!" you gasp, sitting up and positioning his cock at your entrance.

"You're a little cock slut, you know that?" he seethes, leaning up on his elbows to kiss at your belly.

"Your cock slut, Daddy. I'm yours," you whimper, slowly sitting down on his length.

His mouth opens at the euphoric feeling of your warm, wet cunt sliding down on him and he can only fall back to the bed with a heady thump.

"Shit," he breathes out, looking up at you like you give him the universe.

You do.

You give him everything and anything that exceeds his expectations.

You take a second to adjust to his length, preening as the head of his cock prods against your soft cervix.

"Good girl, little dove." he bleats, running his fingertips over your outer thighs.

Yoongi can see the way you swallow thickly and he can tell how fucked out you already are with your eyelids being as heavy as they are and pride blooms in his chest.

"Want you to suckle," you beg, palming your breasts.

He can only scoff at the arousing thought, he's up in a flash, minding your stomach. His lips pluck and suckle at your sensitive skin until you're shaking like a leaf under his ministrations.

"Your cock feels so big in my pussy, feels so good," you purr, rocking your hips.

He moans against your breast, gripping your hips with needy hands.

The rhythm you set as he suckles from you is slow but the impending orgasm you've been denied comes back in waves. The head of his cock taps against the sweet spot inside of you with each jolt of your hips and you're losing your grasp on reality.

"D-Daddy!" you gasp, letting your brain free of any thoughts besides just how pleasurable he feels inside of you.

"That's it, baby girl. Take it. Take what you need from me." he announces, laying back down.

Your hands push down on his chest as you begin to pick up speed and he can only cry out your name like a man possessed.

"Jesus, just like that, little dove. Fuck!" he curses, spanking the globes of your ass until your skin is smarting.

Then you feel the precipice again, you feel yourself teetering.

Your mouth opens to give a silent scream and your eyes well up with tears.

He coos softly, running his fingers through his hair as if the pleasure he's receiving is truly unbelievable.

You groan loudly, pressing your hands beneath your stomach. "I'm-I'm-"

"Cum for me, little dove. I can feel how badly your cunt wants to milk my cock. Cum." he orders and your gasp echoes throughout the room.

Your hands rub comforting circles to your stomach while your hips rock at an unfound speed.

"Yoongi!" you cry, squeezing your eyes shut.

Then -- euphoria.

Your orgasm explodes within you like a million shards of glass. With deafened ears and tear streaked cheeks, you don't even feel your husband lay you down on your back.

He fucks his cock so deeply inside of you that it brings you back to reality in waves.

"God, you look so beautiful taking what's yours, baby." he coos, sitting up.

You can only cry out gently when his strokes become erratic and deeper.

"You want me to cum inside you? You want to drip with me?" he inquires, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth.

You nod incessantly, spreading your legs wider when you feel his cock throb within you.

"Yeah? You want to be my little cum slut? Get so full of my cum when you're already pregnant with my babies?" he seethes through his teeth.

"Y-Yes, want to feel your cum so badly," you hiccup, running your hands over his chest.

His eyes screw shut when your hips meet his every stroke.

"Oh fuck, I'm cumming. God, your cunt is incredible!" he whines.

His hips give one last thrust, burying himself as deeply as possible before the warmth of his cum floods through your battered core.

You hum happily, rubbing your belly.

"I love you," he whispers, bending down and planting a passionate kiss to your lips.

"I love you, too." you reply, hooking your hand around the back of his neck.

After cleaning you up and situating yourselves back to normal, Yoongi pulls your body to cuddle against his. His fingers drift over your bare back and he sighs happily.

You're out like a light in mere seconds when you finally get comfy and he can only chuckle at your shallow breaths.

His hand comes to rest beneath his head and he can't begin to express how lucky he feels.

His attention falters to your stomach when he feels a gentle prodding against his hip. He smirks, kissing the top of your forehead and closing his eyes.

"Mama!" Honggi screams and you know better now than to rush to him whenever he shouts for you.

"Yes, baby?" you call to him, fixing your earrings.

"Want to play with Yumi!" he calls, peeking into your bedroom.

"We're going to see Yumi now." you reply, turning to him.

Your eyebrow raises as you look at your husband's spitting image. "Where are your shoes?" you ask your two year old.

"Dada said I don't have to wear them!" he beams, rolling on the floor with your corgi.

"Oh yes you do, you're not going over to Aunt Leena's house with no shoes on." you reply.

When your husband steps into the doorway, he knows he's made a mistake. Just the look you give him makes him want to run and hide.

"What?" he bleats.

Min Yoongi is obsessed with giving his son whatever he wants. He's obsessed with spoiling him and sometimes you have to look like the bad guy.

"He needs to put on shoes." you tell your husband.

Both of your boys frown at you and it's almost so ridiculous that you can barely contain the eye roll.

"Why?" Honggi chirps.

When you place your hand on your stomach, Yoongi nods. "Mommy's right, you need to wear shoes."

He's quick to avoid chastisement today.

"But why, dada?" your son inquires.

You love the 'why' phase… when it's directed at your husband.

"Because your little feet are gonna be cold and because mommy said so. And what did I tell you about when mommy says something?" your husband whispers conspiratorially to your son.

"That you do it! Mama has two babies a-and mad isn't good for babies!" Honggi says, sticking up two small fingers.

You can only snort, shutting the bathroom light off and leaning against the door frame.

"That's right, bud. So let's get you some shoes."

When your husband goes to leave the room, he widens his eyes apologetically at you and you can't help but giggle.

"Silly," you mumble, grabbing your purse.

Caleb's first birthday is a huge deal.

You know how much work his mother put into it and you know that it needs to be over the top and perfect for her to be thriving and happy with the day's events.

"Miss Thing!" Leena gasps, throwing herself out of the door to hug you.

"Hi Beena," you giggle, wrapping your arms around her.

Taehyung is right behind her with a smile plastered on his face.

"Happy birthday Caleb!" you gasp, taking him from Taehyung's arms.

Yoongi kisses your best friend on the cheek before looking over at her one year old son.

"Hey buddy! Happy birthday!" your husband cheers, watching as Caleb tucks his face into your neck.

It's always astounding to see how much of a one eighty Leena has done when it comes to Taehyung and her family.

You remember how adamant she was on not getting pregnant and not getting married but then when you gave birth to Honggi -- she wanted that.

And you completely understood it.

Now that your best friend is married and having a family, you can see how content and happy she is. It's something you're really proud of.

"Everyone is in the backyard." Leena announces, fixing Caleb's small suit.

"Yumi?!" Honggi screeches, looking past Taehyung.

"Yeah, Yumi too." Leena's husband quips with a laugh.

Yoongi snorts, following after his son.

"Miss Thing, I have to tell you, I would have never in a million years thought we'd see him today." your best friend blurts, guiding you into her mansion.

"Who?" you inquire, handing Caleb back to his father.

Leena's hands clamp down on your shoulders and her eyes widen. "Jin."

"Shut the fuck up," you gasp, pulling her towards the backyard.

There are a multitude of people in the backyard but your eyes find his tall, handsome stature easily.

He's standing by the fountain with his wife by his side and he looks in his element.

It's been months since you've seen your other best friend.

You aren't really sure why he dropped off the face of the Earth. You know he's probably been busy, you all have been.

But you know Leena has taken it the hardest. Jin has always meant something deeply to her so when he didn't return phone calls or texts… you know it burned her.

It's almost as if he feels your eyes on him the way he turns to look at you.

He gives you a warm smile, immediately leaving his wife to make his way across the large backyard.

Yoongi notices how your eyes get glassy when he looks away from Honggi and Jimin's daughter, Yumi. "Jimin, watch him." he orders, leaving to comfort you.

Now, Yoongi doesn't hate Jin, by any means. He respects him and in all honesty, appreciates him for helping him in his dire time of need.

But the CEO will be damned if he doesn't coddle you, his pregnant wife, to his side when you're emotionally distraught.

Seokjin is wary when he sees your husband loop his hand around your hip protectively.

"Shhh," Yoongi coos, hearing your gentle sniffles.

Leena on the other hand, just folds her arms, widening her eyes expectantly at your best friend.

"Hey guys," he bleats, running his hand over the back of his neck.

"That's it? All we get is a 'hey guys' from you?" Leena scoffs.

Jin blushes furiously, cupping his whisky tighter in his hand. "What do you want me to say, Beena?"

"How about a sorry, Kim Seokjin? That'll be the start. Then you can veer off into how apologetic you are for pushing us into the background for her." Leena sneers, nodding her head to Sera.

You take in how nervous Jin is and you absolutely hate it. You hate how small he's making himself look.

"I am sorry." he agrees, grabbing for your hands.

"Maybe you guys should take this inside," Taehyung whispers, looking over the party guests who have stopped their conversations to look over at all of you.

Leena doesn't even give an answer, only trudging back into her mansion with narrowed eyes.

Taehyung clears his throat awkwardly, walking with his son towards Jimin and Anna.

"Do you want me to stay?" Yoongi inquires, brushing some hair back behind your ear.

You nod immediately, wanting the comfort of your husband with you.

"Alright, my love." he promises, kissing your temple.

Seokjin chases after Leena and you can only sigh at the impending yelling you're about to hear.

"Miss Thing, please sit." Leena gushes, pointing to the couch inside the library.

You take a seat, watching Jin wade back in forth nervously like he's waiting for a scolding.

"Did you know that Y/N is pregnant again? That she's having twins?" Leena spits.

"Yes, I did. I'm very happy for her and her husband." Seokjin replies, helping you sit down.

Yoongi pours himself a small glass of scotch, draping his arm over your shoulders.

"Do you fucking understand how sorely you've been missed?" Leena inquires to the handsome man as she sits down across from you.

Seokjin clears his throat awkwardly. "Yeah, I-I do."

"Then where have you been?" you prod, folding your arms.

Your best friend leans back against the large wooden desk. "Listen guys, I've missed you guys so deeply. I need you to know this, okay? I'm sorry that I've been absent from your kids and your lives. I've been dying to spend time with you all."

"Okay. Then where have you been?!" Leena yelps, repeating your question.

Jin takes a deep breath, letting his eyes flutter shut. "I've been trying to start my own family. It's not easy! I've been taking Sera all over the world to different doctors and hospitals to try and see why she can't get pregnant! I've been depressed and down on myself until recently. I'm fucking sorry I abandoned you guys but I needed time to heal my heart."

The news resounds in your ears and you cuddle closer to your husband who rubs your shoulder with his thumb soothingly.

The smugness is wiped off of Leena's face within a second.

"Why didn't you tell us?" she whispers softly.

Jin's fingers card through his hair and with a frustrated huff, he lolls his head back.

"Because it's…it's heartbreaking and not what I want to bring to the table when you guys have families and lives already. I don't want to burden you guys with my troubles." he mumbles, spinning his wedding band with his thumb.

You take a sharp breath between your teeth, standing with the help of your husband who urges you to be careful.

"Jin," you whisper, hugging him tightly.

He stiffens at your touch before wrapping his arms around you. He sobs gently, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

"I did miss you guys, so much. I'm sorry," he cries loudly.

"You don't have to hide your feelings from us. You should feel comfortable to tell us anything and everything. I'm sorry if you didn't trust us enough with your worries." you murmur into his ear.

"No! I just… I was scared, I didn't want to trouble you both." he breathes, pulling away and cupping your face.

"Jinnie," Leena pouts, standing up and hugging the both of you.

"You're never a bother to us, don't ever think that." you coo, fixing his hair.

He takes a deep, calming breath, running his hands over your belly. "One of your kids is kicking me in the ribs." he mumbles.

You can only giggle, patting your eyes with a tissue.

"That's the least you deserve for not trusting us with your fears," Leena scolds him gently.

He nods, exhaling sharply until his cheeks are puffing out.

"So is she?" your best friend asks him.

"What?" he mumbles.

"Is she pregnant?" Leena inquires.

He takes a sharp breath between his teeth, tilting his head. "Something like that."

Your eyes drift slowly over the perfectly manicured lawn watching Honggi offer to share a toy truck with Yumi. His smile is the spitting image of Yoongi’s and it makes you sigh happily. You lean against the arm of the lawn chair, resting your hand against your cheek.

You can barely believe how happy you’ve become over the past two years.

Everything just falls into the right place, everything just fits like a perfect complete puzzle.

Honggi turns to you, flailing his hand wildly and you can only giggle. Waving back, your heart expands to the size of the universe.

Yoongi laughs at something loudly, drawing your attention. You watch him sling his arm over Taehyung’s shoulder and you can only snort at the sight.

You can remember when you never heard his laugh, you didn’t know what it sounded like for quite a while and then… once he began to laugh, it never seemed to end.

That’s something you revel in, your husband’s happiness is yours well.

It gives you great pride to see him beaming from ear to ear. And you don’t think it often but -- you got him here. You got him to this state of happiness.

It’s your best artwork, yet.

“Hey Y/N.”

You look away from your husband to the one person you’d never thought you’d speak to.

“Sera… hey,” you breathe, looking up at her flawless form.

“H-How are you?” she inquires, sipping her water nervously.

You haven’t seen here in two years. She looks good, that isn’t hard for her. Something about her seems calmer and more poised then when you knew her.

“Can I sit?” she asks gently, running her hand over the back of her neck.

“Please,” you insist, sitting up straighter.

You can feel eyes on you and you can only imagine who it is but you don’t dare look away from the actress before you.

While you weren’t her biggest fan, she’s made Jin happy over the past two years and you can’t fault her for that. He hasn’t loved anyone since Leena and you can see that his heart has bloomed since being with this woman.

“No drink?” you quip, pointing at her water.

“I thought, y’know, since my surrogate can’t drink then I shouldn’t either.” she shrugs.

You don’t know what to say if you’re being honest. It must be a sore subject…

“Yeah-” you breathe awkwardly.

“I’m not upset about it, we can talk about it.” she announces, putting her hand to your shoulder.

Sera in all the time you’ve known her has never touched you and you’re surprised at how normal it is, honestly.

“I’m sorry that you… y’know… you’ve had a difficult time.” you say honestly.

You can’t imagine how hard Sera and Jin have been trying, how many hospitals and specialists they’ve gone to, how much heartbreak they’ve gone through.

“At least I’m getting a baby at all, right? I always used to be so angry about the whole situation… Maybe that’s why I was so mean to you.” she admits, carding her fingers through her long, now blonde hair.

You hum thoughtfully, looking up at the dusky sky. “I mean it mustn't have been easy for you either. I came into Yoongi’s life and flipped it upside down. You were comfortable with the situation and I just spun things around like a top.”

“Well… yeah, true. But if you didn’t come into Yoongi’s life then I wouldn’t have been able to become a better person and find the person that’s right for me.” she avows, looking over at you.

Her words resound through you and your eyes widen just the slightest bit. She’s really different these days, huh?

“Well, I came over to say I’m sorry for treating you terribly the whole first time you were pregnant, it was in bad taste and I was so selfish back then that I couldn’t begin to understand how horrible that could be for you.”

“I accept your apology.” you reply, giving her a small smile.

She breathes a sigh of relief, letting her body go lax in the chair beside you. “Oh good, I was so nervous to talk to you. I thought I was gonna have a heart attack or something.” she gasps.

You find yourself giggling and she snorts softly.

“You’re kid is cute,” she comments, watching him run over to you.

“Thanks,” you whisper, widening your eyes at Honggi curiously as he stops in front of you.

“Mama!” he cheers, holding up his paint covered fingers.

“Yes, baby?” you murmur, pushing his hair back.

“I’m painter like you! Look!” he squeals, tugging your hand.

You look over at Sera apologetically, standing up to follow your son.

“It was nice to see you Sera, I’m sure I’ll see you again soon.” you call back to her.

She smiles warmly, giving you a gentle wave goodbye.

Jin could have done worse.

Lowering your head, you look at the picture that your son has painted. The fingerpaint is thick and blobbish but you can see a few distinct shapes that stick out to you.

You don’t say anything at first, letting him finish a few small details that he thinks are important. He gives you his gummy smile, seemingly proud of himself and it makes you smile too.

“It’s very nice, baby. I can see how much work you put into it.” you coo.

“It’s mama and dad, Honggi and baby!” he beams, picking up the picture which is almost too heavy for him with all the paint on it.

Your husband sweeps in beside you, planting a wet kiss to your cheek and taking the painting out of your hands.

“Mommy is having two babies, not just one.” Yoongi reminds him, pointing at your stomach.

Honggi nods fervently, opening and closing his small hands demanding the picture back from his father.

Your husband snorts gently, lowering the picture for his son. You can barely contain the ridiculous giggle that tries to escape you as he draws a black circle next the one already painted.

"Two!” he cheers, sticking up two of his paint covered fingers.

“Good job, bud.” Yoongi chuckles, kissing the top of his head.

“I saw that interaction. You okay?” your husband inquires softly into your ear.

You hum in agreement, wrapping your arm around his waist and laying your head down on his shoulder. “Better than okay,” you murmur, feeling his lips caress over the top of your head.

“Do you think he’s okay?” Yoongi inquires, pulling over the car.

You can’t help but laugh at his worried expression. “He’s fine,” you promise, putting your hand on his knee, “we can go out on a date without him around us all the time. Maya’s got it. Honggi loves her.”

He shuts off the engine, turning to you with a pout spread over his face. “I just miss him, I didn’t get to read him a bedtime story.”

Your heart is warm and you can’t help the giggle you give. “It’s our anniversary, besides it’s just for a few hours.”

He picks up your hand, placing a soft kiss to the back of it. “You’re right, I’m sorry. Happy anniversary, little dove.”

“Happy anniversary, babe.” you reply, with a smile.

The inside of Magic Shop is pristine like always, you’re so surprised that Jin has kept it exactly the same as two years ago. He always loved to change things up but you realize that he probably got so busy since you’ve last been here, he probably hasn’t had time for anything.

The music is quieter than normal and there isn’t a soul in the club. Which makes you understand immediately that Yoongi rented the whole place out.

“You shouldn’t have,” you hiss, giving Hyun a small wave.

“Of course I should have, you deserve the world, baby. Plus, loud music isn’t good for the babies,” he whispers, kissing your cheek.

Your eyes immediately land on the black velvet curtain and the memories of first meeting Yoongi flood through you like water.

“Thanks,” your husband murmurs, grabbing a whisky from Hyun.

When you pull back the curtain, you can only smile at the same leather booth from that fated day.

“Jesus, it even smells the same in here.” Yoongi breathes, running his fingers over the top of the couch.

This room holds so many memories for you but nothing beats the one with your husband.

“God, it’s like it was yesterday. I can still remember that black dress you were wearing,” your husband chirps, sitting down in the same spot he did two years ago.

He pats his lap, setting down his whisky onto the floor and you’re absolutely gobsmacked by how much this feels like dejavu.

“I’m a little big,” you murmur, sitting down slowly.

“Never, you’re gorgeous, little dove.” Yoongi coos, wrapping his arms around you.

His warm hands caress your practically bare thighs and when he looks at you, you can see the sheer love and devotion in his eyes.

“My little dove,” he breathes, drifting his thumb over the apple of your cheek.

You can remember just how smoking hot you thought this man was, how intrigued you were by him in an instant. You remember every single second of your time in this back room. You remember every minute of your days when you found out you were pregnant and how absolutely scared you were.

You can remember his good times and his bad when he was working out his feelings about you.

Nothing has left your mind and you treasure each and every memory -- because they make up who you are. They make up your life.

And it’s perfect. Because you have him.

“You were a good girl that I wanted to break so badly,” your husband announces, breaking you out of your thoughts.

“Well… you did that,” you quip, humming when he presses his face to the crook of your neck.

“Thank you, little dove, really. Thank you so much for loving me and giving me such a wonderful family,” Yoongi gasps.

“Thank you for opening up to me and showing me that our love could blossom into something as perfect as this.” you reply, running your fingertips over his arms.

When he lifts his head, you can see how glassy his eyes are with tears.

“God, I love you, little dove.” he whimpers.

“I love you too.” you reply, kissing him softly.

His lips are plush and soft against yours and you can feel the tears that careen down his cheeks until they’re soaking into your skin. He’s so gentle with you, drifting his hands from your back to your distended stomach.

“My wife,” he chuckles, capturing your chin between his thumb and index finger, “my beautiful, gorgeous, powerful wife who has given me enough love to last eons. I love you so much, little dove, it hurts me.”

There are one hundred and fifty eight ways to say ‘I love you.’ And, they all pertain to Min Yoongi.

He’s a gentle soul and a loving husband that holds high standing with billions of people worldwide. He is sweet, wonderful and a perfect man at the end of the day. And now, everyone sees this side to him.

In the media he is praised and renowned for being a fantastic father and an equally fantastic husband. And to you, nothing could ever be more true,

It was March 23rd, when you saw him and met him. You tasted the finest of liquors and smelt the smoke of the richest Cuban cigars.

It was March 23rd when your life had truly begun.

Third Wheeling Taglist - @wickizer, @imluckybitches, @slothykrueger, @claireelise19, @ggukkieland, @rspbrryy, @iv-bts, @bambuzlee, @chanelbts, @mxxngxdss, @bluewhale52, @milesjeon11, @diamonddia-mond, @vinylphwoar, @xnxy97, @hubbytaehyung, @140503at-dawn, @bts-7beauts, @jadeblackwoll, @sunshiine-hobii, @creatorspalace, @eclectically-esoteric, @nikkiordonez12, @kaitswrld, @skamlover200, @sevgilove98, @kooeuphoria, @jikooksgirl19, @hobbledehoy26, @singular-itae, @dchimminie, @lowlifeoeuvre, @sugaslittlekookies, @bloopbloopb, @pjmcth, @softysuho, @codeinbelle, @jaiuneamesolitaiire, @betysotelo18, @jeonmisha, @iwanttohitmyself, @ayyyocee, @neverthefirstchoice, @itsbangtanoclock, @little7bitchh, @veryuniquenamegoeshere, @deathkat657, @firstlovesuga-93, @namjoonia, @paperpurple, @muzikabijou, @liebeoppa, @veronawrites, @kleff03, @ruinsofangels, @brightwingr5, @leekanchol, @rkivemagic, @ithinkileftmycoatoutside, @melaninkpops, @y00ngisbabygirl, @ungodlyjoon, @prochnost513, @dunixxd, @athenakyle, @igotnotype, @chxmachxps, @tinymintyoongi, @vangameren-blog, @alpaca1612, @ohcarolinamin, @thegreatestsushi, @eltrain80, @btsmylife21, @deeepvibes, @httpminyg, @deliciouslydisturbed365, @rkchmestizangmaldita, @jimin-chu, @pimpnameyannie, @preciouschimine, @daughterofthequeen, @monetsberet, @vanillamyg, @aamxxrii, @kooafraid, @ladykadyrova, @singjisu, @yazanii, @moonlitmyg, @justzeera, @absolutefantrash, @whocaresarchives, @loosewindmill, @vantesfx, @bt21chim, @flowerboyhobi, @kozuume-kenma, @taepiper

Sorry for those it didn’t tag!

#third wheeling #final chapter #btswritingcafe #thebtswritersclub #yoongi x you #yoongi x reader #ceo!yoongi #ceo!au #ceo!bts #min yoongi #yoongi smut #pregnant smut #bts fic

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prsfphone · 3 years

Text

the webs we weave ii | d.m. x reader

word count: 2839

warnings: angst, fluff, smut, nsfw, penetrative sex, mentions of blood, violence (not sexual violence)

a/n: did i sneak a shatter me quote in here? yes and i’m not ashamed.

“if you’re going to try, go all the way. otherwise, don’t even start.”

the wind nipped at your cheeks this high up in the quidditch stands and you tugged your red and gold scarf higher, but it made very little difference. to your right, luna looked unperturbed in her giant lion’s hat—or was it a helmet? you weren’t entirely sure. on your left, neville looked just as cold as you, rubbing his hands together rapidly to create heat. in front of you, hermione was gnawing her lower lip like it was her job in between blowing into her cupped hands. you knew where her eyes were—on the tall, freckled keeper settled on his broom in front of the goalposts and intent on where his other teammates faced off the slytherin team while they waited for the whistle to blow.

you knew that’s where your eyes ought to be, too—bouncing anxiously between ron and harry, who floated higher than the rest of them, and ginny, an eager, vicious smile slashed across her pale face. but your eyes were rather intent on someone opposite harry, dressed in slytherin silver and green and you could only hope no one was watching you close enough to notice.

somewhere on the ground, the whistle blew, and the two teams flew into action. draco managed to dodge a swing by jimmy peakes only to get clocked by ritchie coote when he thought he was in the clear. you sucked in a sharp breath and neville said to you, eyes never leaving the pitch, “good game today.”

you couldn’t even bring yourself to nod—draco was zooming around cormac mclaggen, who was in for katie bell, and you could see where he was headed; harry had just realized as well, and was pushing his broom to the limits of speed, scarlet cloak snapping in the cold wind. a little gold, winged ball was lingering near the frosted grass of the pitch and just as draco passed mclaggen, when you expected him to dip the nose of his broom to the ground and push just as hard—harder—than harry, he shot back up, and with movements so quick you had trouble following them, and knocked mclaggen clean off his broom.

you gasped, but it went unnoticed—everyone in gryffindor had made similar sounds of dismay, while the slytherins opposite you cheered viciously. even nott, who was typically to be found slouched with some girl or other perched on his lap and not paying attention at all to the proceedings, was on his feet, cheeks red and hollering, cheering for draco with more enthusiasm than you had ever witnessed from him.

mclaggen landed half on his back, half on his side and draco was already landing on the pitch, tossing his broom aside and dragging mclaggen up by the scruff of his jersey. you couldn’t be sure, but you thought you could see draco’s lips moving and then—then, right before your incredulous eyes, he cocked back his arm and swung.

the game overhead had paused and you couldn’t hear the bone crack, but you were half-sure it had as blood spurted from mclaggen’s nose, flooding down his mouth and bloodying his teeth as he smiled.

“oh,” luna said dreamily, “look at that.” a side glance at you and neville. “you know, nargles often cause violent outbursts.”

“what are they doing?” hermione exclaimed.

“not like mclaggen doesn’t deserve a good punch,” neville shrugged and all you could do was look at him, wide-eyed.

draco had punched mclaggen again while the four of you had struggled to process the first hit and now he was staggering to his feet just as blaise was making to land. mclaggen managed to land a hit on draco, spinning out with the force of his own wind-up and draco staggering back. your heart was a rabid thing in your throat, beating so hard and fast you thought this must be a dream. this wasn’t real—could not possibly be. draco malfoy did not fight. not with fists—no, draco always opted to use his silver tongue to cut people down, but here he was, rushing stupid fucking mclaggen, taking him down into the grass as teachers hurried to the field.

but they were too late.

draco was straddling mclaggen, his fists flying at the other boy’s face, dark emerald cloak flying with his movements.

blaise was walking across the field, his mouth moving, and draco was still going strong on mclaggen when blaise wrapped his long arms around draco and began to pull him off. the gryffindor team had mostly sunk out of the skies and harry and ron were hurrying to mclaggen’s aide while both trying to keep ginny out of the fray. you knew how deeply both of the boys disliked mclaggen, but you also knew just how much they disliked draco, and the latter definitely outweighed the former.

with some colourful encouragement from blaise, crabbe and goyle helped him pry draco off of mclaggen, but he was flailing, a vicious expression on his face you had never seen before. your heart picked up speed, throwing itself again and again against the wall of your chest. by some stroke of luck, draco managed a final kick to mclaggen’s ribs before the three boys towed him away, heels dragging, kicking up dirt, teeth bared.

“i can’t believe this!” hermione was saying. “can you positively believe malfoy?” she shook her head, made a disgusted sort of sound at the back of her throat.

“holy shit,” neville breathed at the same time that luna replied, “that was a good match until all that blood.”

and all you could think was no, no, i can’t believe malfoy at all.

_______

by the time you returned from pacing the castle, everyone had gone to bed and the tower’s common room was empty but for the merry crackling of flames in the fireplace. you’d returned here with harry, ron, ginny, hermione and neville after the game was called off, but with the way harry and ron went on about malfoy, you couldn’t stand it—you’d gotten up and left.

you’d thought maybe the pacing would tire you out, would make your feet hurt enough to keep you from heading out in search of draco. but you couldn’t manage more than a few steps in the direction of the girls’ dormitories. a restlessness was in your bones, and with an irritated sigh, you turned back and went through the potrait hole once more.

your feet carried you quickly down to the dungeons where you crept through the common room, to the prefect dorms.

this was stupid, you chided yourself. just because you wanted to—needed to—see draco to ease the disquiet coursing through you didn’t mean draco wanted you to come checking on him. didn’t mean he wanted to see you at all, point blank.

purely selfish, you decided and knocked sharply on his door, once, twice, three times before he pulled it open with a deep scowl on his face. he was shirtless, with a shining, swelling cheekbone and busted lip and the sight of it made your heart stutter over a beat.

draco braced a hand against the door frame and stared, apathetic, down at you. “afraid i’m not in quite the right mood for a shag, darling.”

you crossed your arms over your chest and glowered back up at him. “shove off, draco. my life does not revolve around when i get to ride your dick.”

when he blinked, long and slow, eyes widened just slightly, you realized your slip-up. you never called him draco unless you were begging for something, and that only ever happened when there was some part of him between your legs.

when he didn’t speak, didn’t so much as twitch a muscle, you heaved an aggravated breath and ducked under his arm into his dorm. you marched straight to his desk, where you paused and rested a hand against the solid wood there, listening to the soft click of his door closing. his bed—usually pristine with the corners tucked in—was rumpled, and you half wondered if he’d up and walked out of the room, but no—there he was, the pale alabaster of him turned slightly gold in colour by the dim light of the candles burning around the room.

he sunk down on the edge of his bed, bowing his head in his hands. “why are you here?”

you moved slowly to stand in front of him, suddenly shy. your hands tangled in front of you. “maybe i wanted to see you,” your voice was scarcely louder than a whisper but he lifted his head and leveled those pale eyes on you all the same.

he barked a harsh laugh. “well, you’ve seen me, darling. and i’m sure you saw me on the pitch. what else do you want to fucking see?”

wordlessly, you wedged yourself in between his spread legs, and took his head in your hands, one on either cheek, and tipped his head back to examine the damage. “how much detention did snape give you?”

“three weeks.”

you tilted his head, lifted a hand to trace lightly across the bruise developing on his cheekbone. “was it worth it?” next, you moved to his hands, reaching for the right first, asessing the split knuckles and the red, broken, angry skin around the bones.

he was watching you intently. “yes,” he replied softly, firmly.

your eyes flicked back to his, holding them. “do i get to know why you beat the piss out of mclaggen, then?”

he sighed, bone-deep, weary, and wrapped his hands around each of your wrists, as if intending to pull you away from touching him, but deciding not to, and hanging on anyways. “he asked if he could have a turn on you after the game.”

you opened and closed your mouth, trying to think up the right words, but none came and so you blurted the first thing that had come to mind at his answer: “mclaggen knows about us?”

draco chuckled, again that harsh, mirthless sound. “apparently, every bloody git in this castle knows.”

you stood between his legs silently for long minutes after that, piecing together his words tonight. was it worth it? and the unequivocal, unwavering answer of yes. you ran your fingers through his mussed hair, down the line of his jaw, slightly prickly and in need of a shave, across the sweep of his full bottom lip. you were afraid to let the rising hope crest. draco often did things that made little sense to you, and there was a good possibility this would be one of them but—

“so you threw one of the biggest games of the year because someone implied they wanted to have sex with me? that’s—”

his eyes narrowed. “completely reasonable. you’re…you’re mine, and as long as you feel the same, there are no lines i won’t cross.”

“what makes you think i feel the same way?” you asked softly and he jerked like you’d burned him with a hot poker and you realized instantly your mistake.

“so you’ve been fucking me for fun i take it?” he sneered, beginning to push you away. you refused to budge, holding your place stubbornly. “my mistake, then—”

“oh, shut up!” you exploded and then brought your mouth down on his. he was still angry—you could feel it in the pressure of his mouth against yours, the way he gripped at you, pulled you down into his lap. his fingers were bruising and you tugged on his hair as he began rocking you across his hardening cock through his pants.

when you gasped at the friction he swallowed the sound greedily and you broke away long enough to mutter a silencio charm, his mouth moving to your cheeks, your jaw, that place just behind your ear.

“not just for fun, then?” he asked between kisses.

a shake of your head. “no,” you breathed. “well, maybe a little.”

he laughed, a hoarse sound as you began grinding down on him as he rocked you. you weren’t sure exactly how it all happened, but you were quickly divested of your sweater and oxford and his mouth was on your tits, sucking, biting, lapping, lavishing attention. your nails dug into his shoulders and he shuddered. warmth was blooming in your stomach, spreading up your chest and dusting your cheeks a vivid pink and draco slipped a hand up under the folds of your skirt, rubbing heavy circles on your clit through the soaked cotton of your panties. a desperate noise bubbled up and out of your throat and his hips jerked involuntarily up into you and it was just enough of everything all at once to send you careening into your orgasm. broken moans fell from your parted lips and his hands wrapped around the backs of your thighs, standing up and laying you out on the bed as you wondered, hazily, if you’d left a mess on his pants.

draco’s breathing seemed just as heavy as yours and he made quick work of his pants, and suddenly his hands were on the waistband of your skirt, and he was telling you, “lift your hips for me, darling.”

you obeyed and he shucked off the garments leaving you bare but for your knee socks.

he wasted little time after that; he lifted your legs to rest over his shoulders as he sunk into you slowly, inch by inch by inch. “fuck,” he swore, “fuck, you’re so wet, darling.”

you whimpered in response and tried to urge him to get going by bucking your hips up but he only watched you beneath him with interest. the slow in and out of his cock into you was maddening and you tangled your hands in your own hair, desperate for this, exactly this, for something faster, harder, something you couldn’t put a name to.

his hips snapped up into you just slightly different, and he hit that sublime spot in you that apparently only he could find and you gasped jaggedly. “oh my god,” you were asking for something, pleading for mercy as he kept hitting it again and again and again. “draco—draco,” you grabbed at his forearm and he laughed, a taunting instrumental to your desperate lyrics. you didn’t think you’d ever heard him laugh so much as he had tonight.

he shifted your hips higher and you cried out at the new angle. “this is mine, isn’t it?” he asked. “your cunt is all mine, yeah?”

“yes,” you nodded vehemently, all tied up in the strings of bliss he was weaving in you, “it’s all yours. everything.”

he pressed a kiss, so soft, so gentle and sweet, so at odds with his pace, with what you two were doing, against your inner thigh. “are you going to come for me, darling? i can feel you, squeezing me, milking my cock.”

“oh—yes, don’t stop. i swear i’ll kill you if you do—” your release was right there, so close it was a palpable thing in the air, swirling around you.

“you want me to come in you again? make a mess of this pretty little cunt? maybe i’ll let you leave like that—my come dripping down your thighs, and then no one would even dare to wonder who you belonged to.”

his words, filthy and spoken in his low timbre, sent you careening, shaking, moaning. draco folded you up further as he lost his attentive rhythm and his mouth found your neck, biting, bruising, at the same time his release found him. he shuddered and shook with the force of it and his hands released your legs, found your face. he brushed stray strands of hair off your sticky, cooling skin and kissed you, long and languid on the mouth. he’d split his knuckles open again and blood was smeared across his pale skin, on various parts of you.

“i’m going to stain your sheets,” you told him after a while, his come seeping out of you slowly.

he untangled himself and disappeared into his small ensuite, returning with a damp washcloth. after he’d cleaned you quietly, patiently, like he didn’t mind, he helped you get dressed, smoothing back your hair when putting on your sweater made it go everywhere. “i’ll walk you to the tower,” he said.

you began to shake your head. “if we get caught you’ll get more detention—”

he shrugged, unconcerned. “what’s another week, darling?”

when the two of you stopped at the bottom of the staircase to the tower, you grabbed his hands again, assessing the damage. he’d cleaned up the blood when he’d cleaned you, but the cuts still looked fresh and sore and you scowled up at him. “as nice as it is to know that you’re not completely useless without a wand, no more of this shit,” you warned him.

he chuckled softly. “of course not, darling,” and with a wink, he slunk back into the darkness of the stone corridors, back to the dungeons.

#harry potter #harry potter smut #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy fanfic #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy one shot

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fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

Hi Eve! I was wondering if you’re not too busy if you could write a Jealous!Cap fic where he meets Remus’ College “boyfriend” AKA the guy he hooked up with? I just love the way you write over-protective Sirius. And Loops just thinks he’s being ridiculous and adorable. 10/10 chef’s kiss

Ohohoho yes. Have some silly fluff and secondhand embarrassment to counter this morning's angst fest! Coops credit goes to @lumosinlove, but I made up Chris' name.

TW for references to sex and playful jealousy

“Oh my fucking god.”

Remus couldn’t tear his eyes away from the end of the aisle, not even to admire the sliver of exposed skin on Sirius’ waist as he reached up for his cookies. Twenty feet away, the worst possible person he could imagine seeing at that moment was browsing different types of flour. “What?” Sirius asked, sounding worried. “Re, what’s wrong?”

“Shh!” Remus hissed. “We have to leave.”

“What? Why? Are you okay?” Sirius gave him a bewildered look, though he kept his voice low. “We just found the cookies, can it wait?”

“Absolutely not.” Remus gave his chest a nudge.

Sirius glanced down the aisle and frowned. “Do you know that guy?”

“Remember how I told you I’d only slept with one other guy before you?” he said, making direct eye contact with Sirius until he saw the realization dawn. “Mhmm. Time to g—”

“Remus?”

It took every ounce of Remus’ self-control not to shriek aloud. Instead, he turned with a polite (if a bit forced) smile. “Hey, Chris! Wow, what a surprise!”

“Yeah, totally.” Chris looked just as uncomfortable as Remus felt, but pushed his cart closer. Fuck you, universe. Fuck you very much. “How’ve you been?”

“Good, good. You?”

“Doing great. Are you—so, you’re playing hockey?” Chris’ clear blue eyes—shit, maybe Remus really did have a type—flickered between them.

“Yep.”

“Nice, good for you. I remember you played. In college, I mean, before we met. What was it, wing?”

Remus nodded as his stomach tried to escape through his nose. “Some things never change.”

Chris chuckled nervously. “No, yeah, totally. I’m still an accountant, you know. Who’s this?”

“Right, I forgot you were never into hockey.” Remus shook his head. “Chris, this is my fiancé, Sirius Black. Sirius, this is Chris, my college…boyfriend.”

“Sort of,” Chris added, holding a hand out. Not for the first time that afternoon, Remus wanted the floor to open up and swallow him. Maybe a rabid moose could run through the store and trample him to death. “I’m, y’know. Straight.”

“Congratulations,” Sirius said as they firmly shook hands. Remus watched Chris’ throat bob; when they parted, he flexed his whitened fingers by his thigh. “Do you work here?”

“Yeah, there’s a firm down the street. My wife and I met there.”

“Aw, that’s sweet,” Remus said with a smile. “Sandra?”

“You remember!” Chris’ voice ticked up in pitch slightly.

Remus, the email sent through his school-issued account had begun. I’m sorry, but I’m not interested in continuing our arrangement. I’ve realized I’m not romantically interested in men and I’ve met a woman at my internship that I know in my heart I’m going to marry. Thank you for helping me understand myself better. All the best, Chris.

“Yeah,” Remus said. “A bit. Good for you, Chris, she’s a wonderful person.”

“And congrats to you as well,” Chris said, though his gaze kept flickering over Remus’ shoulder. Remus surreptitiously leaned over and stepped on Sirius’ foot. “Engaged. Wow. You’re one lucky guy, Sirius.”

“I know,” Sirius said smoothly.

Chris cleared his throat and shot one more smile to Remus. “Well, I should head home. My youngest has been pestering me to make brownies with her all day.”

“Drive safe,” Remus said with a quick nod to him. In a few hurried footsteps, Chris was out of sight. The pressure in Remus’ chest alleviated. “Oh, my god.”

“That’s Chris?” Sirius whispered, pointing his thumb over his shoulder. “The dickhead that hooked up with you? He’s a fucking accountant?”

Remus groaned under his breath and bonked his head on the handle of the cart. “I know. Broke up with me over email, too.”

Sirius licked his lips with a grimace. “Ugh, I can still taste the awkwardness. It’s like lemon curd and regret.”

“I thought I was going to hurl all over his shoes.”

“Why did you have to talk with him for so long?”

“This is Wisconsin, baby,” Remus said, exhausted. “You can’t just ignore someone in the grocery store.”

“You know there’s a difference between the nice old lady at the register and your sort-of ex-boyfriend from college, right?”

“It’s not like he’s a bad person.”

Arms wound around Remus’ waist and tugged him backward; a smacking kiss landed on his cheek. “Dibs,” Sirius murmured as he pressed another to Remus’ temple, and a third to his jawline.

“Okay, okay,” Remus laughed, his heart warming. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to go running back to an eight-year-gone booty call.”

Sirius stopped kissing him and rested his chin on Remus’ shoulder. “I’m still better, right?”

“Jesus.”

“Right?”

Remus heaved a sigh and looked to the sky for strength. “Yes, Sirius, you are better in bed than the straight boy I hooked up with. And fuck you for making me say that out loud.”

“If you insist,” Sirius said smugly. “Let’s go home so I can kiss you more, oui?”

Remus checked his watch; they still had another hour at least before his parents and Jules would be back from parent night, and he could use some mind-numbing kisses to take the place of withering embarrassment. ‘Sort of’. Who the fuck says that? “Baby, you read my mind.”

#remus lupin #sirius black #coops #chris #sweater weather #vaincre #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #ex boyfriend

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makeste · 3 years

Text

BnHA Chapter 318: On Your Left

Previously on BnHA: The Hawksquad+Lurkers were all “well this sucks” and sat around a bit talking about how maybe they should actually come up with a new plan that is actually good, but then in the end they were like “nah.” Deku was all, “THERE’S SOMETHING INSIDE ME THAT PULLS BENEATH THE SURFACE!! CONSUMING, CONFUSING!! THIS LACK OF SELF CONTROL I FEAR IS NEVERENDING. IT’S HAUNTING HOW I CANT SEEM TO FIND MYSELF AGAIN. MY WALLS ARE CLOSING IN.” Just, literally that whole entire song. All Might was all “Deku you should take care of yourself, try eating a thing,” and Deku was all “BYE, ALL MIGHT,” and just LEFT. He left!!! What the fuck!!!

Today on BnHA: Endeavor is all, “maybe if Deku didn’t listen to All Might he’ll listen to me instead.” Deku is all, “[doesn’t listen to Endeavor]” because, well, yeah. The Vestiges are all, “surprisingly, even we are a little concerned -- maybe you should get some rest, kid.” Deku is all, “((Ò ‸ Ó)).” The Vestiges are all, “holy shit.” Deku is all, “[wanders the ruined city streets terrifying the populace on account of him looking like Shelob had a baby with one of the Nazgul].” Some shriveled-up puppeteer villain asshole is all, “HORIKOSHI SAID IT’S MY TURN TO ATTACK DEKU TODAY SO I AM GOING TO SUMMON MY FRIGHTENED HELPLESS ATTACK MOB!!” Kacchan is all “WHADDYA MEAN THEY FOUND THE NERD!!! -- oh wait, that’s me, I found him. I found the nerd, you guys.” And just in time, too. I was about to owe a whole lot of people a whole lot of dollars.

so I have been super good about spoilers this week as always, but let me tell you guys, for the past 36 hours my dash filters have basically been nonstop “manga spoilers” this and “bnha 318” that, and so I’m coming in with a fair amount of hype here. your move, Horikoshi

oh, good! they got Endeavor to call Deku to try to talk him out of it. what a great and wonderful plan

“listen up kid, you haven’t slept since March and you are basically a walking biohazard right now, I’m just telling it like it is. didn’t you get shot like three times?? and there was a whole thing about how you urgently needed medical attention?? and supposedly we gave it to you, but I mean you haven’t even changed your clothes and don’t seem to have any fresh bandages or anything, so did we?? did we, really?? and also we all got blown up yesterday, so yeah.” hmm he’s making some reasonable points here you guys, but you sure do go on and on, Endeavor

oh he says foreign aid is finally on its way! I’m sure they’ll be very helpful. I mean in fairness they can hardly be worse than the home-grown heroes at this point

hey Enji, could you maybe try appealing to Deku the sixteen-year-old human boy, as opposed to Deku The World’s Last Hope? he does have value beyond his quirk. I know that’s always been an incredibly difficult concept for you to grasp, but could you maybe TRY, jesus

and also we’re worried about you as a person?? you’re just a kid and you’re pushing yourself way too hard?? you were going to say that part next, right. why the hell didn’t Hawks make this call instead

“don’t worry about me... I’m completely fine” Deku you do understand that saying it over and over again doesn’t actually make it true

and again with the rush!! all the rush rush rush!! we’re running out of time, we can’t let AFO and Tomura keep getting stronger, I have to end this now, there’s no time to rest, etc. etc. etc. just the constant pressure of this whole big countdown on top of everything else

holy shit, you KNOW it’s bad when even the Vestiges are telling him to chill

these guys are basically the walking talking embodiments of self-sacrifice; if even they’re telling him he needs to take five, then he must seriously be like half a step away from death’s door

OH SHIT LMAO

DIDN’T EVEN LET HIM FINISH HIS SENTENCE BEFORE HE SENT HIM INTO THE FUCKING SHADOW REALM WITH THAT FUCKING LOOK. HOLY FUCK. DIDN’T EVEN KNOW IT WAS POSSIBLE TO DIE TWICE. SHIT

(ETA: so I’m pretty sure this was just Danger Sense activating and so he cut them off to go do more hero stuff, but I’m gonna go ahead and stick to my original interpretation anyway lol.)

anyway so how’s everybody doing. we all good? En, you good? Banjou? Shino? I’m imagining you guys all curled up in a little ball on the floor right now lol. can’t say I blame you though, no shame

lmaoooooooooooo

“SHEESH.” sheesh indeed, lmao. “what in the FUCK was that”

see, this is why y’all need Kacchan. you need someone who’s not going to back down from him no matter what. if it’s a matter of out-stubborning Midoriya fucking Izuku, then there’s only one other person on the planet capable of that, and we all know it. don’t pretend like you don’t. I am not going to shut up about this! we’ve had our hurt so now what about SOME COMFORT, DAMMIT

“I’m afraid that he’s becoming influenced by my conscience” nah are you kidding Nana this is all 100% made-in-Japan pure original Deku right here

see, Banjou gets it. “that kid, he’s totally going on his own.” exactly. this was so inevitable it was basically scientific law

“well I for one don’t see the problem with Deku being so obsessed with saving everyone else that he pushes himself until his body and soul literally fall apart” okay, whose speech bubbles are these?? we’re about to have words

lol of course

well you always did prefer the direct route didn’t you. but even you can’t possibly think this is okay lol

dark AU!Kacchan please tell us more about your badass doomed timeline in which everything went to shit and you apparently had the same character arc that Deku is having right now except it somehow made you sexier instead of turning you into a rabid t-rex. I have so many questions

oh so now you want to help??? well -- good, actually. sorry if that sounded offended just now lol

(ETA: so at first when I got to the end of this chapter I was wondering if Katsuki B. had somehow summoned his alternate-universe counterpart through trippy OFA space telepathy lol. but in the original Japanese there’s no reference to “we”, so this appears to be a mistranslation. this line should probably read more like “if there’s something/someone out there that would be able to complement/complete the current Midoriya Izuku [it would be]…” which, oh hello, is that Horikoshi once again reaffirming that Deku and Bakugou complete each other lol. “guess what guys, the Vestiges ship it too" heck yeah. they know what’s up!)

look how admiring his boyfriends are. HORIKOSHI GIVE US THE REST OF THIS BACKSTORY ALREADY GODDAMMIT

“meanwhile somewhere in the depths of the ruined city, Deku was having a dance-off with the villains”

I like how the villains all have this “AHH WHAT THE FUCK” kind of body language to them lol. I mean if it were me, and an eldritch horror suddenly clawed its way from the shadows with its writhing glowy tentacles and pants-shitting nuclear death stare, I would probably just die on the spot. no need to stick around. only pain awaits

lol for a minute I thought this was Can’t Ya See-kun and I was like “WHAT A FASCINATING CROSSING OF PATHS” but it’s just some random girl

he seems genuinely confused lol

Deku it’s because you look like something that crawled out of a sewer drain, sweetheart

lol they just took his word for it?

so trusting. even though they’re immediately hauling ass anyway just to be safe lmao

“my appearance is frightening to others” no shit Deku it’s because you look like a fucking alien exorcism. you look like a Lich that got caught up in an oil spill my dude

NO NOT THE CHOSEN ONE ANGST AGAIN

I RAN OUT OF ESSAY JUICE FOR THIS ALREADY HORIKOSHI!! I’VE BEEN TALKING ABOUT IT FOR MONTHS NOW WHAT TOOK YOU SO LONG!! BUT ANYWAYS, GOOD!! I MEAN, BAD, THOUGH, OBVIOUSLY. BUT YES

“ENJOY THIS MONTAGE OF DEKU BATTLING A RANDOM KAIJU AND WANDERING THE WOODS LIKE A DERANGED GREEN BABA YAGA” okay yes but sir, exactly how much longer is this going to go on. if it’s a matter of you wanting to make sure we get it, let me assure you that aside from a few stray chuunis who think that Deku embracing the Darkness is the coolest thing he’s ever done, all of us here in fandom fully comprehend that this is Not Good

-- OH SO IT’S LIKE THAT

really. with the flashbacks to his loved ones’ smiling faces and everything. not even gonna try to aim above the belt, huh

AND NO KACCHAN??! NO CLASSMATES?!?! IS HE PURPOSELY NOT THINKING OF THEM??? OR ARE THEY BEING SAVED FOR THE NEXT PAGE??? SO HELP ME, IF THE NEXT PART OF THIS SENTENCE IS “CAN PROTECT THEM”, OR EVEN WORSE, “CAN SEE THEIR SMILING FACES AGAIN”, I...

WHAT DID I JUST SAY

(ETA: my man did Sero and Kaminari fucking dirty lmao. I miss their smiling faces too omg.)

the sheer, unparalleled irony of him saying this while he stands there looking like the gargoyle demon from Fantasia got crossed with an umbrella that got struck by lightning. Deku :(

oi who the fuck is this clown

is he controlling this mob with his evil hair. “what if I made an exhausted, running-on-fumes Deku battle a brainwashed mob at Ground Zero.” Horikoshi do you just have like a checklist of horrible things you want to do to your protagonist

easy there Sasori

well joke’s on you buddy because he’s apparently “completely fine”, so

“here’s to hoping that you know more about AFO’s location than the others” jesus christ Deku you really have hung your mercy out to dry huh

now he’s forcing his mob of terrified prisoners to attack Deku ahhhh. sucks to be them. at least they’re not being controlled by bees

so Deku is saying that Sasori’s control can be broken with “physical trauma.” similar to Shinsou’s quirk I guess. but so does that mean he’s gonna have to hurt them? ( •﹏•)

NO NOT MORE SAD EYES

“DEATH BY EMPATHY!!!” HORIKOSHI NO

fuck. he looks like he’s on the verge of passing out

this is what happens when you nerf a character’s self-preservation stats in favor of spamming their bone-breaking stats instead. NOW ACCEPTING BRAIN CELL DONATIONS FOR A BOY IN NEED!! with your loving generosity we can hopefully help him live to the ripe old age of seventeen

OMGFGGG

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

[grabs your hands] ლ(*꒪ヮ꒪*)ლ [swings you in a circle] へ(ﾟ◇ﾟへ)

THASSSSSSSS WHATSSSSSSS UPPPPPPPPPP

HORIKOSHI REALLY SAID FUCK THAT MASK (ノ°ο°)ノ YOU FINALLY LEARNED!! IT’S CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT!!!!

JUST FOR YOU KACCHAN, HORIKOSHI LEFT THIS ONE BAD GUY WHO’S STILL WEAK TO FIRE. GOD BLESS

IT’S YOUR COUNTERPART, KATSUKI B!!!! HOW WE DOIN OVER THERE IN THE TRIPPY COSMIC OFA SPACE REALM LOL. DO WE BELIEVE YET, FANDOM???

LIGHTS!!!!

INSTANT RESULTS!!! IT’S SUPER EFFECTIVE!!!

(ETA: imagine what this must look like to Deku though. he’s been caught up in this dark cloud of despair and exhaustion that’s been building up over... I’m gonna go ahead and say “weeks”, because yeah. and now he finds himself here, in the place where All Might’s legacy ended and the torch was passed to him. and the world is in ruins, and he’s surrounded by frightened people who are all trying to hurt him -- because who isn’t trying to hurt him, these days -- and he’s scrambling to figure this all out, but meanwhile the weariness is finally starting to catch up to him, and so he’s basically just standing there in a fog of complete and utter misery.

and then all of a sudden through that haze, he hears the one voice that’s more familiar than any other that he knows. like, I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he thought he was just imagining it at first. Kacchan showing up to save him right when he’s at his most desperate and feeling the most alone. Kacchan, showing up to save him.

this is the person he always looked up to as a child (to be fair he was quite a strange child lmao). the person who was even closer to him than All Might. the person he always thought was amazing. and bam, here he is now. appearing in the sky out of nowhere to one-shot the bad guy with a single blast (which, btw, that was his armor-piercing attack too lmao dslkjlk take it easy there kiddo). like, that must have felt absolutely surreal to him, especially coming at a time when he’s already half-delirious and barely hanging on to reality. he must have really thought that he was losing it there for a second.

but he’s really there. it really is him. and for this brief moment -- before the rest of the situation catches up to him, and he remembers about all of the fucked-up AFO stuff, and remembers why he was so afraid and why he was pushing everyone away -- for just this one brief moment, he’s too exhausted and stunned to do anything except to just react. just stands there, looking up at him in awe.

and you know, it almost reminds me of...

just. you guys. the character development. the freaking character development. someone who brings reassurance. someone who shows up and makes you think, “oh, it’s all going to be okay now, because [person] is here.” the role reversals. the growth. the payoff!! because who is the one person who always had faith that Kacchan would one day grow up to become an amazing hero like that. WHO IS IT. YOU ALREADY KNOW.

omg. anyways, bless you Horikoshi, my feels which have been on backorder since fucking September have finally arrived lmao. yes, good, thank you. worth the wait. it is always, always worth the wait. fuck yeah.)

“LOWFRIES” SO YOU’RE TELLING ME THE WHOLE GANG IS HERE, AHHHHHHHH (º̩̩́⌣º̩̩̀ )

BEAUTIFUL. WONDERFUL. SENSATIONAL. I DON’T EVEN CARE THAT JUMP IS ON BREAK NEXT WEEK. THIS RIGHT HERE WILL SUSTAIN ME

#bnha 318 #midoriya izuku #BAKUGOU KATSUKI #!!!!#twowy mctwoface #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha meta #bakudeku #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

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orionwhispers · 3 years

Text

Bravado // Tommy Shelby Imagine

(A/N - its been a long ass time and i wanted to ease myself back into writing but this ended up being long and also super super angsty. sorry that this illness imagine came during covid idk whats going on with my imagination lol. love you guys SO much thank you for always being there. reblogs, comments and likes mean everything to me.)

trigger warnings - LOTS of angst. fluff. implied smut. my hc that tommy has a fear of illness, bad descriptions of hospitals.

He knew something wasn’t right the minute his car pulled into the driveway and you weren’t waiting for him under the great concrete arch, with that smile on your face that made his knees buckle and heart race like he was a love struck teenager.

You were always there as soon as he came home. Barefoot in a broderie dress in the summer with tousled hair and baby pink toenails. Wrapped in a hand knit blanket with fire flushed cheeks and woollen socks in the winter - even running across the gravel and into his arms in the middle of a storm, the ice cold rain whipping across both of your faces as you kissed under the light of the moon.

No matter how shit his day or week or month was, no matter what stained his hands or darkened his heart, no matter what lay heavy and hard deep in his gut, seeing you made everything vanish in the night air like wisps of smoke. You made everything worth it.

He refused to give into fear, he wasn’t that kind of man, so he swallowed all of the nagging thoughts and apprehensions as he came up to the dark foggy windows and the iron cast door. It felt strange turning his key in the lock without the weight of you in his arms or the sticky peach kisses you left down his jaw and neck, the smell of the vanilla in your hair and lavender on your skin.

The second thing that sent a jolt of white hot electricity down his spine was Mary, watching him anxiously and wringing her hands in the hallway. Usually, she was calm and collected, taking his jacket and leather travel bag with her signature placid smile and gentle fingers. Usually she would return to the kitchen and finish up whatever she was making - a hearty roast lamb with rosemary and garlic and glazed potatoes or a pheasant pie with honeyed carrots, always followed by a three layer chocolate ganache cake that was so thick and rich you practically had to saw through the sponge. She would always have dinner piping hot and dripping with gravy by the time the two of you returned downstairs, no matter how many hours it took for you to get... reacquainted.

Now she looked sheepish and pale, her skin almost translucent under the syrupy yellow lights. There was something about the way she stood, as still as a wraith, that made his blood run cold.

“Mary. Where is she?”

“Mr Shelby, I - ” Her voice was strained and hesitant, like a slowly fraying rope.

“Where is my wife?”

She moved forward, creases forming around her eyes. “We tried ringing you in Liverpool but the hotel said that you had already left, so we...”

“You rang me? Why? What’s happened?” He couldn’t hold back the desperation in his voice, and it lingered and festered around them both like a poisonous gas.

“Mrs Shelby came down with something a few days ago, we thought that it was just a common cold but unfortunately she seems to be getting worse.”

He tore upstairs before he could even think, his shoes leaving perfect muddy footprints on the cream carpet. He almost slipped at the top, and he lurched forward, his hands reaching out and holding onto the portrait hanging above the stairs for stability.

It was the oil of the two of you. A soft, personal picture that revealed more than he ever possibly could. The love in your gazes, the hint of a soft, drunk smile on the dangerous gangsters face as you leaned into him, melting into him like butter, him holding onto you as though he couldn’t bear to let you go. It was his favourite photo, one that always washed a sense of calmness over him, a reminder of the woman that he loved and the way he felt around you. But now he felt as if was riding out a terrible storm.

He lived his life with no fear, he was capable and practical and used to the sound of bullets and the copper sweet smell of blood. There was really only one thing, one terrible thing that he couldn’t control, and that was what drove him crazy.

Sickness.

It gnawed at his insides like a rabid dog, clawed under his skin and settled behind his ribs. Losing someone he loved was like ripping out a piece of his heart straight from his chest, and he knew better than anyone what it was like to lose somebody to a violent, quick death - the pull of a trigger or the smack of a fist. At least in those moments he could lock them away in his mind, he could leap in front of a bullet or crack the neck of any man who dared to get too close to you, but there was almost nothing he could do to stop sickness, and the devastation it caused.

When you first met him it had been a surprise, almost amusing, that this powerful God of a man had these small little quirks. His house was always sparkling clean and smelling of Lysol, his fruit bowls were filled with citrus fruits and round, plump blueberries. He always made sure you were wrapped up warm in the winter, always placing his coat around your shoulders and bringing an extra pair of gloves in case you forgot yours. It was adorable, the way he took care of you,

It wasn’t till a little bit later when you learnt of those he had lost. His mother and his childhood sweetheart taken away from him much too soon. It broke your heart when he told you late one night of the sallow tint of their skin and the way he could almost see them vanishing from earth, the way that illness had moulded and changed those he loved the most.

You understood.

Your best friends older sister had died of tuberculosis when you were young. The elderly woman across the street from your first flat had passed away from a bout of horrendous smallpox. Your brother lost his first child to pneumonia. Times were changing but the fear of disease was ever present. Medicine was improving and so was knowledge, but still there remained a huge, dark cloud of what could happen, one that always hung around your husbands head.

——————————————-

All Tommy could think was the worst as he ran through the landing. His heart was in his ears and his bones felt loose, like the sweet liquorice the two of you would share at the pictures. He came to a stop by the bedroom door, tentatively pressing his palm onto the wood and ever so slightly pushing it open, listening to the gentle creak it made.

The room was warm. The lace curtains were pulled shut, and your favourite lavender candles were flickering on your vanity, casting syrupy shadows against the wall. He exhaled loudly as he saw you, bundled up under a mountain of satin sheets and hand crocheted blankets, your hair splayed across the pillows.

He moved to your bedside, pretending not to notice the large, untouched jug of water and the tissue box next to you, hoping and silently praying that you weren’t sick - just asleep and waiting for him, ready to wrap your arms around his neck.

You were silent, your lips parting every so often as you breathed, your chest rising and falling. He reached out gently, as though he was picking up shards of glass, and brushed his fingers against your cheek. Your forehead was beading with sweat, your cheeks flushed, and yet your skin was ice cold to the touch. He recoiled quickly, his heart dropping like a weight into his gut, and he inhaled a shaky, deep breath.

He saw something curled up beside your hands, a fluffy white cloud with sparkling emerald green eyes trained on him. Despite everything, he smiled. He thought of your birthday - of strawberry cheesecake and champagne, and surprising you with a ribbon wrapped little kitten as you woke up. He thought of that day often. How you smiled and leapt onto him with tears in your eyes, his whole world blissfully quiet as he spent the day in bed with you and your new best friend.

He would have preferred a big dog, one with sharp teeth and a menacing gaze to ward of visitors whilst he was away. But you were drawn to the tiny, malnourished runt of the litter who was scared of his own shadow. A kitten no bigger than the size of his clenched fist. A little white hairball who only ate and drank from fine pink saucers. A cat that had a very frustrating habit of crawling in the bedroom right as Tommy’s hand was up your skirt and his lips on the sweet spot of your neck, the tiny thing mewling and crying until you picked him up and nuzzled him into your chest.

He was a horse lover through and through, and never saw himself having time for any other pets. But in the summer when you saw the litter from one of John’s barn cats and fell in love with the sweet baby who mewled and cried and crawled right into your lap - he knew that he would give you anything and everything you wanted.

Including a cat who refused to accept that Tommy was the man of the house.

“Hello, boy.” He said, leaning over to scratch Comet under the chin, using a voice he only reserved for the two of you. “Have you been looking after my girl whilst I’ve been gone?”The cat meowed loudly in reply, pressing his head into Tommy’s palm but not moving from his spot beside you.

Tommy suddenly felt you shift under him and his heart lurched into his throat. He turned to face you, cupping the side of your clammy face as your eyelids fluttered open, blinking under the candlelight. A rush of red hot heat built up in his belly as you registered him, that angelic smile growing on your face, your tired eyes glimmering with recognition of the man you loved.

“Tommy?”

“Hi, Princess.”

You smiled sadly. “You’ve been gone for weeks - I missed you.”

He felt his brows crease as he rubbed along your jawline softly, trying to stop you from falling back asleep. He felt panic in his throat as sour as vomit, and he tried to bite back the nagging feeling that something was very wrong.

“No, sweetheart, I’m early. It’s only Thursday. I left on Monday.”

“Oh.” You said softly, your voice as gentle as the breeze rustling through the trees outside. “Well let me welcome you back properly - let me make you a lemon drizzle or a...” You lifted your head from the pillow and shuffled under your blanket, but he pressed his hands against your shoulder and held you down.

“No. You’re staying right here.”

“But - ”

“No.”

“Hmm. Don’t leave me, Tommy.”

“Never.” He said, his tone firm and cast like stone. He stroked your hair softly as your breathing slowed, but it didn’t nothing to quell the hard thump of his heart in his chest.

——————————-

Tommy left the room as quietly as he could after you had fallen asleep in his arms. He hadn’t wanted to move, not when you were pressed against his chest, looking ethereal but vacant, sweat beading under your brow and your face lacking colour. He wanted to stay with you, curled up by his side, his fingers laced through yours, the sound of your heart thumping in his ears.

But he was a man of action, and seeing you there - your lips cracked and dry, shudders passing through your body and goosebumps raised over your skin - he couldn’t fight the fiery urge to do everything in his power to make you feel alright again.

He found Mary waiting outside the door, chewing on the skin of her lips and swaying on the balls of her feet in anticipation. He grabbed her by the arm, harder than he meant to and something he would apologise for later, and pulled her downstairs, determined to let you rest whilst he got some answers. As soon as they reached the drawing room he spun her around, clenching his jaw and pointing a finger at the anxious maid.

“Where the fuck is the doctor? Why isn’t he here?”

“Mr Shelby.” She said, stepping forward calmly. “We phoned Doctor Moore and he came on Tuesday to see her.”

“Tuesday?” He seethed. “My wife has been ill since Tuesday and no one called me?”

Mary raised her hands in defeat, making it clear that the decision wasn’t hers to make. “He said it was nothing of concern . He gave her some antibiotics and told her to rest. She asked us herself not to call you, she knows how you.. worry.”

He ignored her sugar coated attempt to quell his anger, but if anything it made his vision darken. “When it’s my wife, It is always my concern.”

“Mr Shelby, we were just doing what we were told. As soon as we noticed she wasn’t getting better we phoned the surgery again, but Doctor Thomas was out for the day and said he didn’t think it was necessary to come round again, so we -”

“I don’t give a fuck. My wife is the number one priority. Ring every doctor in England if you have to, get somebody out here now to see my wife.”

He stormed away, anger pulsating through his veins, but he stopped suddenly, and threw out over his shoulder:

“And call Doctor Moore’s ’office. Tell him to expect a visit from the blinders soon.”

———————————————————

Once, when you were first dating, you found Tommy at the door to your flat at midnight, with scraped knuckles and blood dripping from his nose. You let him in, cleaned him up and sat with him in the bath until his skin was clear and his breathing was even. He knew that night, as you were pressed against his chest and his lips were pressed to your scalp that he was truly, madly and completely in love with you.

He remembered waking up the next morning, love drunk and blissful, and finding the bed beside him empty. He found you in the kitchen, wincing slightly and pressing a hot water bottle to your belly as you buttered a few pieces of toast. He rushed to your side with eyes as wide as saucers, concern lacing the features that were usually ice cold and hard as stone. You were completely baffled as he held you at arms length, his bright cerulean eyes trailing up and down your body for any signs of injury he might have missed. You were bewildered at the sight of the powerful man practically on his knees as he made sure you were alright, and you bit back a giggle as his warm palms spread over your abdomen.

“What is it? Whats wrong?”

“Tommy. Sweetheart.” You said softly, bringing his gaze level to yours. “It’s just - you know - that time of the month.”

He brushed off your embarrassment and ran his fingers through your hair, pressing a uncharacteristically gentle kiss to your forehead, sending a swarm of butterflies around the pain in your stomach.

“Do you need anything?” He asked, half ready to run down to the corner shop and buy any amount of painkillers or chocolate bars or your favourite lavender tea that you might need; not caring who saw the seemingly terrifying gang leader in the street with an armful of strawberry laces and salt water fudges.

You smiled like the summer sun and he melted, pulling you close as you whispered in the shell of his ear that you only needed him, and that was all you ever needed.

That was the first time you fully saw the extent of Tommy’s fear, but it definitely wasn’t the last. He knew he wanted you forever and always, and it took only six months of neck kisses and pillow talk, red hot jealousy and possessive hands across your skin and dancing in the rain and falling asleep under the pale yellow moon for him to put a ring on your finger. You were both consumed by your love, as though it was the only thing that mattered, it was insatiable and powerful - the wonderful mix of the devil and his sweet little angel.

And with that, came the good and the bad.

Like when you got food poisoning after Arthur cooked you a Sunday lunch to cheer you up whilst Tommy was gone. He came home to you retching over the toilet bowl with Mary holding back your hair, and swore that he would kill his brother with his own hands. Or when you slipped on ice and broke your arm while out with friends in London, and Tommy went ballistic and tried to ban you from ever leaving the house. It was just in his nature, how he always made sure you walked on the side furthest from the road, kept an arm slung around you whenever you were together, kept his eyes alert and vigilant no matter where you were - always looking out for his girl.

But he had never been like this.

———————————————————-

You were falling in and out of sleep. Waking up drowsy and heavy headed, squinting under bright lights, an ache in your skull and a burning in your throat. Every so often you felt a pinch in your upper arm, a squeeze on your palm, a kiss on your forehead - but you always drifted back into unconsciousness.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed when you woke up. The room was dark and you could hear the wind howling and whipping rain across the windows. You felt all too hot and all too cold at the same time, and the bed was damp with sweat. You struggled and tried to sit up, your head swaying and feeling as heavy as one of Tommy’s marble statues; as if you had been carved up and moulded. You could hear voices out in the hall, and unsteadily got to your feet, moving towards the noises.

“Pneumonia?” You heard through the thick wooden door, instantly recognising your husbands voice. “That’s impossible.”

“Sir...”

“Fucking. Impossible.” You knew his teeth were clenched.

The other man cleared his throat.“I know that it’s hard to hear, Mr Shelby, but your wife is very sick.”

“Just...” You felt your heart flutter and clench in your chest as the sound of his broken words, could practically feel his desperation and you wanted nothing more than to hold him. “Just tell me how to make her better.”

The second man spoke again, his voice softening and lowering, something you knew Tommy would hate. “Mr Shelby, the first round of antibiotics didn’t work and that means that it’s time for something stronger. Usually I would suggest the Birmingham hospital but I don’t think it’s equipped for...” He paused, trying to think over his words carefully. He wanted to convey the severity of the situation but also didn’t want to risk getting a bullet in his head from your very protective husband. “...This kind of reaction. I recommend we send her down to London for extra testing.”

“London? That’ll take two fucking hours. How the fuck can you recommend letting my wife travel that far? Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“I’m my opinion this is the wisest choice to make, but unfortunately that could mean your wife might get worse before she gets better.”

“Worse than she already is? That’s not an option.”

The man you assumed was the doctor was insistent, trying his best to portray the severity of the situation but failing as your hardheaded husband had already come to a decision.

“I’ll look after her here. She’s safest with me.”

Once Tommy had spoken that was the final result, and the doctor slinked away into the darkness and shook his head. You remained peering from behind the door, your tongue between your teeth and your heart hammering.

Tommy took one look at you and frowned, scooping you in his arms like a baby despite your protests. He ignored you, acting playfully and cheerful but you could feel his heated skin and the see flare of his nostrils. You wanted to help him but didn’t know how, and let him tuck you under the covers once again. He kissed your crown and stroked your hair and you wanted to speak but no words would leave your mouth.

“You stay there this time. You know I have no problem with tying you to the bed.”

You rolled your eyes as he left, and his clenched fists and tightened shoulders told you all you needed to know.

————————————————-

Comet watched from his spot beside you as Tommy wrestled with the fire. He had noticed you shivering despite your high temperature, and bundled you up in blankets whilst sparking matches beside the fireplace. There were raindrops across his shoulders, evidence that he had been outside and to the log store right at the end of the property - a job that had always been for the Groundskeeper. Your precious cat nudged the tips of your fingers as you sighed and watched your husband throw kindling onto the coal, a deep unease settling over your gut.

“Tommy, my love, I’m fine.” It wasn’t exactly true but you felt he needed to hear it. But you could practically see your words wash over him and evaporate like ocean spray.

He was shaking a metal tin in his palm as he worked, and you groaned and let your head hit the pillow as he pulled out two round chalky tablets. You winced as he placed them beside your glass, your mouth already tasting like the sour talc medicine you had come to loathe. He raised his eyebrows and shot you a look that told you he wasn’t far off plugging your nose with his fingers to force you to swallow, and you childishly stuck up two fingers as you took them.

Your stomach rumbled with nausea and you bit back the bile in your throat as you settled into the pillows. You watched your husband as he pulled off his crisp white shirt, revealing his taut tan stomach and the deep ink tattoos that you loved to trace with your fingertips and your lips. There was something about him standing there, with those damn cerulean eyes and hidden muscles, that boyish hair and slender fingers that you wanted desperately around your throat, that made a million tiny fireworks spark inside of you.

But instead you pushed him away from you despite your body wanting nothing but him wrapped all around you. “Don’t get too close. I might have something contagious. I can’t have you getting sick.”

He ignored you, smiling inwardly at the way you always put others before yourself. It was one of the million reasons he had fallen for you. You were sweating out a high fever and shivering in pain, and yet you always thought of him first. He pressed his lips to your temple and pulled you closer, knowing that skin to skin was a way to bring down a fever - even if it meant he had to restrain himself from tugging off your pretty little white nightgown and whatever frilly things you had on underneath.

“I’m not going anywhere. Fuck it if I catch anything.”

“That’s easy for you to say. I’m the one who will have to dote on you hand and foot, you big baby.” You teased, pressing yourself into him playfully, finally giving in.

He held you like a child, trying to hard to soften despite the way you felt underneath him. Everything on him was running a mile a minute, and he couldn’t help but want to try everything and everything to make you feel better. His hand was pressed against your temple to always try and measure your fever, his other palm across your chest to try and count your heart rate.

He could hear Mary treading across the landing carpet but he ignored his anxious maid, instead letting himself be completely consumed by the only thing that mattered - you.

This was something he had to do by himself. He was the only one who could care for you he reminded himself. And he let the words tumble over and over in his skull until they were all he could hear.

—————————————————————-

You had been asleep for a long time.

Every hour, after pacing the length of the hall and sanitising his hands and wiping the beads of sweat above your brow and above your breasts he woke you up and held a cool glass to your lips. You mumbled and moaned and pushed him away but he kept his fingers across your wrist - harsher than he ever had before - and kept you as close to him as possible.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had cooked. Perhaps it was last valentines when the two of you had camped out under the stars, drinking icy white wine and sharing stolen, day drunk kisses. That night he had roasted a chicken over the fire and it had burnt to a crisp as the two of you rolled around the grass, his head buried in your neck as you giggled at the poultry going up in flames.

He was trying now though, easy, plain substantial meals that wouldn’t upset your stomach. Boiled egg and dippy soldiers. Crackers with smooth cheese. Bubbly water and ginger biscuits. Each time he went upstairs you pushed him away, your whole body shuddering and almost retching, and he felt like smashing the plates against the wall at his defeat.

It had been almost thirty six hours since he had come home and it had been almost as long since you had eaten something, and his heart thundered and shattered in his chest when he found you gasping and wheezing over the toilet bowl when you had taken a bite of toast to calm him. He rarely left you alone, only for a few minutes to put the still full dishes in the sink, to ring Lizzie and tell her that he wouldn’t be coming for reasons that he refused to disclose, to smoke a cigarette under the grey stone archway, his shaking hands and bitten fingernails barely visible through the sleepy rolling fog.

He had grabbed handfuls of papers and the brass ink pen you had got him for your anniversary and broke his own rule - bringing work into your bedroom. It had always been a sacred space. For candlelight and soft laughter, aching hands and heart shaped bruises, a sanctuary for him to breathe and to love and to be loved fully in return. But he was afraid if he didn’t have a distraction, he might just completely lose it, and he had to be there for you.

So he sat squinting in his glasses, the room almost completely dark save for a few candles because of the migraines that had started to spread throughout your skull, and let himself be drawn into the mess of squiggly lines and numbers that suddenly didn’t add up, with you still centre stage in his peripheral.

After about forty minutes of rereading the same sentence a dozen times to try and make some sense of it, he heard your voice, like a small crack spreading across a sheet of ice, coming from the bed.

“Tom?” You sounded so weak, he practically flipped your cream vanity as he got to his feet and darted towards you. “I don’t feel well.”

He lifted you as you reached your arms up at him like a child. He almost gasped at the sweat pouring from your body but didn’t want to scare you, and instead held your shaking, shivering body against his own. How could you be so hot, yet so cold at the same time? Your skin was prickled with goosebumps yet you were burning with a fever, and for the first time in a long time, he had no fucking idea what to do.

He left you propped up against the headboard and he entered the bathroom. He ran over to the claw foot tub you loved, twisting the faucet and trying to find the perfect medium between boiling hot and freezing cold. He didn’t want to overwhelm you, just try and soothe your raging fever, and he ignored the shelves of expensive bath oils and scented soaps that you coveted, instead opting for a handful of something meant to ease tension - praying to whoever was listening that it would help you somehow.

There was a brutal, awful moment as he lifted you from the bed, limp as a rag doll, where he imagined what would happen if your heart were to stop. He couldn’t comprehend what it would be like to miss the weight of you in his arms, the smell of your skin, the feeling of your lips against him, the shovels stopping and fading into nothing. It hit him square in the chest, as merciless as a bullet, and he had to lean against the doorframe to stop the two of you from plummeting to the ground.

He undressed himself first. Tugging his white shirt off, sliding off his slacks and his underwear, keeping you as close to his chest as he could. Then he pulled your nightgown up and over your head. He gathered your hair and secured it up with a claw clip so that it was away from your face, the heat radiating off your neck as fierce as the fire now burnt down to ash in the bedroom.

He lowered the two of you into the bath, sinking down beneath the eucalyptus smelling lukewarm water, letting it wash over you both. Your teeth were chattering and you were barely awake. He gathered handfuls of water, letting it drip over your shoulders and pulse points, grabbing a washcloth and running it over your raised skin, hating how you barely registered his touch. As he scrubbed over your collarbones and up to your face he saw your lips had turned to an awful, silvery blue, as vibrant as a fresh bruise. He hissed and tugged on the plug, now determined to get you wrapped up in a fresh towel and tucked back into bed.

You were soft and placid and he helped you out, lacking the usual fire that he adored. Your eyes were glassy and missing their vibrance, like the vanishing spark of a lighter - and he felt miles and miles of invisible distance between the two of you. You were unsteady on your feet and he used his body to prop you up as he warmed your arms with a fluffy white towel. You suddenly stopped, lifting your hand to your mouth as you started to cough - a horrible, dry, gasping cough.

He noticed it almost immediately. His eyes darting to the splatter of red against the white, a smudge of crimson that was as loud and commanding as a siren, a warning signal that something was definitely not right. A bead of scarlet that would linger long behind his closed eyelids.

He managed to get you back into bed, remaining calm as he stroked your hair and kissed your temple. He tucked you under the duvet and waited for your breathing to even before he ran downstairs, his heart thumping in his ears as he practically ripped the phone off of the wall.

“Pol? Fuck. I think - I think I need help.”

—————————————————————-

The room smelt like bleach and metal. Unfamiliar and clinical. There was something hard on your chest and covering your mouth, it tasted like wet pennies and was as heavy as a hand over your throat, but for the first time in days you could finally breathe. You tried to sit up, but there was a needle in your chest, a gown you didn’t recognise cut straight down the middle to accommodate it. You struggled and lifted the thin bedsheet above your shivering torso, trying to look around the cold room.

“Careful!”

It was Polly, dressed immaculately despite her surroundings. She reached out and placed a manicured hand across yours, and you smiled at the woman who had always been a calming influence when you had joined the circus of a family. There was concern in her eyes, rimmed with black eyeliner and lifted lashes but still swimming deep around her pupils. That made you frown, and you moved as much as you could to face her.

“What happened?”

She ran her tongue over her teeth, choosing her words. “You gave us quite a fright, love.”

“I did?” Your memories of the past few days were much like a fever dream, blurry and distorted snapshots were all you could really remember.

“Your pneumonia got worse. A lot worse.” She paused, looking over to the door and you followed her gaze. “They found fluid in your lungs.”

“So...” You started, gesturing to the needle in your abdomen and the breathing apparatus around your head.

She nodded. “Yes. You were in surgery. It was touch and go for a little bit.”

“Really?” You were bewildered. You couldn’t remember anything, let alone having major surgery. You looked her straight in the eye, asking her the questions that had been on the tip of your tongue since you had woken up. “Where is he? Where’s Tommy?”

“He’s outside.” She clicked her tongue, reaching deep into her purse and pulling out some hand cream, gently rubbing your dry hands like she was your mother. You leant into her touch despite all of your questions.

“What? Why?”

“I think he blames himself. God knows what goes on in that mans head. All I really know is he was bloody terrified.” She paused, looking over in the distance. “I’ve never seen him so scared, not even on his wedding day.” She smiled sadly, trying to lighten the mood, but it soon faded. “He didn’t leave your side the whole time you were asleep.”

Your heart thumped in your chest, a soft aching that you knew all too well. “I want to see him.”

“I know you do. But right now...” She stopped right as a handful of nurses entered, clad in long blue dresses with white aprons, hair tied back and smelling of strong soap and disinfectant. You lost Polly in the bustle as one spoke softly to you before tugging on the needle right beside your ribs, your eyes just catching hers as she left, a promise to see you soon on her lips.

It wasn’t her you saw next, but Tommy.

The nurses had cleaned you up with wet flannels and bowls of warm soapy water. Your hair had been braided and your face washed, and walked you arm in arm over to the bathroom so you could relieve yourself. A skittish doctor followed after, his eyes darting across you and his touch gentle as he changed your dressings and took your blood - obviously under strict instructions from your husband, and despite everything, you smiled.

You were sat listening to the clock tick. A romance novel you had been given was dangling dangerously close to the end of the bed, but you were too tired to focus on it. You heard the door squeal softly, and the sound of familiar footsteps across the tiling, each small thud sending shockwaves across your spine.

“Tommy.”

He looked tired. Exhausted rather, as though he had been awake all the hours that you had been asleep. His eyes were bloodshot and his skin was sallow and bruised. His clean shaven face was dark with stubble and his hair was ruffled and unwashed. You longed to reach out to him and cradle him against you, but he stood in the doorway, lingering like a ghost.

“Tommy?” You repeated, your voice almost a whisper, breaking his already shattered heart once again.

“How are you feeling, my love?”

You smiled softly, like spun sugar and sweet honey. No hospital bed or itchy gown could dull your infectious light. “Better now.”

He approached you almost cautiously. He settled down on the hard chair beside your bed and stroked a line down from your temple to your lips, his touch setting you alight like an electrical storm. There was a sadness in his eyes that reminded you of how he got when things were bad, and you willed him to come back to you. His touch was tentative and he inhaled shakily as you cupped his hand with yours, pressing a tender kiss to the inside of his palm.

“Don’t scare me like that. Ever.” He was stern, as though hoping his words would make it true. “I mean it.” He kept his gaze on your pretty face, trying his best not to stare at the harsh bruising on your delicate flesh or the sickly tone of your skin.

“Tommy I’m going to get sick, even you can’t stop that.” You teased gently.

“I can bloody well try.” His hands cradled your face, pulling you into him and kissing you fiercely, still mindful of the wires and tubes taped to your body. There was something about the tenderness and deep longing in the kiss that when mixed with your total exhaustion and love for your husband prompted tears to start falling from your eyes. You sniffled as he pulled away, concern dripping from his beautiful features, his powerful mind wanting to do everything and anything to stop your hurting.

“Hey, hey.” He said, running his calloused fingertips under your eyes and wiping your tears away. You leant into his touch and he kissed your temple, squeezing you even tighter into him. “You know I hate it when you cry.” He toyed with your hair and winked playfully. “Besides, all you need to focus on is getting better. You’re going to have to take care of me when we get home, this week has given me a fucking stroke.”

You rolled your eyes, kissing the inside of his wrist. “You’re a idiot, Thomas Shelby.” You blinked at the clock looming above you both, wanting to stay in your blissful bubble but also knowing that Aunt Pol would probably be in the vicinity harassing a poor nurse over your results. “You should go and find Polly, let her know that everything’s alright.”

He shook his head and nuzzled his nose across yours, an act so innocent that your heart dipped and swooped in your chest. “Later.” He said, breathless and consumed by you. Everything had been too much. Almost losing you had been harrowing, it had punctured him completely and he just needed to feel his girl safe and warm around him. He needed to know that you weren’t found anywhere.

“I just want to stay here for a while. Just me and you.”

You grinned. “Always.”

#tommy shelby oneshot #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinders oneshot #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby oneshot

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get-shiggy-with-it · 3 years

Text

Scream Therapy

Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki x gender neutral!reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: extremely vague allusions to mental illness, metaphors about wounds, angst with a relieving ending, let me know if i’ve missed something

AO3 mirror

So you know those tiktoks where people go out into the woods and scream? Just like expel all the shit that’s been holding them down into an open field and let the earth reclaim all their dark, restless energy? Reveal the burdens that have been creaking in their joints and trapped in the prison of their ribs for the trees to swallow?

I’ve been thinking about that and Shigaraki a lot.

Like the rest of the league too, but mostly Shigs.

Just imagine:

It’s late, it always is when shit is going down at the hideout. The League of Villains is practically nocturnal at this point. Shigaraki’s mind is a loud place—lot’s of rabid, train tearing down the track lines of thought that clatter and roar and gush toxic coal smoke.

So as annoyed as he makes himself out to be, he doesn’t actually mind the din of the bar all that much. Twice and Toga chattering in the corner, random bits of too loud laughter and the clink of Kurogiri polishing glasses as he tells off Dabi for the umpteenth time about smoking inside—hell, even Compress rambling about the health benefits of high quality wine to nobody in particular is somewhat...comforting?

That’s not quite the right word, but their noise settles around him a bit like a thick quilt and dampens the rampage inside his head for a while.

He thinks about a lot of things.

Some good, most bad, all obsessive. He’ll get stuck in these loops sometimes, small questions evolve into bigger, more complicated webs, and suddenly it’s been four hours and he’s done nothing but stare at the same spot on the wall just left of his desktop monitor.

Sleep is a terrifying venture for much the same reason. Once he gets caught in that cycling it’s so hard to break out, and that’s when he’ll stumble down the stairs and sequester himself away at the end of the bar.

There he will sit and listen to the incessant white noise of his team—which is frustrating too but infinitely better than whatever anxiety coated sludge his brain will come up with if left to its own devices, so he bears it.

And then there’s you.

Who you are isn’t entirely important.

Maybe you’re just another member of the League, dedicated to helping your boss spread villainy across the city. Maybe you’re a morally ambiguous civilian who just stumbled in much like a stray cat into a depressed college student’s apartment and simply never left.

Whatever the circumstances, where you came from doesn’t matter.

To him, your contributions to the din are just another layer of insulation against the storm. He couldn’t really care less what you do, or where you go when you weren’t there. As long as your voice could offer a different type of grating against his ears than the silent throbbing of his head when he is alone, then your presence is justified.

Shigaraki only takes notice of you when you leave, when your voice is no longer adding to the uproar drowning out whatever new thought spiral he was trying to claw his way out of.

It’s very late then. That odd, in between time when it’s closer to the sunrise than to it’s setting but somehow also the darkest portion of the night. Of course, it’s never totally dark—not with all the light pollution laying an ever present, glowing haze across the horizon—but it’s as close as it gets out here to pitch black.

He catches the tail end of your coat, a glimpse of your shoe soles as you slip up the stairs and climb the wrought iron ladder that leads to the roof. Shigaraki often catches himself wondering how you figured out exactly how to avoid each board that creaked. He thinks sometimes it’s because you like going unnoticed, that too much attention makes you feel just as shaky as he gets when he’s been inside his head too long. Or possibly you just don’t want to wake anyone up in the rare moments that some League members are actually asleep.

Regardless, he watches you go and feels strangely...compelled to follow and because he rarely feels compelled to do anything unless it’s furthering the downfall of hero society, he does.

He takes an unsteady step, then another until the brisk, cusp-of-summer air is washing over him. It bites through his thin black top and the worn holes in his jeans, but the sting feel likes something.

And since he almost always feels nothing at all, it’s good.

You’re stood a few feet from the edge of the building, where the ledge has begun to crumble away from age and poor maintenance. The wind is strong enough that it makes your limp arms sway by your sides. Shigaraki is so thin now, he’s almost afraid for a moment it might blow him away. He’s found himself feeling so insubstantial as of late, it’s shocking when his feet don’t lift off from the roof entirely. He crosses the distance towards you slowly.

If you hear him approaching, you don’t show it.

Normally he wouldn’t start a conversation of his own volition but he did follow you up here and the silence is getting a bit deafening, even with the breeze.

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

It’s simple, but it’s all he can think to say. Funny, with how many words that run through his head, he can never find the right ones when he wants them.

You turn then, and your face is...well it’s a face. He tends not to look at people’s faces much—doesn’t want to see their expressions when they look at him, but from what he can tell you aren’t upset that he’s here at least.

“I love the city at night.”

That’s all you offer in response and he knows somehow that you’ll keep talking even if he doesn’t answer. That you know how much he hates the quiet but can’t ever fill it himself.

“When you’re up high enough, you can pretend the streetlights are stars,” you divulge, as if it’s some sort of great, long kept secret.

Maybe it is.

Maybe you have a lot of secrets. You seem to him like the type of person who would. Who keeps life changing truths tucked under your tongue to drop suddenly over convenience store dinners and cheap beer.

He thinks that maybe he’d like to know them.

“It’s always so alive during the day, the streets I mean,” you continue, eyes trained out on the buildings below, tracing constellations from block to block. “But I can’t shake the feeling that it’s rotting too like….”

You trail off and don’t finish the thought, but you don’t have to. He knows what you mean: like the city is a wound that’s festering. That all the people and the heroes that corral them like cattle are just an infection waiting to spread.

“What are you doing here?” he asks again, because he hasn’t been able to come up with anything else.

Your gaze flits over his face this time, and Shigaraki almost misses the small smile that plays at your lips. He’s close enough now that you could touch him, and you almost do, shoulders just inches away from brushing. But you don’t close the gap.

You touch the others, a lot actually, though he gets the sense you’re the type to ask first. And with his mind running on overdrive every waking second, he gets overstimulated easily. He should probably be thankful you aren’t as familiar with him. That you bother to notice the distance he keeps even when he rarely pays you any mind.

Maybe you’re thankful for that too.

“You know, scream therapy is a very effective and cheap alternative to professional intervention,” you say matter of factly in response.

He waits for you to continue and you do.

“There’s no one out this late but heroes on patrols and they won’t come to help us, so this is a perfect opportunity to give it a try.”

He can feel his brow knitting together and you raise your hand for a second as if to smooth your thumb over the wrinkled skin. Shigaraki doesn’t move, but watches your fingers pause in mid motion and drop back down.

There’s a strange charge in the air between you—a spark he distantly wishes would ignite if only so he could stop churning in his gut.

“How do you do it?”

He’s never asked so many questions of anyone in his life. But he finds he truly wants to know.

And you’re the one that can show him.

You breathe deeply beside him, letting your eyes drift shut and taking a step towards the ledge. With hands balled into righteous little fists, you bend a bit at the waist and you...scream.

Shigaraki isn’t quite sure what he’d expected, but for some reason it wasn’t that.

He’s heard shouts before, cries for help or out of fear, but nothing like this. The sound seems to bubble up from some deep, dank pit inside you and bursts forth from your mouth like a geyser spewing boiling water from the earth. It’s long and low and loudloudloud. It isn’t a sound he could ever imagine you making, but it rumbles in his chest as if it’s his own.

Just watching has a weight lifting from his shoulders.

You keep going even when he knows you should have run out of air. But you aren’t really making the noise, you’re just letting it escape. He’s not sure how he knows that but he does.

Your voice cracks and snaps and rages forth and you scream in a way he feels in his very bones. The garbled, awful sound is so clearly understandable despite the wind that carries it away.

It says: I am free and young and can feel none of it.

And then it’s words. Words that tumble from you in a torrent.

About your family, about what’s been done to you, what you’ve done to yourself.

About the lies and the injustice of it all.

You’re heaving by the end, deflated as though all the screams had left behind an empty space—an abscess drained and ready to heal over or fill back up.

“It’s your turn.”

Shigaraki stares at you, silhouetted by the dull, silver glow of the city and panting. You both look at each other for a moment, reveling in the odd connection that sometimes forms between strangers who know far too much about each other.

He doesn’t think he could top that, but the energy you’ve created is invigorating and he’s determined to ride the wave while he has it.

Taking a step, he joins you by the ledge again, and you back up as if allowing him into the spotlight. The wind will swallow whatever he says, it will eat the words like a starving behemoth and he finds himself ready to feed the beast.

He has to dig deep, scratch at old sores to make them bleed again, tear at scabs so he can let the contaminating thoughts leak out. Once he feels like he’s breached far enough, Shigaraki takes a breath.

And he screams.

His body doubles over with the strength of it, foot slamming down onto the roofing and four fingers fisted in the hem of his shirt.

It hurts coming out, rips at his vocal chords and has his throat raw to bleeding after just the first few seconds but he pushes past it.

He wonders if this is what a runner's high feels like, when you’ve pushed beyond the side stitches and knee aches and your blood finally rushes with all those elusive feel good chemicals he never has enough of.

Whatever it is, the feeling is addicting.

Shigaraki is dimly aware of you in his peripheral, encouraging the tsunami thoughts in his head to be thrust out into the uncaring arms of the city skyline.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t have to search for the words. They simply come. All his frustrations, some he wasn’t even conscious of, spill fresh and steaming like blood. Physically, his body remains but somewhere in the depths of his mind he is younger and hurt and alone and trying desperately to scream.

“I destroy everything I touch!” he roars at the apathetic, grey sidewalk below.

After the last word leaves him, he feels the same weightlessness he’d seen in the sag of your shoulders. The same snapping of the coil slack in his spine.

And suddenly, with this glorious, awful sense of revelation, Shigaraki realizes that everything in his head has gone quiet.

He’s over taken by a silence that requires no filling, a peace that he’d imagined only existed at the bottom of abandoned wells, far away from any chubby child’s hands that may toss foolish wishes down them.

He thinks about kissing you then.

And he knows now that this thought has always been there, but it was drowned like a subway rat in the aftermath of the hurricane brewing in his brainstem. He has always noticed you no matter how hard you try to blend into the background. Your voice has always been a bit better at shutting out the unending, worthless choir in his head.

He wouldn’t have followed anyone else up here—not Dabi, not Spinner, not Compress or even Kurogiri.

He can see that now. In this new enlightened state, everything is so much clearer. Though he is quickly thrust back into the present, into his body once again, as another kind of soft weight settles on his shoulders. Your coat is skin warmed and smells like you and everything he’s ever loved in his own screwy little way. He realizes then that you’ve been trying to talk to him this whole time.

“Shigs,” you call again and tuck the coat tighter around his shoulders, “you were shaking.”

Shigaraki nods, feeling relief from the cold he hadn’t quite been aware of till now. He’s not sure if you’ve ever addressed him so informally before, but he decides he likes the nickname.

It feels a bit like a gift.

“Better, yeah?”

He’s not really sure if it’s better, but it is different and it’s been impossibly long since anything has been different, so he thinks it must be good.

“Yes,” he says.

It’s a general yes, both to your question and to you, whatever that might mean. He doesn’t say anything more because he’s done enough talking and you nod like you understand.

Neither of you moves to leave the roof, but you do inch closer to him this time, closing the gap and tucking him into your side. Your arm is slung gently across his shoulders and he finds the weight of it relieving.

That seems like it shouldn’t make since but it does—a paradox of sorts, weight being a comfort.

Then the sun begins to rise and it’s as if he’s seeing you in a new light.

Your profile outlined by the stark daybreak rays, so horribly strong despite the scream he knows is forming again under the surface.

And Shigaraki wonders if you see him that way too.

#tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki x reader #bnha x reader #tomura shigaraki imagines #gender nuetral reader #slight manga spoilers #bee.writes

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faeriebears · 3 years

Text

A list of kagehina fluff fics I adore, and I think you will too ♪ヽ(･ˇ∀ˇ･ゞ

• pervasion - artenon

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Haikyuu!!

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio

Characters: Kageyama Tobio, Hinata Shouyou

Additional Tags: Sharing Clothes, College, Future Fic

Summary:

Hinata won’t stop wearing Kageyama’s shirts to bed, and it’s becoming a problem.

• As Forking Pasts Converge Into A Single Point - anilee0510

Chapters: 1/1

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio

Additional Tags: Break Up, Getting Back Together, they are college age

Summary:

Two years, three months and four days if one wanted to be exact but it wasn’t like Kageyama was keeping track. Not. At. All.

(alternatively: Kageyama gets a text that sends him trekking across a couple of prefectures to make sure a certain stupid ex wasn't getting attacked by rabid dogs or abducted by aliens)

• Do you love volleyball more than me? - lalasagna

Chapters: 1/1

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio

Additional Tags: Kissing, dumb boyfriends kissing, Established Relationship, Fluff, ALL THE FLUFF, kageyama doesn't like not kissing hinata, hinata always gets his way because kags is whipped af, Self-Indulgent, no one cries this time youre welcome, Humor

Summary:

Hinata asks Kageyama a question and Kageyama takes some time to answer. Honestly, at least.

• Fingertips all over - sanguinekitten

Chapters: 1/1

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio

Additional Tags: Fluff, Sharing a Bed, Touching, just checked and i never used the word "linger" in a fic about touch so are you curious yet, kageyama has cold hands furudate told me themselves, i actually have no idea how to tag this, alternatively: kageyama has a crush and does absolutely nothing about it, Canon Compliant

Summary:

Warm.

From the breadth of his smile to the print of his fingertips, Hinata Shoyo is warm.

• Nighttime Prowl - HQcharbon (fleurdelester)

Chapters: 1/1

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Meetings, Neighbours, (kinda), Cats, hinata is hot, and his cat likes to annoy kageyama, thats a recipe for success in my book

Summary:

His miracle idea came to him one day as he watched the orange cat jump onto its balcony. There, practically blending into the cat’s fur, was a red collar. It’s a wonder he didn’t notice it beforehand, Tobio thinks, eyeing the bell that jingles as the cat leaps onto his windowsill to stare inside and look for Whiskers.

There’s no tag, he thinks, but that won’t be a problem.

He grabs a scrap of paper from his desk, writing a court message on a strip he tore off.

Hi, your cat keeps coming to my apartment in the middle of the night. Is it possible you can keep him inside overnight? Thanks.

He adds his name and phone number for good measure before slipping the note onto the mystery cat’s collar, hopefully ending his late nights once and for all.

• a green ring upon my finger - emleewrites

Chapters: 1/1

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio

Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Misunderstandings, Pro Volleyball Player Kageyama Tobio, Pro Volleyball Player Hinata Shouyou, Married Couple, Married Life, Manga Spoilers, Light Angst, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Miscommunication, Hurt/Comfort

Summary:

There, along the base of his left ring finger, is a smudge of green across the skin. “Dumbass-“ he starts.

“Don’t call me a dumbass, Tobio, my finger is rotting.”

“It’s not rotting, it’s from your ring you idiot,” Tobio tells him, half amused and half deeply exasperated. “But you said you didn’t want to tell anyone yet,” he then states, staring hard at his partner. “Isn’t everyone wondering why you’re wearing a wedding ring?”

“I don’t deny I’m married!” Hinata laughs, sounding very proud at this declaration. Tobio’s chest squeezes.

• How to become educated in the art of homosexuality - justhavesex

Chapters: 1/1

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio

Additional Tags: Romantic Comedy

Summary:

The world ends on a Thursday when Kageyama accidentally kisses Hinata during practice.

• A million floating hearts and counting - tsunderei

Chapters: 1/1

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio

Additional Tags: Manga Spoilers, Post-Time Skip, Canon Compliant, Aged-Up Character(s), Pro Volleyball Player Kageyama Tobio, Pro Volleyball Player Hinata Shouyou, Established Relationship, Living Together, Light Angst, Domestic Fluff, Fame/Social Media Struggles

Summary:

Fans have always loved to speculate about Kageyama and Hinata, especially after their professional volleyball careers took off. They usually deal with all the attention in stride, accepting the bad with the good – but the more Kageyama stays quiet, the more Hinata worries.

• There's something to be said for soup and heated lavender - emleewrites

Chapters: 1/1

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio

Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Pro Volleyball Player Kageyama Tobio, Pro Volleyball Player Hinata Shouyou, Married Couple, Domestic Fluff, Sickfic, Good Husband Tobio, Headaches & Migraines, Manga Spoilers, Hurt/Comfort

Summary:

“Tobio.”

“Hmmm?”

Hinata lets his hands drop away from his face and raises himself up on his elbows slightly so he can squint down the bed at him. “How many flavours have you made?”

“Err… six.”

Hinata stares at him wordlessly before letting his aching head drop back onto the pillow. “You thought I’d eat six bowls of soup?” He asks the ceiling, voice rough and bewildered.

Tobio frowns, slightly offended. Of course he didn’t think Hinata would eat six bowls of soup, he wasn’t an idiot. “I wanted to be thorough,” he pouts, scowling down at his medley of soup. Admittedly the kitchen now looked like a bomb had hit it and he’s not entirely certain about the cauliflower one, but he’s fairly sure they’re all edible.

In which Hinata has a migraine, and Kageyama is a doting husband with too many remedies.

• confession - buu

Chapters: 1/1

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio

Summary:

“You've been an ass to me for three weeks!” Hinata blurts, and finally the weight of it is pushing down on him. He's been trying to ignore it, telling himself it's just Kageyama being Kageyama, but this isn't like him, this is weird, and Hinata hates it. He's miserable.

Stay tuned for the next list! Love you all!

#haikyuu!!#kagehina #kagehina fic recs #haikyuu fic recs #hq fic rec #kagehina fic #kagehina fluff #anime

87 notes · View notes

yourdeepestfathoms · 3 years

Text

we'll cast some light and you'll be alright (for now)

another fic, for y'all! more angst and mama Alci!

TW: Rape

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

The man-thing beneath her was shuddering in pain, trying to scramble backward with only one arm, as the other was busy pressing against the gash in his side, trying to stem the heavy bleeding. His expression was a mix between revulsion and terror. As deep as it was, he would live. Maybe.

But he wouldn’t get that chance.

He didn’t beg or scream when his heart was ripped out, which irked his attacker, but it didn’t matter. The creature standing above him was satisfied, having obtained what she had come for. He was lucky she wasn’t either one of her sisters, who would have prolonged his death a lot longer than she had, milking out every last drop of suffering they could before his life force finally faded away into nothingness. She had better things to do than play cat and mouse with some incompetent human. Like returning the heart to her mother.

Bela’s chest warmed with pride as she gazed down at the dripping muscular organ cupped in her hands. It wasn’t often that Mother got to eat the heart of a man, and when she did, it was usually in the context of a raid on the castle, sort of dulling the effect of getting to consume such a treat. But now no damage would be made because Bela had managed to retrieve one all by herself! And Mother would be able to indulge in the warmth and sweet blood and would be so proud of her!

She swelled with delight as she began creeping away from the body, holding the heart delicately. Her sisters never understood why she was always reaching for Mother’s praise, but she couldn’t understand why they didn’t. Didn’t they want to please her? Make her happy? Get all of her praise and love and affection?

Bela’s thoughts were then rudely interrupted by something sharp snapping down around her ankle and yanking her to the ground. She let out a cry of pain, unable to bite it back in the face of so much discomfort. She shifted over and shakily reached out to see what had caught her.

A bear trap. Clamped around her left leg, just above the ankle. Her right hand gripped the limb tightly, slightly over where the metallic teeth bared into her flesh. One sporadic tremor was all it took to send new currents of torture up her leg. And, once again, there was no stifling her tormented scream from ripping out of her throat. Now both hands were clutching at the appendage, trying desperately to lessen the pain. It did little to help.

“Shit,” Bela hissed. “Shit, shit, shit!”

She attempted to pry the jaws of the artificial beast from her leg again, but her arms were shaking too much and the torment that seized her body prevented her from using all her strength; all of it was quickly being stolen away within her. Before she could get the teeth more than an inch away, the slickness of the blood caused it to slip from her grasp and bite right back to where it was originally. Just like that, she was back at square one.

Bela took several shuddering breaths and looked up at the sky. Now she knew why Mother didn’t like her and her sisters hunting alone. There was no one there to help her when she got into situations like this.

What had she been thinking? She was supposed to be the smart one! She was supposed to be the level-headed, calm one that didn’t do stupid things! She let her own need for praise blind her and now she was trapped.

There was snapping from within the dark woods around her. Bela’s head whipped up. Footsteps were approaching her- multiple footsteps. She bristled and made herself look as fierce as possible, despite the pain she was in.

A group of human men, around ten, if she counted correctly, broke through the brambles, armed with guns and axes and pitchforks, and stared down at her. A handful of them looked terrified at the sight of her, while the others smirked. Something sadistic was flashing in their eyes. They looked…hungry.

Bela tried to shake herself free from the bear trap when they approached her, but the iron teeth didn’t relent its vicious bite. They swarmed her, grabbing her limbs and holding her down. At first, she thought it was to take aim to kill her precisely, but then she noticed the very distinct bulges in their trousers and felt her chest seize in horror.

“Stop!” she yelled, finding her voice, which was wavering and shaky. “Let me go, you bastards!”

The men merely laughed at her threat. They seemed less scared of her when they had her ensnared as they did.

The leader of the pack, a scruffy man-thing with dark amber eyes, began to make a mess of her chest. His friends were pinning her wrists above her head, leaving her helpless to his assault. Slimy trails of saliva were left across her breasts; she cringed.

“Stop!”

When hands began to quest beneath her dress, she spasmed, fighting with all her strength. She managed to get an arm free and slashed her claws at one of the men beside her, ripping open dark red furrows along his skin.

“You bitch!” he shrieked, grasping at the gashes across his forearm. Blood seeped through his brown tunic. He looked fearfully at his friends. “What do I do?”

“Clean it,” one of them said.

“Will that be enough?”

“Enough for what?”

The man Bela had wounded shifted, looking anxious. “What if I turn into one of them?”

“That’s not how that works, dumbass,” piped up another man.

While they were distracted by each other, Bela squirmed harder. She tried to summon her insects, but her head was smashed against what she thought was a jagged rock; she swore she could hear the sickening sound of bones breaking upon impact. She slumped to the dirt, groaning. Her vision cut out for a moment, and when it returned, she thought she was being surrounded by rabid wolves.

“Creature, look at me while I touch you. That’s just common decency, don’t you think?“

Bela shut her eyes and refused to open them back up. She didn’t want to look. The man straddling her pulled her hair.

“Don’t be rude.”

She could feel more tears coming- how long had she been crying? She shook her head, jerking her limbs, but they were snagged tightly.

“N-No--”

The man-beasts around her cackled.

“Would you look at that,” one of them said. “The monster is cowering.”

“Not much of a terror now is she?” said another, tittering.

“She isn’t so strong once you have her caught,” added a third.

“God, she’s hot. Can we just start already? I want my turn.” a fourth joined in.

Bela whimpered. She couldn’t hide the fact that she was terrified. Her voice was cracking and she sounded snotty. She wanted this to stop right now. She tried to ease away, but they were firmly holding her in place. She kept muttering “no” over and over again, trying to drown out their voices.

The scruffy man leaned over her more, restraining her with his body weight.

“I said,” white-hot pain seared through Bela’s groin, causing her to howl, “look at me while I touch you, creature.”

She was dry, and the friction between her legs burned so intensely that it made her see stars. Within moments of only a few thrusts, she already felt raw. The stinging only increased.

All at once, she felt everything: the pain in between her legs, the dirty fingernails raking down her sides, the hands that raised up to fondle her breasts, the teeth on her neck, the tongue in her mouth, the bear trap around her ankle, the blazing heat that bloomed within her stomach… Then, she felt nothing at all.

--- --- ---

Bela lost track of time rather easily. It all started to blur together, but all she knew was that they tortured her in the woods for hours. Their lust was never-ending, their hunger was insatiable. She felt cowed by their heat, unable to fight back, falling victim to their needy claws.

She wondered why they didn’t kill her. She wished they did. She wanted the pain to go away.

Now, she lay on the damp dirt, naked, barely awake, and struggling to breathe. Her bare stomach was splattered with semen and marred by scratches. Her head was pounding intensely. Her throat felt red and raw. Her eyes were stinging and still leaking tears.

Had anyone noticed she was gone? Was Mother or her sisters worried about her? Were they looking for her?

Did they care?

Bela pushed herself up slowly; the pain was unbearable. It was a constant, aching thing in her stomach that never seemed to relent its throbbing assault. Hot coals were shoveled into each part of her body when she tried to move again, stoking the raging fires burning inside of her. Her muscles crackled painfully from the strain of getting up but were quickly overcome by a brighter, even sharp sensation in her left leg.

Right. She was still caught in the bear trap.

If this situation couldn’t have gotten any worse.

Bela struggled with the iron jaws for several eternal moments, sobbing harder each time her attempts failed. She eventually managed to pry the teeth loose and yank her ankle free, falling backward into the dirt and leaves and sending little lightning bolts alight throughout her entire body. She wept.

Eventually, awareness returned to her and she realized she had to get home. She had to get out of this forest. She had to get away.

She cleaned off her belly and legs and tried to do the same for her vagina, but it seized up the moment her hands got near, so she left it be. She put on her dress, which was in tatters and reeked of sex, but it was better than wearing nothing at all. The blood congealing between her thighs squelched uncomfortably when she began walking back to the castle, limping heavily on her injured ankle as she went. It bubbled and smeared and stuck on her skin, sometimes running down the length of her legs, but she couldn’t bother to wipe it away. She just wanted her mother.

It took a lot longer than it should have to get back to the castle, and when she did finally make it, she couldn’t go any further. Her knees buckled and the ground rushed up to meet her. She curled up into a fetal position, shaking all over, weeping again. She didn’t know how her body managed to still produce tears after crying so much, but there was wetness in her eyes and running down her cheeks. She trembled.

“Mother…”

Her voice came out weak and brittle. Frail.

“Mother…”

Maybe if she hadn’t been in so much agony, she would have cared more about being seen in such a state. But she didn’t care about anything. Not anymore. All she wanted was to curl up in her mother’s arms and never leave.

“Mother…”

The tears were coming down faster. Would anyone come for her? Did her mother care? Or was she to be left like this? She knew she probably looked like a sorry excuse for a beast, a waste of an experiment, better to be killed off so nobody would have to suffer her insolence, but she didn’t think Mother would be the one to turn her back on her. She whimpered.

“Mama!”

She should have known. She had it coming, didn’t she? Despite being the oldest, she was always the last in everything when it came to being a bloodthirsty beast. Didn’t hunt very well because she felt bad for the animals, was willing to submit to her younger sisters because she didn’t always know how to command situations, preferred to spend her time reading instead of participating in bloodsports, tried to avoid conflict because she didn’t enjoy getting her hands dirty, couldn’t even defend herself from human men…

It all made so much sense now.

She didn’t deserve to see Mother.

Footsteps were coming from one of the hallways. Someone was emerging into the light of the foyer. Bela, with her eyes bleary and mind hazed, couldn’t help but think it was one of the men returning for a second round. She tried to crawl away, whimpering.

Hands seized her and she screamed.

“No! NO!”

But it was too late. Too late.

--- --- ---

Alcina was first alerted by the smell before she even heard the mewls. The rank, disgusting stench of man semen entered her castle, so strong she was able to catch it from down in the basement, where every scent was usually overpowered by blood. But the pungent odor of filthy sperm managed to reach her like a wriggling maggot, and she instantly thought one of the maids had grown some courage and snuck a consort into her palace. She didn’t even think to consider what it actually had been because she never thought that such a thing would happen to one of her girls. It wasn’t something any mother should have to fear happening to their daughters.

Mounting the staircase, Alcina couldn’t help but chuckle at the foolishness of her maids. Did they truly think they could get something like this past her? Did they think they were being sneaky? She could smell their lust from a mile away.

However, as she exited out into the hallway, something new tickled her nose. The scent of semen was now mingled with blood and sweat and the faint smell of dirt. But there was something else, too. A noise. A word.

“Mother…”

Alcina perked up. Despite the faintness, she could easily pick out the voice of her eldest daughter.

“Bela?” she called back to her child.

For a moment, there was no response. At first, that wasn’t very concerning; Bela had always been the quiet type, always taking the time to consider her words instead of blurting the first thing that came to her mind like her younger sisters did. But with the intrusive smell wafting down the halls and the hoarseness she spoke with, Alcina couldn’t help but feel like something was wrong.

“Mother…”

“Bela,” Alcina said. She searched for buzzing beetles or flies, but couldn’t hear or see any. In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she had even seen her eldest daughter.

That, too, wasn’t very concerning, either. Bela had a tendency to tuck herself away in various rooms for hours, indulging herself in books and studies, always fascinated to know more about absolutely everything. Sometimes, it was the library. Other times, one of the parlors. But sometimes it could be a random maid closet that nobody would ever think to sit and read in or a hidden room behind one of the many tapestries that made searching for her an elaborate scavenger hunt of trying to remember which weaving had already been checked or a specific corner in a specific room that nobody really went into anymore because there was nothing important inside. Alcina vividly remembered the time she nearly tore the castle apart searching for her eldest child because she couldn’t find her anywhere and she wasn’t answering her when she called. It turned out that Bela, younger at the time, was in a small back room Alcina had completely forgotten existed, playing midwife with a laboring opossum and trying to feed the mother her beetles. Bela had turned to her, bright-eyed, and said, “Possum.” She then proceeded to give her an elaborate, in-depth explanation on the process of birth, radiating pride the entire time, completely oblivious to Alcina’s panic.

It then became a rule to never kill opossums for Bela’s sake. And they were, admittedly, a little cute.

However, like with the hoarseness Bela spoke in, something was off. Very off.

The blood mingling with the scent of sperm- that was her daughter’s blood.

“Mother…”

Alcina sprung into motion.

“Bela!” she called. She kept the panic from oozing into her voice, not wanting to jump to conclusions just yet, but her hurried stride was enough to convey her alarm. “Where are you, my sweet? Come to Mother.”

She stopped to listen for the buzzing of insect wings or even just footsteps on polished tile, but there were neither. There was, however, a very distinct cry that made her veins fill with black ice.

“Mama!”

Alcina charged down the hallway, adrenaline pumping madly through her entire body. A pair of quietly conversing maids saw her coming and jumped out of the way, pressing close to the walls. They should thank their lucky stars for their quick reflexes because she would have flayed them if they had gotten in her way.

“Bela!” She was shouting, now. “Where are you? Bela!”

She didn’t stop to listen this time, but she did strain her ears. There were no noises in response, not even an utter. She picked up her pace.

Alcina broke out into the grand foyer and three things slammed into her at once: first, the overwhelming stench of semen that was so thick and heavy she could almost taste it when she breathed through her mouth; second, the chill seeping in through the half-open front door; and third, the crumpled form of her eldest daughter curled up on the floor, shaking all over.

“Bela!”

Alcina rushed over to Bela’s side, noticing the way she tried to crawl away with bruised limbs. However, it wasn’t until she set her hands on her child’s shoulder that Bela let out a heart-wrenching scream.

“No! NO!”

Alcina snapped her hands away as though she had touched fire. Words could not begin to explain how awful it was to be a mother and be stared at with so much horror by her baby. Bela looked downright terrified of her--and then she noticed a sort of glaze in her eyes, as though she were peering out from a dirty window. She didn’t seem to be seeing Alcina as her mother, but as someone or something that struck great fear inside of her.

“Bela,” Alcina spoke softly. “It’s alright. I’m not going to hurt you. I would never hurt you.”

Bela shook her head and tried to shield her face with her arms, all while weeping, “No more, no more…”

Anger sparked deep within Alcina. Who could have possibly scarred her baby so badly that she didn’t even recognize her own mother?

Taming her rage so she wouldn’t scare Bela, Alcina reached out and lightly brushed Bela’s shoulder again, making her flinch and whimper sharply. The black dress she was wearing was in tatters, barely clinging to her frame, and the skin that laid underneath was grimy and scraped. It looked like she had gotten into a fight with a wolf and lost, but Alcina could tell this was much, much worse than anything a mangy hound could do.

“Bela,” Alcina said again. “My darling. It’s only me. Your mother. You’re safe. You’re alright.”

Bela peeked out of her arms reluctantly, and the eye that peered up at Alcina was clouded with tears. She blinked several times, as though she were trying to dispel a dense fog shrouding her vision, and then recollection seemed to dawn on her.

“Mama?” Bela croaked, her voice hoarse and weak. Her breathing, once shallow and wheezy, began to thicken, becoming heavier and more ragged as the seconds ticked by. The incessant shivering that infected her frame worsened until Alcina thought her eyeballs may just rattle right out of her skull. She whimpered.

“Yes, my love. It’s me.”

“Mama,” Bela said again. A fresh hurricane of tears stormed her eyes, pouring down her cheeks. “Mama!”

Bela collapsed into Alcina’s arms, sobbing. Instantly, the stench of semen increased tenfold, plugging Alcina’s nostrils and tickling her tongue. She fought the urge to gag. How anyone could thirst for such a poison was unknown to her, but there wasn’t time to meddle in human mating preferences. Right now, the only thing that mattered was the girl shaking and bleating like a baby lamb against her stomach.

Alcina pulled Bela closer to her, not caring about the odor anymore. She looked over her daughter, finding more scratches and rips in her dress, but also a large red patch on the back of her head, where the blonde hair was turned scarlet with blood. There was also a nasty ring around her left ankle that looked like it had been created by some kind of beast, leaking crimson and clear serous fluid. Protectiveness flared inside of her like fire.

“What happened?” Alcina asked, unable to keep the growl out of her voice. “Who did this to you?”

Bela flinched away. Her weeping turned to words and what came out was babbled nonsense: “I’m sorry, Mama, I’m sorry--”

“Hush, my sweet,” Alcina said, but Bela was too worked up to listen to her right now.

“No, no--” Bela shook her head, wincing as she did so. “It’s my fault, it’s all my fault! I’m s-sorry!”

Alcina’s eyebrows furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

Bela sniffled. Alcina wondered if she could smell the stink on her, too.

“I-- I went out hunting. Alone. Even though you forbid it.” Her daughter hung her head shamefully, letting Alcina glimpse the wound on the back of her skull again. “I wanted-- I wanted to get you something. A gift. And I had one, too! The heart of a man! But then-- but then I got caught in a hunter’s trap and-- and--” She dissolved into tears once again.

Alcina frowned. She always knew her eldest child’s hopeless devotion to her would get her into trouble. As much as she loved how Bela looked up to her, even she had to admit that it was rather worrying. Bela seemed to function solely on praise, always scratching for any ounce of approval, wanting only to please Alcina, even if it meant throwing her own needs out the window. Alcina remembered how she once briefly mentioned how nice it would be to hear her favorite song on piano and Bela interpreted that as a request, so she taught herself how to play the entire melody over the span of three days. As beautiful as the performance had been, Bela hadn’t slept or eaten or drank anything in that time, taking away her own basic needs until she finished her “task.” She never thought about herself and her body made her pay the price for it when she blacked out instantly after playing. Now history was repeating itself all over again--but, this time, it wasn’t her own immune system that exacted a fiery punishment upon her. That much was clear from Bela’s terror.

“Bela,” Alcina said. “Who hurt you? What did they do to you?”

Bela’s shoulder shook violently with the weight of her sobs. She didn’t look up at Alcina, much too ashamed of herself. Alcina could tell that much. Her daughter was practically radiating chagrin as much as she radiated emission.

“You can tell me, darling,” Alcina urged, softening her tone. “I won’t be mad at you.”

Bela peeked up at her nervously. Her face was blotchy and red, shiny with sweat and tears. “You-- you won’t?”

“I won’t,” Alcina assured her. “I promise. I would never get mad at you.”

Bela hesitated. She appeared to be trying to calm herself down, but it all fell apart when she shifted and seemed to be struck with great pain because she let out a heart-wrenching cry and curled up in Alcina’s arms, grasping at her dress with desperate claws. When she attempted to speak, Alcina could only make out snippets in between ragged gasps and distressed whimpers and heavy sobs.

“They-- men-- came at me-- too many-- couldn’t fight-- tried-- held me down-- touched me-- so scared-- hurts-- Mama-- Mama, it hurts!”

Alcina understood.

Alcina understood and she saw red.

An animalistic snarl that could frighten wolves bubbled from her throat and she bared her sharp teeth at the front door that was still slightly ajar, letting frigid, late-autumn air creep inside like an unwanted guest. She clenched Bela tighter against her, her claws beginning to grow in and hook into her daughter protectively, not quite realizing how much strength she was using until Bela squealed in pain. Instantly, her grip loosened, her talons retracted, her teeth tucked away back behind her lips, and she jerked her head to the side, yelling for a maid. One came rather quickly, and she had the sneaking suspicion that they were being spied on, but it didn’t matter. It was beneath her at the moment. Far beneath her.

“Run a hot bath in my room,” Alcina ordered. She tucked Bela in close to her stomach, trying to hide her ruined form from prying eyes. Nobody deserved to see the girl in such a state, certainly not a lowly maid.

The maid, a lanky, ash brown-haired young woman, nodded hastily, not even sparing Bela a glance, which Alcina appreciated. This one would be spared for a while.

A noise alerted Alcina, and she looked down to see that Bela was prattling on nonsensically, her watery words half-muffled by her dress.

“I’m so sorry-- didn’t mean it-- all my fault-- shouldn’t have gone-- should have known better-- don’t deserve this--”

The last comment in particular caught Alcina like a fishhook. She squeezed Bela tightly.

“Do not say that,” she said firmly. “You deserve my care. You are very unwell, Bela.”

Bela shook her head, whimpering. “It’s my fault it happened. I shouldn’t-- I shouldn’t have-- I shouldn’t--” Her breathing picked up.

“Bela, my sweet girl, take a breath,” Alcina said. “It’s alright. You need to breathe.”

Bela just shook her head again and buried her face back into Alcina’s stomach, not offering anymore words. She didn’t seem to be up to talking further. Alcina rubbed up and down her back to comfort her as they waited for the maid to return.

Alcina wasn’t sure how long she was crouched on the floor, breathing in the fumes of ejaculate, but the maid eventually came back, notifying her that the bath was ready. She sent her away before scooping Bela up into her arms, eliciting a sharp cry of pain from her daughter. Bela buried her face against her neck, shuddering, and Alcina felt hot tears slither down over her collarbone. Alcina cooed to Bela to calm her down as she carried her to her bedroom.

Inside the bathroom, Alcina carefully removed Bela’s dress. Every movement seemed to hurt her daughter, so she worked gently, not wanting to worsen her discomfort. Once the gown was off, she threw the tattered fabric into the far corner. It would need to be burned.

Now that Bela wasn’t wearing anything, Alcina could see the full extent of her wounds. Angry red scratch marks were scored up and down her back, sides, and stomach like some kind of sick point system, some crusted on the edges with blood and discharge, others flaked with mud and dirt. Purple bite marks were scattered on her neck and breasts, as though the men who had attacked her were the blood-sucking beasts and she was the cattle. Her thin wrists were swollen in the distinct maroon shape of fingerprints and her thighs were splattered in bruises and smeared with red--among other sick-smelling fluids.

The sight made Alcina absolutely enraged, but she stamped down her fury for the sake of her daughter. As much as she wanted to go find the monsters who did this, Bela needed her. She couldn’t just leave her.

“Alright, my darling,” Alcina said. “Let’s get you washed off.”

Bela didn’t fight her when Alcina lifted her up and set her into the hot water. In fact, she didn’t seem to be all too there anymore, too lost in her own shock and pain. She just stared numbly at the wall with half-lidded, glazed-over eyes as Alcina washed her shoulders and back and hair. Even cleaning the wound on the back of her head didn’t wake her up, despite the way she flinched in reaction to the pain.

“Bela.” Alcina gave Bela’s cheek a light pat. “My darling. Look at me.”

Bela blinked and her eyes focused on her. Alcina smiled softly at her.

“There’s my pretty girl,” Alcina cooed.

“Mama,” Bela rasped. Her head lolled back, resting against the wall the bathtub was situated against. “Hurts…”

Alcina frowned. She had a few draughts to relieve pain, but she didn’t trust the maids to get the right kind of medicine for her daughters. Not anymore. Not since Cassandra had asked for an elixir that would soothe some tooth pain she was having and a maid swapped it out for poison with the intent of killing her. Alcina had found her precious child seizing on the ground, foaming at the mouth, drowning in her own blood and froth. She vividly remembered watching Bela reach in with her fingers and scoop out the fluids from Cassandra’s mouth to keep her sister from choking further. If it weren’t for Bela’s quick thinking and excessive knowledge on poisons from spending so much time researching everything, Alcina may have lost a child that day. The maid, of course, was punished severely. When she was done with her, she wasn’t even recognizable. That being said, she would have to go and retrieve the brew herself.

Of course, there were her other two children, but she trusted them as much as she trusted the maids. Ever since Daniela and Cassandra had peer pressured Bela into drinking a random mixture they found--something about her needing to be more headstrong and stop letting them walk all over her--and Bela ended up being incredibly dizzy and unwell for several hours because that particular tonic had the strength to knock out a horse, she didn’t have the most faith that her younger daughters would grab the right bottle, whether it be intentional or not.

So that left her. Looking over Bela’s state, she knew the girl wouldn’t be happy if she went away for even a minute, but she didn’t have a choice. She would have to risk upsetting her daughter so she could relieve her of her pain.

But first, however, she needed Bela to feed, to regain at least some of her strength and consciousness.

Alcina tore open her wrist with her teeth and then pressed it to Bela’s lips. Bela instantly flinched back, her eyes popping open wide.

“It’s just me, darling,” Alcina murmured. “Just me. You’re okay.”

Bela blinked at her hazily, then looked at her bleeding wrist. Tentatively, she began to feed from it, sucking nervously from Alcina’s veins.

“Good girl,” Alcina cooed.

Despite the praise, however, Bela pulled back after only a few seconds, a look of sickness on her face. When Alcina urged her to feed more, she shook her head and shrunk away with a whimper, snaking her arms around her stomach.

“Alright,” Alcina said. “I’m going to leave for just a moment, okay? I’ll be right back, I promise.”

Bela’s head jerked up. She shook it furiously.

“I’m going to go get something that will help with the pain,” Alcina told her, caressing her cheek. “Just stay calm for me. I won’t be long.”

Bela whimpered and fretted like a baby animal as Alcina left the bathroom, but she forced herself to keep from rushing back to her side. She retrieved two different draughts, both in dark vials, and returned quickly, just as she had promised. However, she seemed to be gone long enough for something else to happen because when she walked back inside the bathroom, the bathtub was empty, the floor had turned into the equivalent of a small lake, and Bela was on her hands and knees in front of the toilet, throwing up.

“My baby!”

Alcina nearly slipped in the water on the ground as she rushed to her daughter’s side. It seemed Bela had scrambled out of the bathtub in a hurry. Her dress became damp as she knelt down, but she could hardly care. She swept Bela’s hair out of the way and rubbed her back as she retched.

“Mama,” Bela moaned once she finished. She looked up at Alcina, a thin line of bile dribbling down the side of her mouth, her eyes bright with tears. “It hurts…”

“I know, darling,” Alcina stroked her cheek. “It’ll be okay soon. I have something for you that may help.”

She showed Bela the vials. Usually, Bela would start guessing what they were, always eager to show off her knowledge on these kinds of things, but she didn’t seem to care about what they were. She just seemed exhausted, hollow, drained. Empty.

Alcina was going to kill the animals that did this to her baby.

Alcina uncapped the first vial. It smelled strongly of herbs. She pressed it to Bela’s lips, and Bela sipped obediently.

“This will help with the pain,” she informed. “And this,” she opened the second vial, this one smelling faintly of alcohol. “This will purge any disgusting parasites those beasts put in you. Drink, my sweet. Rid your body of their toxins.”

Bela obeyed again, drinking it all. If she didn’t like the taste, she didn’t show it aside from a twitch of her nose.

“Now,” Alcina set both vials aside. “Do you think you can try feeding for me again?”

Bela nodded. Alcina gave her a warm smile, then pricked the same wound on her wrist and held it out to Bela. Bela latched on and began drinking her blood, this time not pulling away.

“That’s my good girl,” Alcina cooed, stroking Bela’s head with her other hand. She knew her blood would soothe Bela’s abused throat, even if it hurt to swallow. The warmth was good for her regardless. Wash away the taste. Force down whatever stickiness was still latched against her esophagus.

She wouldn’t be able to tame her anger for much longer.

When Bela finished drinking, Alcina had her wash down in the bath one more time before drying and dressing her. Her ankle still seemed to be an issue, swelling up and inflaming red, so she flushed it out with alcohol. It earned her claw marks in her shoulders when Bela clung to her and cried in reaction to the burn, but it was worth it if it meant warding off any infection.

Alcina carried Bela to the bed, already knowing she wouldn’t want to be alone. It took a moment for Bela to get comfortable, twisting and turning when both her stomach and back proved to cause her pain, before finally settling on her side, curled up tightly against Alcina’s warmth. Alcina kept her arms around her, soothing her when she got restless until, finally, she relaxed.

Or, as relaxed as someone who just got raped could be.

The thought made Alcina so angry. So fucking angry. Of all her daughters, why Bela? She would hate for this to happen to any of them, but Bela had never done anything wrong. She didn’t have the same sadism as her younger sisters. She was merciful. Even if that made her a faulty beast, she deserved this least of all.

Alcina knew Bela probably wouldn’t sleep very much, and she knew that was to be expected. She was prepared for it. She knew how this worked.

But still. Revenge couldn’t go unserved.

She couldn’t wait any longer.

“Daniela! Cassandra!”

--- --- ---

“Daniela! Cassandra!”

Bela’s head snapped up. “No, Mama, no--”

Mother frowned down at her. She caressed her cheek, and Bela couldn’t help but press into her hand hungrily. She craved her mother’s touch in a way she couldn’t explain. She wanted it forever and always. She desired it as much as she desired her praise. But right now, even it couldn’t dispel the building panic mounting within her.

“Please, Mama, I don’t want them to-- they can’t-- please--”

But it was too late.

The sound of buzzing stormed into the room, and Bela hid her face against her mother’s dress. She couldn’t let her sisters see her like this.

Cassandra came in first, materializing out of a swarm of beetles and roaches, then Daniela, who took shape from a seething of blowflies and gnats. Even without looking up, Bela could feel their eyes bearing into her. She tried to hide beneath the blankets, but was unwilling to separate herself from her mother’s warmth. She wished it could just be the two of them, as much as she loved her sisters.

“What’s going on?” Cassandra asked.

“I need you to watch your sister,” Mother answered. “She is unwell.”

Cassandra raised an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t the oldest not need any care?”

Daniela nudged her, tittering. “This is Bela we’re talking about, Cassie. You know how she is. I’m still convinced I was actually the oldest, but Mother just says that Bela is the oldest to help build her confidence.”

“Please. We all know I would be the oldest.”

“Okay, okay, let’s compromise: we’d both be the better oldest sister.”

“That’s fair.”

Bela flinched at their teasing, just barely managing to bite back a whimper. She knew their taunting was always in good fun--most of the time, at least; Daniela sometimes blurred the lines between playful and hurtful--but she still let everything they said get under her skin, as though their insects were burrowing into her.

“Quiet, you two,” Mother scolded lightly. “Bela isn’t well. I’d feel better if she had someone watching over her while I’m gone.”

“Where are you going?” Cassandra asked.

And Daniela, always quick to crack a joke, added, “Damn, Bel, are you that terrible of company?”

Bela whimpered into the folds of Mother’s dress. All it took was one stern glare from Mother to shut Daniela up.

“I’m going to deal with some business,” Mother said, and the venom used in the word ‘business’ suggested she had some terribly bloody plans in store for the men who had assaulted Bela. Bela almost felt sorry for them. Almost. But not enough.

“Can you both do this for me?”

Cassandra and Daniela nodded.

“Thank you, my doves,” Mother said. She then looked down at Bela, stroking the side of her head. “I won’t be long, darling. Your sisters will take care of you. Nothing will happen.”

Bela just barely peeked up at her. She didn’t want Cassandra and Daniela to see her with her face all blotchy and red. She would never hear the end of it if they did.

She gripped tighter to Mother’s dress, burying her face back into the soft fabric. “Please don’t go, Mama,” she begged softly, hoping that her sisters couldn’t hear her quavering.

Mother caressed the side of her head. “I must, sweetheart. I can’t let them get away with what they did to you. I won’t stand for it.”

“But you’re sitting down,” Daniela put in helpfully, and Cassandra snorted into her hand. They both shut up when Mother gave them a sharp look, but Bela didn’t miss the small, fond smile that twitched on Mother’s lips.

“I’ll be back as soon as possible,” Mother said.

A kiss was pressed to the top of Bela’s head, and she realized this wasn’t a fight she would be able to win. Her claws were gently pried loose from the dress and the warmth she had been desperately clinging to disappeared, replaced by a chill that infected her heart like talons of ice.

“Play nice,” Mother said to Cassandra and Daniela before whisking out of the room in a hurry, her claws already brandished.

For a moment, silence was left behind. Then, a body bounced onto the bed next to Bela, and Bela flinched away. She curled up in the blankets, burying her face in the softness as Daniela got uncomfortably close.

“So…” Daniela started, practically speaking in Bela’s ear. “What happened? You seem pretty messed up.”

Bela didn’t answer. She didn’t trust her voice to not waver if she did. She couldn’t handle any more humiliation.

“I think she got her tongue cut out,” Daniela said to Cassandra.

Cassandra rolled her eyes. She sat down on the edge of the bed. “We literally just heard her talking. Explain that.”

“It fell off?”

Cassandra coughed to hide a laugh. She then poked Bela in the side, causing Bela to whimper in pain when a particularly sore area ached in response.

“Seriously, though. What’s wrong with you?”

Bela didn’t even know where to begin. There was so much to unpack in such a short amount of time. Their naked bodies, their disheveled hair, their sweaty penises inside her. Those animals pinning her down, licking her, forcing themselves into her, smashing their mouths against hers, clawing and grasping and groping. Their heavy breaths in her ears, the purrs about her being “so pretty for a monster,” the laughter when she tried to escape. Her own voice, ringing hollow in her mouth, and her blood, smeared all over.

She couldn’t handle it. She couldn’t handle it.

Another whimper bubbled forth. Bela began to cry into the blankets, unable to keep her emotions at bay. It was all too much for her.

“Aww,” Daniela cooed, and Bela couldn’t tell if she was being patronizing or genuine. “Poor thing.”

Her head was then cradled against Daniela’s chest, wrapped in both of her sister’s arms. Daniela stroked her hair with her claws, trying to be comforting, but the effect was sort of negated when her talons repeatedly brushed over the sensitive welt on the back of Bela’s head. Still, Bela appreciated the gesture, even if she was continuously wincing and growing nauseous with pain.

“Well, whatever it was,” Cassandra said. “Mother is dealing with it.”

“I hope she brings something back,” Daniela said wistfully.

Bela really hoped she didn’t. She didn’t want to see a single piece of those men, even if they were mangled and bloodied.

Shutting her eyes tightly, Bela tried to imagine that Daniela was her mother. She wanted Mother back already, and it was that clinginess that made her feel pathetic and weak. Weaker and more pathetic than she already knew she was.

Yes, it was always Bela who would rather read books than participate in torture. Bela, who was the reason they couldn’t feast on opossums. Bela, who was a poor fighter and hunter because she spent all her time learning new information or sewing instead of learning how to defend herself. Bela, who was overly polite to the maids and sometimes made friends with them. Bela, who needed her mommy’s approval to feel good about anything she did because her self-worth and self-confidence were that far into the ground. Bela, who should have been born as anyone else and could never live up to her own standards.

The tears came faster. Bela’s shoulders began to shake as she cried. She wanted Mother back. She didn’t care how pathetic that made her. She needed her mom.

“Mama,” Bela sobbed, momentarily forgetting that she wasn’t alone, but she didn’t even register the embarrassment at the moment. She was too overwhelmed with her own pitiful separation anxiety and uselessness.

“It’s okay, Bel,” Daniela said, scratching her head as though she were a hound. “Mother will be back soon!”

‘Soon’ ended up being an hour and a half, and by then, Bela was sure she had chased their mother away with her burden.

But then, the bedroom door slammed open and there was Mother, as clean as she was when she had left. However, she was wearing a different dress and there was a visible loss of tension in her shoulders that hadn’t been there before.

Daniela shook Bela. “Bel, look! She’s back!”

Bela’s head snapped up. Mother gave her a loving smile.

“Hello, darling.”

“Mama,” Bela reached for her mother, not caring how childish it made her, and Mother obliged to her beckoning, sweeping over and bundling her into her warm arms. Bela curled up immediately, relaxing considerably.

“I told you I would be back,” Mother said, pressing a kiss to her hairline.

Bela couldn’t reply. She just nuzzled in closer. She felt her sisters press into either side of Mother, but she didn’t mind. She was just happy to be secure, even if she didn’t deserve it.

Before those men were inside of her, she was inside of herself. She had a feeling that they wouldn’t be leaving for awhile, even now that they were dead, but she could cope with it, as long as her mother was there to hold her together.

She just wished she had grabbed the heart.

#resident evil 8 #resident evil village #lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #resident evil fanfic #we'll cast some light and you'll be alright (for now)#tw: rape

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napeoftheneck · 3 years

Text

Rivers of Crimson (Ymir x Reader)

I absolutely can bestie! I had a hard time trying to find out what I could do for some angst without being yk. One of those “I’m not Christa :(“ fics, so here’s some hurt/comfort w/ some extra angst mixed in !! Angst is my absolute favourite to write, I’m so elated that it’s is my first request. Especially with Ymir, too !! Thank u <3<3

Title: Rivers of crimson Genre: Angst w/happy ending, hurt/comfort Warnings: Canon-typical violence, descriptions of injuries, angst, swearing, Ymir being kind of a meanie, fighting, implied comphet if you really REALLY squint Word count: ~1.7k

IMPLIED SPOILERS FOR SEASON 2 OF ATTACK ON TITAN !!

(There was no specific request for a WLW reader, so I tried to keep it as gender-neutral as I can :>)

Ymir had never really felt helpless since her youth. Even then, in those moments, she felt as though she had been ruling, that whatever she could do would bring praise and gratitude and triumph. It was only after she had been adjudged when she realised that the reason she sought after that feeling of authority for so long was because of just how dependent she had actually convinced herself she was.

Becoming a god was the loneliest feeling in the world, but solitude brought a power not many had; it brought independence. She never had to worry about others.

She often found herself watching her fellow cadets when they returned from battle. Ymir would often follow as they broke down, crumbling to their knees in wracked sobs upon hearing of the demise of their loved ones. She would listen to the hums of commiseration from other soldiers or watch as they would help the mourning fighter to their feet and lead them away from others' scrutinising eyes. She wouldn't pity them. The feeling of sympathy was foreign to her.

Ymir had been fighting for a grand portion of her life now. She had held herself to those same beliefs since her first day of training, so she was specifically surprised when she had taken such a liking to you.

She fought it for a while. Whenever you would sit with her at lunch, she would make an effort to seem uninterested when you spoke of your day. When you stumbled during training, she would correct you, but would mask whatever tenderness that found her voice with a sigh or a comment implying that you “need to suck it up”.

Yet, despite how she pushed and strayed from you, you remained a constant in her life of inconsistencies. Eventually, you were the closest to what she could call a friend.

Ymir ignored how, whenever you would patch her wounds or link to her on cold nights or how often you would sleep in the same bed, she was far too mercenary to label you as something other than a friend. Even that was stretching it.

Though, in moments like these, Ymir wished that she was raw enough to let you know. Because, in moments like these, she would be terrified to misspeak.

You wouldn’t fight often. Not like this.

You had mentioned having to “get up early” off-handedly during dinner when excusing yourself from the table. Ymir asked about it and you mentioned a scout that had been injured, whom you volunteered yourself to replace for an outer-walls mission. You said it all so casually. Ymir couldn’t grasp any sarcasm in your voice or crack in your authored facade as you brushed through your hair in the mirror of her chambers. She didn’t see you make eye contact with her once. You spoke to her coolly about how happy you were to finally be able to sleep, about the dinner and how it was cold that day, about how Jean had snuck some of your apple at lunch that day.

Ymir just stood in silence, considering and rejecting things to say in response.

“Were you gonna tell me about how you’re leaving tomorrow, or was I just supposed to wake up without you and put it together myself?” She spoke before thinking. You hesitated, hovering over your cupboard. “Ymir, it’s not a big deal,” you finally sigh, running a hand through your hair the moment it’s freed. “I said it was just a capture mission. Hange said we won’t go far-“ “You can't go.” You narrow your eyes. You had now frozen in your tracks completely; no longer pacing around the room to place things in their correct spaces. “I’m not a child,” you speak gently, as if to a rabid dog. The blaze in her eyes was enough to pardon it. “I don’t have to ask your approval to work. I don’t need you next to me,” you deride lightly, insignificantly, as you turn your back to her. You didn’t plan to sound so dismissive. “Are you seriously being this fucking petty right now? You could die out there,” Ymir, however, fully intended her venomous rhythm. She towers over you, if not just in her tone alone. “You’re being stupid. You know you're not strong enough to fight with that squad.” Your breath hitches in your throat. Ymir regrets her words immediately, but she doesn’t waver in her stance. “What the fuck is your problem?” you sneer. “You insist on how little you care about me, but as soon as I do anything without your permission you yell at me?” “That’s not what this is about, (y/n)-” “Then what is it about, Ymir? Why are you so scared?” “I don't give a shit about what happens to you! I'm just-” Ymir catches herself before she can finish her sentence. “No, I-” “Exactly,” before she can correct herself, though, you are biting y our lip the way you do when you're biting back tears and you are in front of her. “Move. I need to go to bed.”

She is wordless as she steps to the side and allowing you to pass her. It isn't until she hears your footsteps down the hall when she speaks.

“If you come back, I won’t be here.” She hears you stop. Ymir doesn't expect you to come running to her, arms open and folded clothing discarded into a pile on the hallway floor. She isn't entirely sure why she's digging such a hole for herself - she doesn't mean what she's saying - of course she doesn't, she adores you, so why is she so set on pushing you as far away as she possibly can? Why does she feel that she needs to? “Good.” you reply. The footsteps continue, then you are gone.

You are gone for three days.

Ymir, at first, didn’t count the hours. She stewed in her angst alone for a grand portion of the morning without you; she dutifully avoided talking about whatever mission you had left for at the table that morning.

Despite herself, Ymir had to eventually confront her weakness after the third consecutive “Are you okay?” Of that day that she wasn’t doing as good of a job of hiding her worry as she had thought.

She thought she didn’t seem too bothered when your name was mentioned at the breakfast table.

She thought she didn’t look too obviously intrigued when, 30 hours since you left (she swore she hadn’t counted), she heard Captain Levi murmur something about a retrieval squad. She thought she didn’t sound so desperate when she attempted to bring it casually up in conversation, yet she couldn’t fight the cracks in her voice and she couldn’t stop herself from wringing her hands over her wrists in worry when she thought nobody was looking. Helplessness went from being a stranger to a thorn at her side in a matter of hours.

It had been the dawn of the fourth day when Ymir was awoken by a creek by her door. She remained stiff as she listened to light footsteps approach her bed, but she softens when she hears you. When she sat up, unsure of whether you were actually there or if she had just been consumed by grief and began to hallucinate, you winced.

She blinks.

There are no words exchanged. Ymir debates speaking, though her body moves before she can and, in minutes, you are sat in the bathroom and she is kneeling in front of you.

Ymir isn’t certain (it seems like she hadn’t been certain about anything at all for the past week) why she wasn’t crying. She isn’t sure why she’s so terrified to touch you, or to speak, or to maintain eye contact for longer than a millisecond.

You were in frightening shape. Had she not been petrified to talk, Ymir would be swearing under each breath. Blood still seeped from your open wounds, cascading in small, splitting rivers of crimson down the side of your face. It had likely been far too long since you had fought any kind of titan, Ymir thought. Their blood would've been long since steamed. It was your blood. You must have noticed her hesitance as she wiped it, gently, dreading that she would uncover another wound, because you broke the abundant, pregnant stillness

“They lost two scouts.” “Oh.” Ymir responds. An unfamiliar feeling settles uncomfortably in her gut. “I’m sorry.” You nod, then you are silent again.

Ymir takes a moment to resume her conscientious work.

There is no obligation between either of you to say anything more. Your eyes are fixed downward, resting heavily on Ymir as she squints at the cap of some kind of disinfectant. She’s biting her tongue. “I didn’t mean anything I said,” Ymir spoke to you suddenly and without looking you in the eyes. You’re thankful because it told you that you weren��t the only one too frightened to do so. “I do give a shit about what happens to you,” You laugh insignificantly, shaking your head. “I thought you died. I thought I lost you and the last things I said to you was that I wouldn’t be here, but I will. I’ll always be here.” She is desperate, rambling until she realises it and lulls herself.

You would say something dismissively comforting had it not been for the silence Ymir’s hand brought as it raised to your cheek and gently brushed a stray tear away. It is so small and trifling, yet it is gracious and fragile and kind and it means the universe to you.

“I know,” you respond. You don’t need to hear a long-drawn, significant plea. You don’t need it because, truthfully, you knew you likely wouldn’t get it from Ymir in the first place. However, as she guides you gently back into her bed, engulfing you in the white sheets, and places a small kiss on your forehead, something settles within you.

It was a feeling one would associate with the moments after receiving an apology; it is warm, tender, relieving.

You were home. You were safe.

You were loved.

Although she hadn’t said it, it wasn’t needed, because as Ymir’s arms tighten around you, you certainly felt it enough to maintain a sleepy smile as you drifted off alongside her.

#yall i love ymir so much but i think she is SO hard to write #ymir x reader #ymir #aot #attack on titan imagines #ymir imagines #ymir x you #aot imagines #attack on titan imagine #ymir oneshot #attack on titan oneshot #attack on titan x reader #shingeki no kyojin x reader #request!

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