#'and no doctor on earth can help you even when you desperately need support and guidance'

[not-poignant]

Hello Pia! I was wondering about the pheromone flooding and it's scope? We know Efs reaction, but would you give some other examples if something like that would happen to another omega/beta/alpha/peak alpha? If this should be explained more later in UtB then of course please ignore the ask. <3

Hi hi anon!

The only thing that really gets mentioned in Underline the Black about it is that there's pretty much no research on it, and it's not well documented.

Here's the thing: peak alphas are incredibly under-studied and under-researched. They can do things not documented in science properly, because we have two problems. The first is there's only about 1 in a million. That's not too bad, there's billions of people. The second is they can brainwash anyone into leaving them alone. Peak alphas who don't want to be studied don't get studied, and most don't want to be studied.

This isn't great for characters like Gary, who might pheromone flood someone like Efnisien, and then desperately want to find out more about what happened so he can make sure it never happens again, only to find out there's almost no research or science about it, and he's shit out of luck.

And that's where I'm leaving that, because just like Gary, we all get to exist in the realm of 'but what was that.'

As someone who has experiences (particularly with extremely rare chronic illness) sometimes the answer is: There's not enough of a cohort to research exactly what that is yet, so we'll just have to wait and see.

And the reason I like that, is that it highlights how unsupported and adrift peak alphas can be within their own bodies and minds, and I like the discomfort of that in characters who are kind of intensely needing to have control, when actually they probably have the least at times!

Er so yeah it's a roundabout way of saying I can't talk more about pheromone flooding, it's deliberately left as a blank space, even within the worldbuilding. Sometimes we don't get to know because the cohort isn't large enough to study and/or understand and/or is resistant for varying reasons. And sometimes that gets to be a nice metaphor about control and lack of control and knowledge and self-knowledge. :D

[peterpparkrr]

(Not) the same as it was - Ch. 5 | A Bridgerton Series

Series: (Not) the same as it was

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x OFC (Josephine Wescott)

Word Count: 1.9k

Summary: A young Anthony and Jo are reunited in the aftermath of Edmund Bridgerton’s death. In 1814, Anthony Bridgerton tries to make amends. 

A/N: We're back! Apologies for the heartbreak in this chapter (but perhaps the angst makes way for a lil something-something?)

previous part // next part

series masterlist

Aubrey Hall, Kent, 1803 

“Oh, Anthony,” Josephine murmured as she embraced Anthony tightly. “I am so sorry.”

Josephine’s family returned to Kent as soon as word came. Mrs. Saville, Jo’s mother, was eager to be by Violet’s side and support her closest friend through this loss. And Jo was desperate to see Anthony. 

Josephine had never experienced a loss. Not one of this magnitude. But she could only imagine that it was devastating for Anthony. She wanted to support him through this grief. They would be sharing their lives together, and she was desperate to prove that she was up for helping Anthony shoulder this burden.

“There are some things that we need to speak of,” Anthony replied.

Jo nodded as she let go of Anthony. She’d barely noticed that Anthony hadn’t truly embraced her in return until she moved to take his arm and realized he hadn’t offered it to her. 

Instead, they walked separately as Anthony led them into the side gardens of the Bridgerton estate. 

“Whatever I can do to help you, Anthony, please, say the word,” Josephine told him as they moved away from the house.

“Yes, exactly,” Anthony replied as he stopped walking, turning to Jo abruptly.

“I cannot marry you.”

Jo merely stared at Anthony in shock.

“I’m so sorry, Jo, believe me, I am, I didn’t intend to string you along,” Anthony continued. “But trust me, this will be better for us both in the long run.”

Jo, for perhaps the first time in her life, did not speak. Her mouth remained uncharacteristically closed as her expression shifted from one of confusion and shock to poorly restrained sadness as she realized this wasn’t some sort of poorly executed joke, nor was it a mere deference of their inevitable marriage. 

He was throwing her off.

“One day you will thank me for this,” Anthony added.

Jo’s head had begun to shake as she still struggled to form words, her thoughts and fears prompting a loose ramble as she tried to understand what was happening.

“No, Anthony, I love you, I- I’ll wait as long as you need, I’ll be patient and when you’re ready then we can-”

“No,” Anthony stated firmly. Harsher than he’d intended to. It felt like a slap across Jo’s face. “I will never marry you.”

“But…,” Jo stuttered.

“I don’t love you,” Anthony told Jo. It was almost impossible for Anthony to get out the lie. But he needed Josephine to let him go. And this would do it. He was certain of it. Even if the barbed words scarred his own mouth as he spat them out.

It would break her heart. And his heart too. But it would save her from a lifetime of regret. From the complete and utter destruction that his mother was currently experiencing. 

She would thank him. One day. When he left this earth and she was still here.

Anthony’s mother was practically comatose. She hadn’t left her chambers since it had happened. She wouldn’t speak. Barely ate. The doctor was still unsure of whether or not the baby would live.

Anthony refused to put Jo through that. 

He loved her, so he needed to let her go.

“I have much to attend to so I will take my leave,” Anthony said as he tried not to look into Jo’s face, to be faced with her silent tears. 

“Goodbye, Jo,” He added before he turned and made his way back to Aubrey Hall, turning his back on her.

And Jo stood in the Bridgerton’s garden, watching Anthony disappear through the door before she finally felt her legs give out from under her as she fell to the ground and a sob broke through her chest.

He had never looked back.

It was weeks later that Anthony and Jo spoke again. Josephine had tried to speak to him at Edmund’s funeral, but Anthony had resoundly ignored her. After that, she’d resigned herself to the fact that Anthony would not change his mind. Not anytime soon. And though her mother would be staying to support Violet, she insisted that Jo and her father needed to return to London. 

Jo had been out on a morning ride when she spotted Anthony out on his own early morning ride. Before it had been improper for the two of them to ride together alone, they’d frequently shared early morning rides through their families' property. 

“My father and I are returning to London, tomorrow,” Josephine called out to Anthony as she cantered her horse toward him. 

“Safe travels,” He replied with a polite nod.

“Do you have anything else you wish to say to me?” Jo asked. She didn’t hide her disbelief. She didn’t want to. And she couldn’t have if she tried. 

She and Anthony had known each other their entire lives. She’d never once expected him to ignore her. To act as if they were strangers.

“Not particularly, is there something you wish for me to say?” Anthony asked.

“No, I suppose not,” Josephine replied with a hiss. 

“Goodbye, Anthony,” She muttered before she urder her horse foward and took off back toward her house. 

Saville House, London, 1814

“Anthony,” Jo stated as she looked up from her correspondence in surprise. She had been so focued on her letter that she’s heard her butler announce someone but hadn’t been listening to the name until she look up to see Anthony Bridgerton standing before her. “What are you doing here?” 

“Lady Wescott,” He greeted her with a small bow.

Anthony hadn’t been to Jo’s family’s London house in over ten years. Not much had changed. It was small and cozy.   

“I felt I owed you an apology,” Anthony told Jo as he stood awkwardly in the middle of he sitting room. “The things that I said yesterday were… unkind.”

“Yes,” Jo replied with a nod of agreement. “They were.”

“And I am sorry,” Anthony replied.

Jo nodded, quietly waiting for him to continue.

“You said things that were unkind as well,” Anthony added when Jo didn’t reply.

“You want me to apologize to you?” Jo asked as her eyebrows shot up.

“Well,” Anthony stammered.

“You are a ridiculous man, Anthony,” Jo replied as she shook her head in disbelief. “After everything you haven’t changed a bit.”

She should have realized that Anthony would expect an apology of his own. He could never uflly own up to his mistakes, why would he start now.

“We both said things that we regret,” Anthony reiterated.

“We? The two of us are not a unit, Anthony, you made certain of that,” Jo muttered as she pressed a hand to the top of her head. “I told you what you needed to hear.”

“We’ve both made mistakes in the past, Jo, and you know that the same as I,” Anthony replied. Why was she being so impossible? If anyone hadn’t changed since they were young, it was Jo. She could never just let things go, could she? The stubborn little minx. 

“We were both foolish and young! You expect me to believe your marriage was a happy one? That you did not regret marrying the Earl?”

“They are hardly the same thing,” Jo hissed as she stood from her desk abruptly. 

He had nearly made the same mistake last night. Trying to act as if she had thrown him over, instead of the other way around. 

“You married someone else!” Anthony shouted at her.

“Because you told me you would never marry me!”

“I had just lost my father!”

“I am keenly aware of that fact!” Jo spat at him. “I could have been patient. I told you as much. That I’d wait as long as you needed. And you told me that we could never be together. That you didn’t love me. So I apologize for not seeing how any of that has changed.”

Anthony fell silent. He’d held his breath without even realizing it as he realized he wasn’t othe only one who seemed to remember their conversations all these years later.

“I do not want to fight with you, Anthony,” Jo finally said with a deep sigh as she finally regained some semblance of calm. “We will never agree on this. That is plainly clear to me now.”

“You cannot pretend that my actions were not a direct result of yours. You forced my hand. Do not expect me to apologize for your own misgivings.” 

“I…I am sorry. At the time…” Anthony trailed off as he tried to explain his teenaged logic. “Well, I thought it was the only thing to do. And some part of you must have agreed because you listened.”

She’d married the earl a few months after they’d left. Obviously, she hadn’t truly meant it when she said she’d wait for him. 

“You broke my heart, Anthony,” Jo replies as she holds onto the back of the chair so tightly her knuckles turned white. “I had to marry. I had no choice.”

Aubrey Parish, Kent, 1803

Her father explained to Jo why her mother had been so set on the season on the carriage ride back to London. 

Jo had a comparable dowry thanks to her mother’s inheritance, but her father’s income could not support her parents and Jo forever. 

She would have to marry. And if Anthony Bridgerton was no longer interested… well, she would have to look elsewhere. Her parents had spared no expense on her season. It would be a struggle to afford another one next year if she couldn’t find a match by the end of this one. 

When they returned to London the news of the spectacular end of Anthony Bridgerton and Josephine Saville’s courtship had already made the rounds twice over. 

The rejection of a man who was now a Viscount had left Josephine adrift. Most of the young men in London saw Anthony’s rejection of her as a final stamp on her rejection as a possible bride. She’d spent the next few weeks standing on the edges of parties and balls. A true wallflower with an empty dance card and a stormy disposition to match.

It wasn’t much later that her father introduced her to Lord Wescott. 

The wedding was set for August. In Kent at the parish church. 

The last time she had been in the church had been for Edmund Bridgerton’s funeral only two months earlier. 

The wedding felt similarly somber in Josephine’s heart.

But she couldn’t help but wonder if Anthony would attend. The Bridgertons had all been invited. Violet was still unwell. But she’d seen Benedict in town when she’d arrived and he’d told her the children would attend. Neither one of them spoke of Anthony. 

A part of her imagined that she would walk down the aisle and Anthony would burst into the church and object. 

That he would rescue her. 

Because if he had ever truly loved her? He would stop the wedding. 

But that didn’t happen. 

Josephine Saville walked down the aisle arm in arm with her father and she walked back down the aisle Lady Josephine Wescott. 

It was arm in arm with her new husband that she saw him. As they were walking down the aisle she saw him, standing in between little Eloise and Frannie, staring back at her with a polite smile, clapping along with everyone else as she set off to start her new life.

And it was in that moment that Jo’s heart well and truly broke.

[dcnt-preach]

SUPPORTING CHARACTERS / SIDE CHARACTERS .

You can interact with them, just say their names in the inbox, they have their own silly little stories too / could help lead up to small events too . Any NPCS / Side charscters will be added here and reblogged to let you know🐇

Vennie is backstory really isn't talked about because he doesn't particularly know it all himself, like a majority of the succubi/concubi his other parent is human and while he was most certainly born in hell , he was raised on Earth by a human mother many many years ago with his father occasionally dropping in but he won't admit to it because he witness his mother attempting to summon his father far too many times in desperation until she abandoned him leaving his father choice.

— name . Vincent / Vennie • age . 35 hell years • species . incubus • height . 6 ft 3 in

occupation. mercenary / territory scout • verses . both | married to cynithya

He'll lie and say he's originally from the Wrath Ring and goes around the ringsfor mercenary work where he was supposed to be killing off Cherri but , her demeanor made him feel some remorse and he began actually working on helping her when she managed go floor him in hand to hand combat but , he's chalking it up to her just being insanely lucky and is curious as to where her endeavors will go . In the meantime he's taking up work strictly around Pride to help out when he can .

— name . cynithya • age . unknown • species . sinner demon • height . 7 feet tall

occupation . mercenary / territory scout • verses . both | married to vennie

Joke off of Cyanide ( she unalive herself with it on accident -- a really messed up yet funny story of why you read things before just chugging ) , she's another sinner demon but , one that Cherri actually knew when she was alive . In fact , Cynithya was one of few that tried to steer Cherri on the correct path and even though Cherri won't admit it , She was her babysitter too . She doesn't involve herself with violence anymore and instead focuses on healing ; since Hell clearly has emergency services and things like jail/prison , Cynithya is a practicing Doctor and puts her skills to the test sometimes with the rest of Cherri's group to get even more experience .

— name . pix-l / pixie • age . 30 hell years • species . sinner demon • height . 5 ft 11 in

occupation . computer programmer • verses . both

They're another Sinner Demon , died in the late 90's, technological based obviously and another one tied to Vox as a contract . Their purpose is to supply Cherri with what she needs to keep up the views and seldom leaves their room ( just like in life ) because of fear of hell . They grew close to Cherri because of her upbeat demeanor -- and she saved them during their first cleanse so in turn not only does he supply her with some authorized supplies , they've been keeping tabs on unclaimed territory and giving her heads up in return she ensures their territory is safe and runs errands / does deals under the table .

— name . oliver • age . est 5 hell years • species . greed imp • height . 2 foot

occupation . none • verses . both

Oliver is the group's baby , he was found by Vennie when he was smaller and has been with the group ever since . He was roughly 2 maybe, 3 - they don't know his actual age when Vennie found him on a job , he's been bounced around from each person in the group particularly spending his time with Cynithya or with Cherri and Chewie because of the other two being extremely busy ( Vennie ) or shut off ( Pix-L ) . He's only around because of group vote + Oliver strongly reminding Cher of her past and what she causes havoc for

[imaginationofomi]

Come Together

Twenty-Six

The end of the year came and went. Out with the old, in with the new. Nayeli thought life would quiet down, but January brought more than new beginnings. She was back at work full time and navigating all of the changes in her life. There were many, like the fact that her family hadn't stopped trying to talk her into leaving Ezra.

Bonnie got in Maxwell's ear before Nayeli could explain herself, salting the earth behind her as she did. She didn't spare any details, and thanks to that, he no longer held Ezra in high regard, advocating for a separation sooner rather than later. Suddenly, Nayeli was on an island alone with very real feelings and hardly any support. Maxine was the sole person that hadn't completely written Ezra off.

"Shit happens," she'd said, "We're getting older. The likelihood of people not having kids at this stage in life is slim. People come with drama. You know what you can handle and what you can't. If you're good, I'm good."

She wished the rest of her family felt the same way. Their opinions were important to her, and because she planned to stay with Ezra, it would be helpful if they were able to get back on board. Three weeks into the New Year, she'd heard nothing favorable.

But her people were the least of their worries. The reason for their dislike was stirring up more shit and having a grand old time doing it.

Ezra walked into the LA County courthouse suited up and confident the verdict would swing in his favor. He'd done exactly as his lawyer said, had all his ducks in a row, but Savannah was gunning for an Academy Award with the performance she put on for the judge. The man took pity on her. Snot, tears, and a fake sob story about wanting a chance to redeem herself resulted in a 90 day agreement being put in place.

While she was in the state, they were required to split time equally, attend family counseling sessions and reconvene for assessment at the end of the time period. It was a loss Ezra never expected. Tatiana's opinion went unheard, her recorded conversation with the therapist disregarded because the doctor wasn't court appointed and considered biased. The losses continued to trickle down from there.

Savannah asked for Tatiana's contact with Nayeli to be limited, citing safety concerns and claiming that she wanted to use the next three months to build a better relationship with her daughter. Apparently that couldn't be done with another woman in the picture, and the judge didn't disagree. So Nayeli packed her stuff and returned to her house. Tatiana threw her first tantrum ever that night.

As quickly as things came together, they unraveled. Nayeli went from spending everyday with Tati and Ezra to seeing him on the nights Savannah was on parenting duty. She'd seen Tati once since the verdict came down while Savannah hadn't missed a day of custody.

It was supposed to be a good thing, but it happened for the wrong reasons. Nayeli's heart was breaking, and she couldn't do anything except sit through it.

Tuesday wound down at the speed of a slug. It'd been a while since they had leftovers, but she divided the pastries evenly and packed them into a box to take to the shelter on her way to meet Morgan and April for dinner. She desperately needed time with her girls. She needed a hug, a listening ear, and a good laugh. Brittany didn't bother lying about showing up, and though the invitation was extended to Renée, Nayeli didn't count on her showing up, either. At that point, their friendship was looking a little nonexistent.

It was fine with her. She wanted to talk and would feel uncomfortable doing so with Renée around. Locking up, she trudged to her car and sank into the driver's seat with both hands on the wheel as she released all of the air in her lungs.

"You're fine. Everything's fine," she muttered to herself, pulling out of her parking spot when her thirty second grace period ended. Her evening continued, stops giving her more time to decompress. The shelter was prepping to serve dinner when she made it there with the desserts, and she helped stack cups and wrap flatware for a few minutes while catching up with some of the other regular volunteers.

Her pleasant visit eased more of the heaviness she carried, and she walked out feeling grateful that regardless of the drama, her circumstances were far better than most. Shelters were humbling for her, always had been.

Arriving at Rosario's for tacos and $2 margaritas, she parked on the left side of the lot. Taco Tuesdays regularly had a large turnout, but she got there before most of the crowd showed up. In no more than an hour, the parking lot would likely be filled to the brim. She walked inside, scanning the area near the bar for her friends and moved when she spotted the intricate braiding pattern on April's head.

"Hey boo!" Morgan hopped down from her stool first and hugged Nayeli tight, knowing she needed a little extra love, "Our food should be out soon."

"Thank you." Nayeli leaned into April's embrace and took her seat, "What's been going on? Update me and don't leave anything out," she said, reaching into the half-eaten basket of chips.

"Girl, this wedding planning is actually kicking my ass. They make it look fun in the movies, but it's so much work and Ruben is no help. He said he's putting on a tux and showing up. Like what? I have to pick the food, the flowers, the invitations. I'm about to say fuck it and get married at City Hall," April said.

"The pictures would be pretty." Morgan shrugged.

"What happened to your event coordinator?" Nayeli asked and picked up another chip.

"She was not a visionary at all. The venues she showed us were trash, my ideas weren't meshing with hers, and she swore she was right about everything like it's not my wedding. I'm not paying somebody to not listen to me."

"Why would you? A wedding is supposed to be the happiest day of your life."

"Can anyone really say that it is, though? I feel like there are too many horror stories for people to actually feel that way. It's just something you say because you're supposed to," Morgan said.

"I'm not telling a lie like that. If the day sucks, I'm speaking on it," April replied.

"As you should, but it won't suck. If you need help finding another event coordinator, I can always ask Ezra. I'm sure he knows some people."

"That's a different tax bracket, babes. I'm on a budget. Speaking of Mr. Man, though. How are you guys doing?"

"We're good," Nayeli said simply.

"Spirit is telling me that you're lying." Morgan pursed her lips.

"I'm not. Our relationship is fine. There's other stuff going on right now. Can you get Angelo to take him out? I've been telling him that he needs to spend time with his boys, but he won't."

"Angelo's invited him out a few times. He keeps saying no. What's going on?"

"The custody hearing didn't go well. After Christmas, Savannah decided she wants to be a parent now. She blocked him from getting sole custody, and they have to go to counseling for 90 days. She's been out here for almost a month now. It's getting to him."

"I bet it is. Hell, I was only around her for ten minutes, and I could see why he hates her ass," Morgan said, "That's rough."

"You don't even know the half of it." The nights he didn't have Tati were spent with her, and stress consistently rolled off of him in waves. Even when he tried to laugh or smile with her. Sometimes he'd snap, and she'd have to tell him to check his attitude. She understood that life wasn't going the way they expected, but she wasn't going to let him take his anger out on her.

Nayeli held a lot in, and it took a toll on her to the point that things started spilling out of her. She talked through the waiter dropping off their food and ended up in tears after relaying her mother's lecture.

"Damn. I'm sorry, boo." Morgan reached around the table to rub her arm as Nayeli dabbed her eyes with a napkin.

"Your mom's...not wrong," April said hesitantly, "You should cut your losses. You've known EJ, what, four or five months? No one wants to deal with baby momma drama. Like you're crying in the middle of a restaurant right now. It too soon for all this. You should still be in the honeymoon phase."

"The heart wants what it wants," Morgan said, "She obviously thinks he's worth it."

"No amount of money is worth your peace."

"Who said anything about money? That's the last reason I'm with him," Nayeli shot back. She didn't take kindly to being labeled as a gold digger, and that was exactly what April implied.

"Sure, but it doesn't hurt that he's loaded. I don't see why else you'd stick around. There are other men with a lot less baggage. For all you know, him and Savannah could end up back together. Counseling might change some things. Do you even know why they broke up?"

"Mainly because she wasn't doing what she was supposed to as a mom."

"Now she is. Cut your losses, girl. It's not worth it."

That was something Nayeli hadn't considered, probably because as much as she wanted Savannah to step up, she never thought she would. With egg on her face, she had to confront that reality, but it made her sick to her stomach.

She stayed relatively quiet the rest of her time out, bidding her friends a soft goodbye and driving home in complete silence. She thought about telling Ezra not to come by her house. It wasn't going to be a good night for them, and she actually wanted to be alone to get herself together.

Pulling into her garage, she picked up her phone and typed out a short message to him. Savannah had Tati until Thursday, so she'd be able to see him soon. She let him know that she was turning her phone off and left it in the bedroom while she showered the day off of her.

In warm sweats and a hoodie, she worked in the garden until it got too cold and spent some time processing produce. The routine of washing, chopping, drying and labeling kept her busy for a couple of hours. Halfway through washing a batch of spinach, her doorbell sounded. She shut the sink off and dried her hands, perplexed about having a visitor.

"Taj?" She was shocked and nervous seeing Jalen's older sister through her screen door. She hadn't been in contact with his family for months and didn't expect to see any of them on her doorstep, "Is everything okay?"

"You tell me," Taj said, angry eyes shooting daggers through the mesh, "We've all been trying to call you for weeks and got no response."

"Why?"

"What do you mean why? My brother died, and we didn't get a call. You didn't come to the funeral. You were together for six years. You didn't think we'd want to hear from you? Nobody even knows what happened. We want answers, Nayeli."

"Jalen and I broke up at the beginning of September. I don't have any answers for you," she said. Taj's face went from mad to confused, and Nayeli gathered that he hadn't told them. There were likely a bunch of other things they were in the dark about, too.

"What happened?"

"I think the news covered it pretty well."

"I mean before that. How did he even get there? Jalen's never been violent. He shouldn't have had a gun."

"Your guess is as good as mine. We broke up, and he went to LA. I didn't keep up with him after that." Taj sighed roughly and paced on the porch. Nayeli started to feel bad, unlocking the screen and stepping outside. She wanted to be done with that part of her life, but his family did suffer a loss. Whatever he was going through, he was still human and loved by someone, "I'm sorry about what happened to him," she said, "We didn't end on good terms, but I always wished him well."

"You can still say that after he held you at gunpoint?"

"It wasn't me. It was my boyfriend. I stepped in front of the gun, but yes. All I wanted was for him to move on with his life. I wanted to be left alone. I didn't want him to die. I loved him for a long time. He just wasn't who I thought he was."

Tears swelled in the rims of Taj's eyes, and she choked on a sob, lifting her fist to her mouth. Pain spread throughout Nayeli's midsection. She couldn't imagine losing a sibling so suddenly. Taj having questions made sense, and with a family that wasn't very close, it shouldn't have surprised Nayeli that they came to her. Who else could they go to?

"You shouldn't have left him," Taj said, wiping her eyes with her sleeve.

"Excuse me?"

"He needed you. You kept him on the right path. Me and Shelby talked about it all the time. You were good for him. You should've stuck it out. He'd still be here."

"I get that you're hurting, but that's really selfish of you to say. I had every right to leave him. You're not going to make me feel guilty for that," Nayeli told her, looking up when she heard a car door close.

Ezra was parked at the end of her driveway, walking up like he wasn't sure if he was supposed to be there. Nayeli couldn't bring herself to smile at him. She closed her eyes when he reached her and kissed her temple.

"Hey," he said and put his arm around her.

"Hi," she said back, "This is Taj, Jalen's sister." He went into protective mode quickly, snatching her by her arm and pushing her behind him. Maybe that wasn't her best choice of wording.

Taj scoffed and rolled her eyes, "Please. If I wanted to hurt her, I would've done it before you got here. I just wanted an answer."

"I've told you everything I could."

"The rest is clearly self-explanatory." Taj eyeballed her ruefully, giving Ezra the same look before she got in her car and left. Nayeli deflated and walked straight into the house.

One day. She couldn't have just one day without some mess. Her life was turning into bad TV, and she wanted out of the cast. She missed having a quiet life.

"Are you mad at me?" Ezra asked after she didn't acknowledge him past a simple greeting. He already found it weird that she told him not to come over. Her message was direct in a way he wasn't used to, and she turned her phone off before he could ask if she was all right. Now she could barely look him in the eye.

"I don't have a reason to be mad at you." Yet.

"Then what's wrong?"

"It's nothing. I'm fine."

"Look at me," he said, waiting while she continued washing vegetables in the sink. She didn't turn around, "Nayeli, look at me."

"I'm kind of busy, Ezra."

That didn't matter to him. He walked up behind her and pushed the knob to turn the water off, grabbing her shoulder and making her face him, "What's. Wrong?" he asked again, gentle but firm grip on her chin. She avoided his gaze, looking away and closing her eyes. When she opened them again, they were shiny. Her bottom lip began to quiver.

"What isn't wrong right now?" She broke down, crying harder than she had at the dinner table. So much for getting herself together. She didn't elaborate and removed his hand from her face, rewashing a section of spinach every time her tears leaked into the bowl.

Ezra continued to pry, and the more he did it, the more aggravated Nayeli became. She didn't want to be bothered with anyone. Not to talk or sit in silence. She needed space to be angry and to think, to weigh out all of her options.

"Baby, talk to me," he pleaded, creases in his forehead deepening. Despite being in her own emotional hell, Nayeli kept her thoughts to herself. Anything she told him would stress him out further, and she hadn't given anything enough thought to articulate herself the way she wanted to. The last time she spoke too soon, things didn't go well. She would be doing the opposite this go around.

"I just want to be alone tonight," she said quietly. Ezra had a feeling he knew what was coming.

☼☼☼

"Tati, dinner's here!" Savannah yelled up the stairs of the high-rise condo she rented for the quarter. She lucked out with the fully furnished unit. It provided her with all of the luxuries she was used to and none of the work that went into it.

It didn't feel like home. California never would, but she could make it work for the time being. She had a point to prove and a relationship to ruin. EJ had talked down to her for the last time, and Little Orphan Annie was going to learn that she wasn't the one to fuck with.

"Tatiana!"

"WHAT!" Tati screamed back.

"I said dinner's here! Come eat!"

Everyday was the same routine. Savannah would tell Tatiana to do something, and she wouldn't listen. On the rare occasion that she did, she had an attitude. There were nights she refused to eat, nights she wouldn't come out of her room, nights Savannah heard her crying to her father to come pick her up.

It was getting on Savannah's nerves. She was trying to be a parent, and Tati made it difficult for her in any way that she could. She didn't like watching TV together, she turned her back at night when Savannah tried to read to her, she answered questions with one word. Savannah didn't know what to do. She hated to think that the wonder twins were right about her screwing up.

Tatiana finally came downstairs with her face in her tablet, sitting down at the table in the seat farthest from the one Savannah liked to use. She ignored her when she put down a plate of pizza and kept playing her game.

"Put the tablet away, please," Savannah said.

"No."

"Now, Tatiana."

"No."

Frustrated by her disobedience, Savannah snatched the device off of the table and slammed it onto the ground with so much force the screen cracked and glitched. Tati screamed and jumped out of her chair. She tried to run back to her room, but Savannah grabbed her upper arm and yanked her back.

"Damn it, I am sick of this behavior! When I tell you to do something, you need to listen! I'm your mother and you better start acting like it!"

"Let go! You're hurting me!" Tatiana tried to pull away, and Savannah's nail scratched her, little pieces of skin lifted from her arm, "GET OFF!"

"Not until you listen to me!"

"I don't want to! I want my dad and Nayeli!"

"You'll never see Nayeli again as long as I'm around."

"I HATE YOU! I HOPE YOU DIE!" Tati shouted, tears in her eyes. She tried to snatch away once more, breaking free because Savannah was too blown away to bounce back in time. Tatiana dashed back up the stairs, and a door slammed.

Savannah was never lost for words, but she didn't even know what to think. Hatred was a strong word and a stronger emotion. How the hell did Ezra deal with that for so many years? She was beginning to regret letting her ego get her into that shit. She enjoyed her life before; excellent food, endless shopping and a different location every week.

Parenting was bullshit, and she understood why her parents outsourced those duties. Children were ungrateful little beasts, but she was too far in to back down. If she went back to the way things were before, she'd only be proving EJ right and she couldn't do that. It was time to make other plans. Fighting fire with fire would only end with her getting burned.

[wallflowerimagines]

Hello! Um... I don’t really know how to start this but say I love your hc! I think you do a fantastic job on them, there all very sweet but being the s.o.b I am I’m here to ask for some angst. How would you think the lords act if their S/O died?

...I'm feeling mean. 😈

Warnings: Angst, Death, Horror Game villains making bad decisions/not coping with tragedy, suicide.

Alcina Dimitrescu

Denial, Denial, Denial

You can't be dead. There has to be something, anything that she can do to save you. Alcina scrambles for a solution, attacking the problem from all sides, despite the reality of the situation staring her in the face.

Immediately injects your body with Cadou in a desperate hope to save you. Any possible chance that he has to save you she's going to take it.

It's not likely that your corpse reanimates, but it does mutate. At the end of the process, what's left of your body hardly even looks like you anymore, and she can't bring herself to look at it.

She builds a gilded crypt for your body-- it's stunning. It's inspired by you, all your favorite colors, styles and hobbies are incorporate to make the room feel full of your spirit. Alcina is an artistic woman, and she throws herself into the project like she's possessed.

It might take years, even decades to complete. It has to be perfect. When it's done she feels accomplished, but twice as empty. It might be one of the most beautiful dedications she's ever made, but it can't replace you. She has the room sealed off with no way to get to it, so she can't be tempted to visit. She just needs a piece of of you still in her home, or she can't get through the day.

...If your corpse does reanimate, it's actually worse for Alcina. Whatever she brought back was a shambling, horrifying mess of mold wearing your face. It couldn't think for itself, or even follow commands--it just wanders in circles and attacks anything that gets too close.

She keeps your reanimated corpse in a cell, unable to bring herself to destroy it completely. Sometimes, she'll go down to the basement and talk to the thing like it is you, telling it about her day, having one-sided conversations and thinking of all the wonderful memories the two of you shared.

When its dead eyes meet hers, her lungs seize in her chest and tears gather in her eyes. Alcina doesn't cry often, but when your corpse meets her gaze she starts to sob. Those eyes used to look at her with life and love and now...

Still, she can't stop herself from visiting it. It's a compulsion she can't stop, and it tears open the wound every time, but some irrational part of her deep, deep down thinks that one day, she'll descend those steps and you'll be there to greet her with a warm smile.

In either scenario, she will never have another partner. You're impossible to replace, and she feels truly, genuinely empty without you. Rest well, Darling. You'll never be forgotten.

Donna Beneviento

There is such a thing as a last straw, and this is it for Donna.

Please remember: this is a woman who has lost everything. Mother Miranda might have given her a new "family", but Donna is not nearly as attached to these new members as she is to her original family. And the loss of her original family has shaped her in such a way that if you died? She would be absolutely devastated.

It's not fair to put this kind of pressure on you, but in a very real way you were her last hope for normalcy. She had all these plans to fix her family with you. You were so instrumental to her hopes for the future that now that you're gone, it feels like she has no hope at all. You were her missing link, her one true love, and now that you're dead...

Donna screams until her throat is raw when she finds out you're gone. Angie can't help her, nothing can. She just can't cope with reality anymore.

She'll build a life sized Doll of you to try to help herself cope, but the minute she tries to implant of piece of her Cadou in it, she is filled with such a vehement hatred of the thing that she starts scream-crying before she takes an axe to it's face and hacks it to pieces. How dare it pretend to be you?!! It's not even close to the real thing, she shouldn't even have tried--

She might try to induce a hallucination of you to help her get through the day to day, but it's not the same. She can't perfectly mimic your laugh, or your smile, or the way you tuck her hair away from her face. It's so obviously not you, and Donna is... alone.

I do hate to say it, but she will absolutely try to kill herself if you died. You were the one person who understood her, empathized with her, and you were her best friend. You were her support system, the one person who could carry her through the worst times in her life, but you're gone. Donna can't believe that anyone else could be there for her like you were.

Salvatore Moreau

Absolutely, irreparably broken.

When the two of you were in a relationship, you busied yourself not only with smothering Salvatore in all of the love and affection that you could, but you also did a lot to help his self-esteem and mental health.

You made sure he knew that he was loved, that you could never hate him, and even on your death bed you make him promise never to forget how wonderful he is.

Once you're gone, though, Salvatore cracks.

He clings to every bit of you felt behind. All of your jewelry, clothing, pictures and sentimental items are preserved to the best of his ability. Your living space is transformed into a shrine dedicated to you.

It's not healthy, but he also deifies you in his memory. Mother Miranda is no longer the only person that he worships-- the memory of you is now sacred to him. You become something holy and perfect in his mind's eye. It doesn't matter how many flaws you had in reality, your death has turned even your worst flaws into traits to be admired and praised. His perception of you is totally twisted.

Speaking of Mother Miranda, he regresses a lot. His adoration of Mother Miranda was something you were helping him work through, but now he's right back at square one, and even worse off than before.

Moreau can't make a decision on his own anymore--from what to say, to what to do, and sometimes even what to eat. After all, it's his fault that you died, isn't it? You were his partner and he used to be is a doctor. How could he possibly trust himself with anything when he couldn't manage to save the most important thing in his life?

To the rest of his family, he's more pathetic than before. His obsession with his Mother was usually limited to when she was in the room, but now it's constant.

If he ever hears the quote "It's better to have loved and lost, then never loved at all," he gets supremely, violently angry. No. No, that's not true, it's bullshit, how dare you even say that to his face.

If he hadn't loved you, you would be alive. He would be alone, but you would be safe. You would be happy.

Now he's alone, and all you are is dead. He can't ever come back from it.

Karl Heisenberg

Rage. Unending, earth shattering Rage.

Whatever killed you better start to fucking pray, because Karl Heisenberg will not quit until it's suffering.

He doesn't kill who or whatever it was. He let's it sit there, mangled beyond belief, and uses his knowledge of mechanics and biology to keep it alive in constant, unending pain.

It's cathartic for him, but not in a healthy way. The more he hurts it, the better he feels, but at the end of the day, you're still gone, and he's still alone.

He's... lost.

Heisenberg should be angry, fuck he wants to be angry more than anything, but the longer he keeps the thing alive... emotions seem like they're too far away anymore. He wants to scream, he wants to cry, he wants... you.

He keeps something of yours in his pocket at all times, just to run his fingers over it and remember you. Your eyes, your laugh, your smile... It's almost like a stress ball, and these days sticking his hand into his pocket to wrap his fingers around the thing is the only way he can calm down.

Sometimes he turns to ask your opinion on something, or tell you a joke with a big smile on his face because this one is going to make you laugh for sure-- and then he freezes when the reality sets in once again. You're not here.

Remember, Heisenberg has idealized the two of you as this perfect partnership. You were the first person who looked at him and loved everything that you saw. You weren't just his first real relationship, the first person that he implicitly trusted, but you were also his very first real friend.

He wasn't the most friendly person to begin with, but he did get better because of you. He was still spoiled, a little socially awkward, and maybe his dark sense of humor would slip and get a little too much, but he grew as a person.

Now that you're gone, he can't even remember what it's like not being a cruel, empty shell of rage. All he has left is his hatred of Mother Miranda.

After a while, it doesn't matter if he's ready to take her on or not. He's going to face that bitch head on and kill her, or die trying.

If he wins, he's finally free. If he doesn't... that's not so bad either. Karl doesn't really believe in an afterlife, but there's something appealing about joining you wherever you might be.

[bibbykins]

Some Extra Help (M)

First smut of the series! Certainly not the last lmao! I hope you guys like it! Their soft yandere rlly shows here and I’m excited to expand on that dynamic with such an isolated MC who is so oblivious. As always, please do not aspire for unhealthy relationships that I write irl. These relationships only function (and even barely sometimes) in a fictional world. Stay safe and enjoy!

Pairing: Soft Yandere!Yoongi and Jin x Chubby!Reader

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: 18+, vibrator gets stuck, cunnilingus, fingering, soft dom! jin and yoongi, sub, kinda brat! reader, crying, some name-calling, daddy kink, sir kink, hickeys, dumbification if you squint, yandere themes, beginnings of an unhealthy relationship, toxic mindset, possessive tendencies

Part of The Household’s Bunny Series 

Clad in a black mesh lingerie set with black bunny ears on your head was the last way you thought you would be waiting for the two oldest housemates, but here you were. You never thought you would meet your demise at the hands of a cylindrical chrome bullet vibrator, but here you were. 

Your body was so warm from the thrashing it had been doing each time you so much as cough and it turns on. Worst of all, you hadn't even cum once. You were getting edged by this evil vibrator and it was not helping your already shitty situation.

In what felt like the longest five minutes of your life, you heard the elevator ding, “Y/N?” He called for you and you sighed in relief, somehow triggering the vibrator again.

"Yoongi-AH!" The man's heart nearly stopped hearing his name crumble into a moan coming from you, "Fuck." You groaned and he was met with you on your bed that you had in your filming area with a tripod in front of you, ring light on, and lingerie still intact. Although, with your body's movements a strap had fallen down your shoulder.

He made his way to you, "I'm right here, don't worry." He shushed you softly as he grabbed your hand, sitting on his knees as he placed himself at your head, "Are you in pain?" He asked worriedly and you shook your head. 

You moved a bit and it turned it off as you sighed in relief, "I keep getting right there, and then it takes it away." You whined, chest heaving, "That hurts, but other than that I'm okay." 

He stroked your hand softly, gentle eyes looking down at you, trying his hardest not to be turned on at the sight of you half-naked with a vibrator inside of you, "Is me being here helping?” His voice was always gentler around you.

You nodded as you nuzzled into your joined hands. You had grown rather close with Yoongi in your time here. Granted, you had grown pretty close with everyone in their own way, but Yoongi checked in on you most often and indulged in your clingy nature.

His heart fluttered at the show of affection. He was drawn to you in a way he couldn’t explain and the PDA only made him feel more and more like an infatuated puppy, “Alright, well, don’t worry, Jin will be here soo-”

"I'm here!" The elevator dinged and revealed the doctor, still in his coat and hurriedly making his way to the both of you, "Are you okay, y/n?" He kneeled at your stocking-clad feet before his eyes snapped to Yoongi.

Sensing the confusion, you spoke up, "I am, and he's here for moral support-OH FUCK!" You moaned sinfully as the vibrator sprang to life, gripping Yoongi's hand and he nearly cursed at the eroticism of it all, but luckily for you, the vibrator stopped just as quickly, "I had pulled my panties to the side and slid the damn thing in, but I was so wet I just lost it-ah!" The vibrator awoke inside of you and you cried out.

Jin tried his best to ignore his growing boner and went into doctor mode, explaining that he would be taking off your underwear, "I just need- I left my gloves in the car oh my-" 

"And you call yourself a doctor?!" Yoongi snapped before you squeezed his hand. 

"If you gotta finger me, so be it, if you're- mmh- okay with it." You squealed and the older man nodded nervously, stripping you of your underwear, inhaling sharply at the sight before him. Your thick thighs opened shyly for him.

You were glistening and when you spread yourself for him, he fought a choked moan at your beauty. Yoongi fairing no better as you moaned helplessly, his hand being your only tether to Earth at this point. Since day one, all the men in the house were entranced by you. You were beautiful, kind, and unabashedly yourself. Not to mention they all were some of the highest payers on you OnlyFans. And yet, you just saw this as them being some of the kindest people you met or obscenely supportive housemates. This made pursuing you difficult, seeing as all of the people they have ever pursued were able to read in between the lines of their gestures or bold enough to pursue them. Either way, the attraction to you was a poorly kept secret as their obsession and fixation with you only grew. Even with the two most composed men in the house, the air was quickly heavy with their growing arousal as you took your bottom lip in your teeth.

Maybe it was the idea of being watched or the desperation of being edged, but you couldn't help but be that much more turned on by these two attractive men watching you get sexually tortured. Your mind was getting muddled with nothing but a want to be dominated by these men still in their suits. Your back arched when you felt Jin's slender fingers go in, the bloomings of pleasure going with it, "Fuck, yes!" You gasped out, and it was just now both of the men realized, because somehow they hadn't earlier, you were turned on.

Jin had to screw his mouth shut when he felt your walls clench around his finger. You were so warm and wet and fuck, he really wanted to taste you, "Bunny, don't move so much, you'll just get it more stuck." He softly warned and you responded with a strangled whine that made him curse under his breath. He recalled from your videos that you were a needy sub, but he figured you were playing most of it up for the screen. Surely, you didn’t fulfill his fantasies that naturally. Yet, here you were, being a bratty sub he wanted to tease.

"But it feels so good." You gasped out and Jin looked to an equally fucked up Yoongi for help.

Yoongi nodded at the older man before directing his attention to you, which he immediately regretted. Your mouth was slightly parted, tongue nearly peaking out, and when he saw your eyes, he knew you had slipped into subspace, "Baby, be still." His voice was soft, unsure how to proceed, but when you shook your head defiantly, he sighed, knowing what he had to do, "Bunny." His voice was stern now, no longer soft, but it seemed you faltered in your movements, "Am I going to have to hold you down, or are you gonna be still like a good girl?" His eyes were darker now as he scrutinized your form and you whimpered.

Before Jin could chastise Yoongi for succumbing to his desire to dominate you, he felt you clench around his fingers as your body became more still. Oh, so it was working.

"I-I'm trying." You wailed helplessly, near tears.

"I know." He cooed, cupping your face gently, placing a sympathetic kiss on your cheek, "Just keep trying. Can you do that for Jin and I?" He was much softer now that you were listening to him and you nodded with a pout.

"You're doing great, pretty girl." Jin cooed at you similarly, restraint slipping as his finger twisted inside of you, "I almost got it, okay?" You nodded wordlessly but screamed when his fingers touched the vibrating toy. Yoongi had to place his forearm across your stomach to hold you down. Jin nearly had the toy and neither of them wanted to risk your squirming pushing it further in.

"I'm-I'm-" You babbled, chasing your sweet release only to have it ripped away as Jin slid the toy out of you, making you cry fully.

"It's out, sweet girl, why are you crying?" Jin asked lightly as he placed the tiny toy off to the side.

"Please." You begged both of them, tiredly but fully aware, "I just want to cum." Tears were running down your cheeks, "I'm sorry..." You were obviously embarrassed but Jin shushed you softly.

"It's okay, sweetheart, we're not mad." He spoke softly and placed a kiss on your thigh, squishing the skin between his hands, enjoying the plush skin he’s dreamt about for so long under his fingertips, "We can make you cum if you want?" His breath was heavy.

"Please." You croaked desperately.

Yoongi nodded, eyes as soft as ever, "How do you want us, baby?" His voice was low as he wiped some of your tears.

You blinked up at him, "H-However… are you sure you guys want to?" You blubbered and turned to Jin who slid the fingers that were inside you into his mouth, never breaking eye contact until his eyes rolled back in ecstasy, making you gasp.

Jin was usually so composed and polite, but here he was, sucking your juices off his fingers erotically. He had dreamt about the taste of you, but it could not compare to the real thing, the real sweetness of you laying in front of him, wet and desperate. His fingers popped from his mouth and he groaned, "You taste so good, little bunny." He breathed, completely overtaken with lust by now, "Can I really keep tasting you?" He asked, hands stroking your thick thighs until you nodded. He spread you for him and groaned at the sight, "Such a pretty girl." He purred.

"We'll take good care of you, baby." Yoongi promised, leaning down to capture your lips in between his as Jin licked a long stripe up your slip making you moan into the younger man's mouth. His hand slid under your flimsy bra, fingers tweaking your nipples, "You're so pretty when you squirm for us." He groaned, now kissing down the column of your neck as Jin's attempts at going slow were hindered by his excitement to taste you.

He hummed into your pussy, reveling in the squeak that came out of you as he ate you out for all he could. His tongue explored every part your sex had, no surface area left untasted. He genuinely could do this all day if you let him, no place other than on his knees making you feel good sounding better. He watched as Yoongi's lips wrapped your hardened nipple, making you moan, spurring Jin on to dip his tongue into your entrance.

You gasped out, on hand threading into Yoongi's hair as the other went to Jin's, making both of the men groan, "Feels so good, Sir." You rasped, bringing cocky smiles to both of the men's faces.

You wanted to squirm but Yoongi held you firmly in place as Jin fucked you with his tongue, "You feeling good, crybaby?" He whispered lovingly, leaning up to nip your ear lobe.

"Yes, Sir, so good." You moaned out, "Please don't stop, I'm so close." You begged and Yoongi chuckled darkly in your ear, fingers still stimulating your nipples.

"Well when you beg so pretty," He pinches your nipple a bit harder, making you jolt, "How can we make you cum just once?" He chided.

This made your eyes roll back as Jin pressed his face into you further before pulling back for a moment, fingers gingerly making circles around your clit, "Alright, pretty girl, you're going to cum on my tongue and then I'll let Yoongs taste you, okay?" His eyes dart to you as you nod, but his eyes narrow, "You can talk, can't you?" He teases, fingers slipping in and pressing into your clit from the inside, "Or are you just going to cum like this." He sped up his circles as he bluffed hut you shook your head desperately.

"No Sir, please!" You cried out, "Please, wanna cum on your mouth- AH!" Before you could even finish, Jin dove his tongue back into you.

You nearly screamed as you felt the long-awaited orgasm creep up on you, "I can tell you're about to cum so pretty, aren't you baby?" Yoongi teased as he leaned into to kiss you, taking your moans into his mouth.

"Can I cum, daddy?" You begged, making the men tending to you moan.

"Of course, baby." Yoongi murmured into your mouth, "Be a good girl and cum so I can clean you up." That was all it took for the coil to snap as an earth-shattering orgasm overtook your body, screaming for the whole building to hear as he kissed your neck.

Jin rode you through the orgasm with blissful hums until it was time for him to pull away, "That was beautiful, bunny." He praised, "Think you can handle another so Yoongs can have a taste?" He asked sweetly.

You nodded, "Yes, Sir." You breathed and Yoongi's tongue clicked, catching your attention.

"I kinda liked us being your daddies." He pouted mockingly and he watched embarrassment creep onto your face, so he leaned over your, "Come on, baby, are you ready for me to taste you?"

"Yes, daddy." You muttered shyly, making him smile before going to switch spots with Jin.

Jin approached you with a kind smile and gentle eyes as he knelt down to give you a kiss, "Hi, beautiful." He mused and before you could respond, Yoongi dove into you face-first like a man starved. You gasped, gripping Jin's forearm, "You taste divine, but it is nice to see your pretty face all twisted in pleasure." He leaned in for a deeper kiss, tongue massaging your own as you moaned into his mouth.

You felt Yoongi spread your lips before he stiffened his tongue to provide pressure on your clit as he drew circles around it. You gripped his hair, trying to pull him closer but he smacked your thigh as a warning. He guided your hand, pinning it to the side as he flattened his tongue over your slit and repeatedly dragging it up, collecting your juices in his mouth as Jin swallowed your moan, his hand going to your exposed breasts while the other cradled your neck.

"So sweet." Yoongi murmured before his tongue slipped inside of you and he moaned.

"Holy shit!" You gasp and tried to fuck yourself onto his face but Jin held you down.

"Don't cheat, sweet girl." He tsked playfully before sucking harshly on your neck, making you gasp, your hand going from clutching the sheets to tangled in his hair, "Fuck, what are you doing to me." He grunted into your neck.

With the sensitivity from your last orgasm and the skilled tongue of Yoongi, your release was quickly approaching as Jin found a sensitive spot on your neck, "Daddy!" You whined, "It-I-Uh-mm…" You babbled, trying to find words as Yoongi's thumb rubbed just above your clit as his tongue fucked you deeply.

Jin laughed wickedly, "We fucked her dumb, Yoongs, our poor baby." He was truly a different man under the spell of arousal and your taste, "You trying to ask to cum?" He cooed as you grabbed onto his hair harder and he let out a strangled moan.

"Yes, daddy, please can I cum?" You managed to beg yet again and both of the men made noises of aroused approval.

"Of course you can, good girl." Jin murmurs into your neck as Yoongi hums.

With approval from the dominating men above you, you gripped desperately onto Jin and came with a needy cry as Yoongi kitten licked until you finish fully.

"Shit, you taste good, baby." He pressed a wet kiss to your thigh before he slid your underwear back up.

"Thank you, guys." You muttered, eyes barely open now that the exhaustion hit you, "That was, like, super nice of you." You giggle tiredly.

Jin pressed a kiss to your head before standing, going to grab you his jacket in case you were getting cold. "Thank you for letting us taste you." He chuckled.

"You guys aren't leaving, right?" The men stop their movements at your question, "Not that you have to stay if you have better stuff to do or if you feel weird-"

"Do you want us to stay, sweetheart?" Yoongi asked and you nodded, eyes pleading, "Then we'll stay." He affirmed and his heart sank at your relief. Why had so many people left you? 

"Do you want to lay here?" Jin asked softly and you shrugged.

"My real bed is over there and I am dead weight, so it's oka- Jin!" You laughed as he lifted you up like a princess, "I'm heavy, you're gonna hurt yourself." You chided.

"I'm no weakling." He quipped back and you rolled your eyes as he carried you to the bed, laying you down gracefully.

Both men laid on either side of you, pressed close, with their arms around you, "I feel bad not returning the favor." You snorted but the guys protested, "I have this urge to say thank you for being attracted to me because it feels nice to be wanted by you." You rambled sleepily, "I care about you all so much, I'd keep you all to myself if I could." You giggle, like it's an absurd idea, before letting your eyes fully close, "I'm glad we can be at least this close."

The men look to each other as slumber takes you. They exchange knowing looks. Now that they've gone this far, they can't bear the thought of being with anyone else, or you being with anyone else outside of the building. You were a rare gem, and they could not bear the thought of giving you away. People could look, sure, but they could never feel you. The world had its chance with you, and everyone turned their backs on you, so they would now be the only ones to be so close, it had to be that way and soon. Although, bringing this up to you would have to wait. They would need to see how you fare with the other men in the house, who undoubtedly want you just as much. No, needed you. They all unabashedly, undoubtedly, and understandably, needed you.

Tip Jar

[omegasmileyface]

Bound by the Food Chain

"man what if there was something incorporating both the Ghost King and Ghost Hunger aus" i say, not prepared to spend weeks writing up an entire ecosystem structure for the ghost zone,

thanks @attackradish and @ectolemonades for help figuring out the science and writing!

summary: The ghostly Staff who've taken up residence in Phantom's Keep notice Danny doesn't eat any ectoplasmic food. That can't be good for him.

warnings: detailed description of ghost hunger, which is vaguely like cannibalism

words: 2830

AO3 link

===

“King Phantom, when do you feed?”

“Huh?” Danny looked up at the Keep’s Librarian, Vellum. It felt like an odd question, seeing as he was currently actively eating a sandwich he had packed up with him into the Zone. He was spending a few hours in the Keep that day since it was nice and quiet for getting work — from both realms — done, and he had brought some earth food over. Ghost plants just didn’t taste very good.

Vellum looked a little shocked, like she hadn’t realized she’d asked her question aloud. “I mean, clearly you eat human food quite a bit,” she gestured to his sandwich, “but I’ve never seen you take in any sort of ectoplasmic substance.”

Danny wasn’t an expert on the (strangely psychological) ecology of the Infinite Realms, but he was familiar with the fact that all ghosts had to take in some sort of ectoplasm if they wanted to be anything more than an inert impression of emotion. Since he had never gotten any enjoyment or significant energy from eating ghost plants or breathing in the stuff ambient in the air, he pretty much just stuck with eating human food and converting the chemical energy between his forms. He was lucky that he could do that, being part human. He knew he automatically gained some energy from the human emotions around him (including his own, another benefit of being liminal) but it was negligible. He got drained pretty easily, and he knew there were things he wasn’t trying, but… he was tired, not desperate. He’d be tired anyway, with his lack of sleep.

“That’s because I don’t. I can still use the chemical energy I get from human food in my ghost form, so…” he shrugged. “This is pretty much it.”

Vellum’s brows furrowed in concern. “Are you not a—” She pursed her lips. “Are you not tired?”

“What do you mean? I definitely eat more than a regular human, and as far as I’m aware I don’t lose any of my energy in conversion. I’m getting by.”

“I think we should talk to Dr. Marchs. I don’t know if it’s… ok, that you’re not feeding ectoplasmically.”

With some exasperation, Danny let himself be brought back to the Throne room, the preferred place for anything that could constitute a “meeting”. Apparently, talking to the Keep’s Doctor, Chef, and some other Staff members about his diet counted.

The various adult ghosts looked at Danny with shared expressions of confusion and concern from where they stood around him. He was sitting on the arm of the Throne, not the most comfortable but it still felt wrong to be properly seated in it unless necessary.

Dr. Marchs finally spoke their piece. “Forgive me for asking, Your Majesty, but… are you not a hunting-ghost?”

Danny was already out of his league culturally. He had a lot to learn. “As in… like, a predator?”

“Exactly! Your core best processes ectoplasm directly from other ghosts, correct?”

Danny paled. “I don’t… know? I tend to avoid going around, just… eating other sentient creatures.” He tried to say it in a humorous way. It didn’t work.

“So you’ve never tried! I had thought… Well, I think you must be a hunting-ghost. You put out a radiant power that is only associated with that core type.”

“None of us have seen you feeding,” added Vellum, “so we weren’t sure you didn’t just defy that association. I don’t think anyone really understands all the complications of half-human physiology.”

Dr. Marchs jumped back in easily. “It’s still just speculation. You have said that you don’t enjoy eating plants from this realm, yes?” Danny nodded. “And you don’t seem to get significant relief from human emotion. Well, we’re just going to have to have you try feeding on some ghosts.”

Danny jumped to his feet. “What?! I don’t… need that, I get by fine on human food!”

“But aren’t you tired?” pointed out the Chef. Her eyes widened. “That’s why you get so drained after using big attacks! Your energy reserves aren’t being nearly refilled.”

“I believe she’s right, Your Majesty. There’s only so much energy you can take from human food, which isn’t even alive… I think you’re always tired because your core is designed to have a level of energy that you can’t provide it without processing Vital ectoplasm.”

Danny didn’t want to admit that he was consistently pretty damn tired. Instead he tried to change the subject. Ghosts were passionate beings, and as much as he hated to take advantage of that, having one of the Keep Staff gush about one of their passions to him was much better than talking about his relationship with what was essentially cannibalism. “Vital?”

Dr. Marchs’ eyes sparkled a little. “Vital as in living, not as in essential. Ectoplasm comes in three major forms. Ambient plasm makes up most of the Realms, in environments and atmospheres and auras. All ghosts are made up of Vital plasm, and those with cores have their Obsession or Purpose imprinted into the crystal structure of their own ectoplasm, which can be turned into Charged ectoplasm. The Charged form can take up an elemental type according to the ability of its source, and it has the most capacity to hold or be converted into ectoenergy. The Charged form is used to transmit intention onto a target, so it’s generally created by Cored ghosts, who are creatures of intention, in attacks or construction. Regardless of type or state, ectoplasm processing depends on its form — Uncored ghosts can process strong human emotions or Ambient ectoplasm into the Vital type. Among Cored ghosts, hunter-ghosts can best process Vital ectoplasm, gatherer-ghosts the high-activity type of Ambient plasm found in ghost plants, and scavenger-ghosts human emotion. Additionally, Charged plasm no longer linked to the source of its intention will eventually disperse into Ambient, as its most inert form.”

Danny, sitting down, had already known part of that, but the Doctor was properly smiling at this point. Dr. Marchs blushed as they realized they had just been talking, but none of the other ghosts in the room appeared to mind.

“…Regardless, King Phantom, we should really find some blobs for you to try eating. I cannot in good conscience leave you persisting off such low energy.”

He wanted to argue, he really did, but all the Keep Staff present were looking at Danny with this pleading expression. They looked genuinely concerned, and he remembered a comment he’d heard before about some of the Staff latching onto the King with their Obsessions. Some unfortunate result of the connection they’d formed with the Keep, Danny certainly didn’t deserve it, but he did know how it felt to Obsess over taking care of someone and have them turn down that care. With the same concerned look directed back their way, he got up and was led to the Garden out back.

Danny was having second thoughts again once he found himself surrounded by blobs that had been enjoying the intricate plants and high Ambient ecto levels of the Keep Garden. They were squishy but soft, like mochi coated in a good layer of starch, each a bit smaller than his head, and they all looked at him with these big vibrant eyes. Their postures were energetic, like they expected to play a game.

Once he sat down with the rest of the small group — why did he have to have an audience? — the blobs swarmed around him, resting on the sky blue grass and on his shoulders and in the others’ laps. They looked almost as expectant as the Staff in front of him.

“I…“ he bit his lip. “I can’t justify eating a living creature when I can choose not to. I know lots of ghosts have to eat others to persist, but I have the privilege that I can eat human food instead. Since I have that option, I can’t just… end another creature so I can feel a bit better.” Hey, Sam would be proud of him.

The present Staff donned looks of confusion. An Advisor who used the Keep as a home spoke up, eyes wide with realization. “Ah! Living creatures all share a survival instinct — that’s a natural result of evolution, yes? Things that do their best to live have their genes passed on? That’s not necessary for Uncored ghosts, since they do not reproduce and therefore don’t evolve. The only instincts experienced by the Uncored are instincts to better the Realms. Unless they’ve developed a strong individual personality, the Uncored are much more interested in contributing than in persisting.”

Danny’s head tilted in curiosity. Dr. Marchs took the reins on the rest of the explanation.

“The Realms are built socially where the living realm is built physically. Our homes and well-being are made from emotion, belief, and community. So for Uncored ghosts, spawned of the dimension itself, they want their ectoplasm and energy to be where it supports those communities the most, and that means ensuring the health of the ghosts in charge. Generally speaking, the more powerful a ghost is, the more likely they are to have some importance to the Realms. The Uncored — and many Cored — can sense a ghost’s power due to how much excess ectoplasm they let off. In fact, that excess is almost immediately put off as Ambient ectoplasm, meaning that there is simply more Ambient plasm around a powerful ghost, and the Uncored are often attracted since that provides sustenance for them . It’s a mutualistic relationship where one entity feeds off another, and in the end the resources of the weaker ghosts are given to the stronger, supporting the Realms. In fact, there are some cultures who believe that converting ectoplasm into a form the Cored can process is the entire reason for the existence of the Uncored.”

Vellum smiled slightly as she added on, “It’s not an entirely accurate strategy, as the most powerful ghost around is not always going to be a hunter type. They usually are, seeing as that’s the most efficient form of feeding, but it’s not impossible to be otherwise. The result in these cases is Uncored ghosts following around said Cored ghost, and as the same aspect of community comes into play, that ghost soon ends up hanging around a hunter type, who feeds on the prey that was collected.”

Danny cringed a little at the use of the word “prey”.

He looked around at the blobs nuzzled up against him. Those who didn’t look to be something resembling unconscious were peering up at him. They certainly looked expectant, as much as something without even a permanent mouth can.

After he was silent for a few moments, another Staff member spoke up, likely wanting to lighten his mood. “They really do like you! I’m not surprised, even aside from your natural power, the role you play as High King causes ectoplasm to be magnetized to you. I’m sure they’re having a little feast themselves!”

It did not lighten his mood. Danny felt genuinely guilty. Even if he wasn’t doing it on purpose, wasn’t he effectively manipulating these creatures into offering themselves up to be eaten? It wasn’t right, to make them feel as if they want to be ended, just because he had some sort of aura.

But the gathered Staff were still concerned, and anticipatory, and, somehow, hopeful . He couldn’t turn them down at this point. He’d just have to bite into one of the little ghosts surrounding him, just once. He’d throw up, disgusted with himself, and the Staff would realize it wasn’t better for him, and the remaining blobs would remember that they don’t want to die, and they’d flee, and everybody would just leave the subject alone . He only had to try.

(The human dread he was emitting at this point must have been feeding everyone else.)

“…Okay,” he said simply, and gently picked up a blob that had been sitting on his leg.

Before he could rethink himself again, he brought it to his lips. He opened his jaw slightly wider than a human’s would likely go and, fangs instinctually extended, bit down.

Danny was familiar with the scent of ectoplasm. Copper and citrus and battery acid and salt. But when he broke the surface of the small ghost and the viscous fluid burst into his mouth, the salty and bitter aspects were lost on his tongue, replaced by a thick sweetness and the cold tingle of energy. Where his fangs pierced an inch down into the substance of the ghost, he tasted this fulfillment in its emotional ectoplasm. He’s not sure he would have been able to taste it if he weren’t part human. Still, the feeling was something distinctly ghostly, a similar satisfaction to fulfilling an Obsession or a Purpose. It was hard to feel bad, sympathizing automatically with that simple rightness. The way the emotion pressed at his brain, the way the semisolid edges of the ghost slicked against his tongue, his own self-revulsion melted to the back of his mind. The ectoplasmic flesh met his teeth with a thick resistance, but it was nothing to break past it and open up to the deeper substance. It was vibrant, a pure cool energy that pulsed against his fangs. (His core sucked it up greedily.) His mouth met the energy with a pulsing of its own, a harmonizing signal sent from his core throughout his body like a heartbeat. It came out as a low purr that vibrated deep through the charged air around him. He couldn’t help but rush to swallow, though his body absorbed it just as easily without.

The blob ghost had been the size of his foot, and now it was part of the energy making up his own form. Compared to the power his core was passively putting out, to the amount it longed to have refilled, it wasn’t all that much. Unconsciously, his core put out an ectoenergetic signal that he was ready to feed. The blobs around him nuzzled closer yet, making themselves available. Danny could feel a few other Uncored ghosts who were drifting nearby come into the garden and join them.

He looked up from his ectoplasm-stained hands at the Keep Staff. They were looking at him, relieved, pleased (even though they just watched him tear into a living thing and then absorb it into his being like it didn’t even matter, said a part in the back of his consciousness. It was hard to focus on, though. It was coming from his brain, not his hungry core, after all). With his core this active, he could feel the presences of all the other ghosts around. The blobs flocking around him had auras that were weaker than the Cored Staff, but sturdy. There was a balance to them that signaled the ectoplasmic types they were taking in and storing. He sensed the Uncored pulling in the Ambient ectoplasm that sloughed off of him, barely connected to him anymore if not for the weight of the space surrounding him. And he could feel all of their stores of energy-dense Vital plasm.

He could also feel, just as an aspect of his being, his own energy stores. The metaphysical space in his center that his form and all his strength drew from. He could remember, abstractly, the moment he died and that reservoir came to be and was instantly flooded with energy. The way the portal had searched the air until it found his body and his little human soul and used him as a conduit, and all that electricity punched a hole between planes right where his ghost was trying to form, and something tore outward from that starting place just on top of his being, and the vacuum that formed on earth and in the Zone and everything in between pulled until the Infinite Realms rushed his body and in one instantaneous moment his forming core was flooded with enough ectoplasmic energy to become entirely corporeal (if it hadn’t, his ghost wouldn’t have manifested nearly quickly enough to keep him alive), and his being was stretched beyond its limits containing everything. For one moment, he had been filled with more energy than he had thought possible, and his ghost had formed itself to accommodate. Since then he’d felt so… empty. His body took what it could from human food and environmental energy, but it was made for more than that. He had blocked out the awareness of his reserves and gotten used to trying to power all his defenses on so little. He was always so tired.

He still felt low, running on just enough to operate something humanish. But his core had latched on to the ectoplasm provided by the blob, the kind it was designed to process, and finally felt a little relieved. Most ghosts that stayed within the Realms were almost always full. Danny wasn’t nearly there yet.

He reached down and grabbed another blob.

[tenthgrove]

Can I request the one where La Squadra thought the reader was pregnant (when she just actually visited her kid) situation for Bruno's gang?

Mother Mother- Bucci Edition

Team Buccerati x Reader (Fem), Platonic, SFW

Bruno Buccerati is feeling restless. He's not one to pry, but your behaviour lately is starting to concern him. Leaving the base for hours without explanation is no cause for worry in itself, after all, you're not obliged to inform him of your whereabouts 24/7 and you're hardly the only one on the team who does this, but together with the ceaseless obsession with cutting your finances, the uncharacteristic melancholy and the jolt of panic whenever your personal circumstances become the topic of conversation all add up to a bad picture.

The final straw for Buccerati came today, in which while passing you idly on the sofa he caught sight of the word 'parenthood' printed on the title of the leaflet you were reading. He didn't see the rest of what it said, but your guilty smile at being caught spoke well enough for itself.

Buccerati truly does feel bad about this, but with how defensive you become at even the smallest sign of confrontation, he sees no other choice. As he watches you depart your bedroom and head into the bathroom, he waits quietly for the rush of water from the shower, before sneaking into your unlocked bedroom unnoticed.

He will make clear, he thinks to himself as he pilfers through the loose paper on your desk for that leaflet, that he is not angry. If it's what your heart is set on, he isn't even that opposed to the idea of you raising the baby yourself. The squad is decently paid and their work isn't as dangerous or all-consuming as some, so they can manage. He even feels a little bit of excitement at the thought of helping you with your offspring. He's only doing this because it can't be healthy for you to conceal your pregnancy like this. Children have always been such precious things to him.

A pink leaflet flits off of the desk and Buccerati picks up his prize. He reads the title in full.

"Parenthood for the Parents of Hospitalised Children: What Doctors Advise"

Ahh. Now that changes things. Buccerati feels his heart sink at the sight of the stock image of a mother and father standing over the bedside of a sickly-looking girl. He guiltily returns the leaflet to its former place and tries to reorganise the paper as he found it, before exiting quickly.

Having learned his lesson well about making assumptions on too little evidence, Buccerati sits down with his phone book. There's a fellow on one of the intel teams who owes him a small favour, and it's time he called on it.

“Hello, it’s Buccerati, could you do something for me quickly? I need you to check the records of all the hospitals in Naples that hospitalise chronically ill children, and take a look through the names of the patients in the children's ward," he requests. "There's a specific surname I'm after, hang on, I'll find it for you." Buccerati racks his brains. If there's one thing he's certain your being honest about it's your real name. He pulls it from his memories and relays it to his friend. "No, no need to take any action once you find them. Just let me know the details, particularly of the illness. Very well, thank you," he concludes the phone call and hangs up. He leans back in the seat and sighs.

He barely gets half an hour to rest before the phone rings.

"Oh hello, that was quick. Did you find them? That's excellent. What did the records say?"

The agent relays his findings. Matching the surname he gave him is a little girl about 5 years old, currently residing in the hospital closest to Buccerati's base. The child is suffering from a frightful condition that, although rarely fatal with treatment, can leave sufferers in need of constant medical care for months on end, along with more minor support for years after.

The most concerning thing about the records is that the agent was able to find visitation logs attached to the data, and they all speak of a single, anonymous visitor with recorded visits matching perfectly with the dates and times of your disappearances.

Buccerati thanks the agent and promises to wire him a little money for his quick and extensive help. Hanging up, he broods deeply. He cannot simply allow your suffering to continue if there's anything, anything at all he can do to help.

He is broken from his trance by the sounds of panicked footsteps running in from the hall. He catches sight of Mista and Narancia sneaking in from the hallway, and is struck by the immediate impression that they are by all definitions, up to no good.

"What's the matter you two? You seem startled," he presses them patiently. He is met with two loud sounds of 'uhhhh'.

"Nothing Buccerati, we swear it!" Narancia promises.

"Yeah! In fact, we were just going to the shops and were arguing over what to get!" Mista backs him up. Buccerati rolls his eyes and smiles.

"Alright. Not too much sugar, Narancia? We don't want to find you being sick in the bathroom at two in the morning again, do we?"

"It's not me you have to worry about doing that now," Narancia mutters under his breath.

"Pardon?" Buccerati asks, confused.

"Nothing! We should go now!"

The boys immediately make their exit out the front and disappear down the street. Bruno tuts. Sometimes he thinks he'll never understand that lot. He smiles.

As he replays the encounter in his head, it occurs to him what that strange item poking out of Mista's pocket was. The leaflet from (y/n)'s room. Shit.

"Mista? Narancia? I think we should have a word please!" Buccerati shouts down the entry street. But it's two late, they've both disappeared out of earshot. Buccerati throws his hands up in despair, and returns to his room.

::::::::::::

Abbacchio knows what he sees. Mista and Narancia go running down the street and about 20 second later, Buccerati goes out shouting. As Abbacchio watches Buccerati return to the house in defeat, he makes a decision. He's had enough of those kids and their petty little antics. If Buccerati doesn't have it in him to set them straight, he will.

"You look pressed," Fugo remarks as Abbacchio pushes past him in the corridor.

"None of your business. Mista and Narancia are up to no good and now I've got to go and find them," Abbacchio grunts.

"Narancia?! But he promised me he'd work on his assignments tonight! Little bastard, I'll kill him!" Fugo fumes.

"Will you now? Better keep up then," Abbacchio says, throwing on his coat.

It doesn't take them long at all to find Mista and Narancia. Indeed, they're cowering in the very first alleyway left of the house.

"We can explain," Narancia promises.

"I bet you can," Abbacchio mutters half-heartedly.

"Take a look at this!" Narancia urges them. He pulls a pink leaflet from Mista's pocket and rereads it himself. "It says 'parenthood'. We found it in (y/n)'s room. Does that mean she's pregnant?"

"Why in god's name were you snooping around in (y/n)'s room?" Abbacchio interrogates them.

"Furthermore Narancia, you can't read," Fugo adds.

"Well, for a start, Buccerati did it first. We just went in after him to see what it was he was looking for. Second, Mista read it for me, and he swears it says 'parenthood'. Isn't that right Mista?"

"Sure is," Mista affirms. "Look."

He flicks the leaflet in front of them and, sure enough, they all read the same word. Abbacchio and Fugo curse simultaneously.

"What the hell is their game, thinking they can hide something like this from us?" Abbacchio fumes. "Does Bruno think he's protecting her or something? He's a fool."

"If I may, Abbacchio, it is most uncharacteristic of you to speak ill of Signor Buccerati," a voice from behind protests. Abbacchio turns with a jolt to see Giorno standing at the entrance of the alleyway along with a very bewildered looking Trish. They each have a couple of shopping bags in their hands.

"Are you spying on me?!" Abbacchio shrieks.

"Not at all. I simply thought that going after dark would be a much safer time for Trish to do her shopping, so I was taking her out," Giorno explains. "I overheard your voices and came to investigate, but I really haven't heard much."

"(Y/n)'s pregnant and Buccerati's hiding it from us," Mista fills him in.

"Wait, I'm lost. Did Buccerati get her pregnant? Because if so, what in the actual hell?" Trish comments.

"Fucking christ. Could you imagine?" Narancia remarks. The group soon devolves into a mess of interrupted shouting.

"All of you quiet!" Abbacchio yells. He holds up his hands in desperation. "We are going to get to the bottom of this and we're going to do it now! We are going right home, and we are getting (y/n) to explain herself, whether she likes it or not. Agreed?"

::::::::::::

You had an awful eery feeling getting out that shower would be a mistake. The last thing you expected tonight was being hounded by your dear teammates while you're half dressed and wet haired, particularly on such an outlandish concept as pregnancy.

"Slow down! What the hell are you accusing me of again?"

"You're having a baby and you aren't even telling us! Do you have any idea how much those cost?" Trish accuses. You don't even have an answer for that one, it's just so completely wrong there's no way to refute it.

"We aren't looking to judge, we just want to help," Giorno assures you, though his voice is drowned out by the rest of the rabble.

"I don't need help, I'm not having a baby!" you protest. Narancia opens his mouth.

"But the leaflet says-"

"What on god's earth are the lot of you doing?" Bruno calls from the hallway. "Why are you all hounding (y/n) all of a sudden."

"You think we don't know what you know, Buccerati?" Abbacchio confronts him. "You're complicit in this. You're helping to hide this- baby!"

Buccerati breathes deeply.

"Ah. I believe I know what this is about. Mista, I want you to take that leaflet you found and read the front page out to me. In full."

Mista complies.

"Parenthood... for the Parents of Hospitalised Children. Oh."

"You made the same mistake I did," Buccerati explains. "You saw the first word and immediately jumped to your own conclusions. But in regards to the full title I have carried out some follow up and have confirmed it is exactly what it sounds like. (Y/n) has a young daughter who is unfortunately quite sick at present, and she has understandably been taking time off to be with her."

"You know about her?" you exclaim in panic.

"Apologies (y/n), I was acting only in concern for your health. It was admittedly due to my poor caution that the others found out and, well, it went from there."

"Look," you protest, thoughts spiralling into panic. "I didn't mean for you to know. You said I could do what I wanted with my money so I did. There- there was no other way I could afford to treat her," you justify, tears starting to leak from your eyes. "Please don't kick me out. I swear this doesn't affect my work, all I need is a few hours a week to check on her!"

You collapse against the door in tears. The crowd goes into a shocked silence. Buccerati pushes to the front.

"Hey, hey, I'm not going to kick you out so don't worry," he promises. "I would never cut off a member of my squad like that, especially not when they have such a vulnerable dependent. We can talk about helping you with the money tomorrow, but now, let's get you calmed down okay?"

You nod through your tears. Buccerati guides you to your feet and leads you gently into the kitchen. The remaining group in the hall look at each other with pressed lips. Fugo takes the leaflet from Mista and reads through the front cover once more. He hits him.

[k-s-morgan]

I'm pretty curious: what are your thoughts on Bedelia? Because I personally really disliked her and was honestly shocked when I discovered how many people on tumblr not only disagree but actually see her as a role model? Like, for me, she has no positive qualities. You could say she's curious and brave but no, she's just indecisive. She's curious in theory but when real life comes it turns out she's not brave enough for what she was curious about and also not brave enough to get out of it, so

she's always stuck somewhere in the middle, constantly biting off more than she can chew and convincing herself that she's there by her own choice and calculation. I think that in many situations she wants to see herself and so poses as someone way superior than is the case. And ok, she is smart, but because of her other flaws, she doesn't act on it. People glorify so much her outsmarting Hannibal after Florence but like, she could've just get him arrested at any moment?

She didn't need all these charades, she wasn't supervised. Or of course she could've just shot him or call FBI in Mizumono. And then she tries to act all superior with Will, but gets everything wrong with who was behind the veil, and the talk about being naked? The fact that she shows different emotions doesn't mean she hidden them so well but rather that she doesn't have such devastating emotions as Will. She showed plainly how unprepared she was to go there and how despite what she thinks of herself she doesn't fit Hannibal's nietzschean superhuman concept. For me Alana for example is a strong woman here, who learns and works over her trauma. Bedelia is too self-absorbed to even admit she made any mistakes. I'm sorry this ask grew into such monstrosity but I felt the need to explain my point of view and I would really love to hear someone's else (whose analysis I really respect) perspective because it's been seriously baffling me for a long time now

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

Hello! This is such an interesting ask, I really enjoyed hearing your thoughts on Bedelia. I agree with your analysis, although funnily, it's because of this that I like Bedelia :D She's definitely no role model in general, and I disagree with Bryan that she's the smartest character because I don't think any of her actions indicate it.

You are right, Bedelia is a very self-absorbed character. She's also self-sustained: I feel like she could happily live her whole life as the only person on Earth. She's cold and calculating; she has a high self-esteem and a painfully strong sense of curiosity - the problem is, it's mostly theoretical in nature. For example, Bedelia enjoys the idea of taking life, and she seems to have enjoyed the actual moment of it, but what comes next terrifies her. She doesn't like the consequences, she doesn't like the blood; she's scared about being caught and readily asks for help from a man who set this whole situation up. What fascinated her in theory turned out to be much uglier in practice, so she quickly retired and chose to isolate herself to avoid doing something like this again. She follows the same pattern of behavior with Hannibal.

Bedelia always knew that Hannibal is dangerous, but she still continued therapy with him, genuinely trying to understand him, too fascinated to back off. She says she tried to refer him to another doctor, but based on their interactions, she truly enjoys sessions with him, likely because she feels in control. In S1, when Hannibal reaches out, she backs away, never letting him close but keeping him interested enough to keep him coming to see her. It’s like she’s playing a game of her own, getting to know this man in a person suit, understanding she’s the only one he can more or less confide in, and enjoying her power. But the balance begins to shift when Will appears and when Bedelia realizes she underestimated the depth of Hannibal’s depravity. Hannibal is focused on Will entirely now, he doesn’t need Bedelia all that much, and she doesn’t like it because losing Hannibal’s interest means becoming disposable. Things become too real, so she freaks out and runs.

Another shift comes when she sees him after Mizumono and agrees to escape with him. Bedelia thinks she holds control again: Will is gone, Hannibal is a wreck who desperately needs council, and she feels confident about her own importance. Hannibal tells her, “I never found you to be lacking,” which she likely takes as a certainty that she’s never been disposable, after all. In that shower scene, it’s obvious how she gradually relaxes and becomes lazily arrogant. She thinks she can step forward now, getting to know Hannibal even better, behind the veil, being the one who’ll gather the pieces of him, and also satisfying her curiosity along with a morbid and mostly latent fascination with darkness, as well as basking in knowledge that someone as dangerous and unique as Hannibal needs her.

All these motivations are gone as soon as she understands that Hannibal is not only not over Will but that he’s also casually planning to kill her (in E1 of S3). She didn’t expect it, based on her reaction, at least not this soon. That’s where Bedelia starts another game with the aim to survive. But like you mentioned, even then, she's not just fighting to win - she's fighting for a good and comfortable life for herself.

Bedelia is afraid of going to prison and she is afraid of alienating Hannibal. She doesn't know if Hannibal will actually be caught, and that's why she tries to stay in the middle: she's setting him up, but covertly, sitting in front of the cameras instead of going to the police directly. Later, she tries hard to stay interesting and get Hannibal to support her alibi - Bedelia has no desire to be on the run forever. She wants her comfortable life back. The second she has it, when Hannibal is locked away, she relaxes and exploits him to earn more money and get more attention. She doesn't need people, not really, but at the same time, she enjoys being needed by them.

She overestimates herself repeatedly, like she does with Hannibal and then with Will. She cannot bear the thought that Hannibal considers her disposable while worshipping the ground Will walks on - it offends her, so she's starting talking to Will to get a better grasp on him and see for herself how he's irrelevant and Hannibal is just stupid for being fixated on him. Alas, she's wrong, and this time, she becomes dinner because in many ways, Will is an even more dangerous opponent than Hannibal.

I love Bedelia, though - I consider her a very interesting character exactly because of her flaws. It's fascinating to me how she considers herself superior and yet ends up being fatally wrong about so many important things; I also find her preference of theory to practice, observation to participation unusual and interesting.

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

Cult Girl: Doctorate (Hannibal x Pregnant!Female!Reader) pt. 12

Cult girl deals with an unexpected and unwelcome guest.

@wisesandwichshark @pearlstiare

Trigger warnings: pregnancy, emotional manipulation, emotional abuse, infidelity, threats of violence

Step three: kill Anna

So maybe there was an understanding that the pregnancy was to be kept secret from Anna.

The withdrawal of Archie and Max from the picture left a hole in the plan. Just when it looked like you had secured that much-needed victory, it shriveled up and died right before your eyes. That much was certain. Everything else was a big question mark.

Ever since he felt the baby kicking, Hannibal became even more hopelessly enamored with the idea of being a father. He never mentioned it, of course, but it was there. It was there in the way he cooed at your stomach and how his hand lingered after he felt a kick. He was in heaven.

For a few days, it looked like the downward trajectory was beginning to flatten. Then you remembered your favorite line from Ryan Reynolds' Deadpool:

"Life is an endless series of trainwrecks with only brief, commercial-like breaks of happiness." You repeated to yourself as your phone flashed Theresa's call icon.

It took you a minute to remember that Theresa in your phone was actually Anna, because you hadn't bothered to change it. In a way, it was symbolic. Theresa was the head you cut off, and Anna sprouted up in her place. All in the pursuit of making your life unbearable.

You pulled the toothbrush from your mouth and placed it next to the sink. Lazily, you brought the phone to your ear. "What?"

"Hey pretty girl!" Anna said, using her most transparently fake cheery voice. "How's it going?"

Then it clicked. You felt kind of stupid that you didn't see it coming. In the world of cults, this was known as 'lovebombing'; a manipulation tactic in which the cult leader showers their target with affection, compliments, validation or anything that would make them associate good feelings with the group. In any other context, it would be called 'ass-kissing'.

You narrowed your eyes in skepticism. "What do you want?"

"Jeez, who crapped in your corn flakes?" She scoffed. "Can't a girl just call her little sister to say hi?"

It would have been one thing to say 'cousin', which, despite your bad blood, would have been technically accurate. But 'sister' was crossing a line. The blood that binded you and Anna together was thinner than water.

"We're not sisters, Anna." You corrected. "Why are you calling?"

"I just wanted to let you know that all is forgiven." She said, slipping back into that phony cheerful tone. "That little fiasco at the funeral, it's water under the bridge."

What Anna didn't know was that the water under the bridge was never water, but gasoline. Every drop that flowed under that bridge only created a more dangerous blaze for when you finally burned it down.

"Awesome." You said, flatly.

"I also wanted to say, 'may the best woman win'." She jeered. "I don't want to alarm you, but Liam and I have been fucking like bunnies."

You gagged. "I'm not alarmed but I certainly didn't need to know that."

"I've been keeping track of my ovulation," She disregarded your objection and continued the conversation she wanted to have. "And I even put child locks on the computer so Liam can't watch porn. Can't spare even a drop, y'know. It's too crucial."

"I will literally let you have the entire inheritance if you please just shut up right now." You said through gritted teeth.

"Oh?" She perked up. "Come on, don't give up. Don't make it too easy. Winning is just more fun when someone else loses."

She was growing into her Theresa shoes quite well.

"Seriously, though," You raised your eyebrows. "If it means I never have to see you again, by all means. Take the damn money."

"You know I love you, right?" Anna blurted out, pretending to be offended. "You may not think so, but I love you like a sister."

Again, you fought the urge to feel bad for her. Her model of sisterly love was Theresa. She could use the word to invoke sympathy, but would never know what it meant. It hit your ear exactly the same as when fundamentalist christian strangers said they loved you and that's why they were harassing you. Just an empty annoyance.

You rolled your eyes. "Goodbye, Anna."

"Wait!" She shouted as if she was about to die.

You threw your head back in exasperation. "What?!"

"I wanted to give you a little good-luck gift." She said.

You were slightly interested. "Oh?"

"Yes." She answered. "Can I swing by and drop it off later?"

You sighed. "Whatever. As long as you make it fast."

You were most certainly noticeably pregnant, but a fluffy robe obscured any misplaced curves just enough. You just hoped she wouldn't ask why you were wearing a fluffy robe in July. Anna arrived at the house, with Liam, who was holding a small basket of colorful jars and bottles.

You waited a minute to see if she would just leave the basket on the porch, but she didn't. You resignedly opened the door.

"[F/N]!" She shouted with that hyper-enthusiastic smile. You cringed, trying not to let her presence trigger your morning sickness.

The smile disappeared from her face. "Jesus H, you look like hell."

You desperately wanted to inform her that it was the strain of growing a human inside your body, but you held your tongue and thought of an excuse.

"I'm hungover." You said. Yeah, that would work.

"The usual, I see." Anna snipped at you under her breath.

You eyed the basket. You didn't even bother to mask your disappointment when you realized it wasn't food. "What's this?"

"Oh, this?" Anna said as if she were starting a sales pitch. "This is my olive branch. My exclusive DoTERRA fertility rejuvenation kit."

Your brain refused to process that Anna had been sucked in to an MLM, as it was really only a matter of time. You just didn't think it would take this long.

"Dude, you're twenty-nine and I'm twenty-six." You narrowed your eyes at her. "What on earth are we rejuvenating?"

She pointed to a collection of little bottles. "So these are for the initial cleanse. Put a few drops of this in your food, and some of this in your bathwater-"

She rattled on with practiced certainty about the fictitious health benefits of thyme and geranium oils, how they promote fertility and whatnot.

"Thanks, Anna." You cut her off, reaching for the gift basket. You didn't intend to use any of it, but you could pawn it off on some struggling hunbot for less than they would buy it new.

Anna pulled the basket out of your reach. "Oh. I wasn't giving it to you."

Nothing surprised you anymore, and this was no exception. "I thought you said it was a gift?"

"Oh, god no." She shook her head. "This whole kit costs, like, five hundred dollars."

You grimaced. "So you came here to show me your snake oil collection?"

"I came here to tell you in person about this amazing business opportunity." She said, returning to her fake smile. "For just $1000, you can be part of this amazing company-"

"Anna, what am I studying right now?" You cut her off.

She looked at you with round, clueless eyes. She looked back at Liam for help. He tapped his head to give her a hint.

"I want to say..." her voice trailed off. "...brain surgery?"

You shook your head. "No. Liam?"

"Clinical psychology with a specialization in cults." He answered. "You want to be the next Steven Hassan."

Anna didn't deserve Liam.

"So you're saying you're too smart for me?" Anna said, crossing her arms. "You're too busy going to your fancy college, living with your fancy boyfriend to support your own sister's hustle?"

"I'm saying you're in a cult." You countered. "A pretty obvious one, at that."

"Oh, when your only solution is a hammer every problem looks like a nail." She scoffed. "You think everything is a cult. Why can't you just be happy for me?"

"I'll be happy for you when you accomplish something that isn't built off the backs of people you fucked over." You said, allowing yourself to finally snap.

Anna's jaw hung open. "Do I even need to gesture to this house? Those clothes? That degree? All paid for by your rich boyfriend."

It's time.

You stepped on to the porch and shut the door behind you. "Liam. I have something to tell you."

Liam handed the basket off to Anna and approached. "Alright."

"No she doesn't, Liam." Anna objected. "Don't listen to her. You know she's a liar."

"Liam." You said, looking into his eyes. "Do you remember Nathan Sparks?"

"Anna's ex from college?" Liam folded his arms and looked at his wife. "Vaguely."

Anna gritted her teeth at you. "I swear to fucking god, [F/N]-"

"Anna, stop." Liam cut her off. "Let her speak."

"Anna continued to see him for two years after you got together." You smirked.

Liam's dial-up internet brain sputtered to life.

"Oh my god." His mouth hung open. "...is he 'pineapple'?!"

"Nope." You said. "You are."

"Is this true, Anna?" Liam said, in the overlap between denial and anger. "Did you keep seeing Nathan after we got together?"

Anna threw the basket on the ground, jars shattering, releasing a noxious cloud of concentrated snake oil. She was too busy glaring daggers at you to answer her husband.

"Fine. Don't tell me." He spat, turning back to you. "I'll hear it from you, [F/N]. You're the only one in this family who's been honest with me."

"She only wanted to get with you because your uncle is CEO of that publishing house." You added. You felt bad for essentially rubbing salt in the wound, but he was right to assume he wouldn't hear it from anyone else.

He placed his hand over his head as if to nurse a migrane. "How could I be so stupid..."

"Liam-" Anna said, her voice jumping a few octaves.

Liam put up his hand. "I don't want to hear it."

"I'm sorry, Lee." You offered. Even though you loved seeing Anna caught, you felt bad for every person she victimized along the way. Liam was no exception.

He dropped his shoulders and sighed. "Thank you, [F/N]. I'll be out of your way, now. Anna--"

He stopped himself, presumably to avoid saying something he would regret. "...find your own way home."

He shoved his hands into his pockets and walked away, leaving Anna with you.

"Thanks for coming." You sneered at her, feeling around behind you for the door handle. "I'd call an uber if I were you."

"You twisted bitch." She scowled, hands hovering in your direction. "You just get off on ruining people's lives, don't you?"

"Oof, that's some serious projection, Anna." You said, unconsciously untying the belt of your robe and pulling it off your shoulders.

"You're-" She sputtered, her eyes growing to the size of personal pizzas. "You're fucking pregnant?!"

Shit. You thought, cycling through whatever braincells you had left for an idea of how to play this off as if you meant to do it.

"Surprise." You shrugged. Yeah, that would work.

"That's impossible!" She stammered. "You're- you're not even married!"

"Grandma never said anything about marriage." You grinned.

Anna struggled to find her words. "That is unfair!"

"So now that you're not winning, the game is unfair?" You raised an eyebrow.

She pursed her lips and pointed at you. "You aren't going to get away with this."

"Just like you didn't get away with cheating on your husband?" You taunted.

"I'm serious, [F/N]." Anna said, backing down the porch steps. "I will destroy everything you love just like you did to me."

For a half a second, the voice in your head told you to beware, that the threat should be taken seriously. Upon remembering it was coming from Anna, you pushed the thought from your mind.

You shouldn't have.

[loudsuitlover]

Bad mom

A/N: Doctor Harry’s Blurb again. I’m doing different things here and now the narrative is going to change. I feel like writing like this now. Hope you feel like reading like this too! 

He still holds her close in bed even after eight years of marriage. Who would have thought that he’d be such a cuddler? But then again he couldn’t possibly know for before he wouldn’t want to sleep with anybody else but now, fourteen years later, he gets a shiver if he thinks of not having the shape of her body marked on their mattress. 

She was already asleep when he got home and he would chop his own finger off before he woke her up these days so he checked on the kids, silently, just because he missed their chubby hands and the way they would stink his white shirts every time and how Hughie would say daddy and Dylan would always prefer his mum. They were both fast asleep on their matching beds, one on each far wall of the room and their room was a little messy so a small smile crept onto his lips for he reminds Blue telling him kids are just kids, babe, and they are messy and so is your wife, so you gotta get used to it. 

Baby Ana’s deep breaths soothe his heart as he watches his youngest baby’s cherry mouth opened buried under thick, pink lips just like her mum’s. Harry thinks she looks so much like Blue when she’s asleep but then she’d open her eyes and they would be a light green, just like his, and he never even dreamt about making someone so gorgeous. 

It might look weird from the outside, a man getting home after 16 hours of duty and watching his family sleep one by one but he’s so used to it he doesn’t question it anymore. If he gets home at night, he’d check on his sleeping babies and then he’d undress and get to bed next to his calm. 

She’s wearing one of his t-shirts and has her hands under her chin and looks like a little spoon even if the space behind her as remained unoccupied when she fell asleep. He smiles because that’s his spot and he feels his heart fluttering before he finally feels the soft mattress under his heavy lengs and he rests his head on the pillow, inhaling her scent through her soft natural hair and he gently places a hand on her waist, not wanting to disturb her, but in a second her hand find his and she takes them to her chest so he’s fully holding her. He smiles behind her, he’s not sure whether she’s awake or not, so he just presses a kiss against her cotton covered shoulder and let sleep take over him. 

He doesn’t know how long he’s been asleep for when he hears his youngest whimpering from her nursery but Blue’s already not in bed. Her spot is still warm though. He sinks his head on the pillow and stares at the ceiling only illuminated by the white moonlight coming in through the window and he waits for some minutes but when she doesn’t settle, he gets up and makes his way down the hall and towards his daughter’s nursery. 

His wife is holding her and she’s rocking her and whispering sweet nothings but the little one doesn’t stop crying so he notices, his wife is crying too. 

“Come on, lovie.” Her voice croaks. “I don’t know what you want...” 

Her hand cups her daughter’s cheek as she rocks and shushes her but she wonders why does it seem so hard for them to get along. She’s raised two boys already and even though they were indeed allergic to sleep at some points, she always calmed them down... With Ana though, she doesn’t seem to get it. 

“I don’t know what you want...” She repeats. “You’re not sick.” She whispers. 

Harry places a hand on her shoulder and she flinches scared. 

“Sorry” He whispers. 

She gives him a small smile and shakes her head. He won’t say he likes seeing her crying because he doesn’t, he hates it, but he likes that she’s not afraid to do that in front of him. His hand caress her shoulder warmly and she rests her head on his chest as she keeps rocking the fussy little one. 

“I’m sorry we woke you.” She whispers. “I just... I can’t settle her, Harry.” She cries too. “I don’t know what she needs, I... It took me forever to put her down last night and now...”

Her husband shushes her. He presses a kiss on her forehead and takes the baby from her and her cries become louder so he tells his wife to go back to bed. She needs to get out of there, she needs to stop watching her baby cry like that because it breaks her heart; it breaks her heart to think she might be in pain or hungry or scared and she can’t help her. Her baby girl doesn’t seem to find calmness on the arms of her own mother so she can’t help but feel like a failure. 

She makes her way inside the bathroom and she washes her desperate tears off with warm water before she has a look at herself in the mirror. She looks exhausted and she hasn’t played as much as she’d like with her boys today. She sent Hughie into the playroom earlier, right after dinner, because she just wanted to have a second of quiet and she feels terrible for that. She didn’t really listened to Dylan talking about that book he’s reading either, she pretended she did, but really she was thinking about the groceries she needed to get the following day; and God, she wished she would have listened to him. 

She wishes she was better. She knows they deserver better. All of them. The boys, the baby and her husband. She turns to the side so she can have a look at herself in the mirror. She hasn’t worked out in months and her belly hasn’t looked flat in more than a year and her hair is frizzy and her skin is dry and she has the darkest dark eyes she has ever even seen; and she’s a doctor, so that’s saying a lot. 

Tomorrow will be another day and she can plan everything again and she can have a schedule. She thinks Harry’s day off is tomorrow too so maybe he can take the children to Gemma’s and she can sign up at the gym or she can wake up at five, yeah, and have a run before the day starts. She doesn’t need time to read either, she probably spends too much time reading anyway, and instead she can actually play with her kids. She feels like she never really plays with them. 

She’s tiptoing along the thin line between sleep and reality when the door of their room half-shuts and her husband silently walks in. She doesn’t remember exactly when baby Ana had settled, but she knows it was him who calmed her down. She’s embarrassed but her hazel eyes meet his green ones and he’s giving her a warm smile despite the evident tiresome on his eyes. He’s been at the hospital working for more than 12 hours and she gets home to this... 

He leans closer to her and she wonders how he even has the will to do such a thing when she’s disguting and probably smells of milk, for her breasts still leak sometimes, and is the farthest thing from appealing she can think of. But he stills leans in and captures her dry lips with his on an innocent peck. He looks so good, he’s always had, and that two-days stubble look so good and she wants to cry again. 

“Go back to sleep, m’love.” He whispers. “Baby’s asleep too.” 

Her heart draws in. He put her down, she can’t even manage to calm her down. 

“Do you think I’m a bad mum?” 

Her hazel eyes bore into his and his heart breaks when he realizes she’s seriously waiting for an answer. So she really doesn’t know? She really thinks he might think that? 

“What are you talking about?” He frowns. “Where’s this coming from?” 

She turns her body so she’s facing the ceiling instead and her back is resting against the mattress. 

“Hughie said he liked daddy’s porridge better this morning” she starts “and I didn’t even know what he meant. I thought we did it the exact same way... And then Dylan was so excited telling me about his book and I didn’t pay attention to him” she sobs “and baby Ana, I think she just doesn’t like me.” She shrugs. 

“You’re her Mum.” Harry whispers. “Of course she likes you. She shushes faster with me because she can’t smell the milk but she wouldn’t go a day without you, I know that.” His fingers gather his wife’s tears as he keeps talking. “And Hughie just meant cinnamon because the other day we ran out of honey so I added cinnamon instead and he loved it. I must have forgotten to mentioned it to you. And about Dylan... Dylan tells you every little thing that comes to his mind, it’s normal that sometimes you disconnect, baby.” He chuckles and despite her tears she chuckles along. 

“He’s a very smart boy.” She says. “He thinks a lot and he’s pretty imaginative.” 

“I wonder who he got that from...” He jokes and she smiles at him. 

“I’m sorry.” She confesses. “I’m sorry that you get home to a wife who looks like she doesn’t know where the mirror is and who can’t manage to calm her own freaking baby and who... doesn’t even let you sleep at night with her senseless drama.” She rolls her eyes. 

“Hey” his fingers gently grip her chin and he makes her look into his eyes “I love you” he reassures her “like crazy and every hour I’m just counting how much longer until I get to be with you, okay? So don’t think that. Please. I love you, Blue and I’m so fucking glad and lucky for having you and the family we’ve made together. I wouldn’t change a thing.” 

“Not even my muffin top?” She pinches her belly and he chuckles. 

“Not even. I think your body is perfect.”

“No, you don’t.” She laughs. “I’m chubby.”

He rolls his eyes before he hovers her and pins her against the mattress. His lips smash against hers in an almost teenage way and she feels that same fire on the pit of her stomach, much like she did fourteen years ago and he feels like a hormoned boy, despite his forty-one years of life and he thinks he’ll always feel vulnerable and desperate for her. 

“I thought we were past this, love.” He whispers against her lips. “You’re the sexiest woman on Earth.” 

His hand moves down to her ass and he squeezes her flesh making her smile. 

“And you say you never lie.” 

“That’s right.” He kisses her again. “I don’t.” 

“I love you.” She says against her lips. 

“I love you too.” 

He aligns his hips with hers. His right hand supports his weight on the mattress next to her head while the other squeezes her flesh on her ass and hips. He’s never been able to understand why or how she could ever get insecure and during their time together, it’s true she’s gotten a lot better, but she has still sometimes been insecure about her body and he’s hated every time. 

But they understand each other; they’ve had for years and he’s never stopped wanting to be close to her. Ever. His hand moves down to her belly and he slips his fingers under the hem of her sweatpants and her knickers, feeling how wet she is on his fingertips. 

“Mhm, baby” He hums against her lips. 

“Yeah, embarrasingly wet, I know” she giggles “you’re so hot, H, there’s nothing I can do.” 

He laughs against her mouth. Is that what she really thinks? Well, he attracts female’s attention, he’s not an idiot, he notices that; but he’s getting some grey hairs now too and she’s still six years younger, like she’s always been, and she really is the most beautiful woman he knows. He’s seen his coworkers staring at her and her own students whispering about it when she gets a male one in practice. But somehow, she sleeps in his bed every night and she could leave but she doesn’t so she must feel the same way. 

His fingers thrust inside her and she arches her back and moans. He keeps kissing her and is amazed at how in these moments, it feels like time haven’t passed. She’s the same Blue and he’s the same Harry but they’ve moved in together, they’ve gotten married, they’ve done surgeries together, they’ve had three kids, they’ve bought a house, he’s been sick and she’s taken care of him; she’s been sick and he’s taken care of her; and he wouldn’t change her or anything they have together for anything in the world. 

It’s in these moments too, when Blue doesn’t feel like she has to be better or like she’s not doing enough; she is enough. She’s more than that. She’s what he wants and she’s what she wants too and everything is fine. She’s lucky, she’s so damn lucky for the family she has and for the husband she married and for everything else. 

His fingers speed up and she sinks her head on the pillow so his mouth attacks her neck and she moans louder. 

“Baby, we’re gonna wake Anie up.” 

“Then be quiet.” He whispers on her ear. 

She giggles at that and his teeth skim her skin as he grins but his fingers keep moving in and out of her and he’s touching just that place she loves and she needs him so bad. She loves him and she wants him and she so desperately wants to feel him stretching her like every other time he’s had her before. 

“Baby” she moans “if we wake her up...”

“We won’t.” He whispers. 

“It’s so hard to put her down...”

“Yeah, I know, it really is hard to put this down.” 

She giggles again and he chuckles at his own joke but his fingers keep bringing her to the edge and her nipples are getting harder as she bites her bottom lip. 

“Do you want me to stop?” He smirks, already knowing the answer. 

“No” She gasps “but you should.” 

“There’s something down here that doesn’t agree.”

He chuckles as her walls start throbbing around his fingers and her back arches as she feels her mind leaving her body and strong waves pushing all her stress out of her too. 

Harry smiles and rests his forehead against hers. 

“Better?” 

She nods. 

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” 

She nods again and her hands cup his jaw as she kisses him deeply. He’s a sucker for these kisses, when her tongue pushes inside his mouth and she lets him know how much he means to her. 

“But we might wake Anie up...” He grins. 

“Oh, shut up and fuck me.” 

He laughs. 

He takes her sweatpants and knickers off and she does the same with his white boxers. His hard lenght springs free and hits her wetness and he circles his hips so she can feel him adding pressure on her. His hands grip her waist and she knows he’s seconds away from thrusting inside her so she takes a deep breath and gets ready to take him and like that his manhood slips inside her inch by inch and she throws her head back and sighs.

He pushes in and out of her slowly and her hands stick to his shoulders and his biceps as she pulls him closer. Her soft fingers tangle on his hair and she pulls from it so his mouth covers hers and he bites on her full bottom lip. 

“Is this what you wanted?” He whispers and despite the years, he sounds so sexy to her, he always does when he wants to. 

“Yes.” She gasps. “But I want more.” 

She feels him smiling against her mouth and supporting his weight on her waist, he threads her onto him again harder and faster and her head spins until she’s afraid it might turn molten. She feels her own bowels bouncing inside her and the screams get stuck on her throat as he keeps pushing in and pulling out of her. 

“Don’t stop, Harry, don’t stop.” 

“Fuck.” 

Her low moans mix with his grunts and her hands travel across his skin, almost marking him when he hits the right spot and his hands hold her waist as he pushes inside her. He only feels like this when he’s fucking her and that’s why he’s addicted to her because this is the best feeling in the world, when his heart flutters and he can feel his pulse on his temples and his skin is covered in sweat and goosebumps and he can feel the urge to cum on his spine. He loves her. He loves this woman with everything he has and everything he doesn’t. 

“That’s it, love.” She whispers on his earshell. “Fuck me, I needed this so bad. I fucking love you, H.” 

“Fuck” he grunts “I love you.” 

She holds his shoulders close to her chest and they gasp into each other’s mouths as he keeps pounding inside her. She can feel the weight of overwhelming pleasure falling over her and she can think of nothing other than him and the way he sounds and the way he smells and how he’s touching her inside. Her legs tremble around his hips. 

“Come on, baby” He whispers “Cum for me.” 

He’s close. He’s so fucking close, he’s not sure he can hold it in anymore. Yet he wants to feel her. He knows she needs this but he needs her just as much. 

“Cum with me, baby.” 

She does and she feels his hot, sticky cum filling her and a wide smile draws on her face and she sinks her head on the pillow but he pulls from her chin so he can kiss her and he does it deeply and slowly and she can feel it, how much he loves her, and she just loves him back. 

They don’t say anything else until they fall asleep tangled up on one another. 

The four of them are awake when she wakes up and as she makes her way to the kitchen, she can’t help the little smirk on her face. Harry made sure she could sleep in and that alone warms her heart so walking inside the kitchen and finding her little smurfs sitting on the table helping their daddy make breakfast drives her crazy from love. 

Baby Anie jumps on Harry’s hip and stretches her arms out for her and she feels her heart about to explode with love for the little angel. It seems like they’re back to being friends. Harry gives the baby a look before his eyes meet with hers. They smile, sharing the secret of what happened hours ago in their bed, and she mouths a silent thank you and he mouths back love you. 

She takes the baby from his hip and pecks his lips swiftly and her boys look up from the pancakes and smile at her. 

“Morning, mummy!” Dylan hugs her waist and her fingers caress his dark straight hair as she hugs him close. 

“Morning, dear. Morning, Hughie.” 

“Morning, mummy!” Hughie grins. “We made pancakes!”

“Yeah, they smell awesome! Thank you, boys!”

“And read, read what we wrote on them!” Dylan cheers. 

“Dy wrote it!” Hughie explains with evident proud on his voice and she smiles down at him. 

On the pancakes, on wobbly Nutella 5-years-old boy’s handwriting, can be read “Best mummy ever” and a heart and her eyes get teary because she hasn’t been feeling that lately. She gives Harry a look as if saying don’t do this to me in front of the kids but he just grins and shrugs as if he hadn’t orchestrate the whole thing. 

“I drawed the heart!” Hughie catches her attention and she smiles at him. 

“It’s drew, Hugh” Dylan corrects him “you drew the heart.” 

“Yes, I did.” He smiles. “Chopsy mixed the flour.” 

He had come up with that nickname for his baby sister on his own and his mum had grown to love it, sometimes calling her Chopsy herself. 

“You did such a great job, my lovely.” Her voice almost croaks. 

And Dylan, being the oldest of them three, even if he was just five years old, tilted his neck up so he can look into his mum’s eyes. She gives him a smile but he can somehow see it, even if he doesn’t fully understands, he kind of knows so his small hand rests on top of hers.

“You really are.” He whispers. “The best mummy ever.” 

Her lip trembles and she has to chuckle so she doesn’t freak the little boy out when she wipes her tears away. 

“Thank you, baby.” She kisses his cheeks and his little arm wraps around her shoulder. 

Baby Anie’s hand gently slaps her brother and he shuts his eyes when their mum starts laughing. 

“I love you.”

Blue kisses her boys’ foreheads and they both start eating while she sets Anie on her high chair. Her husband is moving around the kitchen, setting his and his wife’s forks and their cups of coffee, when she presses her hands on his chest and stops him. 

“And you too.” She smiles. “I love you so much.” 

[avengerscompound]

The Tower: Family - 30

The Tower: Family An Avengers Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Pairing:  Avengers x OFC, Bruce Banner x Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x Wanda Maximoff x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Tony Stark x Thor x Sam Wilson x OFC (Elly Cooper)

Word Count: 1941

Warnings:  Pregnancy, smut (MF, breastplay, vaginal sex, lactation (but not as a kink and not much of it))

Synopsis: With new powers, Thor now living on Earth full time, a wedding to plan, and Natasha and Wanda expecting, a lot is changing for Elly and her large and rather unconventional family.  When Elise’s parents try to reestablish connections, Elly questions what being a family actually means.

Chapter 30: Home Remedies

Natasha and Rebecca only stayed in the medbay overnight.  They were home within a day and we quickly went back to normal life.  Things were getting hectic now with three infants and two toddlers but we still outnumbered them and we had the benefit of having staff to help.  Not just the nannies but cooks and cleaners and people to do laundry.  It meant we were free just to take care of the kids and for those still working, they had that too.  With all of us, we had this rotating wheel of people ready for midnight feelings, diaper changes, bedtime stories, trips to school, baths, and playtime.  No one was exactly well-rested, but no one was exhausted either.

One thing that was becoming increasingly clear though, Rose, Rebecca, and Sarah adored their older brother and sister.  All three infants’ gazes went automatically to where Riley and Pietro were in the room.  When they were fussy, it only took Riley and Pietro coming over and talking to them or playing with a toy in their line of view for them to quiet again, and when Rose and Sarah reached six weeks old and began to smile, they always had one for their big brother and sister.

Riley and Pietro still generally found the babies a little boring and thought they needed a little too much attention, but they were generally doing okay with the new babies in the house and as the babies started to be able to a little more, they began to warm up to them.  We each tried to make sure we spent proper quality time with each of them one-on-one at least once a week so that they never felt like they were neglected or overlooked by anyone.

The last big thing we were all waiting for was Edwin to arrive.

Unfortunately, he had other plans.  As my due date came and went I became more uncomfortable and exhausted.  I just wanted him out but he was determined to stay put.  I tried a few natural remedies.  I was eating spicy food and drinking raspberry leaf tea.  The others were ready and available to give me a massage whenever I asked.   I was walking the kids to school, and spending a lot of time doing yoga and swimming, (even if that meant taking Riley and Pietro down to the pool with me).  I even had Tony take me on long drives, making sure to hit every bit of bumpy road in the Tri-State area to try and get things going.  I was having sex every night and often during the day to try and get labor started, and on the day after Edwin’s due date I called in my prize from Sam and we had a marathon sex session while the kids were at school where he made me come to the point I ended up tapping out exhausted - but still that kid was determined to stay put.

At forty-one weeks, they were talking about me having a cesarean, and considering I’d had one with the twins, I really wanted to at least try a vaginal birth.  Especially given the recovery time after surgery and the fact we would then have six children to worry about.

I was desperate and stressed, which was doing nothing to help the situation because my blood pressure was going up, which only made Doctor Schroeder more adamant that if it didn’t happen naturally soon, it would have to be a c-section.

I came home from an appointment distraught.  Doctor Schroeder had told me that I would need to come in the following day and if my blood pressure hadn’t gone back down then it was time to intervene.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Steve said as our group came through the door.  “I’ll take you up and give you a nice relaxing massage, and you can have a nap.  We’ll get that blood pressure back down.”

Tony looked at me apologetically, like he was blaming himself for what was going on, and he rubbed my back.  “Sorry, honey,” he said.  “Of course it’s the one that’s related to me that’s causing all the trouble.”

I shook my head, and Bruce patted his shoulder.  “You heard the doc,” he said. “These things happen.  El knew there was the potential that she’d have to have another cesarean.  It’s no one’s fault and it’s better he gets here and everyone is safe and sound, right?”

“Right,” I said with a nod.  Of course, that was true, but it didn’t make me feel a whole lot better.

Steve led me up to our bedroom and dimmed the lights.  I stripped down naked while he lit some candles.  “See if you can sleep after this,” he said.  “The kids will be back from school when you wake up, and we can take them down to the pool together if you like.”

“I’ll try,” I said, and sat down in the special massage chair Tony had got for us.

“Shea or Mango?”  Steve asked.

“Shea please,” I answered and he came over and sat down on a stool behind me and began to slowly massage my back.  I relaxed in the chair as best I could, letting the chair support my head, chest, and arms as Steve worked out my tension and rubbed the body butter into my skin.  FRIDAY played a gentle calming song over the speakers and gradually I began to relax completely.

“You ready to try and nap?”  Steve asked as I began to doze a little.

I nodded and he helped me up and led me over to the bed.  I climbed in and he pulled away from me.  “You're not staying?” I asked.

“Just going to wash my hands, sweetheart,” he assured me.

I pulled my body pillow in under my knee and hugged it.  Steve washed his hands and stripped down to his undershirt and boxers before climbing in behind me, spooning me from behind.

He placed his hand on my stomach and I moved it up to my breast, he began to slowly and gently massage it and I hummed and pushed my ass back against his crotch.

“Thought you were gonna sleep,” he whispered against my ear.

“That will help me sleep,” I joked.

He chuckled softly and ghosted his lips up my neck as he began to apply more pressure on my breasts  “Will it now?”

“And maybe it might get the labor started.”  I rolled over to face him and looked into his eyes.  “That would fix all of this wouldn’t it?  If I go into labor then we don’t have to worry about my blood pressure.”

“You don’t have to beg, sweetheart,” he said, gently.  He caressed my cheek with the back of his fingers and I leaned into his hand.  “It’s not a chore.”

I shook my head.  “Sorry.  I’ve been out of control lately.  Even more so than my usually high libido.  It feels like I’ve been making it a chore.”

“Then let's make it special,” he whispered and leaned in and kissed me.

It was deep and tender, his lips gently caressing mine.  His hand returned to my breast and slowly massaged it, making me moan softly into his lips, and push myself closer to him, so my large belly pressed against his taut abdominal muscles.

He kissed down my neck, sucking softly on my skin.  I ran my fingers through his hair and down the back of his neck as I held him to me, relishing in the warmth of his body.  He moved further down and as he reached my breasts, his hand came to rest on my cunt.  I hummed softly as his tongue circled my areola and flicked over my nipple.  He closed his lips around it and began to suck.  His cheeks hollowed as he suckled at my breast.  It sent an ache through me, settling in at my core and making my muscles clench.  I moaned and my cunt flooded.  Even taking into account how much I loved my breasts being stimulated, and how sensitive they were right now due to how close I was to giving birth - there was something different about the way this felt.  It was like my core muscles tightened in response and something pressed down inside me, while at the same time my breast felt like pressure released in them.  I moaned and pushed up against him more.

He pulled back and wiped his mouth.  “You must be so close, El,” he whispered.  “I actually got something then.”

I felt myself turn a bright red.  “Oh god.  I’m sorry.”

Steve chuckled and shook his head. “Nothing to be sorry for. It’s natural and normal,” he said, drawing me back closer to him.  “It tastes sweet.”

“Yeah?”  I asked.

“Mm-hmm… it’s beautiful,” he said and latched back onto my breast.

I tensed but it felt so damned good.  His fingers began to work my clit and soon I was moaning and shuddering under his attention.  My cunt slicked his fingers as they moved up and down my folds and circled over my clit and my breast leaked just a small amount as he suckled on them.

“Steve,” I moaned, arching my back a little on the bed.  “Steve, I need you.  Please fuck me.”

Steve leaned up and kissed me deeply.  I could taste the sweet colostrum lingering on his lips and moaned softly, letting him guide me onto my side.  He pushed his boxers down and spooned me, pulling me flush against him and wrapping his arms around me so I was completely engulfed by him.  He started to slowly rut his hips so his cock slid up and down my folds and teased my entrance.  I leaned my head back on his shoulder, my lips slightly parted, and as he brought his lips to mine he sunk his cock slowly inside me.

I moaned into the kiss and he slowly began to fuck me.  His hands roamed over my body, massaging my tits, holding my throat, rubbing my clit.  It was like I was falling apart slowly.  A soft buzz crept through me, traveling through my veins, and spiraling down to my core.  I rolled my hips with him as he thrust in from behind.

Gradually my orgasm built inside me and pressed down.  My muscles clenched and my cunt fluttered and with a moan, I came.

“That’s it,” Steve praised and kissed my neck.  He picked up his pace a little as he chased his own release.  I gasped and moaned louder, clenching around his cock.  His hands tightened on my breasts and he tugged on my nipples.  I mewled loudly and another orgasm hit, stronger than before.

Steve’s groaned and kissed me again and with a deep thrust, he came, spilling inside me.  He slowed his thrusts as his cock pulsed inside me and caressed my cheek with his thumb.  I hummed happily into his lips and as he slipped out of me, a tight pain spread around my midriff.  I curled forward and whined.

Steve immediately started rubbing my back.  “Did we do it?  Was that a contraction?”

“I think… might just be a Braxton Hicks of course,” I said as it quickly passed.

“Alright,” Steve said, kissing my shoulder.  “Try and sleep.  Either way, you need the rest.  If it’s started we’ll know soon enough.”

I nodded and closed my eyes.  “Thank you, Steve,” I whispered.

“Of course, sweetheart,” he soothed.  “And I’m not going anywhere.”

I smiled and as I drifted off in his arms, I hoped that what would wake me up would be my labor pains.

// NEXT

[jostepherjoestar]

I remember someone suggesting about the La Squadra child being Abbacchio or Mista’s nephew/niece and I was wondering if it’s ok to ask how would (I’m gonna go with Abbacchio) react to that?. Maybe before joining the kid was just a above average intelligent child but was still normal and now Abbacchio is confused as to why their stoic, cold and with a group of assassins.

La Squadra Kid backstory and relation to Abbacchio + general HC’s

Thank you so much for asking this, I’ve been meaning to summarise their backstory and how they ended up with La Squadra! This will be kind of emotional since it’s bit tragic imo. There’s also going to be some HC’s about our little bud so you can all get a feel at how I see them 😊

Long post!

CW: heavier subjects such as trauma, not fun situations for a kid to be in and usual gang related violence, mentions of abortion and mental illness

General HC’s

I’ve always imagined them to be around 7 to 8 years old, but unfortunately due to all that’s happened, their mind has been forced to mature a lot faster. Of course they should have never had to go through that but life isn’t that simple, especially for them.

Their name is Pomo, like an apple or a pommel :) thought it was a fitting and cute name! I’ll still refer to them as La Squadra Kid in titles but opt for Pomo while writing.

Pomo is not that tall for their age, just cute lil bean with puffy cheeks! I’ve decided to keep Pomo’s pronouns neutral, it just seemed to click more.

As far as their personality goes it’s been fun discovering them through your asks! Pomo is a quiet and stoic kid, they don’t smile that often but that doesn’t mean they’re not enjoying themselves.

They love drawing things as a way to express their feelings or the things they like. It’s a lot easier than verbally communicating for them. They’ll say what they need with the least amount of words necessary.

They’ve developed a weird sense of humour, very dry I’d say lol, also thinks it’s funny to scare Ghiaccio, who they know secretly likes them.

Pomo is quite independent and goes out by themselves, their stand is very powerful and kinda scary, even to their colleagues so they can handle any trouble coming their way. Pomo is slowly learning that they don’t need to do everything alone (i.e. asking for company after nightmares)

Though going out alone can result in people turning Pomo away in shops, that’s why Melone is their choice to bring along so it’s not weird a kid is just out alone spending money.

They’re also very glad to do tasks or things the others ask of them, they crave harmony and peace at home so Pomo will try to help achieve that in any way possible (unfortunately this is a result of trauma).

Pomo really likes La Squadra and sees them as their family now, knowing what member is better at offering different types of things and who to turn to for specific needs.

Their stand’s is named My Way (マイウェイ) after the Frank Sinatra song. It fits quite nicely imo, a force to be reckoned with doing it on their own terms.

And lastly, they do not like hugs or being touched that much. They’ll allow hand holding but only if they’re in a good mood, quick head pats are also ok. It really is touch and go with them, Pomo will let you know when they don’t like something.

Backstory and relation to Abbacchio

The world moved in a blur, the two lines on every single pregnancy test strewn out before her like nails getting hammered into her coffin. Suffocating while it was lowered into the ground, scratching and screaming for air, nails bloodied and raw as the reality set in that she was unmistakably pregnant. The panic followed, clenching her chest like a vice, threatening to shatter her heart and lungs in the process, gasping for air and wishing any other truth than this one. Abbacchio’s older sister wept for days, dark circles alternating with red swollen puffiness as the life she’d just started on her own already began to crumble.

The father of her child taking his exit as soon as she confessed her situation, knowing before she’d even tell him that he’d swiftly let her suffer in the mess. The thought of looking a doctor in the eyes, the cruel conversations she would have to endure before they’d let her suffer in uncertainty of the fate of her unborn child, making her choose to just endure it instead. Not that the choice would offer a softer outcome, it was her burden to bare, she thought. Whatever horrible things she’s done to receive such heartless judgement never occurred to her. The only thing the young woman was convinced of, is that she whole heartedly deserved it.

Her younger brother, growing up to be an impressionable adolescent, unsure how to care for his beloved sibling. His eyes always so full of innocent wonderment at his older sister, wanting to become as brave and independent as her. Living alone, working strenuous hours as if only this would make him worthy of the meagre salary of a rookie police officer. Slowly but surely he saw the woman he so admired creep away as her belly grew larger each month. Coming by often to check up on her wellbeing after school, spending nights or even weeks so he’d be by her side. All the while finishing up in high school. As his sister’s expression grew darker, the smiles fading and her laughter but a distant memory Leone Abbacchio could do nothing but stand by and let her lean on him.

The meagre support their parents could offer did little too ease her mind, the reality of becoming a mother and having nothing but emptiness to offer her child digging her ever deeper into the darkness that consumed her. She sobbed the day her child was born, little Pomo’s big eyes asking her if she was even worthy to hold the small babe. Every look at the child reminding her she had already failed, not even able to comfort their cries before feedings. Incapable of shushing them and finding the strength to coo at those tiny hands that ached to play and accept the warm touch of a caregiver. The young mother did what she needed, feeding the child and changing diapers. The depth of her troubles never easing as she had to go back to work, two different jobs needed to support herself and Pomo.

Abbacchio offered what he could, often babysitting and spending weekends at his sister’s cramped apartment. A child taking care of an even smaller one. The hope he held that his sister would regain her previous lust for life faltered. It only seemed to worsen as Pomo grew. The child never overtly fussed or cried, sleeping soundly and cooing gently whenever hungry. Those big eyes always seeming to bore straight through whoever leaned over the basinet to admire them. The child’s mother wished for it all to end, every night she’d pray to any god who would hear her desperate calls. But as she did only further hurting herself, her pleading like whips claiming penitence on her heavy shoulders.

She begged her younger brother to go out and make his dreams come true. “Never let your resolve falter Leone. Ever.” The voice that brought him courage, the broken woman’s words reminding him of the image he so admired once. But in pursuing his career as an officer it would mean less and less time to care for his dwindling sister and her child.

The night she told him the sisters of their local convent would relieve her of her child, the young officer held his sister for hours. The tears they cried filling an endless well of sorrow. It hadn’t brought the relief she thought she would feel, not a feather lighter as her child would be in more capable hands. Caregivers who weren’t afraid to look the toddler in the eyes as they searched your very soul for meaning. At merely four years old dear Pomo lay gently asleep in a different cot, in a stony building smelling of earth, heated by creaky copper pipes while sisters prayed in unison with beaded necklaces intertwining their palms. Praying for deliverance.

Abbacchio came by whenever he could, becoming more and more weary of his actions and the people he swore to protect as his career started to lack the fervour it had when he started out. Seeing Pomo grow into a silent and demure child, laconically learning to read and write, quietly pleading the sisters not to let their touch on their skin linger. Every stroke burning with an unknown memory that someone once held them, just once and decided to never do it again. Their very skin warding off any unwanted contact without even knowing why. A locked memory with a firm grasp on their being.

“Never let your resolve falter, Pomo. Ever.” The last words spoken to the small child before leaving. The lonely child left in the suffocating confines of the convent. Their uncle wouldn’t return for a long time, days spent hoping to see a sliver of his stark hair and bright eyes that had seemed to dull over time. But the child would never forget those words. Not even as the head sister punished them for not answering when spoken to, not when she would order them to remain on the prayer bench for hours as punishment, knees aching to settle as they were forced to remain. Their eyes boring through the other sisters as they came and joined them at their usual hours of worship.

Restraining the stand they were born with from acting out, self control being trained as they kept going, determined to let their uncle’s last words not be wasted on them. In the free time Pomo was allowed, they’d test out whatever the ghostly figure could, standing taller than them with thick black fog-like tentacles resting behind their back. Whatever those touched seemed to shrivel up like roses in wintertime. Pomo was intelligent, interested in more subjects than just his schooling that only seemed to bore them. The ease of the material offering no challenge as they completed tests with full marks, only making the head sister grow suspicious of them and unleashing more punishment.

Men in extravagant suits would visit the convent every so often, hushed whispers as they walked by the child who’d stoically stare as they passed. They’d always ignore them, scared of the glare and aura the child had started emitting. Many of the sisters had rejected the offer to tutor them when the previous one excused herself, feeling too uneasy by Pomo’s being. It didn’t hurt them, they just kept on doing what the sisters asked of them. Stay tidy, study and don’t get in their way. They had accepted their silence and aversion to touch, growing scared to try anything after the entire courtyard greenery was found shrivelled and dead mid spring. Every freshly planted flower grey and sad, the grass as crunchy as if it had just been burned to ashes. Pomo was sat comfortably on the stone bench that was placed there to admire the garden’s beauty. It wasn’t that they wanted it to happen. Someone just came too close and made them panic, not that it was clear to the sister that accidentally grabbed their shoulders while moving past them, the child remained calm, instead letting their stand take care of the burning sensation that crept over their body.

It was one of those days where a well dressed man would come by and whisper secretively with the sisters as they strode towards a private room and remained there until it was time to leave in an equal hurry. But this time a relaxed gentleman stepped out of the room with a large huff, stretching his neck and groaning loudly as he did. The taps of his heeled shiny shoes echoed through the stony arches of the hallway that led to the courtyard where Pomo had been toying a blade of grass between their fingers. Intensely staring at the green colour that stained his pads while their stand loomed over them freely. As the steps drew nearer, the child paid them no mind, instead grabbing a new blade and continuing the process all over. Soft padded steps made their way over casually until a large shadow covered Pomo. Hands rested in his pocked while his arms pushed back the sides of the loose suit jacket. The cigarette dangling from his lips bobbing after he took another intoxicating drag, puffing out the air harshly while peering at the kid.

“And who might you two be?” The man sunk down to a crouch, inspecting a small daisy that stuck out between the sea of green blades. “Pomo.” The child stopped rolling the tuft of grass as they processed his words. Two. Never had they met another who could see the figure that was their only friend. Unsure if the man posed a threat, he exuded a certain cocky confidence they weren’t sure they liked. “Nice to meet you Pomo. That other one looks a bit scary, don’t you think? But then again, you must be too. D’you mind showing me what they can do?” Offering a gentle chuckle as he gently pried, curious to see what this lonesome child could do, never having witnessed someone so young possessing a stand. It sure peaked the man’s interest as he twirled the daisy between his digits.

The amount of precision they possessed shocked him as the daisy was shot with a quick tap of a foggy black tentacle. It crumbled under his pads as he pressed it, letting it fall back onto the earth. Impressed by the ability and thoroughly interested in what it could do for him, the man proceeded. “Have you even killed someone with that?” There was no need to beat around the bush, that much was obvious when the child never seemed to have moved from their position, merely staring at the ground before them. A slow methodical dark tendril crept towards the man, stopping an inch before his polished shoe. Pomo turned their gaze upwards now, offering a look so unreadably neutral it made the man’s heart beat faster in fear, his many years in Passione not having prepared him to face another that lacked fear as much as the child in front of him. “Do you like it here, Pomo?”

A proposal started taking form in the man’s head, one he’d have to discus with his boss before acting on it. “No.” Clear as a bell their voice made a sinister hope grow, a hope that it would only take as little as just asking them to join up with Passione to get his desired answer. As an Advisor he’d have little hurdles in his way before bringing up the idea to his boss, being one of the only few allowed to even directly communicate with the mysterious man. “You seem fearless, to an unsettling degree, kid. If I asked you to kill a guy, would you?” Somehow the direct communication had been the most pleasant conversation Pomo has had in a few years, be it of a morally ambiguous subject, but refreshing to have another respect their space and not be afraid to ask what they desired of them.

“Are they bad?” The amount of troubling honesty behind the child’s harsh gaze making the man believe he’d met his fate, it had been like Pomo was asking if he deserved to live another moment, their stand still remaining at the tip of his shoe. “Not in their own opinion.” Clearing his throat to regain any sort of confidence, the kid’s eyes skipping through the pages of his soul, weighing his sins and good deeds. In reality they were doing no such thing, only weighing their options, grown tired of the convent and its inhabitants, aching to find any sort of family or support without even knowing it. “Ok.” As they gave their answer they chose to retract their stand, ending the conversation without another word. The Advisor’s sigh of relief deeper than any he had before, glad to be able to continue living.

The Boss was feeling generous, letting his Advisor know that placing the child amongst the men of La Squadra Esecuzioni could serve them well, perhaps make them regain any semblance of respect in the organisation. Opting out of putting their deadly stand in his personal Unità Speciale, fearing the effects of Cioccolata or Secco would build a threat larger than himself. Pomo agreed immediately, knowing it would be best to leave the sisters behind to pray for the child’s deliverance. Making their own money, be it a scanty salary, living with a group of other misfits and taking care of jobs here and there did not sound like the worst future for them. The sisters, terrified at the transfer, having no clue what the mafia would even want with the child, did not let the only person on the outside that cared for them know about the move. Too afraid of the consequences.

But after joining with Bucciarati, Abbacchio held great shame, afraid to face his sister’s child with those eyes that understood too much at such a young age. Fearing any visit would involve them with the tricky business he got entangled in, the little one becoming a distant and painful memory. If only he knew.

Further events take place after part 5 where everyone survives and La Squadra works under Don Giovanna. At Risotto’s request Pomo was left out of the fights regarding Trish and the Bucci gang.

While out with Melone to buy some more markers, Abbacchio felt like he’d seen a ghost. The familiar figure of his sister’s child standing next to a Passione assassin Bruno had fought not that long ago while he excitedly pointed out stuffed animals through the toyshop’s window. “Pomo?” Abbacchio had crept closer, carefully assessing if it were smart to approach. Melone had turned before Pomo could, eyeing the familiar gangster before him. “What do you need with Pomo?” Melone’s features hardened into a scowl while searching for their hand. All Pomo could do was stare up at their uncle they hadn’t seen in what felt like forever.

“What’s going on, is everything alright Pomo?” That deep voice reminding them of when he last visited, the voice that told them to never let their resolve falter, ever. “First of all, answer my question. What do you want with them?” Melone stepped forward, never one to initiate conflicts but needing an explanation as to why Leone Abbacchio knew their teammate that had explicitly never been in contact with his side of Passione. “That’s my sister’s kid. Step down you idiot. I’m not here to start shit. Now answer me; what are they doing with you?” Abbacchio growled back at the lithe man, searching Pomo’s eyes for an answer. “Pomo is part of our team. Been so for almost a year now.” He calmed down as he remembered all the fond memories they’d made together, even after the horrible fights with the other gangster’s team.

The amount of shock and confusion Abbacchio felt was immeasurable. After many “what”’s and “how”’s Melone calmly explained that Pomo had quite the powerful stand and still wanted to be part of their squad. “We ask every once in a while if they still want this. Never said no so far.” Melone practically beamed, the other man still trying to process the explanation. Pomo quickly understood their uncle’s position as well, clearly another member of Passione as they connected the dots. That small kid has never hurt anyone -that he knew of- and now they’re an assassin already in possession of a stand? What the actual fuck. His knees began to feel weak, looking for support as he slid down the toyshop’s windowsill. “I’m sorry.” Hands scrambling at his scalp while he stared at the ground, despair filling every inch of his being. Another person he cared about thrown into the complicated landscape of Passione.

The little one reached out their hand at the man that had meant so much to them, one of the only ones to ever offer the child any semblance of a connection. Until Pomo met their new family. A soft pat on the uncle’s platinum strands, grazing the man’s overworked hands. Melone felt his intrusion, staring off into the crowd as he kept some distance, sure to be within ample reach; should anything happen.

Abbacchio had grown so much, learned that his life was worth living. Following his sisters’s advice to strengthen his resolve and to never let it falter like he did before joining Passione. But this one memory, this one being of the past had made its way back. The child he so lovingly took care of and the pain he felt to have left them behind crashing through him as he sat there. Remembering his capo’s words, his kindness and that look of care and understanding making him reach up to the little hand. Memories of them fussing over touches reminding him a hug wasn’t possible. As his eyes met Pomo’s, the ones that always understood the ones they looked in but never let you know what was being kept behind their own. “I’m sorry for leaving you.” He uttered, the small hand getting enveloped in his bigger ones, begging them for forgiveness. “I’ve missed you.” the child spoke, their expression ever unchanging as Abbacchio felt tears flood his eyes and spill onto his cheeks. The purple haired man that had been following along from a distance couldn’t help but blink away his feelings, pitying the small one.

“Never let your resolve falter.” Pomo repeated. The words they’d clung to, any semblance of purpose all pinned on the only advice they’ve ever received. “Ever.” Abbacchio replied, squeezing the small hand between his before wiping away the tears, his actions were forgiven but not forgotten. “Are you ready, kid?” Melone stepped back into reach, offering a hand to the man he’d called an enemy not too long ago, helping him up. A quick nod from the child, a sliver of relief finally being felt, their uncle was still safe and alive. “You know where to find us. Don’t hesitate to come.” Waving goodbye as they entered the store, Melone offering as much assurance he could muster for his now-colleague. But mostly in awe of the child’s strength, they really were something else, huh.

[daily-dose-of-imagines]

ꜰᴏʀɢᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ɴᴏᴛ | ᴋᴀɪ ᴄʜɪꜱᴀᴋɪ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴏɴᴇ-ꜱʜᴏᴛ

Y’all thought it was oVER? lolol Blame Admin T--- I asked her who I should write for BNHA and she said this SO ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ As always, thank you all so much for the love and support for this blog~! I hope you all enjoy this as much as I did with writing it~!

I do apologize if I don’t capture his character the best ;;” 

I won’t lie, I was listening to Might U as I was writing this.

» » Admin Ko

Tedious. At least, that’s what it should’ve been. Yet instead of feeling the normal bouts of irritation at the lack of control he had over the situation at hand, he felt...unnerved. The imaginary seed that was implanted in his stomach all those months ago seemed to only gain in mass.

“...Who are you?”

He shouldn’t have allowed himself to grow these...feelings. Not only did he feel contaminated and utterly sick to his stomach, but the strange ache in his chest did nothing to help soothe his frazzled nerves as those curious yet dim (e/c) hues peered into his sorrowful golden ones.

“...My name is Chisaki Kai...”

“Oh! Hello Chisaki.”

A bout of coughing and another grimace as the pain in his chest amplified tenfold at the horrifying sound. It disgusted him. It truly did, yet instead of feeling the need to get away, he wanted to get closer to her. To comfort her-- hell to shake some common sense into her. Even if it meant he would break out, he just had to do something.

“I...apologize if this seems rude...”

“What is it?”

“...what happened to your arms?”

“...I lost them because I was careless. This...I suppose, is my punishment.”

Her curious stare continued to wash over him as he felt the prickle of goosebumps rise on his shoulders. Turning away, he kept his gaze on the vacant wall of the hospital ward. This was torturous. She was torturous. 

Yet still she managed to worm her way into his heart, and he didn’t know whether or not if he wanted to ask for cardiac surgery or to embrace this newfound emotion.

All he really knew was that if he had only been smarter-- hell maybe even faster at coming up with the quirk-destroying drug he could’ve prevented this. He could’ve gotten rid of the parasite that lurked in her veins.

➽───────────────❥

6 Months Ago

“Patient name: (y/n) (l/n). Quirk: Amnesiac.”

Trudging down the corridor, the man once known as Overhaul, walked in step alongside his parole officer / attending doctor. It hadn’t been too long since his arrest and...amputation. In all honesty, he wondered why he was being granted this rare privilege. 

An assistant for a patient. That’s all they had told him. Of course Kai had to scoff. How on earth was he supposed to help? With the lack of usable limbs and knowledge limited to that of basic medical needs he didn’t really find a real necessity in this patient’s apparent ‘recovery’.

“...Amnesiac?”

“As it’s name implies, it’s a quirk that deals the user amnesia--- yet in our patient’s case it not only forces her to lose her memories, but practically breaks down her body’s physical state.”

“...In simpler terms?”

“In short every time she loses her memory her body deteriorates along with it. It’s as if her body is, in a sense...rewinding itself forward to make up for the fact that she lost those memories.”

A grimace. If he could, he would’ve spat out that he had been right in his assumption that quirks were just an infestation to the world, this patient clearly being a poor victim of it.

“...And what is my purpose of ‘assisting’ you?”

“As far as I’m aware, you’re pretty damn heartless and selfish. So it should be easy for you to not catch feelings for her whilst being a constant in her life right?”

“A...constant.”

“Yeah, just someone who she sees everyday until well...”

“She passes.”

“I mean...yeah. Damn you really are heartless.”

“Tch. This is a waste of my time is what this is.”

“Hey, you’re helping me whether you want to or not man. It’s just a visit everyday for like, an hour or two at most.”

Another grimace was given as Kai felt a shiver run down his spine. Despite the place he would be in was a hospital, it still brought the ex-yakuza boss a sense of dread. Especially with the amount of infested bodies that littered the place.

“...how long?”

“Holy shit dude, I get that you don’t want to do this but seriously---”

“How long until she loses her memory you dumbass.”

“..Oh. Well, from what we gather they can last from a day, to a couple of months. Though the longer she stays in a...well, let’s call it a session, the more it harms her body.”

“So say she forgets me tomorrow.”

“Then her body moves forward a day.”

“....After a month?”

“She lurches forward a month.”

“Thus leading to a quick progression in her deteriorating health.”

“...Exactly.”

It was, to say the least, unsettling to hear. Never had he heard of such a sickening twist for a quirk. No matter, the deal was simple. If he was lucky, this would last a year-- as fucked up as it sounded, the sooner she passed the less she would suffer in the long run.

As they neared the door, the clear unease that settled on his features was one that his parole doctor could see from a mile away. 

“Chill dude, it’ll be fine.”

With that, the door cracked open, and there seated quietly whilst reading a book was a woman. By any standards she was normal, average, easy on the eyes with a slight fae-like feel. Though really it was most likely the early evening glow that cascaded into her room the moment they entered. 

All Kai really knew was that it was the moment when gold met glittering (e/c) hues that a seed lodged it’s way into his stomach.

➽───────────────❥

It had started off easy-- well in Kai’s opinion it had. Every other day seemed to be a new start to the ritual that was re-introducing himself to her and making small talk. 

In all honesty, he wouldn’t admit it, but the simplicity of being able to have a normal conversation with someone brought a sense of peace in him. Of course this didn’t mean his usual snark and calculating ways-- or so he says.

For Kai, this change in routine was oddly enough, welcomed. With everything he had gone and the collogues he had imprisoned god knows where, the opportunity to engage in small talk was to say the least, enlightening. It had surprised him. As someone who sought out tactical moves in reading his opponents, he found himself at ease with the simplicity of where he was at.

Granted it was albeit dull in comparison to the interrogations he goes through, it was still a part of his routine that he refused to change. Not when he’s been so invested in it.

That changes when the day he enters her room to find that instead of having to reintroduce himself to her, she remembers him. She flashes him a gentle smile with an endearing, “How are you?” and that in itself has the former yakuza leader lose his breath as he can only comically blink at her before forcing himself to adjust to this strange change.

No later did another change occur that brought a wave of new emotions in him. She had touched him. A caress to his cheek, and unsurprisingly in that moment he broke out in hives. His sight blurring as panic shot through his system at the abundance of thoughts that struck his head as the irritation from the hives had him reeling away from her.

He didn’t see her distressed face. Nor did he see the tears that streamed down her cheeks as she desperately sought out someone to help him. Instead, he awoke to his room laying down with his hives treated. 

He felt violated. Disgusted, yet still. Even with that he found himself at her door a week later. Prepared to start a new with her and a possible replay of what had happened a week prior. Instead, he found her bowed deeply at the waist as she tightly clutched at the thin fabric of her hospital gown.

“I’m so sorry Chisaki! I didn’t know...I deeply apologize for what had happened!”

“...You...remembered?”

“Of course! You’re someone I can never forget.”

The pit in his stomach grew tenfold as his feet began to walk towards the awaiting lounge chair. Golden hues met truthful (e/c) ones as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat before once again bowing.

“I really am sorry...I shouldn’t have reached out to you like that...”

“...just be more aware next time.”

And like that, the pit in his stomach continued to grow. With each passing day she retained her memories, the more the pit swelled in size, and the more she began to work her way into his heart.

➽───────────────❥

Present Day

He didn’t know why he felt an overwhelming pressure in his gut. The lack of food he ate was odd enough, but to actively avoid something out of his daily routine? It was unheard of. He even made that stupid request to ask his parole doctor to grab (y/n) that stupid drink she liked. 

Mentally shaking his head, Kai lightly tapped his shoe against the door before sliding it open. 

The sight bestowed upon him though was one that could’ve brought him to his knees as the pang in his chest seemed to duly ache as he dragged his feet into the room.

“...(y/n)?”

It was quiet. The warm beams of the spring sun settled on her pale features as dim (e/c) orbs glimmered at the sight of him. He should’ve seen this coming. Especially after she had remembered him the day it set everything out of pattern. Instead, he turned a blind eye. Out of pure ignorance? He wasn’t remotely sure anymore. All he knew was that she shouldn’t be like this.

She should be her stupid lively self, cracking jokes and sharing her stupid stories with him. Not laying there like a corpse.

“Ah...Chi-- Kai, sorry you caught me waking up from a nap. I’m sorry I don’t look more presentable...”

“Nonsense. Now, tell me what you’ve done today.”

“Straight to the point huh? Sometimes I wonder how you’d ever date anyone.”

Though weak, the teasing tone she held in her voice was one that added more weight to his chest as he seated himself in what she declared the ‘(y/n)’s best friend’s chair’. A stupid name if you asked him, but he wouldn’t tell her that.

And like that, she spoke of her day, simple tasks and duties she’s done during her stay at the hospital while Kai listened to her as the best friend she claimed he was.��

As for the new name basis, Kai couldn’t tell anyone when it picked up. All he knew was that it didn’t piss him off as much as it should’ve.

As the time neared for him to leave, she stopped him. A look of hesitance on her face as irritation seemed to grow on his own.

“What is it?”

“....Can I hold your face?”

“What?!”

“With gloves on!”

The statement caught him by surprise. Already he felt the disgusting voices in the back of his head whisper at him yet instead of acting on those voices he found himself mutely staring at her as she fumbled over her words.

All he could really pick out was the light blush that was on her cheeks. The spark of color that brought his feet towards her bedside as she stared up at him with shock in those (e/c) eyes. 

“Tch. What are you waiting for?”

Caught off guard, she could only stare at him for a moment before giddily shifting herself to get off the bed. A noise of distaste left his throat at her motion as she merely rolled her eyes and shushed him as she went to fervently clean her hands before snapping on the gloves.

Yet as she did this he couldn’t help but feel the ache in his chest grow even more at the sight of her frail hands and the subtle appearance of a bruise around her wrist at her careless motion of snapping the gloves on. This was immediately forgone as she walked up to him, mindful to keep a distance before she hesitantly held her hands out in a flower cup motion.

At first, Kai had no idea what she was doing, but as he grew to analyze the situation-- as well as remember the odd videos and photos she decided to show him as she sought a sort of relationship herself-- he carefully put his chin into her hands. The hesitancy of her fingers brushing his cheeks pulled a new sort of fondness in his chest as he finally relaxed his cheek against her shy hand.

Golden eyes peered deeply into glimmering (e/c) as he watched her face light up with the most color he had see on her that day. Satisfied, he waited until she finally let go.

“...Thank you, Kai.”

“No problem.”

“No really...thank you...for everything.”

Unease quickly overtook the fondness in his heart as he straightened himself out. Confusion was clearly matted onto his features as he stared down at her.

“...Why are you saying that?”

“What? I can’t say what I want for once? You let me all the time so just let me say this too!”

Finding the whole situation uncomfortable, Kai made his way to the door once more. Though before he left he motioned with his head for her to get back into bed. In response, he got her usual snark as she stuck her tongue out before carefully getting back into bed.

“If you’re on good behavior tomorrow, I’ll have your doctor bring you that drink of yours.”

The light in her eyes was enough to satisfy him and his worries as she nodded quickly before giving him a mock salute as she excitedly got herself comfy in the bed.

“Alright, you promised Kai~!”

➽───────────────❥

“Who are you?”

It should’ve have hurt him as much as it did, but after 6 fucking months. 6 months of her being a daily part of his life where she did not forget him for a single moment came crashing down. The tremble that clutched tightly to his words as he re-introduced himself went unnoticed as he slowly made his way towards the lounge chair that was once considered to be (y/n)’s best friend’s chair. 

“...My name is Chisaki Kai.”

“Oh! Hello Chisaki.”

He could tell she was straining with keeping up a happy front. Her appearance was frail. So delicate that he feared anyone who touched her would be the cause of her disappearing before his eyes. The drink he had requested for her sat innocently on the bedside table as she gave him a reassuring smile.

“It’s going to be okay...”

“...what?”

“You look...distressed, I wanted to just reassure you things will be okay.”

No they won’t. He wanted to scream it at her, that the rasp in her voice was punching holes into his gut. That the frail breathing she had was worse than his quirk being taken away from him.

And in that moment, they stayed in silence. Merely watching one another with mixed emotions before he broke back into the routine he once thought would be meaningless.

“...What did you do today?”

Her words, though slow, told him of a peaceful day. One with little adventures and many simple moments that he’s come to slowly appreciate in his own life. 

Though as the hour of his leave came, he found it hard to get up from the chair. His feet staying practically cemented to the floor as he watched her peer out the window as the warm rays of the early evening sun cascaded over her. Much like it had that day he first saw her.

Forcefully pushing himself up from the chair, he made his way towards the door. Yet each step he took towards it the more the aching feeling in his chest grew as the fear of his last day in that room came to it’s due date.

“...Kai? Can you turn around for me...just once?”

The words caught him completely off guard as he turned to face her. Those eyes no longer were filed with guarded walls. Instead he was met with the face of (y/n). The woman he came to slowly adore within the past 6 months.

He didn’t even think. Instead he surged forward, practically bruising his legs at the force he decided to stop himself with. Though he didn’t care. The bruises be damned, she remembered him. 

“...Can I hold your face? One more time? I promise I won’t ask again. I’ll even wear gloves!”

“...No need.”

The aching in his chest grew tenfold as he found it hard to speak. The overwhelming emotions that sat in his chest were ready to burst out of him. Though he wasn’t sure how. Instead he bent down slightly, finding her confused face even more endearing before he rolled his eyes.

“Well?”

“B-But...the hives---”

“I don’t care. Hurry the fuck up.”

Like that, the confusion vanished as she gently put her hands together in that familiar flower cup motion. Worry was clearly evident in her eyes as she looked at him, but before she could even question again he placed his chin into her awaiting hands. Already the prickly sensation of the hives began to pool as he could feel them form across his skin.

“K-Kai--”

“It’s fine. Shut up. You said you won’t ask again.”

“T-That’s true...”

“Tch. You can make it up to me by getting better so I can show you the world.”

“...when you’re not in prison anymore, right?”

“Right...”

It was hard to speak now. The lump that once was in his stomach had traveled to his throat as he watched her warm (e/c) glisten with unshed tears as she gently caressed his cheeks, ever so mindful of his hives as she tried to at least move her hands. Instead, the male pressed himself further into her touch as the tears began to fall. If anyone noticed the strain in his voice, they didn’t mention it.

“...If you’re gonna be greedy that do what you’ve been wanting to do you romantic obsessed moron.”

With that, she shifted forward before pressing a sweet kiss to his forehead as the tears came down harder. The lump in his throat making it almost unbearable to talk.

“...Thank you Kai...thank you so much for these six months...”

“.....”

“Don’t forget me...okay?”

“Idiot...as if I could even forget the one dumbass that made me breakout after my imprisonment.”

A weak laugh was given as she finally pulled away. With her eyes rimmed red, she shifted to make a call for a nurse, though that was cut short as Kai surprisingly climbed into her bed. No words were exchanged as she reluctantly shifted herself down into the bed-- though it did take time, she managed to curl herself in a way where she left distance between them. 

“...aren’t you supposed to go?”

Featherlike and faint, he strained to hear her as he shifted himself down to properly face her as he melted in her (e/c) gaze. The slow dimming of life in her eyes was enough to tell him that it was time. However, he refused to believe it. If anything he’d find her awake the next day with that silly smile on her face. Yet even as he thought about this, the tears that he once thought were impossible for him, slowly began to stream down his cheeks as he nestled himself closer to her.

“....one day won’t kill them.”

“...mmm...”

“....go to sleep angel, I’ll be right here...”

“...and...you’ll be next to me?”

“...always.”

➽───────────────❥

Patient Name: (y/n) (l/n) Chisaki Quirk: Amnesiac 

Time of Death: 6:05PM

[popi-the-fatui]

The Night Demon

Akutagawa (BSD) x GN! Reader

Warnings: past injuries, blood, a wee bit of angst. No beta we die like Oda. Akutagawa supremacy you all.

Authors Note: This is the first time I write for a show, and also the first time since highschool that I write something of this length in english (yes, it’s not my first language and it shows). Anyways, of course my first one-shot would be for the angry anemic gremlin as I love him very very much. Also, @theodora3022 you fuel my Akutagawa obssession so if this sucks I’m blaming you (jk... unless?)

The path of your recovery had not been an easy one, to no one’s surprise: taking a sucker-punch (worth the considerable sum of 1 million yen) to the head from an extravagant multi-millionaire really can take a toll on the body. Not that Akutagawa didn’t know that, given the fact that he also had faced the wrath of the Guild’s leader, but still he couldn’t help the one-hour-long reprimand he gave you once you finally woke up in a Port Mafia’s hospital bed after being out for almost a month.

Was his ​concerned angry scolding helping with your throbbing headache (that, by the way, was getting worse with every word he said)? Nope.

Would you jump in front of your boyfriend to block a glowing fist using your face just to see the adorable angry pout he made after finishing his speech all over again? Most definitely.

Now, it’s been two months since you left the hospital, and though half of your face is still purple and touch sensitive, you're in way better shape than before (not that you know how you looked like, but the face Akun made when you asked if he had any photos of your face while you were unconscious gave you the hint that it wasn’t a pretty picture and that you probably shouldn’t touch that topic again. There goes your morbid curiosity).

Of course, your boyfriend has been attached to the hip with you all through your recovery, partly because he is afraid that you’ll pull out some borderline suicidal thing like that again (Dazai-san would be proud, though), and partly because THE one time he left you alone to go on a mission he came back to your body collapsed on the floor. Apparently bending down to pick the remote is considered “sudden movement” when you have been punched in the face.

But you’re not complaining: Akun’s company is always quality company, and though he has a ​bizarre unique way of showing how much he cares and longs for you (Exhibit A: all of the pictures he has of you in his phone are actually group pictures he has cropped out so they only have you in them (except for that one picture you have with Dazai, but we don’t talk about that)), you know that this man ADORES you and would go to the ends of earth for you, even if that means sacrificing that magnificent and sublime time of the day when he gets to dote on you after dealing with whatever task the Port Mafia asked him to do, a.k.a. bedtime. Why? Because with you sleeping face up and passed out in painkillers, cuddles and pillow talk are the equivalent of hugging a dead amoeba, and though Ryunosuke Akutagawa is awkward, he is not THAT awkward.

But that night you hadn’t taken your painkillers, given the fact that you’d had a doctor’s check-up earlier that day, and you have been cleared from the meds to see how well you were doing without those happy little pills. And though the pain was tolerable, it was still there, so you went to sleep earlier than your usual hour (also, Akun was on a mission and the remote had fallen to the floor and you really didn’t want to scare him again but there was also a limit to how many murder documentaries you could watch without having the power to change the channel).

You woke up later in the early hours of the night to the feeling of pure dread that you have when you know someone is watching you.

Of course, you didn’t open your eyes: you didn’t want to face whatever entity you know was looming over your supposedly sleeping body. Or at least you tried not to open them until you felt a long, cold finger reaching the underside of your... nose?

You slowly opened your eyes, afraid that if you made any sudden movements you would disturb the eerie calm that surrounded the mannerisms of the creature (?), and once your pupils finally got used to the gloom of the room, you had to suppress your laugh, because right above you, supported by Rashoumon and holding a finger under your nose, was none other than your boyfriend.

“Akun?” you whispered.

“Yes, dove?” he said back just as low, still not breaking his composure.

“What, and I cannot stretch this enough, in the everloving hell are you doing?”

“I’m checking your vitals”

“Oh, cool. Wait, what?” you asked dumbfounded, finally breaking whatever trance you both were in.

“I was making sure you were still breathing, dove” Akun said as it was the most obvious thing in the world to check if your significant other was not dead in their sleep. And they say romance is dead.

“...”

“...”

“Akun?”

“Yes, dove?”

“Why were you making sure I was still breathing?”

He didn’t give you an answer. Instead, you could see his face darken (thank you, moonlight) while he turned his face to the side with a pout.

“Akun, look at me, please”

With a sigh, he turned his face to you, and the worry in his eyes broke your heart a little. “Does this have anything to do with my accident?” you asked him, voice laced with a sweetness fueled by his concern, because even though he will never say it outloud, you knew that not that deep inside he blamed himself for what had happened to you. “Love, you know that what happened was 100% my decision, right? And I would do it again and again and again if it means you leave the fight safe and sound”.

“But I can take it! I’ve had way worse! And I know that you’re not weak, please don’t take me wrong, but I know pain, I’ve been through that before! For God’s sake, my job is literally being the Port Mafia’s dog!” Akutagawa was getting agitated by the minute. “And I was the one who had to see and HEAR your face break. I was the one who had to carry your limp body out of the fight. I was the one who had to see your face covered in your own blood. I was the one who had to hear the doctors talk about how you were unresponsive to their tests” Akutagawa was not holding back now, and you were able to see the track his tears were leaving in his pale cheeks. “And I was the one who had to see your face so beaten up that, even though the doctors had already finished their jobs, it was unrecognizable” he ended with a choked sob and that’s when it hit you: why he wouldn’t show you any pictures of the time you were in the hospital, or why he had accidentally unleashed Rashoumon when he found you passed out in the floor, or why he had taken only a few missions ever since you left the hospital.

You were his favourite person, he had almost lost you and what’s even worse, he had to watch.

“Akun, I’m sorry. I’m so very sorry” you managed to choke out through your sobs, tears of your own falling through your face. But he knew what you meant:

Sorry for worrying you like that. Sorry for scaring you. Sorry for almost leaving you alone.

“Promise me you’ll never pull something like that again. I can’t afford to lose you, dove. You don’t get to make me fall in love with you and then disappearing from my life just like that”

And if those words didn’t get to you, then his eyes sure did: even through the tears, you could see the desperation and fear in them that would get loose if something bad should happen to you, the person he loves the most. Your heart broke a little bit more.

“I promise” you could see how Akutagawa’s body relaxed at your statement. “But if there’s no stopping you from taking the blows for me, then you at least have to let me take care of you, and you also need to start taking better care of yourself, Akun. Don’t you think you have suffered enough, my love?” You added tenderly, using both hands to wipe out the remnants of his tears carefully.

“You know I can’t promise you that, and I can take it. I can be strong for both of us”

“Then at least try, for me. And are you calling me weak?” you teased, as the mood was much lighter than before after your promise.

“No, and I’ll think about it” You had to give it to the guy: he must really love you if he was willing to compromise with you over this.

“Why is it that I have to promise you something but you have to think about it?”

“I’m your superior”

“Are we not going to address the fact that you still have your finger in my nose even though the way I’m arguing with you right now should be enough proof that not only I’m breathing but alive?”

“...”

“...”

“Ok, I’ll try”

BONUS 1:

“Akun?”

“Yes, dove?”

“Why check up on me now? The accident was 3 months ago... Did something happen that made you worry?”

“...”

“This isn’t the first time you check on me while I’m sleeping”

“This isn’t the first time I check on you while you’re sleeping”

“You really need to work on your love language, my dear”

BONUS 2:

“Akun?”

“Yes, dove?”

“Did you know that at first I thought you were my sleep paralysis demon?”

“What?”

“What?”

“Shut up and go to sleep” he scolded you, hugging your arm so he would not accidentally hurt your face. Not the best cuddle replacement but at least it didn’t feel like a dead amoeba anymore.

[tenthgrove]

Can I request la squadra discovering their Fem!Teammate (who's like in her early 30s) is actually a mother, who joined Passione to pay for her 5 y.o daughter's hospital expenses, and she sometimes secretly goes to visit her and spend time with her.

Mother Mother

La Squadra x Reader, Platonic, SFW

Risotto has always kept an eye on his squadmates. It’s not that he would ever entertain the thought of one of them betraying him, even a relatively new member such as yourself. It’s just that with La Squadra’s status in Passione, he’s always feared one of you being used against him against your will.

It’s for this reason that Risotto became concerned by your twice monthly trips away from the base. Risotto doesn’t usually police his underlings’ activities, but the solemn look on your face each time you leave is cause for deep concern. Perhaps if you weren’t so secretive about your reasons, he wouldn’t have to go to the lengths of spying on you.

Risotto catches sight of your car as you pull into the hospital parking lot. There’s a definite weariness about you as you cross quickly towards the entrance. Risotto activates his invisibility and follows.

As you speak with the receptionist, Risotto is fixed on which department you will turn to. Are you sick and hiding it? Pregnant? But then, you surprise him. You turn to the children’s ward.

Risotto follows you past white corridors and waiting rooms. The nurses address you by name, he notices. It seems you’re a regular visitor. Finally, you arrive in a large ward of lonely pods. In each one lies a sick or injured child. He cannot ignore the fact that the one you head towards looks exactly like you.

As you caress the little girl’s cheek, Risotto comes to realise what’s been happening with you all these months. These trips, this sorrow, it was all for your child. A child Risotto didn’t even know you had.

Risotto leaves you be as you talk with your daughter. He feels guilty, undeserving of being present in this conversation. He’d always wondered how someone like you ended up in such a foul business as his, but if it’s really all for the sake of your daughter he doesn’t know if he can bare to keep ordering you on such dangerous tasks.

He can’t cut you out either, that could be detrimental for your sick offspring.

::::::::::::

Risotto goes home and seeks out Melone. It really ought to show the desperation of the situation he’s in that he’d fall on Melone for advice, but the strange man is the only person he can think of who might possibly guide his conscience on such a matter.

“Melone, a word please,” Risotto demands, swinging open the door of the other man’s bedroom. Melone hums and sits up from his nap, pulling off his night-mask to rub his eyes.

“If this is about the vibrator, I swear I didn’t mean to have it delivered here.”

“I- what- no. It isn’t about anything like that. I need your advice,” Risotto explains. Melone taps his fingers excitedly and crosses his legs.

“Oh, by all means go on then!”

“If, hypothetically, a person like us were to have… unavoidable other commitments, how would you say it should be tackled?” Risotto asks.

“Clarify.”

“Family commitments. Children, to be precise,” Risotto elaborates. Melone tilts his head.

“Capo, did you knock someone up?”

“No! Don’t be ridiculous. I haven’t done anything of the sort!” Risotto insists. “Alright I’ll clarify some more. How do you think I, as this team’s leader, should support such a person?”

“…Oh, I understand,” Melone assures him. “It’s (y/n) who’s pregnant, isn’t it?”

“I… forget it. (Y/n) isn’t pregnant you fool. I don’t know why I bothered with you,” Risotto laments, shutting the door.

Melone, meanwhile, is unconvinced. Risotto’s defensive behaviour suggests to him his theory regarding your pregnancy may be right after all. This isn’t something he can leave alone.

Melone’s foremost concern is your wellbeing. You’re his friend, and he wants to make sure that your parenthood (should you choose to go through with it) is as easy for you as possible. There’s one person in particular who comes to mind when it comes to raising children in the mob.

::::::::::::

“Prosciutto!” Melone calls, entering the second-in-command’s bedroom as he enjoys a cigarette out his open window.

“What do you want, and what did I tell you about barging in?”

“Please Prosciutto? This is important,” Melone begs. Prosciutto turns around.

“Alright, get it over with.”

“Didn’t you say once that you raised Pesci? I’m curious how it was,” Melone enquires.

“I hardly raised him,” Prosciutto rolls his eyes. “His mother was a good woman, and perfectly capable of raising him herself, money aside. My role was mostly as a financial supporter and an occasional babysitter when my step-mother needed a day off.”

“Oh, I see. But how was it with Passione? How did you balance your commitments between them and family?”

“I’m not a fan of this line of questioning, Melone, but I’ll indulge you. It was hard, very hard. They made me join when Pesci was 6 and back even then they constantly held his life over my head. I couldn’t spend too much time with him for fear of seeming disloyal, but at the same time I feared what would happen if I turned my back too long.”

“Christ,” Melone exclaims. “That’s rough. I never knew it was that bad for you.”

“Are you going to tell me what this is all for now?” Prosciutto asks, cocking an eyebrow. Melone swallows.

“Well… I think (y/n) might be pregnant.”

“…What?!”

::::::::::::

“So that’s why we’re suspicious,” Prosciutto finishes. Formaggio stares at them wide-eyed.

“Fucking hell. I knew something was up, but pregnancy?” he exclaims.

“It’s serious, we know,” Melone affirms. “Risotto isn’t letting up so we need you to help us be certain. I’ve got all your DNA on record-”

“Creepy.”

“Regardless, I’ve got hers up on the tracker now, and I need you to take Baby Face and follow the dot until you find its location. Baby Face doesn’t show place names. If you’re spotted, you can shrink down, so it’s better you go than us. Got it?”

“Yeah sure, I’ll go,” Formaggio agrees, picking up the laptop and standing. “I’ll ring if I find anything.”

::::::::::::

Sure enough, 30 minutes later, Formaggio finds something. A hospital to be precise. He looks down at his screen, and back at the hospital. Nope, everything still checks out. There is no possible way the dot could be anywhere other than inside that building when it’s that close. You’re in there. You are in the hospital. Pregnant, near certainly.

Formaggio’s had enough shocks for one day.

Turning tail, Formaggio half-runs back down the pavement towards the base. He fumbles for his phone and calls Prosciutto. No answer. Thinking fast (but not well) he hits the next number in the list. Illuso’s.

“Illuso hi. It’s Formaggio! She’s definitely at the hospital like we thought!”

“…Are you high?”

“Oh fuck, did you not know? (Y/n)’s pregnant and Mel just found out!” Formaggio fills him in. There’s a long pause.

“Holy fucking shit! Get back here now and tell me more!”

::::::::::::

Shortly after this, the sitting room of the La Squadra base finds itself crowded with Melone, Prosciutto, Formaggio and Illuso all in frenzied discussion.

“This is insane. We can’t have a baby! In the hitman squad!” Illuso decries.

“We’re not recruiting the kid!” Melone reminds him.

“That’s not the point!” Prosciutto protests. Formaggio puts his hands up in a show of peace

“Okay okay can everyone please-”

“I AM CALM!”

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU GUYS SHOUTING ABOUT?!” A voice calls. It’s Ghiaccio, standing in the hallway with Pesci at his side. The four men in the lounge look between each other nervously. Formaggio steps forwards.

“Ghiaccio, Pesci… let me fill you in on some things.”

::::::::::::

“RISOTTO WHY THE HELL DIDN’T YOU TELL US ABOUT THIS SOONER!”

Risotto Nero has seen a lot in his days, but never before has he had his office door kicked down by one of his own teammates, while in mid-conversation with two others.

“…Ghiaccio I beg your pardon.”

“(Y/n) was pregnant and you didn’t tell us about it?” Pesci says. “I was on a mission with her just last night! I could have done more to protect her if I’d known!”

“Risotto, I know you like to respect our privacy, but this is serious! If (y/n) is going to have this child then we need to have discussions about how it’s going to be feasible now. As a team,” Prosciutto argues. Risotto blinks.

“Capo, what on earth is going on?” Sorbet asks from by the window. Gelato, having clung onto him since the door fell, continues to look at the crowd in the doorway like… well, like they just busted the office door down.

Risotto takes a sip of his coffee, and sighs.

“I think you all may be under a severe misapprehension.”

::::::::::::

You get back to the base around 4pm, severely exhausted both emotionally and physically. Your daughter is stable, you’re assured, and clearly in better spirits than your last visit. With continued treatment, the doctor sees her out of the hospital and living comfortably with only minor supports within the year. But the bill to get her to that point will not be cheap. You honestly don’t know how you’ll manage it.

As you hang up your coat you are met with visitors. Sorbet and Gelato would like to speak with you, it seems.

“We’re glad to see you’re back. Could you follow us please? It won’t take a minute,” Gelato requests.

“Okay?” you agree, following them into the sitting room. Your entire team is present in dead silence, with Risotto at the helm in his usual chair. He is looking grave. This can’t be good.

Risotto gestures for you to sit down. You comply.

“(Y/n),” he begins. “We know about your daughter.”

Everything seems to go still. You cannot help it as tears well in your eyes. Before you know, you are crying in front of your teammates.

“We are willing to give some help,” Risotto announces. You look up from your tears. Did he just…

“We did some maths and we calculated that if we all pool together, we can pay half your daughter’s monthly bill every month for the immediate future, without any major changes to our lifestyle,” Sorbet announces. “We’re all happy to do that,” he adds, to a chorus of nods around the room.

“Additionally, we can look into getting her case transferred to a doctor on Passione’s payroll. It will be the same quality care or higher, and at a significant discount,” Melone suggests. Oh fuck, why didn’t you ever think of that?

“You would… you would all really do that for me?” you sob.

“And if it still isn’t enough, we’ll find a way. You can rely on us to help you, I swear it,” Risotto promises.

“Thank you… thank you all so much!”