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salemwritesxx · 3 years ago

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𝓽𝓱𝓻𝓮𝓮 𝔂𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓼.

𝔹 𝕒 𝕜 𝕦 𝕘 𝕠 𝕦 𝕂 𝕒 𝕥 𝕤 𝕦 𝕜 𝕚

⇴ male reader [24, pro-hero, alpha, quirk: ice-phoenix] ⇴ all characters are depicted as [18]+

↳ summary: Bakugou and [Your.name] were dating, about to get married. Though one morning, everything that was dear to [Your.name] was brutally ripped away when he found a letter from his fiancé. Katsuki was gone, no traces left behind. And now, after three years [Your.name] was suddenly confronted with the reason when he meets his ex-fiancé again in a small town in Hokkaido.

↣ rating: mature ↣ warnings: abo universe, male pregnancy, bonding (biting for the bond mark to appear), drama / angst that turns into a happy end though; angst ending version read here.

AN: This was inspired by @amgjiks ’ request they sent in a few months ago! posting this story under your original request feels kinda “wrong” since I’d be ignoring half of what you requested basically so imma keep the original for when inspiration kicks in, in the future :)

part 2.

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Walking along the streets, you didn’t have a destination in mind. Just walking around and letting fresh air clear your fogged up brain. You had been overthinking – again. It was one of those days were you couldn’t help but think back to three years ago. Tomorrow three years ago would have been the date were you and Katsuki would have said “Yes”, but alas… it all came differently.

Running your hand through your hair, you sighed deeply.

“I need to stop thinking about this. It’s been so long! Like this, I will never be able to forget him.”

But how were you supposed to forget the love of your life? Especially when it all came so quickly and out of nowhere? One day everything was fine, the next, he was gone. And as much as you tried to find him, despite him stating in the letter you shouldn’t try, it was all in vain anyways. It’s as if Bakugou Katsuki had never existed. Even his parents, that were always very much in love with you as their son-in-law, completely ignored you and cut you off.

It was such a deep cut, even time wasn’t able to heal anything. The last three years were rough. Sleepless nights were a normal thing by now. And while media praised you for working so hard on your hero career, you just pushed yourself like that so you wouldn’t need to think about the past. Because when you were working, it all just faded away.

However, after collapsing one day, the agency forced you to take time off and so you landed in Hokkaido. Far away from the bustling streets of Tokyo, your gloomy small apartment and your work place. With nothing to do, you found yourself overthinking day and night. If you just could ask him one question.

Why?

Putting on his scent-blocking collar, Bakugou suddenly felt a little tugging on his t-shirt, hence he looked down. [Eye.color], big eyes stared at him and the toothy smile immediately had him smiling as well.

“Are you ready to go outside, Hiroto?”, he asked his son who looked so much like you, reminding him every day what he had done.

“MH! Can I bring Popo?”, Hiroto’s big eyes sparkled a little, making it very difficult for Katsuki to say no, hence he nodded a little.

Watching his son, it only took a few moments before he came back with his stuffed animal, it was a phoenix. Rather, it was your merchandise. It… was complicated.

“Ready to go?”

“Yeess!”

And so, Katsuki locked the door behind him, leaving to go for a walk around the block and a quick park visit.

Leaning against a bridge, you stared down, still pondering. If you had just acted differently, maybe you could have saved your relationship. Whatever it was you had done, it pushed him away from you and it was eating you inside to not know what the reason was.

You didn’t know how many hours you had been wandering around town, trying to stop thinking, but as always, you only thought harder the less you had to do. Hence why you decided to go back to the inn you were staying at.

After hours outside, Hiroto was tired, his plushy Popo hugged tightly against his chest as he silently walked besides Bakugou along the streets. One more time, Katsuki tried to pick his son up, “Hiro? Want me to carry you home? Aren’t you tired?”

“NHN!”, he shook his head, “Daddy is never tired when he fights the bad guys! So I am also not tired.”

Hiroto was stubborn as he kept walking besides Bakugou who was just sighing a little. It was his own fault, but he couldn’t lie to his son. Without even thinking about it, Katsuki talked about you whenever you were on TV. He didn’t know why he just couldn’t keep quiet about you being Hiroto’s father. So now, whenever you were on TV, Bakugou had to lie and say you were in another country fighting the bad guys, even though you were still in Tokyo, mere 4 hours away with the train. But Katsuki couldn’t come back. Not after he had hurt you so much. It was his decision to raise Hiroto alone. You deserved to be successful, it had been your dream. Kids just weren’t a thing you had planned for, at least not with 21.

Being caught up in his own thoughts, Bakugou didn’t see you on the other side of the street. Neither did you see him. Both of you staring ahead, thinking back to three years ago, what had been and what it could have become. However, something connected you both. You never had a chance to bond with him, was it a tradition in your alpha family to bond during the wedding night, but your connection was different. Said connection was looking up and across the street.

Hiroto just looked around tiredly when he saw someone. Someone he had seen on TV multiple times. The little boy didn’t know how many times he had wanted Katsuki to show him YouTube videos of you fighting.

“HAAAHHH!? DADDY!?”, a piercing cry came from the little one, shaking you and Katsuki awake. The latter immediately grabbing Hiroto, but.. it was too late.

“HIRO?!”, he yelled, though his son ran across the streets.

You, on the other hand, were so incredibly confused. There he was, standing literally on the other side and then there was a little child, running towards you and calling for you. Was this the “Why?” you had searched for, for so long? You couldn’t think about it when your legs moved on their own to get the kid out of a potential dangerous situation.

It was a blessing that the small town didn’t have much traffic, hence why you could easily run towards him, scoop him up and get back to the safe sidewalks in mere seconds. You didn’t want to imagine what could have happened in a busy city like Tokyo.

Then you stood there, awkwardly holding Hiroto who was crying and sobbing into your t-shirt while Katsuki’s own emotions were all over the place. The Omega had never imagined the possible chance of meeting you again. After three years, all he had built up from scratch to have a comfortable life far, far away from you, as to not disturb your career, it all broke apart.

However, Bakugou wasn’t the only one hearing something shattering, your own heart dropped into your stomach. The already broken pieces shattering more when you saw the pure horror displayed on his face. This was not how you imagined meeting him again. He hated you. You were certain of that. Whatever you had done to him, he never wanted to see you again. It all was so clear to you now it almost brought you to tears then and there.

Your inner Alpha was strongly urging you to just grab him, Katsuki was your Omega, even if you never had a chance to mark him, that’s just how it was. He was yours. But…

Slowly pushing your son away you put him into Bakugou’s arms. There were no words said, the only thing disturbing the silence was Hiroto’s sobbing. Especially when you loosened his tight grip on your t-shirt, he started squirming and screaming, trying to grab onto you more. He had seen you on TV so many times and now you were right in front of him. Yet, Hiroto had to watch when you turned around and left him behind.

You had so many questions rushing through your head, but at the same time, you couldn’t bring yourself to utter them out loud. Not after seeing Bakugou’s expression. This was never supposed to happen. Even if your heart yearned for answers, especially regarding his son… your son?

Without thinking about it, Katsuki put Hiroto down to let him run after you once again. It was such an impulse thing to do, he truly didn’t know why he had done it. Though after three years, why should he hide anymore when you had seen everything now? Also… after so long, he might have not been able to ignore his heart’s desire and yearning any longer.

It was so incredibly hard to ignore Hiroto’s crying and just walk away as if it had never happened, but for the sake of Katsuki’s happiness, you chose to go. However, a sudden tug made you stop. Looking down you saw ice around your ankles. It was weak and thin, easily breakable really. Hiroto’s? When you turned around, he had already clutched your leg tightly. Why?

When you looked back up, Bakugou also stood in front of you, his ruby eyes shimmering a little.

“Do you … want to talk?”, he finally asked, his voice breaking at the end though as he tried his hardest not to cry. What was he doing? It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen you in like three weeks, it had been YEARS since he left without any other word. Why would you even want to have anything to do with him or Hiroto?

“Yes!”, you said and it truly caught the Omega off-guard. After everything he put you through… If he was in your position he probably would have been so angry and furious, but you just seemed exhausted and tired.

But finally, you would be getting some answers.

All night long, you couldn’t sleep. After you had calmed down Hiroto enough, Bakugou gave you a little piece of paper with his address on it. “I work until 7. So we can talk without any disturbance.”, he said when he gave you the information. It was probably for the best. You didn’t want to imagine what would happen when your feelings would overcome you out in a café. [Your.hero.name] seen screaming in Hokkaido – you could see the news all over the internet already. So, it was probably for the best to meet him at home.

But that didn’t mean you weren’t nervous. How had your ex-fiancé been living his life the past three years? It was all exciting and scary at the same time to find out those things.

When you knocked on his door, your inner Alpha was impatiently pacing up and down. It was as nervous as you. But when the door opened and Katsuki stood there, you were sure for the first time in the last 12 hours, that it wasn’t a dream. Walking inside was heaven and hell at the same time. Everything smelled like him. The Omega’s scent was so familiar, but another one was mixed in – probably Hiroto’s.

“A friend of mine is looking after Hiroto tonight so he won’t be dragged into this.”, he said, nervously fumbling with his scent-blocking collar.

It was weird wearing it at home, but for you and himself, he had to wear it. His Omega had been going in circles ever since he met you again yesterday. It wanted to be taken and to be honest, Bakugou was also close to surrender to you. But it wasn’t that easy. You probably had so many questions.

“Oh… Yeah that’s for the best. Katsuki.”, you suddenly stopped in the middle of the hallways.

“Hm?”

“I’m sorry I can't wait, but you need to tell me now. Hiroto, he… called me Daddy and he has an ice quirk… so I am not wrong to assume that he is… our son?”

Katsuki could vividly feel your emotions, the Omega was shuddering, his throat dry and hands sweatier than usual.

“Yeah…”, was all he could choke out.

“Oh.. my God.”, you just mumbled to yourself. Hearing it out loud was like another punch in your stomach.

“Did you… leave me when you were pregnant?”, was your next question, still standing in the middle of the hallway.

However, Katsuki couldn’t even blame you. There were so many questions left unanswered.

“We were too young…”, his ruby eyes were shimmering again with tears, but he tried his best to keep them at bay.

“Too young?”, you were speechless for a moment, before looking back, “Why didn’t you tell me?! Why did you just… leave? Why… did you do everything yourself?!”

Now you were finally angry. After so long, you just couldn’t understand why he would leave you without saying anything. It could have all come differently if Katsuki would have just been honest!

“You had your career?! A baby didn’t just… fucking fit into our lifestyle! What else could I have done?!”, Bakugou yelled back. He knew it would come to this.

“SO?! You also had your career, we were both working hard to become well-known heroes so that’s not a fucking excuse. What else?? You seriously ask me?!”, you gestured wildly.

“You wouldn’t have wanted to raise a child, it was too soon!”

“It was NOT your right to decide that for me!”, you yelled, your voice breaking as tears welled up.

Bakugou once again being a little taken aback. His heart was racing and his tears so close to falling.

“You could have asked me, we could have worked it out.”, the first tears successfully fought their way out as they rolled over your cheeks.

“I loved you SO MUCH. If it was possible I would have literally brought you the stars from the sky. I would have done anything. And you? You just leave. Without anything but a letter telling me you cannot marry me. Do you have the slightest idea how I felt?”, your voice was shaking and breaking here and there, but it was freeing to finally let it all out.

“I thought it was for the best. I didn’t know what to do.“, Bakugou’s voice was so uncharacteristically weak and small.

“You didn’t know?? Did you never trust me, Katsuki? Was I just- such a horrible Alpha to you? Did you think I’d force you to an abortion? Was I not good enough to be a father?!”, you asked trying so hard not to scream, but all these pent up feelings, it all just gushed out without any sort of valve to stop yourself.

“That’s not it! I knew you wouldn’t do that, I just-“

“WHAT? Please tell me why! Why?! Why was I not worthy to be your mate? Why did you refuse to tell me and just leave?! Why did you chose raising OUR baby alone, I-“

“I DON’T KNOW, OKAY?! I don’t know! It was a fucking stupid decision out of nowhere!”, he finally screamed back, tears cascading down his face.

“Don’t you think I have regretted it? Do you think I LIKE being a single parent?! I know I fucked up. I know I threw it all away because I panicked, okay?! I just panicked and before I knew it I was on the train.”, Katsuki sobbed, desperately wiping away his tears.

“We were so fucking young! We had planned to marry, we were talking about saving up for the future to build a house, to have a family in like 10 years or more. But… But I just messed up! I forgot to take my medication before going into Heat, it was my fault I got pregnant- I… I couldn’t bring myself to tell you. Throw everything we planned out the window because I was too fucking stupid to remember.”, his voice broke horribly, being squeaky from time to time as Bakugou’s guilt just overflowed.

The Omega was shaking and instinctively, you and your inner Alpha wanted to protect him. Hence why you wiped away your tears and took a deep breath to calm yourself.

“I know I messed up. Fuck.”, he cried and yet laughed at himself. Hands buried in his hair, Bakugou just wanted to cease to exist in that moment. He had done so many things wrong in his life. The only good thing that had ever happened was meeting you and falling in love with you and even that he destroyed.

He was gasping for air due to talking nonstop while gesturing with his hands wildly. And then, you just hugged him. Your Alpha scent surrounding him and soothing him. Your arms strong and warm, just perfect to melt into them and let everything loose. Oh, how he had missed that.

“I just… wish you had given me a choice. I wish you would have trusted me more. I would have done anything for you and our baby. It would have been hard, I know, but I am sure we would have been able to make it work.”, you quietly said while soothingly caressing his back and letting a quiet, calming purr erupt from your throat. A sign how close you truly were as you would never purr for anyone else than Bakugou.

“I’m sorry.”, Bakugou sobbed and clawed at your clothes, “I love you and I missed you and.. it was so hard alone, but I know I don’t have any fucking right to complain about it because it’s all my fault and I hurt you so much and-“

You hugged him a little tighter.

“I regret everything, I… I… can you forgive me? Can you give me a second chance? I know I don’t deserve it. I know…”

Had you ever seen him so weak before? No. And it truly tugged on your heart strings. There is nothing you wanted more. Get back together. Be happy again. But-

“Katsuki… have you ever thought of coming back to me? Like, if I had never shown up, if I had never found out… wouldn’t you keep on living without me just fine? Don’t you think this is your guilty conscious speaking? You don’t want me. You don’t need me.”

That was the last thing you said before you pulled back from him at last. Bakugou was quite speechless, just staring at you, red, swollen eyes and a tear-stained face made it hard to just go. But it was for the better. Even if he had regretted it, he was never pushed so far as to come back to you. Like that, maybe it was for the best.

Though before you could turn away, he grabbed your hand.

“Katsuki…”

“I wanted… during the pregnancy, after Hiroto was born and every time I saw you on TV, I was so close to leaving all of this. But at that point, I was too fucking scared. I had no right to go back… There are so many letters I’ve written and never sent. [Your.name], I… I literally have a suitcase ready to go. I’ve been waiting for some sort of sign or I don’t know and now? You’re here. Right here in front of me. I know it’s foolish and I’m stupid and have no fucking right to demand this from you, but please… Let me come back. Please forgive me. Please… be Hiroto’s father.”

He had never in his life begged. His superiority complex definitely wouldn’t allow for any of that, but right now was different. He realized the hurt he had caused. How wrong he was. Bakugou had regretted running away in the first week of living in Hokkaido. He always told himself it was “the right thing”. So maybe it was pathetic that he came crawling back, but if there was a slight chance you would take him back, he just had to take it.

But then, you looked down and onto his hand. The gold engagement ring you had gotten him around four years ago was still on his ring finger.

“You still… wear it?”, you asked as you reached for the hand that gripped your wrist tightly. His hands were shaking still – you have never seen him like that.

“It’s the only thing that kept me connected to you…”

“Katsuki…”

Reaching out, you cupped his face with your big hand, the Omega instinctively leaning against it. It was okay. Even if you were to get hurt again. Even if you forgave too quickly. Everything was okay now as you leaned in to connect your lips.

Holding onto you immediately, Bakugou’s fingers clawed at your t-shirt not wanting to let go ever again. Your lips melting together, emotions overwhelming you both as you pressed him into the wall. One hand reaching up to his collar. It took mere seconds for it to snap open. Then it fell to the floor, unleashing all of Bakugou’s Omega scent.

It being overwhelming was quite the understatement. Your knees were weak and legs shaking. You couldn’t resist the urge to bury your face in the crook of his neck.

“Oh my God…”, you moaned as you slowly slid down onto the ground with him, Katsuki just whimpering as he hugged your body as close as possible.

He would never let go again – never!

With your teeth gracing along his neck, your sweaty bodies collided over and over again. Bakugou only able to sob as he held on to your hands tightly, nails digging into your skin and almost drawing blood.

You were hovering above him, hearing his cries and sobs. The sweet scent from his neck being so irresistible. You just wanted to bite. Mark him. It had been a tradition in your household to do so on your wedding night, but…

“Do it…”, you suddenly heard.

Bakugou could barely choke it out, ruby eyes filled with tears of pleasure as he whispered one more time, “Do it… It’s overdue…”

And then, without thinking twice about it anymore, you grabbed him tightly while your teeth sank into his skin.

A marvelous burning pain rushing through his body almost made Katsuki pass out. The sweet torture of being bonded to his mate was almost too much. That was all he had longed for, for so long. He didn’t know why you would take such a coward like him back, but he was so grateful and plain… happy.

Once you opened your eyes the next morning, it all felt like a dream. Especially when you reached to your side and it was empty.

Sitting up abruptly, you looked around – definitely not your room. So what happened last night was not a dream. However…

Without putting anything on, your heart was beating so fast when you rushed outside the bedroom door. Flashbacks to three years ago were haunting your mind.

“Katsuki?”, you tore open the next door, prepared to just see another letter on one of the tables.

Though it, thankfully, wasn’t the case. There he was, standing in the kitchen, your flannel from yesterday the only thing covering his body while he was talking to someone on the phone. Unintentionally, tears had formed in your eyes, but now, you just sighed shakily and wiped over your eyes quickly.

Bakugou, who had turned around once he heard you calling for him, certainly had his heart sinking in the pit of his stomach.

That was his fault.

“Okay… okay, thank you.”, then he ended the call and turned to you, “Sorry, it was about Hiro. Akitoshi will bring him over before lunch.”

“Ah? Mh, okay.”

“Hey…”, putting his phone onto the table, he walked towards you. The Omega’s strong arms wrapped around your waist as he cuddled against your chest.

“I am not running away again. I promise.”, Katsuki barely whispered.

Hugging him tightly with your hand buried in his hair, you just quietly sighed and then kissed his forehead before leaning your head against his.

“I know. I just need some time.”, you also said quietly and Bakugou understood.

Hence why he reached out to cup your face, smiling softly.

“I love you.”

A small smile also flitted across your lips. Your hands cupping his own as you leaned down to kiss him.

“I love you, too.”

Walking back into the bedroom, Bakugou soon lost the flannel again as he slipped into bed, snuggling against you; legs tangled and naked bodies melting together. Unintentionally your hand had slipped down to his belly. That’s when you felt uneven skin and a scar underneath your fingertips. Yesterday, you were caught up in all your pent up emotions too much, so you didn’t notice.

It was his C-Section scar.

“Katsuki?”

“Hm?”

“Tell me about Hiroto.”

Subconsciously, his lips curved into a smile. That you wanted to know more about your son melted his heart but also made him feel more guilty. If only he could turn back time.

“Yeah.”, and then, he started talking and you just listened to the soothing voice of your Omega.

There were three years to catch up on, but due to Katsuki telling your son about you all the time, at least it was easier for Hiroto. With how he was clinging to you yesterday, it was obvious he loved you even though he had never met you in person. And you wanted to be there for him at last. You had only met him yesterday for a brief moment but your heart was already filled with so much love that you wanted to give to him.

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@salemwritesxx || do not repost, edit, modify or translate my works

⇻ salem.talks: I’d love to know what y’all thought of this story? :) once again I took inspiration from the request and I am pretty happy with the outcome!

#salemswriting.#bakugou katsuki #bakugou x male reader #bakugou x reader #bottom bakugou #bnha x male reader #bnha x reader #abo #mpreg #omega bakugou #bakugou

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mieohmy · 4 years ago

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𝖢𝗈𝗆𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝟣𝟢𝟣 | 𝖫𝖾𝖾 𝖩𝖾𝗇𝗈

PAIRING: lee jeno x reader

GENRE: angst, fluff, humor, comfort, established relationship au, college au, this rly is just a self indulgent fic kjasdfk

WC: 2.1k

NOTES: slight argument/fighting ?? , cursing

SUMMARY: jeno wants your attention, your comforting presence, your love- he simply wants you.

for the bday boy that i treasure sm! happy birthday to puppy jeno <333

ღ

The phone next to you lies untouched, and practically has been for days- or has it been a week already? I mean, it wasn’t your fault that upcoming finals had been taking you to the depths of hell, and you had no choice but to lock yourself at home to study for a week on end.

Which brings you to day 7? 8? of being holed up in your room all day, memorizing a bazillion tiny printed words and trying to cram as much information as possible in that overworked brain of yours. Getting about 4-5 hours of sleep a day, you couldn’t remember anymore- or even care to remember. Not to mention the added stress that came along with being any normal college student. Wasn’t life just wonderful?

You feel bad for everyone that has tried to contact you over this stressful period in your life (since you completely turned your phone off to eliminate all distractions), but the urge to stop studying completely and just check up on the real world and all its happenings grows stronger. You breathe in -out, constantly chanting ‘self-control’ over and over again in your head. Then your eyes slowly open, and you slap yourself one last time as if to say ‘get it together' before diving back into the books.

Just two more days. Two more days and you can finish and not have to stress about finals until results come out.

At this point, you were surviving off of coffee, tea, random stolen snacks that your boyfriend would bring over from his dorm.

Damn, when’s the last time you had a proper meal? Monday?

And then you frown. What day even is it today? You glance at your calendar and-

Goodness grief, it’s Sunday already.

You almost have a midlife crisis over wasting basically a week doing nothing but sitting at your desk and looking at words, but then again at this point- you’re just over it and want to be done as soon as possible.

But soon, a weird feeling arises after you recall today’s date- like you were forgetting something. You place a hand over your forehead. Was there something important today?

And as if the universe read your mind, the doorbell rings.

A giant wave of confusion washes over you. Was someone supposed to come over today?

-and you just completely wiped it from your mind?

You’re still running through your memories as you walk to the door. No, it's not Chae since she has finals too...

Opening it, you’re not at all expecting who was behind it.

“Jeno-?”

He blinks back at your wide eyes, expression turning concerned, and you rub your temples in exasperation and defeat.

“Oh, did we have a date today or something? I’m so sorry- I totally forgot.”

His eyebrows furrow. “No, I was just supposed to come over to hang out with you....”

“It’s been so long since we last talked, baby. You haven’t responded to any of my texts. What’s going on?” He promptly adds, staring intently at you.

You let out a sigh, and jeno notices your tense shoulders and dark under-eye circles. “I thought you knew. Finals are coming up so I’ve been stuck at home cramming for about a week now actually.”

His frown deepens. “I did know. And still, y/n..” he says in a warning tone.

You know what his voice implies, you’ve heard it plenty of times at this point, but right now you don’t have to energy to listen to his nagging. “ I know, I know. Just- come in, I guess.....”

To be completely honest, you wanted to send jeno back home- there was still a lot more information left to cover and you obviously weren’t in your best condition, but he was the one who actually remembered your ‘date’ and drove to your place, so you would feel even worse making him go all the way back to his dorm.

Jeno easily follows you in, biting the inside of his cheek to hold back any comments while examining your place even though barely anything has changed since he last visited- mostly because there was nothing to change when you were in your room all day.

You walk to the kitchen, getting your boyfriend some water while yawning. Meanwhile, your mind is drifting away, thinking about what topics are left that you have to go over later. “What are we even doing today?”

Jeno plops on your couch, arms behind his head. “I don’t know. A movie?”

You hide your grimace, immediately thinking of how much time would be wasted watching one, or possibly even more if jeno was feeling it. In the one to two hours of a movie, you could be done with chapter two and three-

“Y/n??”

Your head snaps up. “Yes?”

“Are you gonna come over here or just stand there in the kitchen all day?” he teases.

You shake your head to clear the fog and join jeno on the couch. Scrolling through the options, you automatically snuggle up next to him, eyes blearily watching the moving tv screen.

He decides on this one animated film, and you’re too drained to pay attention so you simply nod and let the movie begin. But even though you try your best to focus on the storyline and what’s currently going on, your mind keeps wandering off to other, more boring things- your studies, obviously.

The number of chapters you covered, the slight of chapters you have left, how long you would have to stay up to finish going through your planned amount of information -all the stressful thoughts swirling in your head, and it only exhausts you more.

You let out a sigh, and jeno turns to you. “Are you okay? You’ve been sighing nonstop since we started the movie.”

You clear your throat, biting back a yawn. “Oh- yeah, sorry. I won’t do it anymore.”

Your boyfriend stiffens but doesn’t say anything, attention returning to the flashing screen in front of him.

You did try. You really did. But your eyelids keep drifting shut and your head keeps slowly lolling forward and snapping back up -it’s not until your forehead accidentally knocks against jeno’s chest that he finally speaks up again.

“Y/n. You need to take a break and get some sleep. Now.” His tone is sharp and commanding.

You snap your eyes back open, vision blurry. “No- it’s fine. I’m good, let’s keep watching.”

The immediate switch in the air is scary, jeno swiftly reaching for the remote and pausing the movie to look at you dead straight in the eyes before setting it back down with a loud, clattering noise. “You need to rest. I can tell from how tired you look, and I know you’ve been studying for so long, so why is it that hard to just relax for a little?”

You groan, distress breaking through. “I can’t, okay? You already understand how stressful school is and how important my upcoming tests are. I know you’re just trying to be kind and thoughtful but-“

“But what?” He cuts you off, the frustration he’s been hiding for a while finally revealing itself. “Taking a rest from burning your brain out isn’t going to kill you, y/n.”

Your hands at your side clench and unclench, a wave of emotions overcoming you. “I know that. But I can’t afford to have a break now.” Everything suddenly feels overwhelming, and your voice comes out strained and uncontrolled.

“I’m almost there, jeno. It’s so close, and if I stop now, I’ll feel like a failure.”

He laughs a short and echoing bark. “How do you think I feel? I was trying to brush everything aside and act like it was all fine, but it’s certainly not when you’re like this.”

You falter.

Jeno gets up, making direct eye contact with you even though his body is trembling and his voice is shaky.

“I spent the past week just lying in bed and worrying about you- if you were eating okay and getting enough sleep. I was constantly texting you reminders to take care of yourself, only to find out from your friend that you turned your phone completely off. Do you know how shitty of a person I was feeling? I didn’t want to be a distraction to you because I know how much you care about your grades, but it’s killing me, y/n. I want to be there for you, but instead, I end up feeling like the worst boyfriend in the world.”

He shudders before continuing,

“And then I come here, brushing off all my worries since I was super excited to finally be with you after so long, and then I have to see you in such a bad condition. Barely taking care of yourself, barely even surviving on your own just so you can pass your exams that I know you’ll already do well on no matter what. As your boyfriend who wants to help and be here for you, do you know how much my heart hurts?”

He finishes, but not before wiping away the frustrated tears that appeared in his angry rant.

It takes one beat -two beats, before you immediately spring up, rushing towards jeno and throwing your arms around him.

He accepts it, burying his face into your shoulder and wrapping his arms tightly around your waist.

The guilt courses through your body, and you understand. The consequences of your actions hit you, hard, and you know you deserve it all. Jeno just wants to know that you’re here. You’re here with him.

“I’m really sorry,” you murmur into his hair, “I’m really, really sorry, jeno.”

You hate the fact that you can still feel the slight wetness of his tears soaking through your-technically his- shirt. You pull back, looking straight into his eyes to make sure he knows you’re being genuine.

“I promise to pay more attention to myself, and I promise I won’t ever let it happen again. I won’t shut you out anymore... and you can come over to take care of me whenever you want, okay?”

Jeno slowly nods, and you softly wipe away the corners of his red eyes of any wetness.

He pulls you closer to him again, inhaling your scent one more time, and you finally let yourself go.

After about a minute of just enjoying each other’s warm embrace - one that you feel like you haven’t felt in so long- you allow yourself to smile and pull back just enough to place a kiss on his cheek.

“Was my baby just lonely and missed me too much?” you sing in a soft voice. He lets out a disgruntled noise in response, shaking his head against your body.

But you both know what the answer is.

“C’mon, let’s go to bed.” You tug his arm easily to your room, putting off your studies, at least for today.

“You’re really gonna take a break this time?” Jeno asks, eyeing you carefully.

You grin. “Yes? Besides, I know you’re always down for cuddles.”

You drag him to the bed, taking his arms and wrapping them around your body as exhaustion quickly fills you.

You fight yourself to stay awake as long as you can to enjoy jeno’s presence, but he notices and hugs you even closer if possible, whispering softly, “Go to sleep, baby. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

And before you finally drift off, you sleepily murmur, “I love you, jeno. Like, a lot.”

Even after you fall asleep in his embrace, he stares down at you, softly kissing your forehead.

I love you too.

bonus bc i adore jeno too much :

“Jeno- for the last time, you’re not a bad boyfriend.”

“I know.... but-“

You shut him up with a quick kiss.

“You’re the sweetest.”

Another kiss.

“Funniest.”

Peck.

“Handsomest.”

His ever so growing smile freezes. Jeno looks at you, a surprisingly solemn look on his face.

You raise an eyebrow, confused.

“......even more than Nam joo hyuk?”

Ah. He had to go for the favorite actor.

You swallow, battling an intense internal war before begrudgingly nodding. “Okayyy...fine. You are.”

He crosses his arms. “I’m what?”

You roll your eyes, whining. “I already said it!”

Jeno shakes his head firmly. “Say the whole thing.”

You take a deep breath in, internally apologizing to your beloved actor. “......you, lee -verymuchanannoyingbaby- jeno, are more handsome than Nam joo hyuk.” Your sentence is finished swiftly in one breath, words slurring together. It actually pains you to say that. But it’s good enough for your boyfriend.

Jeno delights in the squeal you let out when he picks you up in his arms to spin you around.

“Fuck yeah- take that, nam joo hyuk!”

ღ

a/n: anyways im going to go hide away and cry over jeno now ^^

#cznnet #kpopscape #nct #nct dream #jeno #nct jeno #jeno x reader #lee jeno x reader #jeno scenarios #jeno imagines #nct dream x reader #nct dream smut #nct dream imagines #nct dream scenarios #nct dream fluff #lee jeno imagines #jeno fluff

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broiunno · 3 years ago

Text

License to Steal - Act IV

License to Steal

ACT IV

Act I // Act II // Act III // Act IV

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summary: Min Yoongi is your new protection detail upon your return to your father's side after being sent away during a bloody gang war. Now the dust has settled, you've been called back to your old controlled life, and leaving you an unwilling participant in your family's plans. You don't know what they are but you are no longer willing to be the obedient, protected daughter. You don't really care in the least of it makes Yoongi's new assignment hell on earth- So you'll carve your own life out back home on your own terms.

-rating: 18+

-pairing: min yoongi x reader

-word count: 5.8k

-warnings: swearing, gang activities includes drug mention and eventual drug use, the slowest of burns, organized crime, toxic af family dynamics, BEWARE IN THIS ACT: graphic family abuse (father initiated verbal and physical assault- does not fade to black), violence, blood, graphic descriptions of torture, and graphic sex scenes will be included in this work.

-authors note: @chelsea-chee leading the au as usual. I love her the appreciate her as my love, writer, and my beta. Her works are *chefs kiss* Thank you again beautiful <3 PLEASE NOTE: I AM REALLY NOT EXCITED TO POST THE NEXT FEW ACTS. They deal with heavy subject matter and I don't fade to black at any point so please note my works are for mature audiences, warnings are there for a reason and in bold. You are an adult if you are reading this work (per the warnings) and you are responsible for the content you consume. Thank you. ILY all and I love asks about the characters. And that's all I have to say about that...I'm sorry for the wait. I've had covid. I'm back on a better schedule now.

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You fumbled with your hair as you tried to rip your fingers through the still damp strands to assemble it back into a semi-presentable pony tail as the door slid open to your father’s office. You really did wish that you had been able to go upstairs and shower. Or at least change your clothes from the workout gear you currently felt sticking to your skin from the cooling sweat. As a breeze drifted from the vent as the air kicked on, you shivered violently, shaking your head and shooting a hateful stare in Yoongi’s direction as you stepped into the office. Appearances were everything in your family. They were the first level of protection to ensure threats stayed at a minimum. A show of strength and cohesiveness discouraged any hair-brained ideas from a weaker or less organized opposition.

Your father raised a dark, thick brow, turning from the man was speaking quietly to, his expression unreadable as you inclined your head slightly in greeting. “You asked to see me?” you said quietly, keeping your eyes downcast. Since Yoongi had mentioned your father was summoning you, you knew it couldn’t be anything positive. This soon after your arrival? Nothing good would come of this. You had just grabbed onto the distraction of Yoongi until you both stood in the office, feeling stripped bare, awaiting whatever admonishment was about to be delivered.

“You couldn’t make it a full forty-eight hours without causing me a migraine,” your father said sharply and you kept your eyes trained on the floor, as you replayed yesterday in your mind.

“Father, I don’t know what you-”

“Y/N, you weren’t even back a day and you spent how much?” he said, aggravation lacing his tone. “I had to call in Kim to look at your accounts immediately. You’re a fucking hassle.” He huffed and your eyes finally lifted to the stranger that stood next to your father, noting that he stepped away from your father and bowed quickly.

“Nice to meet you, miss. I’m Kim Namjoon. I’ve been handling your accounts and will continue to do so.” You felt your lips part in a soft ‘oh’ as you studied the broad planes of his face, full lips and intense eyes. You felt like he was picking you apart in that moment as you took your time to absorb his ash blond hair in a relaxed, but carefully crafted style. His skin tone was golden; a contrast to Yoongi’s milk-like skin. He glowed, and you couldn’t tell if it from his melanin or the fact that he was radiating intelligence.

“N-Nice to meet you too,” you stammered and managed to close your mouth as he pushed up the rolled sleeves of his white button-down shirt. You swallowed hard and tried to claw through the mental fog that had overcome you. With the teasing from both Jungkook and Yoongi, being presented with another god-like man was the last thing you needed. “I will admit I’m a little confused; my spending was never a problem when I was away? I mean, it’s not like I bought a car.”

Your father barked a laugh and threw up his hands. “You have no grasp on what I do to make this money that you just piss away Y/N! And you COULD have bought a car with the amount you spent yesterday! Like I said: a god damn burden!” he hissed and you flushed slightly, taking a step back unconsciously as you watched his neck flush. Yoongi hadn’t said a word, but you knew you could still sense his dark presence in the corner of the room, not looking at him to notice his eyes narrowed slightly as the scene unfolded.

“Y/N, I’ve had an idea. You’re a daughter. I can’t do much with you. Your brother who I could actually have used is dead. Your mother-” He stopped as he watched your eyes bulge and he shook his head. “I can’t have more children. I’d consider it disrespectful to her memory,” he mused, a hand running along his chin and you couldn’t help the scoff that escaped you, but your jaw snapped shut audibly as your teeth clacked together after the noise passed your lips.

Your father’s eyes flared to life in challenge and he glanced at Namjoon, lip curling. “Did you calculate her estimated cost of living and monthly expenditures? Do you have solid numbers?” he said shortly and Namjoon just nodded, eyes flicking between the family members silently. “And did you adjust for a profit at the margin we discussed?”

“Yes sir,” came the deep steady voice, Namjoon’s eyes traveling your figure, his gaze not heavy with lust or desire, but full of curiosity. “The monthly amount that you should request for that profit is in the proposal if you would like to review it.” He finished and cleared his throat. “I can return if you want me to look over the contract,” he said softly, clearing fishing for a dismissal and your father granted it, offering his hand and you felt your mouth tighten in confusion.

“What contract?”

Namjoon grabbed a briefcase and inclined his head to you stiffly in farewell before his long legs carried him out the doorway. Your father’s gaze didn’t leave your eyes as he spoke. “Yoongi, see him out.” Yoongi nodded and started after the tall man in silence, not sparing you a second glance on his way out.

“I asked you what contract?” you said softly, struggling to keep your voice even as your father stepped closer to you.

“Well, you went out. Spent a lot of money that you’ve done nothing to earn, and caught someone’s eye in the process. Someone worth a lot of money and who would be an asset to have closer to the family at this point in his career.” Your father clasped his hands behind his back as he continued to close the distance between you, each step he made, you felt your heart plummet further.

“Father… what exactly are you implying?”

“I’m not implying anything, Y/N. I’m telling you. Someone’s made a bid for your hand, and it’s the only thing you’ll be good for at this point. The shopping sprees, your lifestyle. I can maintain them, but if someone else is willing to do so, and the marriage benefits me in my business, I’d be stupid not to pursue it. Do you think I’m stupid, Y/N?” he said, voice getting dangerously quiet as he reached out to tuck a piece of hair that had escaped the rapidly put-up ponytail behind your ear.

“You can’t sell me off like fucking cattle!-” you said, flinching away from his touch, and his large, calloused hand shot out to grab your chin tightly. He forced your face back towards his as you tried to jerk away, squeezing hard enough to make your eyes begin to water. Your heart thudded out a dangerous irregular rhythm as you breathed hard through your nose.

“I can’t? Y/N, you seem to be under the delusion that you are free from the responsibilities that come with being in this family. I suppose that may be my fault. I was too soft on you, pitied the losses I caused you to have. I always had your brother anyway; there was no harm in indulging you. But now, you’re the only one with my blood in your veins. You’re home to do a service for this family. Everyone else has given their lives in some way. Did you think you were special?” His words were measured and cold as he studied you, grip not loosening on your face. You would be bruised tomorrow as you felt the throb set in from the pressure he was applying.

“You may order me to do it, but I don’t have to go along with this,” you hissed, barely able to open your jaw, but clenching your teeth to get your words out, rage licking up and down your body. He had taken your entire life as a child, as an adolescent. Did he really think giving you a few years of freedom put you back in his debt so far that you owed him the rest of your life?!

No sooner than the words were out of your mouth you heard the sharp crack, and felt yourself stumbling backwards into the wall. You blinked quickly as you registered the pain in your head, immediately starting to pound as the metallic taste of blood filled your mouth. You barely had time to regain a semblance of your bearings before your father was upon you again, face chillingly blank as his ringed fingers gripped the base of your ponytail, ripping your head back at an awkward angle, a scream breaching your bloody lips. The noise was cut short by another blow, snapping your head to the side before he jerked your face back to center.

“Who do you think you are, you little bitch?” he said with a lilt to his tone as you choked out a sob, unable to keep it from escaping your lips. “You really thought you weren’t going to do shit to replace that money you spent?” When he finished speaking he gave your head a violent shake, as if to scramble your thoughts further. It was completely unnecessary, as your head felt as if it was splitting with the pain he had rocked through you with his blows and harsh grip. You felt the start of a purely hysterical giggle break through, spitting out the fresh rush of blood that ran in your mouth due to the cuts in your cheek from your teeth. You noticed a piece of the skin from inside your mouth flapping loosely that made you nauseated if you dwelled on it.

The laugh was probably the worst response you could have had.

You heard a soft hiss, and your father stepped into your space further, hands darting from your head to wrap themselves around your throat and squeezing. As your hands scrambled to scratch at his hand, his arm, his face, anything, you wished you were surprised at this. You wished you were hurt because you were shocked, but you weren’t. There was blood in the water and he was a shark. He built his life this way.

“You don’t have to go along with this…” he said softly, voice void of emotion, “but you also don’t have to keep living here either. How long will you make it without this family? You’d never make it out of the city.” He mused and continued to squeeze, your vision starting to spot as you tried to draw in any bit of air within the hold he had, the choking heaves under the weight of him making the blood that had pooled in your mouth from his blows spill over your chin grotesquely as it began to stream onto his hand. “So will you behave for once in your fucking life?”

You were hyper aware of the tears streaming down your face as you managed the smallest of nods. You supposed he was right; you had never imagined you would be used in the family in any way. Your entire life had been lonely, and even though you hated it, you had resigned yourself to it. His hands unwrapped themselves from your neck, letting you inhale a burning gasp of air as you slid down the wall, and onto the floor. You coughed and rocked forward onto all fours as the shaking of your body didn’t allow for much more than consciousness.

Your father pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped the crimson of your blood off his hand before tossing it to you on the floor. You could barely recognize the quick but unhurried footsteps coming back down the hallway to the office before they stopped short.

“Yoongi, take her upstairs.”

The flush from hustling back to his boss’s office drained from Yoongi’s face as his eyes widened at your figure hunched forward onto your elbows on the floor. He watched you hack as your body tried to clear your airway. Yoongi stayed silent as he reached down, crouching next to you and attempting to offer you a hand so you could stand on your own, for which you were thankful. You felt the physical pain, but no emotions as your mind sluggishly screamed at you to just accept his hand and stand. You needed to walk out of here on your own. You knew you wouldn’t make it all the way to your room after the assault, but you didn’t need to. Just to the elevator.

You reached out your hand, shaking hard, as you clasped at his large palm and hoisted yourself up, letting him pull lightly as he stood with you, noting that he was still silent. You tried to ignore how your vision swam before you, willing your knees not to buckle. You couldn’t pinpoint if the unsteadiness was from the blows to your face, the lack of oxygen, or the tears that had thankfully stopped streaming down your face but still filled your eyes.

Yoongi seemed to read your mind, shifting his grip from your hand to your upper arm, nestling in your underarm and gently steered you to the door, but let you support most of your weight on the way out. You walked in silence as he didn’t rush you down the hallway, both of your eyes trained on the lift door as he typed in the code. As you waited for the door to open you felt your shaking legs betray you and start to bend. You glanced away from him, the movement of your eyes causing a piercing pain to shoot through your head. “Please,” was all you rasped wetly as you put more weight and started to sink, but the pressure holding you up immediately doubled, Yoongi’s support forcing you upright, even if it made your shoulder raise. It would be almost imperceptible from your father’s office if he was still looking in your direction, but you doubted he would. He had already received your submission; he didn’t need you for anything else.

Yoongi didn’t seem to want to take the chance that he was still watching, stepping into the elevator and continuing to only hold you in one place. His grip was still disguised as if he was walking you out in the same way he may escort an associate who was no longer welcome - in such a manner that would deter any further escalation. No one would be able to tell he was the only thing keeping you upright.

As the door slid shut to the elevator the facade crumbled, you lurching forward and gasping out a sob of pain, tilting your head down to let the blood that had been collecting in your mouth pour out onto the floor. You forgot how much mouth wounds bled. Yoongi was not bothered with the grotesque display as he swiftly adjusted his grip to wrap around your shoulders, his other arm sweeping at your feet as he lifted you with apparent ease. You shut your eyes as the tears began to flow once more, unable to restrain the moans and whimpers of pain that escaped between gasps as you cried. He still hadn’t said a word, even as you turned your face into his suit jacket, inhaling jaggedly as you tried to focus on the scent permeating from him, trying to place it through your snot-filled nose. The only thing you could recognize was the warm, woodsy scent of patchouli as you reached a shaking hand up to hold onto his jacket tightly. You knew he wouldn’t drop you, but it grounded you all the same.

You tried to slow your breathing, but failed as the elevator door opened and Yoongi strode quickly to your bedroom door, bending at the knees and somehow using his crook of his elbow and his body to turn the door knob, the only change in your positioning being that you tilted slightly as he spun it. He kicked the door with his foot gently as he stepped in, by-passing your bed as he carried you into your bathroom, carefully getting on his knees as he lowered you into your large bathtub as he placed you there. You continued to breath quickly, your gasps becoming sharper as your gentle shaking soon became uncontrollable. You released his jacket as he stood and you pulled your knees to your chest, shutting your eyes finally as you heard the tap briefly run before a cool rag brushed your chin, eyes flying open as you flinched away.

“Shh, I need to see your face. I have to get the blood off,” Yoongi whispered, and you finally looked at him, noting his face was still paler than normal. “Princess, I need you to take a slow, deep breath okay? Can you do that? Your lips are turning blue; you’re hyperventilating. You’re safe,” he murmured, brows pinching together in a pained expression you had never seen on his face as you tried to nod, attempting to take a long breath in but ended up gulping in air multiple times on the way, the blurring of your vision worsening as Yoongi grimaced, your breathing speeding up again, your shoulders shrugging with the effort to take in air. The last thing you heard was Yoongi’s tense exclamation of “Shit!” before you blacked out.

When you awoke, you were under the covers of your large bed. You sat up quickly before groaning from the ache in your head, then realizing that opening your mouth made you want to scream from pain. Between the squeeze on your jaw and the cuts inside your mouth, it was safe to say you would be saying very little for a while. You glanced towards the window, noting it was inky black outside.

“How long has he hit you?” came a cool voice from beside your bedside and you turned to face the source, seeing a figure standing beside the small table, casting a shadow with the aid of a lamp. Had he even left? Yoongi had shed his stained suit jacket, but still wore the white shirt and same suit pants. You only knew it was the same shirt due to the blood stain from where your mouth must have painted him. Instead of attempting to speak, you shrugged in an attempt to get his gaze off of you. It was piercing and unnerving. You felt as if this was the beginning of an interrogation, and you didn’t fail to notice the color had still not returned to his normally pale face. Now that your mind was a bit clearer you were able to recognize why it registered so deeply with you. He was the embodiment of white with fury. “How. Long?” he said again with such harshness you swallowed hard, ignoring the fire that licked down your throat as you did so.

“That’s a joke right? He’s always been like that. I just normally am better at avoiding it,” you forced out; your words were almost incoherent as you tried to move your jaw as little as possible as you spoke. That was bearable. Good. Not that you had expected it to be, but at least your jaw wasn’t broken; that would have been a pain in the ass. “What time is it?”

“It’s three am,” Yoongi hissed as his eyes glimmered in the near darkness, pushing off the wall and grabbing a glass of water off the table and sweeping a few pills into his hand. “Take these.” You took his offering and a small sip of the water before carefully throwing the pills to the back of your throat and washing them down, sighing softly. “They’re pain pills. They’ll help and you’ll be able to go back to sleep in a bit.”

You didn’t answer but pulled back the cover of your bed and slid out, noting that your bloody shirt had been changed but you still had on your sports bra and leggings. And your ponytail had been taken down, which was probably a good thing since your scalp was still aching from the hold your father had you in.

“Y/N… don’t.” Came Yoongi’s voice, still unemotional but a bit gentler than his earlier tone. You didn’t turn back to him but stopped your path to your vanity, obviously trying to look at your reflection in the mirror to assess the damage.

“Is it that bad?” you grumbled, turning to him and you watched him shrug.

“It’s not good. Don’t worry about it tonight. No bones are broken from what I can tell. I wiped you down the best I could. Just change once I leave and get back into bed.”

You let out a deep breath but finally stepped towards your closet instead to grab an oversized t-shirt. You could work the bra off under it and slip your pants off once you had it on. “Why did you even stay?” you said softly as you set to work, your muscles aching as you attempted to change modestly. You don’t know why it even mattered, but in this moment it did.

“I needed to know if he had done this before. I needed to know if this was the first time. When we were kids, you weren’t around all the time. Sometimes, I’d go months without seeing you. I didn’t know if this was a part of it,” he spat out, visibly tensing as he took a loud steadying breath.

You shrugged as you pulled off your leggings, successful in stripping your bra off under the shirt, and padded back to your bed. “There were a few reasons he kept me separated from everyone. It wasn’t all because he thought I was too precious to see any of this.” You climbed back into bed and tried to settle back into the plushness. Yoongi took a step closer to you, his mouth slightly open as he watched you try to get comfortable, seemingly unable to stop himself.

“Y/N…” he said softly and reached a hand towards you and you stiffened, eyes narrowing, and he took note, dropping his hand slowly.

“Yoongi, I never asked for your fucking pity.”

“I know, and it makes me want to help you even more.”

You blinked and tried to register what he was implying. “Help me?” you repeated, shaking your head as you felt the same hysterical laugh bubble up that had made your assault that much worse in your father’s office. “No one can help me!” You laughed, eyes widening as the smile twisted your features. “This is my life, this is what I was born into. This is what all those shiny things cost, Yoongi! I always knew it but I forgot.” You watched as the pained expression from earlier slid back over his features, and you raised your eyebrows in response. “I appreciate it, but unless you’re willing to put a bullet in my fucking head there’s no saving anything.”

“Who says it has to be your head, Princess?” he said gently and you swear you felt the world stop.

“Don’t say shit like that Min,” you hissed, baring your teeth and shaking your head. “Even if we don’t always get along, I don’t want you dead too.”

“Whatever you say Princess,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips as he cocked his head to the side. “Are you alright to sleep? You don’t feel like you’re going to vomit?” he asked seriously, watching as you shook your head.

“I don’t have a concussion,” you grumbled but as you watched him smirk and go to grab his jacket you felt your heart speed up. “Yoongi- w-wait.” He immediately stopped, as if he was anticipating your words. “Can you stay here the rest of the night? I know he won’t do anything but I-”

“Let me go change my clothes. Is that okay Princess?”

“Yeah… I just don’t want to be-”

“It’s fine Y/N. I’ll be right back.” You stayed sitting up, watching him as he dismissed your attempts at explanations and justification as he walked out.

You sighed, leaning against the leather headboard and let your breathing even out, even as your heart still raced. The pain began to slowly ebb as the medication took effect; what had you even taken? It had to be something strong as a comfortable fog began to cloud your thoughts.

You didn’t know why you felt the need to have him here. Did you even need to explain? He was technically your bodyguard. You had known each other most of your lives. You had just suffered through an assault; staying with you was reasonable. Even if the assailant wasn’t unknown, nor were the motives. At the end of the day, Yoongi’s presence made breathing a bit easier. His presence made you feel safe.

The door opened again and you sucked in a breath as Yoongi re-entered your bedroom, one hand carrying his gun and holster, the other a hanger with a clean pressed suit. “I’ll wake up before you,” was all he said in response to your surprised expression as he studied you. He mistook the shock on your face as being accredited to the suit. He was an idiot if he thought you cared about the fact he would dress here. You were too busy drinking in the sight of his lean figure in low-slung grey sweatpants. You tried to rip your gaze back to his face but you got caught on the black ribbed tank top and the swirling black tattoos covering his shoulder and chest before disappearing under the material.

“I didn’t know you had tattoos,” you choked out, feeling your face flush and mentally slapping yourself. He may look like sex on legs, but you looked like you just had the shit beat out of you. Which to be fair to yourself, you actually just had the shit beat out of you.

“Oh, I forgot,” he said, a small smirk tilting his lip up but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. He draped his suit over the chair to your vanity and carried his gun with him towards the plush armchair in the corner of the room.

“The bed is big enough Min. I won’t touch you,” you said breathlessly, trying to force away the blush that was deepening across your face. He seemed to freeze and take a few steadying breaths.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea Princess.” His voice was controlled but quiet.

“Please Yoongi…” you said just as quietly. “It’s just for tonight. I won’t feel safe if you’re all the way over there.”

It was definitely an over exaggeration. You hadn’t really expected him to even agree to stay in your room with you. The chair was the reasonable option. You knew you were pushing it.

“Princess, I-” He breathed, the airiness of his tone making your belly somersault and it gave you a tiny shiver.

“Yoongi, please. I need you next to me. Just tonight.” You shouldn’t be so worried about getting this man into bed with you, but now that he was here in front of you and it was so close to happening, you felt you might cry if he denied you.

You watched his back muscles rippled as he tensed and tried to relax. He turned wordlessly and walked to the opposite side of the bed, setting his holster down and climbing into the king-sized bed with you. “Go to sleep Princess.”

The drugs had to be prescriptions, not that you really expected a member of an organized crime family to just take a regular aspirin when they were in pain. “Is the oxy working yet? It should start soon if it hasn’t.” You hummed your assent as you squirmed down into the bed and tried to keep the smile from your face as you reached over and turned out the lamp. You took a deep breath and shut your eyes, savoring the heat that quickly built from having two bodies under the covers of your bed, ignoring the slightly annoyed sigh from the other side of the bed.

“Be quiet Min, I’m trying to rest,” you said softly and a soft dry chuckle cut through the silence as you let sleep take you.

Yoongi’s POV

Yoongi listened to the soft sounds of your breathing as they lengthened and deepened, the pain pills having done their job perfectly. If only he could have done his job in such a manner. He had been given a job: to keep you safe, and he took it seriously. Even if the one assigning his work was an abusive piece of shit. Yoongi let out a sigh, glancing over at your figure in the dark to make sure his huff hadn’t disturbed your slumber. It didn’t. You were still laying there, eyes closed and unaware, your face turned towards him to afford him a view of what exactly your father had done in his absence.

He felt his teeth grind against each other as even in the dark, he could make out the near black bruises covering your neck in the clear shape of hands, a bloom crossing your smooth cheek as well. Even your chin and jaw were dark from bruising; evidence that your father had held your face to force submission. It had worked. He opened his mouth and stretched his own jaw to try and stop himself from continuing to grind his molars down to nothing in rage. He didn’t know if he would ever be able to forget how you looked and how he felt when he entered the office, watching the blood drip onto the floor. How he wanted nothing more than to simply pull out his gun and lodge a bullet into your father’s knee before proceeding to swing the butt of his gun down onto him until he shattered every bone in the pig’s disgusting face.

Until he begged him to stop. Until he begged his daughter to tell Yoongi to stop.

The daydream made Yoongi smile a full gummy smile and chuckle for the first time today. He would stop when you told him to. If you told him to. Now that he knew your father had put his hands on you before this, he wondered if you would just let him continue until his mania at seeing what had been done to you was sated. He knew it wouldn’t be until he heard your father’s death rattle, knowing it had been at his own hands.

You stirred slightly to readjust in your sleep, drawing his attention back to the present as you moved closer to him in the bed and he sucked in a breath. Even beaten and bruised you affected him. Even carrying you in that elevator down the hall as you clutched onto him. He had been spiraling down into violence but as soon as you grabbed his jacket, he knew you wouldn’t withstand even him raising his voice to anyone without shattering. You were normally so fierce and seeing you broken made him want to tear apart this entire society you both lived in, even if it was all either of you had ever known.

It was then he had decided he would be what you were asking of him with your sobs and how you clutched onto him; he would be as gentle as could be and give you whatever you needed tonight. Tomorrow he would begin the undertaking of dismantling your father piece by fucking piece.

He had watched over you after you passed out; you had woken up briefly for him to get you to take pain medicine once before you actually were able to speak to him. Before you asked him to stay with you. He wanted to pretend it didn’t make his icy heart crack, the way you tried to explain and justify his presence. He would never ask you to in this kind of situation. When Yoongi returned to his room, he attempted to steel himself for a night of sitting in that uncomfortable chair, and a sleepless day tomorrow. He had gone more than twenty-four hours without sleep before.

But when your eyes, even if they had started to become glossy and dilated from the drugs, began to run over him, he had to try and think of every unsexy thing he could fathom. You had just been fucking violated and just with one look he felt the blood travel away from his brain and pool below his waist. Why did he think he would be able to wear sweatpants while staying with you? You destroyed every semblance of self control he had. He still hadn’t forgotten your teasing in the elevator prior to this shit show.

Then your soft drowsy voice had called out to him just as he had regained his mental fortitude and continued to the chair. You would be the fucking death of him and he didn’t think he would really mind. Now, as he laid here in bed with you trying to ignore the fact that you were shifting closer to him in your sleep, seeking his warmth, he closed his eyes. He had anticipated the pure fury of tonight keeping him awake, but instead it was the fact that he could feel your breath on his neck, that if he turned his head back to you he could still make out your absolutely gorgeous feminine form from under the blankets. The dip in your waist and the curve of your hips, sloping into your soft thigh. Yoongi’s eyes shot open as he let out a soft hiss as he felt his member stiffen in his sweats, one large hand reaching down to palm himself, and he willed his hard-on to disappear.

He dropped his eyes again, confident he would get his bulge to go down without waking you, and as he tended to it, a soft small hand reached across his middle, making his forehead furrow. He tried to take a steadying breath, and tried to not imagine that the events of last night weren’t the reason he was in your bed. That you had just invited him to bed because you wanted him there, not for security but because you wanted him as a man to share your bed and body. That he could roll over to face you, slip his own hand up that oversized shirt and rub soft circles into your skin before slipping his hand down in-between your thighs.

Yoongi felt his cock twitch and himself harden further, forcing another deep breath in and out as he circled back to try and think of grotesque things to make his longing subside. You at least had stopped wriggling in the bed in an attempt to get closer; he was thankful for that. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter and tried to calm his heart and regulate his breath to make it possible for him to drift off.

This was going to be a long night.

#bts suga #bts ff #bts x reader #mafia!bts #bts gang au #bts imagines #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x reader #suga x reader #btsxarmy #License to steal

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phykios · 3 years ago

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i meant to have this up on friday but i didn’t bc i’m lame anyway, this is dedicated to my dearest dearest peyton 💙💙💙💙💙💙💙 one year ago last friday i had the distinct pleasure of sliding into her dms on discord, several fics and 72 separate aus later, here we are. so, for our friendiversary, have a sexy origin story for percabeth 😁

Say So, for @darkmagyk [read on ao3] rated E for sexual content (spicy!!! pls be advised!!!) cw: recreational drug use, experimental bondage, and an accidental hit during intercourse

“I don’t think it’s working,” Annabeth says.

“Just give it a minute.” Sofia sounds gone already, hazy and dreamy.

She gives it a minute.

“Am I supposed to feel something?”

“Yeah.”

“Well I’m not.”

“You gotta be patient,” says Jordan. Throaty and full, her already deep voice is even deeper, almost vibrating in the air.

Annabeth blinks. “Maybe they gave you actual grass. Or maybe I’m too much of a square for it to affect me.” Sofia snorts. “I’m serious. You know at my summer camp they started giving me counselor responsibilities when I was twelve? Percy always said I wouldn’t know what fun was if it hit me in the face. And it’s not like he was wrong, like I spent most of my childhood reading ancient Greek or learning how to use a knife but there were some pretty ridiculous extenuating circumstances and I really wanted this older boy at camp to like me, and why am I talking so fast?”

Masako giggles. “You’re stoned.”

“I am?”

“Stoned,” she confirms.

“High,” says Sofia.

“Intoxicated!” sings Jordan.

“Oh, wow.” She can feel every blade of grass beneath her, tickling along her bare legs, the wind caressing her face, the sounds of Berkeley--frat boys playing Ultimate, rush-hour traffic, a thousand different conversations about nothing and everything--muffled behind a glass wall. “I’m high.”

Sofia laughs. “How does it feel?”

“It feels…” She licks her lips. They taste like avocado fries and sunshine. “It feels like…” Slow. The turn of the earth so soft and gentle, like the tides in the lake when Percy is in a good mood. Like the liminal space between sleepfulness and wakefulness, when you’ve taken a nap and can’t remember what year it is. Like wading through a magical time spell, but warm. “You know what I mean?”

“Annabeth,” says Masako. “You didn’t say anything.”

“What?” She raises her head, looking over at her friend. Her eyes are closed, her hands running along the grass of the quad. “I didn’t?”

“Nothing.”

Annabeth lets her head fall back, thumping the earth. “Oh, theoi, I’m high.”

Overcome, Jordan starts laughing, curling onto her side. The rest aren’t far behind.

Soon they’re not laughing at her anymore, they’re just laughing to laugh. Laughter is fun, she realizes, her breath and blood whooshing through her body, every muscle and bone in her body united in one single pursuit of joy. Her eyes are squeezed shut, cheeks aching from the force of her smile, her body curled in on itself, wracked with euphoria.

Sofia giggles so hard she snorts, setting them all off again.

Wading through an onslaught of laughter, high and squeaky, Annabeth gasps out, “Why am I laughing so much?”

“Because you’re high, girl!” Jordan crows. She has turned herself over on her front, her face pressed against the grass. “Have you really never gotten high before?”

“Don’t tease her,” says Sofia, awkwardly patting Annabeth’s knee. “You know she hasn’t done anything.”

She has done stuff, she almost says--before she shuts her mouth with an audible clack.

“Not even at your camp?” Jordan asks, befuddled. Befuddled is a funny word. “No one ever snuck in some alcohol or whatever?”

Thoughts running at a snail’s pace, she has to seriously rack her brain to think if one of the Hermes’ kids ever brought in any illicit substances. Soda, minor monsters, the most powerful weapon ever created--but not any alcohol or marijuana. She thinks. “Our camp director was really strict about alcohol.”

“Lame,” says Masako.

“I mean, he was in recovery,” says Annabeth, her go-to story about Mr. D, just in case anyone ever asks. “It was a whole thing. He couldn’t have it, so we couldn’t have it.”

“Not lame,” she amends.

“Okay, I think,” she says, a memory appearing out of the fog, after Gaea, after all that nonsense, “I think my co-counselor Katie made some joints out of bay leaves once.”

The younger kids had gone to bed, sent off with a healthy dose of Clovis’ dream magic to ward away any nightmares, but the older campers had stayed up, huddled around the central brazier into the wee hours of the morning. Still so exhausted she could barely see straight, falling asleep on top of Percy, he had hauled her away to bed, but not before he had declined something for the both of them, something small and white and made to be smoked.

“You can get high off of bay leaves?” Sofia asks.

Annabeth nods. “That’s how the… the fucking…” the word was on the tip of her tongue. The thing that Rachel did. But long ago. Oracle! “The Oracle, she got high, in ancient Greece. With bay leaves. She’d smoke them and receive prophecy.”

Jordan lifts her head. “Cool. You got ancient Greek high.”

Annabeth nearly says something about Olympus, or maybe Blackjack, an amazing joke about being high and Greek just on the tip of her tongue, but she has just enough self control not to. “No, I was tired. Percy and I went to bed.”

“Laaaaaaaaame,” says Masako.

It’s just good-natured ribbing. And they’re all high as kites. But Annabeth still frowns. “I’m not lame.”

“You’re amazing, don’t get me wrong,” Masako says, “but you are so lame. You’ve never gotten high before, you’re probably going to marry your first boyfriend… you are so vanilla.”

“And we love that about you!” Sofia jumps in.

Annabeth can’t feel bad right now, but she can feel a little lost. “But I love Percy,” she says. “Why wouldn’t I marry him?”

Percy is perfect. He’s handsome and kind and powerful and funny and brave and handsome. He’s more than anyone could hope for. And he loves her.

“You’re really going to marry him?” Jordan asks. “Like, for real?”

She shrugs. “Yeah, but he says he can’t propose before he finds the perfect ring. He promised he wouldn’t make me wait too long. I don’t want to have Chase on my diploma.”

“Oh my god,” Masako giggles, “you’re even more vanilla than I thought.”

“The dick can’t be that good,” Jordan muses, examining a particularly long blade of grass.

It is, but they don’t need to know that.

Sofia snorts. “It is?”

Oh, fuck. Annabeth giggles. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

“Tell us!” Masako sits bolt upright, eyes wide. “Tell us everything!”

She slams her hands over her face. “Noooo,” she laughs, curling in on herself further. “I can’t.”

All at once, they scream, like the three Erinyes swooping down onto an unsuspecting prey. Or the Cabin Ten campers when someone gets too close with any stray ketchup.

“Spill!” they shriek. “Spill!”

No one has ever demanded to know the details of her sex life before. Even at camp, she and Percy are given a wide berth. Something about walking through Tartartus with your partner apparently takes your sex life from giggle-worthy to kind of intimidating. That’s the biggest difference between her demigod friends and her mortal friends, Annabeth is finding. Other than that, they’re pretty much exactly the same. “What do you want to know?” she asks, naively.

The floodgates open.

“When did you guys first do it?”

“Where?”

“How was it?”

“What does he like?”

“His abs though--”

“Is he good at head?”

“Favorite position!”

“His dick is big, I just know it--”

Over and over, overlapping, a whirlwind of questions, she can’t process them nearly as fast as they are coming--all she can do is laugh, breathless and airy, until they all dissolve into giggles once again.

She’s getting a little tired of this constant laughing.

Even that thought makes her start all over again.

“Okay,” she gasps, “okay, I can’t--I can’t answer all of those.”

Jordan waves her arms. “Me first! First time!”

Annabeth shrugs. “Um, it was… the weekend of Thanksgiving, a few months after we started dating. His parents were at a mixer for their writing group, and I was staying with them during my school break.” What else is she supposed to say? That they’d been talking about it for weeks? That Annabeth had been so excited she’d forgotten to even ask him about condoms? That Percy had been so concerned with making sure he got her off and didn’t hurt her that he’d spent almost an hour fingering her?

They squeal in unison. “His parents’ house!” Sofia gasps, hands on her face. “So scandalous! How was it?”

Annabeth blushes. “Amazing.”

And it had been, as amazing as a first time can be. Any person could only ever dream of having a partner as attentive and respectful as Percy for their first time.

“If he’s the only one you’ve ever had, how do you know it was that good?” Jordan asks. “I thought my first boyfriend was good, too, right up until I started dating Julie.”

“I think three consecutive orgasms counts as being good,” Annabeth drawls.

Once again, the screaming.

“Three?” shrieks Masako.

“Three.”

“Your first time?!”

“He was really really really concerned I wouldn’t get off!”

Sofia collapses on top of her, hands scrabbling for her shoulders, and always, always giggling. “You marry that boy--you marry him right now!”

“I’m trying!”

“And it’s still good?” Masako’s eyes are as wide as saucers.

Normally, she might be a little reluctant to share--even with Piper. The eighth of this edible, though, is certainly helping grease the wheels of conversation. “It’s always good.”

Jordan groans, throwing a handful of grass in her face. “Bullshit.”

“Always?”

She frowns, really thinking about it, trying to remember a time it was bad. It’s surprisingly really hard. “Sometimes we don’t have time for three orgasms.”

“How often do you fake it?”

“What do you mean?” Annabeth asks Masako.

“You know… fake it.”

“Why would I fake it? If I fake it, he won’t know I haven’t come yet.” She laughs, more than a giggle but less than a guffaw. It’s so silly. Whoever thought of faking an orgasm? “How would I even do that?”

“You’ve never faked it?” Sofia is incredulous, her jaw hanging open.

Annabeth sits up, flailing a little, reaching forward to touch her toes. Just because. “Of course not. Do people actually do that?”

“Sure,” says Masako. “Sometimes.”

“Why?”

“I hate you,” Jordan moans, “I hate you so much, you and your stupid sex god boyfriend who makes love to you every night like you’re in some trashy period drama with the…” Her hands come up, weakly making a wavy shape in the air. “The things. You know.”

Masako tilts her head. “Hoop skirts?”

Sofia pitches forward, hands coming flat on the grass. “Okay, Annabeth. Prove to us you’re not vanilla. Craziest place you’ve ever done it.”

All three girls lean in, now, expectant, hungry.

Annabeth frowns.

Where was the craziest place they had done it?

They’d done it a lot in the last few years. His apartment in the city, Cabin Three, her boarding school room…

Oh. Right.

She flushes.

They lean in even closer.

Well, she can’t tell them about the time they had sex in the temple of Neptune in New Rome, but she can tell them about--“One time, at camp,” she mumbles, playing with a shoelace, “we… Percy is in charge of the boathouse, because--because he’s so good at sailing, you know? So, one day, we both passed our chores off to a couple other counselors, then he took out one of the canoes, rowed us out into the middle of the lake, and…” She glances up, bashful.

Cue the screaming.

Annabeth covers her face with her arms, falling back down onto the quad.

“At your summer camp!” Masako cries, gleeful.

“My word!” Playfully kicking her ankle, Jordan pretends to fan herself, like Hazel still does sometimes when she’s startled by something really risque. “Imagine if the children had seen you!”

The children hadn’t seen them, but the naiads definitely had--and had tried to capsize them for their trouble. She hadn’t been able to do any lake-related activities for a week without getting soaked by a stray wave which, coincidentally, managed to avoid hitting everyone else.

“What else?” Sofia asks, practically vibrating. “Craziest kink!”

“Um…” She frowns, screwing up her face so she thinks extra hard. Have they… done anything kinky? They have sex a lot, yeah, and not always in their bedrooms, but other than that… “I… don’t… know…”

Sex with Percy is always amazing--that’s not a lie. But, maybe it’s gotten a little… same-y.

“Well, well, well.” Sofia slow-claps it out, her rings clinking together. “I think she’s ready for the big leagues, don’t you, girls?”

Through her fingers, Annabeth glances at her. “What do you mean?”

“Bondage.”

“Bondage?” She blinks. “Like, tying each other up?”

Annabeth doesn’t think she’s ever been tied up before. Well, except for the time she wanted to hear the Sirens, but Percy had left her with her knife, so that didn’t really count.

“Last time I met up with Skylar, we went back to his, and he has this old-timey bed frame, with the slats, right? So I took the belt from my dress, and--”

“Okay, okay,” Annabeth cuts in, covering her face again. “I get the point.”

Maybe her friends have a point. Maybe she is a little vanilla.

Sofia pats her knee. “Next time you guys have sex--”

“So, in like, three hours,” Jordan snorts.

“--take a scarf or a tie or whatever and tie his hands to the headboard. Trust me, he will flip. Out.”

Annabeth nods, taking mental notes. “Hands to the headboard. Got it.” She’s not sure if he even has any ties, but she’s resourceful. She can cobble something together. “And… then what?”

Sofia shrugs. “Kiss him. Do a striptease. Leave him there. I dunno. Whatever you want.”

Masako scrambles to her feet, windmilling to keep her balance. “The Bon Me truck just pulled up,” she gasps, “and I am starving.”

And thus, that particular conversation is over, thanks to the munchies.

***

Truth be told, she kind of forgets it pretty much entirely. Most of that day is gone, the finer details swallowed up in a haze of heat waves and peanut sauce.

That is, until New Rome’s annual pre-Saturnalia mixer: dress code, lighter side of formal. Whatever that means.

“Hey, babe?” Percy pokes his head in the bathroom, button-down half undone. “I need your eye for a second.”

She grunts around the bobby pin held between her teeth, sliding another one through some hitherto-unknown dimension to hold a curl in place.

“What do you think, this tie with this jacket?” He holds the two of them together, the black and white Greek key pattern contrasting nicely against the navy blue fabric. “Or will that cause an incident?”

“Probably an incident,” she says, slowly, slipping the bobby pin from her mouth. Then, a thought poking at the back of her skull. “How long have you had that?”

He glances at it. “The tie? Paul gave it to me for graduation.”

“That was nice of him.”

“I’m pretty sure he got it from the Met gift shop, but yeah.” All smiles, he slides the jacket on, tie crumpled in his balled fist. “You’re right, no tie.”

She grunts, noncommittal, gaze sliding away as she tries to remember… something.

“You good?”

“...Yeah,” she says, eventually. “Just spaced out for a second.”

“Alright. You about ready to go?”

She glances at her hair in the mirror, the makeup on the counter. “Give me twenty.”

“Sure thing.” Then he goes out, a few moments of silence passing before she hears the sink turn on as he takes care of the dishes.

How in Hades did she end up with the perfect man? Truly.

Percy continues to exude perfection at the party, despite the fact that he is clearly less than comfortable, not that she can blame him. Some of the older citizens of New Rome are a little less reserved with their opinions of the Greeks, Percy’s hand clenching around his glass of sparkling grape juice every time someone badmouths camp, their home, but they both relax as soon as they finish making the rounds of NRU’s board of trustees and other college officials, peeling away to find Frank and Reyna and the rest of their friends.

Still, Annabeth can’t quite focus.

“Hey.” Percy leans in, his hand against the small of her back, murmuring into her ear. “Are you okay?”

“Hm?” Gods, his hand is so big and warm. All that time in the gym is paying off, too, the weedy, skinny teenager she fell in love with blossoming into a young man, broad shoulders and firm chest like a Phidian sculpture.

“You’re just kind of quiet tonight. Did you sleep okay?”

She blinks at him, thoughts coming back into focus. “Uh--yeah, I’m good. Just--”

“Spaced out for a second?” Making a face, he grins back at her, unrepentant. “You wanna ditch the party?”

“Do you?”

He looks around, eyeing Hylla Ramirez-Arellano as she loudly boasts about being Jeff Bezos’ findom. “A little.”

Well, Annabeth is happy to be his excuse.

Citing a (completely fake) headache, they make their graceful exit, walking back to their apartment in the cool California night, hand in hand, Percy carrying her heels as she walks barefoot down the sidewalks.

It’s a quiet night. Percy squeezes her hand every few steps, and she squeezes back, lifting her face to the clear night sky, thoughts she can’t catch slipping through the cracks like wisps of clouds across the moon. But that’s okay. She’s pretty sure they’re good thoughts.

“You sure you’re alright?” Percy asks as they get home, closing the door behind them. “You've been kind of out of it all night.”

Kissing him on the cheek, she shrugs out of her nice coat, slipping it up on their makeshift coat rack, fashioned from a piece of driftwood that had nearly conked Percy on the head the first time they ever went down to the beach. “I’m fine, Percy, promise. Just kind of a bleh day, you know? Nothing a few cuddles and a movie won’t fix.”

At that, he beams, dropping Annabeth’s shoes on the floor. “I’ll get the popcorn!”

"Let me shower first," Annabeth says. Hopefully a shower will clear her head a little.

It doesn't.

Changing into her pajamas, she ruffles her curls with her microfiber towel, frowning as she comes out of the bathroom. Percy's good habits are rubbing off on her; she's left a lot of crap lying around that needs picking up. Collecting stray bobby pins from the vanity, a curling iron from the top of the dresser, and an alternate dress option from where she had left it on the bed, she putters about the room, tidying as she goes, when she stops. Percy's tie lays crumbled at the head of the bed where he had tossed it earlier.

She picks it up, running it between her fingers. It's not exactly silk, but it's still a decently strong weave, machine-made for mass production, inoffensively soft. Annabeth wraps it around her finger, pulling tight, and a flash of heat rushes through her, like a wave off the lava climbing wall.

“So there’s this guy on Youtube who makes popcorn with Lao Gan Ma spicy chili crisp, and it sounded absolutely amazing,” says Percy, walking into their room, popcorn bowl in hand. Annabeth whips around, the tie crumpled in her fist. “I tried to keep the spice level down, but let me know if it’s too much and I can make another one.”

Annabeth blinks, momentarily uncomprehending. “Uh--sure! Sounds good.”

“Did you pick a movie while you were in the shower?”

“Um…” Was she supposed to? “Your choice.”

“The Sopranos okay?” he asks, climbing onto their bed, twisting around to grab his laptop from the side table. His shirt rides up a little, a sliver of waist and hip peeking out at her.

“Sure.” She likes The Sopranos. It’s a little soapy, but usually she has no problem following along.

Keyword being usually.

She’s tucked herself into Percy’s side the way she usually does, her head against his, his arm around her shoulders, his thumb ghost along the bare skin of her bicep. He smells really good today, sea salt and cinnamon and chili oil, a testament to his busy day in the kitchen. He’s so warm, always, six feet of dense, packed muscle practically radiating heat. Annabeth could fall asleep right there. She often does.

Shifting for the sixth time in what must be five minutes, she snuggles into his chest, curling and uncurling her toes. There’s no denying it--she can feel herself getting hotter, a flame in her center, soft and pulsing, reaching every part of her.

How she wishes she could blame it on The Sopranos.

Annabeth presses her nose into his neck, breathing him in, laying a kiss under his ear. Then another on his jaw. And another at the corner of his lips. And one on his mouth, tilting him towards her for better access. He goes, easily, without resistance.

At some point, the popcorn bowl is moved.

Then, Percy shuts his laptop closed during Livia’s wake.

“Hey,” Annabeth murmurs into his mouth, draped over him like some kind of blanket. “I wanna try something.”

He hums, kissing her again. “Okay?”

She reaches behind him, beneath the pillow. She’s not sure why she had stashed it there, rather than hanging it back up in the closet, but she pulls out the tie, holding Percy’s gaze without breaking. “I thought,” she breathes, pressing her chest against him, incentivizing, “you know... if you want to."

His eyes darken, even as his face tries to give nothing away. "You wanna tie me up?"

Lip between her teeth, she nods.

Slowly, controlled, he blows his breath out, bringing a hand up to cup her cheek. "You sure?" he asks, desire rumbling in his chest.

She frowns. "Yeah." Does he not want to?

"Okay," he says, twisting a curl around his finger. "Just want to make sure we’re on the same page here.”

Or maybe worse, does he think she can’t? “Okay.”

Straightening up, she straddles him. He lifts his arms obediently, never breaking eye contact, bracing them against their headboard. It’s not really conducive for this sort of thing, but she threads the tie through the wooden slats easily enough, tying his wrists together, leaning in closer than she needs to so that her chest pushes up against his face.

There. All tied up and ready to go.

She leans back on her knees, taking in the whole pretty picture.

Rhythmically, subconsciously, Percy tests the strength of the bonds, flexing the muscles in his arms. His mouth hangs open, his hips shifting beneath her as he tries to get comfortable, cock hard through his sweatpants.

Annabeth scrambles off him, and he tries to follow, chest jerking as the tie holds him back. He grunts, surprised, shoulders straining, before he falls back, defeated, huffing angrily, a low growl which connects to the pit of her stomach. “Nice try, Percy,” she smirks, sauntering around to the foot of the bed, keenly aware of his gaze as it tracks her, hands on her hips. “It’s my show tonight.”

“Your show, huh?” He settles back against the headboard, wine-dark gaze boring into her. “By all means, then. Give me a show.”

She glares, grinding her teeth. Doesn’t he know she’s calling the shots right now?

Well, fine. If he wants a show, he’ll get a show.

Annabeth is… not a particularly graceful person normally, but on the battlefield, she knows she shines. Give her a knife and an enemy, and she can put the greatest dancers to shame. Well, in this case, Percy is the enemy, and… her clothes… are the knife. Or something like that. It makes more sense in her head.

Slowly, she grasps the hem of her sleep shirt, peeling it up over her chest, the fabric blocking her vision for a brief moment as she slips it over her head. When Percy comes back into view, his eyes have darkened just that much more, almost straining with the effort not to stare at her chest, even as it’s presented for his explicit viewing pleasure.

Annabeth does not have much in the way of breasts--never has. It doesn’t seem to bother him, which is nice. Besides, Percy is more of a leg man, as he has expressed several times. So, legs next.

Her sleep shorts aren’t very sexy, old, threadbare things which had once been yoga pants. When she started gaining a little more weight, and the pants could no longer reach her ankles, she had cut them in a fit of impulsivity, stretching the fabric and sewing herself a new hem, giving her skin more room to breathe. And giving Percy more space to slip his fingers up, the horny bastard.

She turns around, lamenting the loss, as she so wanted to see his face as she bends over, sticking out her ass, slowly slipping the waistband down. From behind, she hears a faint pickup in breathing.

Over her ass, down her thighs and her knees. She thinks she hears a groan, muffled behind a bitten lip. She lifts up one foot, then the other, leaving the shorts in a puddle by her feet. Clad only in her panties now--black, lacy, but not due to any pre-planning on her part, unless you count the laundry just about overflowing in the closet hamper--she straightens back up, her hands going to her hair, running her fingers through it in some kind of approximation of sexy.

She turns around, and is greeted with his look of naked longing, his throat working as he swallows, full lower lip firmly in his teeth. His fists are clenched, the muscles of his forearms big and bulging, his heels pushing into the mattress.

She takes a step forward, her fingers teasing the edge of her panties. She won’t take them off, not yet, just torment him a little, lifting the fabric and letting it slap back down to her skin, then she’ll climb back on top of him, hump him through his sweatpants until he’s begging--

Annabeth catches her foot on the fabric puddle. Tripping, she throws out her hands, aiming to catch herself on the decorative chest they keep at the foot of their bed, her weak ankle buckling as it tries to keep her steady--then she jams her toe into the metal strut. Hard.

“Mother fucker!”

She goes down.

“Annabeth!”

Through the white hot haze of pain, she can barely see, but she can certainly feel it as a pair of strong arms picks her up from the floor, laying her on the bed, a big hand taking her weaker foot, fingers delicately prodding the offending toe, skimming over the sensitive skin. “Percy?” she moans, seeing stars. “What--”

“Nothing feels sprained,” he murmurs, kissing her ankle. “Looks like you just slammed it. Let me get some ice.” And he leaves her for a moment.

Wasn’t he tied up a minute ago?

The bed dips beside her as Percy takes her foot again, carefully laying one of their smaller ice packs across the throbbing flesh. Her vision clears, blink by blink, and as his concerned but fond face slowly comes into focus, she also spies something trailing from his wrist--a strip of black and white fabric.

His tie. Snapped in half. Still attached to him. “Did you…?” she trails off.

He flicks his eyes down to his wrist, and flushes, lightly. “Oh. I, uh, guess I did. I didn’t even notice.”

Annabeth’s body grows hot in a way that has absolutely nothing to do with shame.

“Anyway,” he coughs, dry and useless. “Um, maybe we should call it a night?”

Hiding her face in her arms, she nods.

***

They try again the next week.

While dictating her notes via speech-to-text, Annabeth had spent the last couple of days occupied with making her own rope, stronger and softer than the ones she had seen in her Incognito Mode searches while doing her business in the bathroom. BDSM rope is surprisingly really expensive, especially the less abrasive stuff, but more than that, she feels kind of… well, it’s weird, the idea of spending money on bondage shit when they’d only tried it once, and not very successfully at that. Like, how about they make sure they actually like it first, says the little Percy in her head who occasionally keeps her from making too many impulse purchases, and then they can upgrade their gear?

Also, she’s confident her stuff is on par with the really expensive gear anyway. Plus, it’s blue!

And when she dangles it in front of his face, straddling him once again as she slides her wet pussy over his briefs, practically soaking them, he lifts his arms again, a quiet acquiescence, even as his jaw clenches in the barest hint of displeasure.

Every day Percy does something new to make her fall in love with him. That he trusts her so much to let her tie him up, immobilize him, take away his control like this, even though he’s so clearly hesitant about the whole thing, that’s just today’s thing. She kisses him, soft and sweet, over and over, and he responds in kind, straining his neck to meet her. “You good?” she asks, a whisper into the space between them, and he nods. “It’s not too tight?”

“It’s fine.” She feels more than sees as he flexes his arms again, testing the strength of her rope.

“Good.” She kisses his nose. No way he’ll be able to break these.

The second time is already going better than the first. Having divested herself of her clothes beforehand, there’s no danger of her tripping and injuring herself as she lines herself up and sinks down on him, shuddering at the angle as she slides him inside of her. She just sits there for a moment, rocking back and forth on his lap, enjoying the way he fills her nooks and crannies, brushing up against the sensitive skin, closing her eyes against the sensation as she lifts herself up, sliding back down, up and down and up and down and up and down.

“Fuck, Annabeth,” he moans. “Oh, fuck.”

It’s good. As always. It’s so good.

But… something is missing.

She squeezes around him, and he hisses, bucking beneath her.

Why isn’t he touching her?

He groans, frustrated, his head making a muffled thump as it drops on the pillow.

Oh. Right.

Usually right about now he’ll go for her tits, his big hands covering them completely, deft fingers pinching and twisting her nipples in the most perfect way, so she decides to show him what he’s missing, bringing her own hands up to her chest, rolling her thumbs over her nipples, smiling as he practically growls. Unfortunately for her, for whatever sick reason, she’s not nearly as good at this as he is, her touches not really doing enough for her. And after a few minutes or so, Percy takes notice.

“Oh gods, Annabeth,” he pants, pulling his legs up behind her, the force almost tilting her forward, and she throws out her hands to catch herself, his abs tensing beneath her as she lands on them, her chest right up against his face. Quick as anything, he lifts his head up, mouth headed for her left nipple before she manages to pull herself back.

She narrows her eyes, falling back on his lap even more heavily, pushing a grunt out of him. “Nice try.”

He only grins back, shark-like, eyes dancing. “Had to give it a shot.”

Of course he did. Percy treats rules like [clever metaphor], easily broken and discarded. And now Annabeth has to punish him.

Shit.

What are you supposed to do for punishment again?

Her mind draws a blank.

Percy stares up at her, waiting, brow raised in challenge.

To stall for time, she squeezes around him.

She’d watched a handful of pornos for research, and in a lot of them, the dominant would strike their partner. Percy’s tough, a bit of an adrenaline junkie, and he likes his rough-housing with Clarisse and Frank and the war kids, so he’d probably like that, too, right? If someone did that to her, Annabeth would probably like it.

So she raises her hand, and she brings it down on his soft, untensed, unprepared tummy. Hard.

He jumps so high that he actually manages to buck her off. “OW!”

“Percy!” she cries, scrambling back over to him. “Oh my gods, I’m so sorry!”

“The hell was that for!” he gasps, curling in on himself as best he can with his arms still tied above his head.

“Sorry, sorry,” she gentles, almost frantic, hands hovering over his body. His belly is rapidly turning pink, the outline of her hand stark on his skin, practically radiating heat. “I just--I mean I thought--fuck, I am so sorry!”

He groans in response, eyes squeezed shut.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck--”Let--let me get you some ice, or--” she stammers, sliding off the bed.

“Can you at least untie me first?” Percy wheezes.

“Oh my gods, yeah, hold on.” Despite her shaking fingers, the knot comes undone easily, practically falling apart, and Percy curls himself into a ball, forehead touching his knees.

Returning with an ice pack wrapped in a dish towel, she kisses his shoulder in apology, slipping it between the taut, tight bends of his body.

He is in real, actual pain. Fuck. “I am so, so sorry,” she says again, her voice wobbling.

Squinting up at her, he tries for a reassuring smile, but falls far, far short, a pained grimace painted across his face. “It’s okay,” he rasps.

It’s really not, but saying that isn’t going to be so helpful right now.

Instead, she lies down next to him, resting her hand on his arm, gently stroking back and forth in hopes that it might distract him a little. She knows that whenever her ankle or her shoulder act up, all she wants is Percy’s hands on her, repetitive and soothing. Hopefully she can give back a little of the comfort that he gives her.

After a while, he starts to uncurl. “Goddamn,” he moans, still clutching the ice pack to his stomach. “Remind me never to badmouth the Yankees again.”

She forces out a chuckle for his sake, ducking her head against his. “How is it? One to ten.”

Hissing, he straightens out a little more. “Probably a four,” he says, “but a really spicy four.”

“Percy, I am so--”

“It’s okay.” He knocks his head against her chin. “Maybe just warn me next time?”

“Yeah,” she says, uneasy. Next time is not looking so likely. “Here.”

Slowly, she helps him into a sitting position, applying extra pressure on his stomach, her hand on top of his. They breathe together, letting the sting fade away until Percy drops his head on hers.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey.”

“How are you?”

“How--” she snorts, a little wet. “I’m fine, Percy.”

“Good.”

“I’m sorry about hitting you,” she says. She can’t help but look down at his stomach, pinkness peeking above the ice pack, at his dick, well and truly flaccid. “That was… not my best idea.”

“Can I ask you something?” Tearing her gaze away, she turns back to Percy. “Why are you pushing for this so hard?”

She blinks, taken aback. “What do you mean?”

“Just, you’ve never really expressed an interest in kinky stuff before.” He takes her hand, cold from the ice pack, rubbing his thumb against hers, sweet and intimate.

“Yeah, well,” she cuddles into Percy a little harder, curving her body around his shoulder. “Some of the girls at Berklee were teasing me about being a little vanilla.” None of it was mean-spirited or anything, but it had stayed with her for a while after it had resurfaced that night. Annabeth Chase, despite having run away from home at the age of seven, was a square, a teetotaler, unadventurous, the kind of woman who spent her Friday nights playing board games with a woman who typified 1930s values. Annabeth Chase, after her short, entirely too eventful life, was going to settle down, and marry the first boy she ever kissed.

It had struck a nerve.

“Being vanilla isn’t a bad thing,” he says, something like concern lacing his voice. “But, are you… not satisfied? With the physical stuff?” The unspoken ‘with me’ hangs between them, and Annabeth pulls back, looking him in the eye.

“Percy.”

“Mm?”

Reaching up, she kisses him. “Of course not. I could never not be satisfied.”

Something in him eases, almost imperceptible if she didn’t know him as well as she does. “So…”

Shrugging, she lays her head back down on his shoulder. “I dunno. It’s just--like, I’m pretty sure you’re going to be the only person I ever sleep with--”

“Pretty sure?”

She nudges him with her foot, and he laughs, hissing a little as it jostles his stomach. “You know what I mean. I just don’t want to miss out on anything, is all.”

“Like what?”

“Like--” she gestures to the rope, lying forgotten, tangled up in the sheets. “Stuff like that. Kinky stuff.”

“Okay,” he says, slowly. At least he doesn’t think she’s crazy. That’s always nice. “I guess I’m just wondering if you’re actually into bondage and stuff or if we’re just… you know, trying it out.”

Draping a leg over him, knees pressed together, she shrugs. “It sounded pretty fun,” she mumbles into his arm. “You know. Tying you up.”

She feels him swallow, jaw working as he chooses his next words carefully. “Tying me up,” he asks, “or tying you up?”

That… gives her pause.

“Maybe…” He turns his face towards her, nose in her hair. “We could swap?”

She frowns. “Swap?”

“If you want, I mean,” he says, quickly. “If you’re not--I would never make you do something you didn’t want to, obviously, but, I mean… if you wanted to try?”

Annabeth, for lack of anything to say, rubs her toes against his calf, comforting and grounding.

Does she want to be tied up?

Her first instinct is to refuse, obviously. She’s a warrior. Immobilization is death. And what if a monster attacks? She has to be ready for anything. That was the promise of Athena’s progeny, that they were eternally poised and ready to respond to any problem or threat.

And yet…

The summer she turned thirteen, she had decided that she was strong enough to hear the siren’s song in the sea of monsters. At her request, Percy had tied her to the mast so she wouldn’t be able to jump in and swim to her death. He had forgotten to take her knife, and when she had, inevitably, fallen prey to their song and cannonballed right into danger, he had jumped in after her, holding her back until she had been able to pull herself out of the magic spell.

It had been humiliating, and humbling. She hadn’t even begun to realize that she liked Percy as more than a friend at that point. But, years later, the clearest memory she has of that day is not how her pride had reared its ugly head, but instead just how safe she had felt in Percy’s arms, at the bottom of the ocean.

Here, in New Rome, in their apartment, with Percy… Well, what’s the worst that could happen? “Sure,” she says, perhaps a little more confident than she actually feels.

“Sure?”

“Sure. Why not?” Looking up at him, she searches his gaze for any hesitation or fear, and finds none, and that, more than anything else, settles her. “I’m game.”

He looks for the same in her, and he seems to like what he finds, because he cracks a grin, laying a soft kiss on her lips.

Gingerly, still mindful of his stomach, he reaches over to grab the discarded rope. Taking her hands in his free one, he loops it around her wrists, tucking the ends into itself, tight but not constricting. Comfortable.

Her breath catches in her throat.

“You good?”

Nodding, she flexes her wrists outward, just to feel the tension--and she sighs, a breathy moan slipping out of her without her permission.

They freeze.

Annabeth slams her eyes shut, praying he didn’t hear her.

“...Okay then,” says Percy.

Gods, his shit-eating grin is practically audible. “Shut up.”

“Excuse me?” He leans in, kissing her ear. “Did you just try to tell me what to do?”

She shivers beneath his warm breath. “I…” She is suddenly full of apologies and excuses bubbling up out of nowhere.

Percy hums. “You what?” Slowly, agonizingly, he slides his hand down the length of her body, ending on her tight, just above her knee. He squeezes, featherlight, and she shivers.

“Um,” she says, watching his hand creep higher, his fingers dipping between her legs. “I…”

Then he stops. He stops, that big hand still wedged halfway to her vagina.

“Are--” she stutters, almost yelping as he kisses the sensitive spot beneath her jaw, teeth scraping over the skin. “Are you going to finish?”

“Dunno. Was thinking about it. But maybe I won’t. Maybe,” he chuckles, directly into her ear, his nose pressing against her cheek. His other arm comes around, slipping beneath her bicep, fingers finding her nipple like it’s a damn beacon, and he pinches it, smiling into her skin as she jumps, grunts, and flushes. She wants to touch him so badly, but the angle of her arms is so weird and she’s kind of on top of him, and she can’t reach his cock or his hair or--“Maybe I’ll just get you worked up, and then I’ll go to sleep.”

What--but--he can’t--“I--you--”

“Say you’re sorry,” he teases, pressing his cheek to her head, “and maybe I’ll reconsider.”

Sorry for what?! She almost snaps. Percy’s hand between her legs plays just at the edge of her sensitive spots, teasing with soft touches, driving her crazy. “I’m--I’m sorry, Percy,” she pants, squirming. Maybe if she shimmies down, his hand will move up--

But he won’t be moved. “Sorry for what?”

“For--” he digs a nail into her thigh, a sharp, sweet bite of sensation, like a campfire ember accidentally landing on your skin, bright and pulsing. Fuck, what is she apologizing for? “For hurting you earlier.”

Shaking his head, he chuckles again, moving his hand further away. No! “Close,” he mumbles, “but no cigar--”

Oh! “For telling you what to do!” she blurts. “I’m sorry for telling you what to do!”

He bites her earlobe. His fingers slide up to her pussy, stroking her labia as they open up to him. “There we go.”

And as he jerks her off, bringing her to the finish with the kind of efficiency and skill that only comes after ten thousand hours, he kisses her, wet and hot, mouth insistent, taking her lip between his teeth, and he mumbles: “Good girl. Good fuckin’ girl.”

She breaks, crying into his mouth.

After a while, he slides his fingers out, giving her one final pass on her clit, and she shudders, whining. “Sorry,” he mumbles, warm. “You good?”

Her tongue heavy in her mouth, all she can do is nod, panting.

But when he slides his other arm out, making to untie her--”Don’t,” she mumbles, pulling back.

He starts. “Don’t?”

“Don’t.” Turning into him, she snuggles against him as deeply as she could, her bound hands only making it a little bit awkward, though they do come to rest on his stomach, about the perfect distance for her to reach down and take care of him. “Your turn?”

But he just shakes his head, slinging a leg over hers. “Still a little sore,” he admits, not quite meeting her gaze.

She drops her head onto his chest, relishing in the warm, steady heartbeat beneath her ear. “Sorry.”

“You can make it up to me later,” he says, taking her hands in his, thumb tracing along the edge of the rope. “I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

#my fic #percabeth #pjo fic #darkmagyk #PLS HEED THE RATING OK

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thdorkmagnet · 4 years ago

Text

The Queen of Hearts

Hey everyone! Happy Valentines!!! I hope you all are having a great day today! Since it’s the holiday all about love I had to do something Starco to celebrate the day! I’m pretty happy with the result too!! I made it as cute and fluffy as I could but with my typical splash of drama because I like it haha!! I really hope you all enjoy!! and a great big thank you to my very dear friend @kikithefox231 who actually helped me finish this fic up so I could get it out on time!! It was really fun to collab on the end and it makes it even more special to me knowing I got to make it with someone I care about! I may not have anyone romantic in my life to celebrate this day with but I got tons of friends, family, and fans who really help make this day special to me!! So yeah lots of love to you all!! Thanks for keeping me going!!

Star was insecure about her cheeks. At first Marco would have thought that was ridiculous, after all Star wasn't the insecure type. He was the self conscious one, Star was strong and confident and was never shy about her appearance.

But lately Marco had noticed a change in her demeanor, a crack in her confident armor. She had seemed to despise her cheeks. At first it wasn't obvious, just little things like shying away from cameras or not looking directly in mirrors. But then it started to progress. During winter Star had had a large rainbow scarf which she always kept wrapped around her face, muffling her voice and most importantly hiding her cheeks. Even when the weather didn't demand it she would insist she was cold and needed.

Obviously this had tipped Marco off something was wrong. And thus began trying to piece together what was upsetting his loving girlfriend. He played close attention to her behavior and noticed her tendency to cover her cheeks when out in public. If someone mentioned anything having to do with her appearance, no matter what it was, Star's hands would instinctively move to her cheeks. To anyone else it would look like Star was merely flustered, but Marco knew better. She was hiding.

But the one that hurt the most was whenever Marco would try and kiss her on the cheek. Everytime Star would flinch as soon as his lips touched her skin. It was for only a second and she always covered it up with a bright smile and playful banter afterwards but it was still there. It still hurt. At first Marco had thought he was being paranoid but with all the rest of Star’s strange behavior that didn’t seem likely. He tried not to take it personally but… it was hard not to.

And then there was Star’s clothes. Her outfits, while always cute and adorable, had begun incorporating hearts into their design. Marco was almost impressed with the many, many ways his girlfriend had found to decorate her cute outfits in hearts. Dresses, skirts, bracelets, hairclips, boots, sometimes it was subtle, sometimes it was obvious, but there was always some kind of heart design on her person at all times. Luckily, this last clue had helped Marco finally figure out what was going on with his sweet bestie.

Star missed her cheekmarks.

Marco couldn’t blame her for that. After all, they had been a part of her for such a long time, most of her life, in fact. Losing them had to be hard, like she had lost part of her identity. Marco knew if he was to lose his hoodie he’d feel the same way. He loved Star no matter what, heart cheekmarks or no, but it was obvious losing them had started to affect her attitude towards herself. And that simply couldn’t stand.

Marco would not sit back and let his loving girlfriend hate something about herself. Not while he was around! She had helped him so many times grow more confident in his own skin, her mere presence filling him with pride and self-worth unlike anything he had ever known before he met her. It was time he returned the favor.

And so Marco began hatching a plan, one that would help Star face and overcome this insecurity once and for all! It had taken a while for him to come up with the perfect idea and in the meantime he had been careful to not give anything away to his girlfriend. He didn’t want her to know he was aware of her self-doubt, not until the moment was right. And luckily for him, the perfect day to put his plan into action just happened to be close at hand. This year Marco was gonna give Star a Valentine’s Day she would never forget!

…

Marco made sure to wake up early in the morning so he could be up before Star. His bestie tended to be the first to rise, usually waking him up in the most loud but adorable way possible. But not today. Today Marco needed to be the one waking her. He got up before dawn, making himself a cup of delicious cinnamon tea before getting to work. He had a lot of preparations still to make and he had to have them done before Star got up around 7. It took some work but he managed to have everything done around 6:50. Time to wake up Star. He threw on his outfit for the day before heading upstairs to greet his girlfriend.

Marco slowly creaked open the door and peeked his head into Star’s room. His girlfriend looked like a sleeping angel and he couldn’t help but stare at her peaceful face for a minute or so. However, he started realizing he was bordering on being a creep and so crept towards his girlfriend as quietly as he could. He tiptoed over to her, making sure to avoid the several bear traps she had set up around her room, before leaning over the bed so his face was close to hers. He grinned at the little drool mark running from her mouth all the way down her cheek and her almost non-existent snoring. He was tempted to kiss her awake but he had learned the hard way that it was better to wake Star up gently. Otherwise, she was likely to instinctively punch the nearest object. Marco really didn’t want another black eye.

"Sttaaaaarrr," Marco greeted his girlfriend in a sing song voice. The blonde grumbled and rolled over on her side, muttering something about ‘taco cats’ and ‘needing more ice cream sandwiches’. Marco chuckled softly at his girlfriend, she was just too cute sometimes. Or all the time really.

He tried again to wake her up, pushing gently on her shoulder, not enough to hurt but enough to her attention. Star mumbled something incoherent again but this time she actually sat up, rubbing an eye with the back of her hand. Marco could still see her eyes were clouded over with fog and she blinked at him a few times in confusion. "Marco," she slurred, her head lulling slightly to the side. "What time is it?"

"It's a little after 7," Marco explained, sitting down on the edge of her bed.

Star nodded and stretched letting out a loud tired yawn. "What are you doing up so early?" she asked before pausing, finally getting a good look at her boyfriend. Her mouth dropped open and she looked like she wasn't sure if she should laugh or be worried for her besties' sanity and Marco wouldn't blame her for either.

He was fully aware how ridiculous he looked. He had swapped out his old red hoodie for the day and replaced it with a bright pink one, covered in hearts of many shapes and colors. His jeans were a dark red and his shoes were the same except he had tied the laces into a heart. But it was his hair that seemed to be the most surprising to Star as she stared at it in disbelief. At first Marco had planned on dyeing the whole thing pink but thought better of it and just settled for a few streaks of pink that actually worked surprisingly well with his brown hair.

And to top it all off he had painted pink hearts on his cheeks to match the ones Star had lost. He noticed her eyes lingering on those for a few seconds before she looked away. She seemed a little uncomfortable now, picking at a loose strand on her nightgown and when Star did look in his direction again. She seemed to be avoiding staring directly at his cheeks.

Then came the question Marco had been waiting for. “Marco, what are you wearing?”

Marco just shrugged as nonchalantly as he could. “Just getting into the Valentines day spirit.”

Star’s eyes darted over his outfit again, confusion pinching her brow. “So is this a normal way to celebrate Valentines?” she asked, her tone light and curious which Marco took as a good sign. “Cause I don’t remember any other Earth holidays making you dress up like this.” She gestured to his ridiculous outfit.

Marco gave her a fake hurt expression, putting a hand on his chest, right over where his actual heart would be. “What are you saying you don’t like it? And after I put in all this work for you!”

Star rolled her eyes, clearly seeing through his act. “Well I never asked you to do this, y’know” She put her hands on her hips but her grin had returned which made Marco’s heart swell with joy. It was working. “But yes, I do like it. It was very sweet of you to go all out for me.” Then, to Marco’s immense excitement Star leaned over and rested her head on his shoulder. He gently gripped her side in a protective and loving hold, returning the hug by placing his head over hers. “Even if you do look ridiculous,” Star added playfully.

“Hey, aren’t you always the one saying pink is my color,” Marco retorted.

“Touche, Diaz,” the blonde said, gently gripping the front of his pink hoodie before pulling him closer to her. Their lips met and instantly it was like a firecracker had just gone off between them. Even if everyone claimed there was no magic left on Earth-ni, Marco knew this was false because kissing Star could only be described as magical. The way her lips fit against his perfectly, the tiniest of movements that sent electricity coursing down his spine, the way his stomach flipped and his brain turned to mush, all of it was too amazing to describe. Marco wanted the sweet feeling to last forever but allowed his girlfriend to pull away regardless. There would be plenty of time for kisses later.

Besides, he still had a plan to carry out. This was only phase one, he couldn’t afford to get distracted by kisses, no matter how amazing they were. Getting back on track, Marco slyly hinted to his girlfriend, “Sooooo, I may have a tiny surprise for you, y’know, for Valentines Day and everything.”

Star’s eyes sparkled as she squealed in delight, any discomfort she had shown early was completely gone, replaced instead with the adorable, hyperactive energy she seemed to radiate. “Ohhhh what is it?! Tell me, tell me, tell me!” she asked, bouncing up and down on the bed, causing the whole thing to sway and nearly knocking Marco off the mattress.

The hooded teen couldn’t help but chuckle as he fought to keep himself steady. “Whoa, whoa, easy there, princess.” Star instantly stopped bouncing and shot him a glare.

“Marco,” she hissed in a warning tone.

“Oh right, sorry, don’t use the ‘P’ word, I forgot,” he apologized, giving Star a sheepish grin.

And just like that, the smile was back on Star’s face as she gleefully exclaimed, “It’s okay! You can just make it up to me by telling me what your surprise is!”

Marco laughed and shook his head. “If I told you it wouldn’t be a surprise then,” he pointed out obviously.

“I won’t tell anyone, I promise,” Star said, while shooting him the most innocent grin she could muster, which was just too cute for words and made Marco’s cheeks heat up instantly.

The temptation to give in came a second later but Marco stayed firm, shaking his head and declaring, “No way! You’ll just have to wait and see it.”

Star frowned and let out a dramatic sigh. “Okay, fine,” she mumbled and crossed her arms in a pouting manner.

Marco held back a chuckle from the cute display, but still wanting to appease his bestie, he offered, “But if you really want to see it so badly, we can go right now.”

“Yes!” Star cheered, clutching onto his arm in a tight grip. Marco tried not to cringe but if she squeezed any tighter she might break his bone. Not that he minded, losing his arm to Star’s death grip was a small price to pay for the excited smile on her face. Her eyes were like little gemstones, their brilliant glow would put literal diamonds to shame and he could stare into them forever. Her smile was so wide now that it had caused her cheeks to puff out in that cute way only Star could do and if that wasn’t enough than the slight rosey tinge to her cheeks made Marco’s heart hammer so hard he briefly wondered if it was trying to escape his chest so it could show love and affection to Star itself.

The young Latino had to clear his throat to regain use of his voice so he could add, “Okay but before we do, you need to get dressed.”

“Well, duh,” Star scoffed, rolling her eyes. “I wasn’t exactly planning on going out in my nightgown.”

“Oh no, that’s not what I mean,” Marco said, a sly smile starting to spread across his lips.

Star was confused now, giving him a curious and slightly alarmed expression, “Then what did you mean?”

“I mean, I took the liberty of setting you up with an outfit of your own to wear.”

“You what?!” Star exclaimed, gasping in surprise.

“Yep!” Marco grabbed Star’s hand pulling her up from the bed with him. “So come on, let’s go get you ready!”

“But wait! Marco!” Star shouted as he dragged her out of her room. She followed along but looked completely lost on what was happening to her. Marco noticed this and turned to her with an honest smile, hoping to convey his good intentions.

“Trust me on this, Star. You're gonna wanna dressed up for what I have planned.”

…

Marco led Star towards Britta’s Tacos keeping a firm grip on her hand since he had insisted she be blindfolded for the unveiling of the surprise. He was surprised Star hadn’t protested but clearly she was too excited to care, a bright smile on her face as she allowed her boyfriend to lead her through the streets of their home, putting her complete trust in him to keep her safe. However, his inquisitive girlfriend hadn’t stopped asking where they were going since leaving the house. “Where are we going? Is it the mall? Are you gonna buy me those cat earrings I was looking at last week? No wait, I bet you hid my present at Janna’s didn’t you? Very sneaky, knowing I would search your room for a present beforehand.”

This was always greeted with the same response from Marco, a small chuckle followed by, “You’ll see.” Then Star would huff and pout for a few seconds before asking him again. Cycle, repeat. Not that Marco minded, he knew patience wasn’t a virtue for Star and he honestly found it beyond adorable. She was like a little kid and he loved seeing this side of her again. It felt like it had been a while to see her so relaxed and at ease.

He took a quick sideways glance over his shoulder taking in Star’s new attire. He had spent quite a few hours picking everything out, trying to find the perfect outfit for his high-standards girlfriend, imagining how she would look in it but nothing had quite prepared himself for the pure beauty that he beheld. Marco was already well aware she could make anything look good, but… this new look might be her best yet. She was wearing a pure white top and a red, ruffled skirt, connected together with bright red suspenders that each had a tiny pink heart on them. They criss-crossed behind her back with another heart charm but that was unnoticeable from this angle. Her leggings were a light cream color covered in small star patterns with a pair of bright red boots over them. Her sunglow hair was as radiant as ever with a cute tiny heart hairclip placed delicately in her swept bangs. She had a bracelet on each wrist one red, one white, that helped to tie the look together perfectly. She bounced up and down excitedly causing her skirt to flutter in the wind and her hair to sway with her movements which somehow made her even more adorable.

Marco had to look away to avoid being blinded by her cuteness, his cheeks now lightly tinged pink. His focus back up ahead though he smiled as he saw they had arrived at Britta’s while he was distracted. He could see the gathered crowd and colorful decorations he and the others had spent hours putting up and felt his heart soar. This was it. The moment he had been waiting for for weeks on end. He waved to everyone, before signaling them to stay quiet and they nodded in return. Marco sucked in a deep breath for courage before turning to face his girlfriend, trying to ignore her adorable outfit.

Star noticed they had stopped and excitedly gasped. “Are we here? Is it time for the surprise?!” she asked, jumping up and down in place.

Marco laughed and replied enthusiastically, “Yep, it’s time for your surprise!”

Star was thrilled to hear this, squealing and shaking her fists in the cutest way possible. He smiled at her animated response and slowly moved behind her to take off the blindfold, struggling to undo the knot since his girlfriend didn’t seem capable of standing still. Finally, he pulled the blindfold away from her eyes, shouting joyfully, “Alright, herrrre weeee goooo!”

As the cloth fell away from Star’s bright blue, a cheerful yell filled the area, everyone screaming, “Surprise!” Marco could tell just by looking at Star’s flabbergasted face she didn’t know how to react. Not that he blamed her. The fast food stand had been redone for the holiday thanks to his and others’s hard work. The tables were now draped in bright pink tablecloths and the old, worn umbrellas that rested over them replaced with new more festive ones, each one covered in hearts and roses. The building itself had been painted a bright red, with tiny heart designs stenciled meticulously over the fresh coat. So fresh in fact, it still hadn’t yet dried, causing the building to have a shimmering glow in the early morning light. And on top of that there were heart banners and confetti thrown about the place, seemingly at random, although in actuality it had all been very intentional since Marco’s organised mind had been the one overseeing everything.

And then there were the people who filled the large space, possibly half the town gathered to celebrate. All of Star’s friends and family were present, Mewman, human, Monster, and everything inbetween, all there to help the blonde royal finally face her insecurity. Marco smiled gratefully as he saw everyone was following his plan perfectly, the entire crowd dressed head in toe in pinks and reds. And most importantly... each one with twin hearts painted on their cheeks.

Star looked around at her loved ones, gawking awkwardly, caught in a rare moment of complete speechlessness. Marco couldn’t tell if it was from the shock of seeing her home and friends consumed by such a girly color or from all the cheekmarks but either way, it was obvious he had caught his bestie completely off-guard. The hooded teen could see the gears turning in his girlfriend’s head as Star slowly turned to him and asked in a startled tone, “Marco? What is all this?”

Marco shrugged. “Just celebrating Valentine’s Day with my girlfriend at our favorite fast food place,” the hooded teen replied innocently.

Star huffed, her cheeks puffing up cutely. “You know what I mean,” she murmured in annoyance. She gave a sideways glance at everyone. “I know you said it was a surprise but I was not expecting this.”

“Well that’s what makes it a good surprise,” Marco retorted, sliding his hands in his pockets.

“If it helps, Star. None of us saw this coming either,” Janna spoke up from the crowd, surprisingly at ease despite wearing a pink dress.

“Yeah, a head’s up would have been nice,” Tom grumbled from beside his girlfriend, looking quite uncomfortable in the fuzzy, pink bunny suit Janna had forced him to wear, his cheeks the darkest shade of red Marco had ever seen on his best guy friend.

“Hey, don’t complain,” Marco scolded, wagging a finger in the air. “You all agreed to help out, remember?”

The only reply he received were some noisy grumblings and a few audible sighs from the crowd.

“Plus, you look cute, Tom,” Janna cooed, giving her boyfriend a playful nudge with her elbow.

Tom just buried his head in his hand, sighing and grumbling about how stupid this whole thing was and how Janna had tricked him and many other things that were unintelligible.

“Wait, help with what?” Star asked, bringing them back on topic while giving Marco a questioning look.

“Well, I was gonna try and bring this up more subtly but…. I know you’ve been self-conscious about losing your cheekmarks.”

Star’s eyes widened, clearly taken aback by the accusation and he could see the fear already forming behind those sky blue irises but she quickly hid it behind a false smile. She scoffed, waving what was supposed to be a nonchalant hand in the air. “Wwwwwwhat? No I’m not,” Star nervously lied, trying to pass it off with a playful, albit nervous smile. Marco saw through it in a heartbeat but didn’t comment on it. He needed to be gentle about this.

“Star,” he said in soft tone, putting a hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay, you don’t have to hide it anyone.”

Star chuckled nervously, her eyes flicking left and right as she shifted uncomfortably on her feet. “Hide what? There's nothing to hide,” her voice was now noticeably shaking and she seemed to be struggling to keep up the charade, her armor finally cracking and her true feelings showing through.

“Star,” Marco said again, a bit firmer but still gentle and reassuring. He wanted her to trust him. He wanted so desperately for her to open up to him and tell him everything.

Finally, Star gave up the act, her mask slipping from her face as she stared down at her feet shamefully, biting her lip as she admitted, “Okay, fine. You’re right.”

Marco hid the smile on his face, excited to hear Star actually admitting it. He had thought it would take a bit more convincing but they were making progress. His plan was working! He waited patiently for her to continue, knowing it was important for her to open up in her own time.

The blonde royal looked over at the crowd of people watching them all closely and blushed, before whispering softly to her boyfriend, “Uhhh, do you think we can continue this without everyone… watching.” She gave a subtle incline of her head in the crowd's direction, before lowering her head where no one could see her blushing cheeks.

Marco quickly took charge, turning to the crowd and saying in a loud tone, “Okay everyone! Can you give us some privacy? Me and Star need to talk alone for a bit.”

Most of the crowd parted after that, leaving the young couple to work through their problems in privacy. All but one hadn’t moved from his spot, the tiny bird man wearing a dress scarily similar to Star’s glaring at the two in annoyance.

“What about the tacos?” Ludo squeaked out. “You promised us we’d all get tacos!”

Marco let out a long sigh before pulling out 650 dollars in cash, handing it to the small bird Monster. “Here, knock yourself out,” the hooded teen grumbled. “Now leave us alone, please.” Ludo ran off laughing to himself, while Dennis followed tiredly behind him, shooting the two an apologetic look.

Now that the two had their privacy, Marco turned his full attention back on his girlfriend, Star still looking uncomfortable but had at least stopped blushing and hiding her face. The hooded teen waited for her to say something but soon realized she wasn’t going to open up to him on her own and so helpfully supplied, “Soooooo, do you want to-”

“How long have you known?” Star muttered, interrupting him.

Marco paused, before admitting sheepishly. “Awhile. I mean, I’m your best friend and boyfriend, Star. I know you better than anyone.”

Star nodded and let out a long breath. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.” She crossed her arms tentatively in front of her chest. “Just thought I was better at hiding it then I actually was.” A quick glance back at the decorations before, adding, “So what is all this stuff anyways?”

Marco shrugged, trying not to take offense to the slight bitterness in her tone. “I figured since you were missing your cheekmarks I’d make you feel more comfortable.”

“By showing me what I’m missing?” she asked, her voice still bitter.

Marco’s eyes widened. “No, no!” Marco shouted, realizing his mistake too late. “Not at all! I-I was gonna say I’d paint on new ones for you and you wouldn’t have to feel weird about it cause… everyone else would have it too, see?” He took a deep breathe, trying to calm his nerves, speaking in a soft murmur again, “I just want you to feel comfortable with yourself again. And if giving you back your cheekmarks helps then-”

Star took in a sharp inhale, “I don’t deserve them, Marco.” Her tone was sharp, cutting through the air like a knife as Marco flinched, his eyebrows creasing with concern. “Wha-What do you mean?” he asked, placing his hand on her’s, feeling her hands trembling in his own.

She tried to keep it all in, she squeezed her eyes shut and gathered the swirling thoughts in her head once again. “I don’t deserve them Marco, I-” she paused tentatively, biting her lip. “...I destroyed the magic and...it’s not fair Marco! It’s not fair that after everything I’ve done, after all the issues I’ve caused, after...everything....it’s not fair to miss some stupid old cheekmarks.” She felt something wet on her hands, she reached and touched her cheeks, surprised when she found her cheeks completely dry. “...Marco?!” she quickly met his eyes, a piercing pain shooting through her heart as she saw his eyes stained with dripping tears. She slowly let her hand caress his cheek, wiping a few of the tears off of his cheek. “Star…” he started, his voice getting choked up as he tried to form his own words. “You...You don’t have to feel like you deserve anything. You’ve already done so much for others and sacrificed so much of yourself to fix what you think is your burden...I know how it feels, to want to have a reason to deserve something...someone.” He gave her hands a small squeeze, the small gesture comforting the both of them. Star smiled, even with her own tears trembling down her cheeks. “You’re amazing Star, you’ve already done so much for others, and you don’t need to feel like you owe everyone this. You feel what you feel Star, it’s okay to miss them, it’s okay to feel like that part of you is missing.” Star let out a shaky sigh, “But...I’ve already caused so many issues for so many creatures and people, this isn’t as important as them.”

“Starrrr,” Marco cooed, gently pressing his forehead to Star’s forcing their eyes to connect, the couple's tears blending together into a puddle at their feet. “I want to pay attention to what I’m about to say, okay. Because what I’m about to tell you is the truth and nothing in my eyes will ever change it, understand?” The hooded teen waited for the small nod from his bestie before continuing. “None of that was your fault. None of it! You were just doing what you thought was right. And in my eyes, you're a hero! You saved everyone! Even if they don’t want to accept it, it’s true.”

The boy pulled away and gestured to their friends and family stating, “Look around you! Everyone’s happy and safe thanks to you.”

Star did take a long, hard look at the people in her life, the many, happy smiling faces that were all around her. She saw Jackie and Chloe sharing spicy tacos together while smiling and crying from the pain. She saw Tom wolfing down his own pile of tacos while Janna was busy taking bets from several gullible teens including Ferguson and Alfonso. She saw Pony flirting with some poor young man just trying to enjoy his breakfast, doing his best to ignore the annoying horse face.She saw Rafael and Angie playing with baby Mariposa, trying to get her to take her first steps using a taco as motivation to get her chubby legs in motion. She saw her own parents spending time with Eclipsa and her family, the two ladies watching while their husbands wrestled on the ground, Meteora clapping for her dad from her high chair. She saw Buff Frog and his kids enjoying their meal, she saw Oskar lazily handing out tacos to hungry Monsters, she saw Ludo stuffing down $650 worth of tacos much to his younger brother’s horror and dismay.

And she couldn’t help but smile, Marco’s words finally sinking into her guilt-ridden brain. She had helped make all this possible. How had she forgotten that?

Marco noticed the joyful expression on his girlfriend’s face and continued his praise, saying, “So, you see Star, you aren’t the villain of this story, you’re the hero.” He gently turned her so they were face to face again, giving her a heartfelt smile. “And you deserve to be happy.”

Star didn’t know how to respond to that, wiping away at her tears with the back of her arm. Marco’s hand was now on her side, giving it a very light squeeze. “And I want to make you happy, Star. Will you please let me help you feel like you again?”

Star nodded, too overcome for words.

Marco didn’t waste a second, quickly pulling out a small vial of face paint, the color bright pink and a perfect match for her lost cheekmarks. “Alright then, hold still, okay.” The blonde did just that, staying as perfectly still while her boyfriend worked on restoring what she lost. She could feel the small brush moving across her cheek, the cold liquid slowly drying against her skin. She could still feel some deep part of her screaming in panic, that this was wrong and that she was unworthy but she pushed it down. Marco thought she was worthy. And if he believed that, then she did too. She didn’t have to trust herself just yet but she knew she could trust Marco. And that was really all that mattered.

She felt the brush pull away before moving to the next cheek, Star watching Marco closely as his eyebrows furrowed in concentration and he stuck his tongue out in the most adorable way possible. She resisted the urge to smile, knowing it might mess up the design but she did feel her heart flutter in her chest from how cute her Marco was. And for the first time in months, she felt like she deserved him.

“Okay, done,” Marco said, Star feeling the brush lower away from her cheek as her boyfriend finished applying the make-up. The hooded teen took a step back to admire his work before nodding once in approval. He pulled out a small mirror from his pocket and held it up so Star could see her reflection.

Star gasped as she stared at herself. She hadn’t looked in a mirror in- well, she didn’t know how long actually. She had started to hate the way she looked in them, her bare cheeks only serving as a painful reminder of what she had lost and whenever she would start to miss them that was when the guilt kicked back in. So she had made a habit of avoiding them. But now, she was staring at herself again, this time with the familiar pink, heart-shaped markings standing out brightly against her skin. They looked just like she had remembered them, the familiarity of it making her heart ache. Star looked complete. Star felt complete.

Star was finally herself again.

And she owed it all to Marco.

“See, you look adorable, just like always,” said bestie stated, giving her a wide, loving grin and Star’s heart felt like it might burst from the rush of emotions that look was giving her.

“Thanks, Marco,” Star choked out, her eyes still fresh with tears as she threw her arms around Marco’s neck pulling him into a warm hug. The hooded teen wrapped comforting arms around his blonde bestie, holding her tightly and running his hands through her long hair. “I love you,” she whispered into his chest, meaning every word.

“I love you, too,” he replied, placing a tender kiss on the top of her head. The two stayed like that for a minute, neither wanting to release their tight hold as they clung to each other like a lifeline. Their hugs always went on longer since getting together but this had to be a new record. They could have stayed in that moment till the end of time, wrapped in each other’s love and warmth, if Marco’s stomach hadn’t interrupted the moment, rumbling loudly in protest to being empty.

The two pulled away quickly in surprise, the boy’s cheeks blushing in embarrassment. “Uh sorry, my bad,” he said with a sheepish grin.

Star just giggled and said, “Guess you worked up an appetite spoiling me so much.” She winked at him.

Marco laughed and replied, “Well now that you mention it, heartfelt speeches do make me hungry.”

“Are you too hungry for me to give you my gift now?” Star asked, giving him a flirty look.

Marco’s heart thumped in his chest. “Uhhh no, I can wait,” he said in a nervous tone, ignoring the loud growling of his stomach.

“Well if you're sure,” the blonde said, pretending to think it over, before finally moving in for a kiss. Marco, who had been waiting for this moment all morning, closed his eyes and just enjoyed the feeling as Star’s lips captured his. Once again, it was magic. No other words could do it justice. The way her lips moved expertly against his own, the way she tasted, the way her hands gently drifted up the front of his hoodie, all of it was too amazing to describe, and the warm feelings made his head spin. When Star did pull away, Marco couldn’t help the whimper that escaped his throat. It was too short, he wanted more now that his plan was over. Forget his hungry stomach, his heart was hungry for love and affection and that was more important.

Star smiled at him, her eyes full of tenderness and devotion and with her heart cheekmarks back on her blushing, he really couldn’t think of a time when she had ever been more adorable. “Don’t worry, Diaz,” she teased, giving him a tiny kiss on the nose. “That was only part one of my gift. We have all day for me to give you the rest of it.”

“The rest of it?” he asked in a squeak.

Star giggled. “Yep. I got more kisses where that came from,” she said with a flirting look... which instantly turned into a child-like beam as she loudly shouted, “But first, I need me some Valentine’s tacos!! This princess is hungry for more than just love today!”

With a loud cheer she ran towards the counter, drawing the attention of everyone around her. Marco paused to admire his girlfriend for a moment, taking in the twinkle in her eye and the lightness in her smile and knew he finally had his old Star back. The whole Star. It wasn’t just the cheekmarks that had been missing from her after all, he thought.

“Come on, Marco!” Star shouted, growing impatient. “You need to come pay the man! You did promise everyone free tacos, remember?”

And with that Marco smiled and went over to join his girlfriend, ready to enjoy the rest of this special holiday with the love of his life and whatever wonderful, weird craziness that came with her.

#star vs #star vs fanwork #Post-Earthni #My Writing #Starco #Valentine's Day #kikithefox231 #thanks bud!!!

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ohjammers · 4 years ago

Text

This is my first fanfiction so I hope you enjoy. It is Steve Rogers x female Reader. Lemon if you squint. There's also Bucky X Female Reader. Please don't steal my work! I put a lot of time into this. I do not give permission for it to be distributed. Well hope you enjoy!

Thank you

You felt uneasy knowing tomorrow would be the day Steve would return the infinity stones. He didn’t seem fazed by this notion at all. Anything could happen. What if he couldn’t come back? What if he wouldn’t come back?

It was early in the evening and Steve wanted to have a date night. You haven’t had one of those since before The Snap. You didn’t blame him though, Steve had been through a lot. Most of his time was spent in group therapy where he fought to overcome depression. Most of us were struggling with the loss of those recently but for Steve, he’d lost everyone. You often wondered how alone he must have felt in a world where everyone you knew was gone. Where the only family you had the grandchildren of those you knew from another time. It was something you worked so hard to understand, to sympathize with. It seemed no matter what happened Captain America was always fighting.

Steve had dressed the room with rose petals, drawn a bubble bath, and cooked a beautiful dinner. The room smelled of sweet grass and rosemary incense. Candles were lit all around the shared apartment and soft music played from another room. You sat at the table twirling your glass of Moscato feeling nothing but happiness. Your eyes smiled as you listened to Steve tell a story about his mischievous adventures with Bucky during their childhood.

“-and right there in front of everyone Buck kissed her!” The excitement in his voice brought joy to your heart. He always lit up when it came to talking about the past. His blonde hair was swept over in a side part, it had grown longer always neat and pristine. He hadn’t shaved in a while, it looked good on him. Blonde just made blue eyes pop like that. He had been lifting weights more than normal. You assumed it was how he kept the negative thoughts at bay when you weren’t there to soothe away the pain. He’d also spent more time outside, sun spots peppered his noise like soft kisses.

You hadn’t seen him this genuinely happy or relaxed in a very long time. Now that you thought about it, Steve was never this happy around you. Your face dropped for a moment and Steve must have caught the expression because he reached out for your hand. The pads of his calloused fingers brushing yours. You smiled down as your hands interlocked. “What’s wrong, sugar?” He asked, his words caressed your ears like velvet.

You smiled softly and leaned in to kiss his lips, trying to ignore the knot in your stomach. Its presence nagging that something wasn’t right. That Steve wasn’t being honest. How could he not have been? He hadn’t done or said anything to even be considered dishonest. Sure this date seemed softer and more thought out than normal, but shouldn’t be alarming. It was incredibly sweet. Maybe you shouldn’t be thinking so hard. Your man was here, and he was showing his love. Appreciate it, you told yourself. Realizing that Steve had been waiting for an answer you quickly let the thoughts leave you.

“All of this is just…” you wanted to say unlike him, but the words never left your lips. Everything’s fine. “...very romantic. It’s nice, baby. Thank you.” Your eyes meet his, and it’s his turn to smile softly. Steve pulls you into him, having you sit in his lap. You’re so close you can count his eyelashes. Steve’s blue eyes were blown almost completely black. His hand massaged your thighs and his lips found yours. This kiss left your mind in a swirl of sparkles and pink smoke. Your heart raced as he pulled away with a mischievous grin, knowing damn well what he was doing.

“You deserve to be loved.” He stated. The tone of his voice sweet yet somehow still distant. Honest.

“Here you are asking if I’m alright, but I’m more worried about you.” You begin to shift away, but Steve stops you, “Steve, tomorrow’s a big day for you. I’m scared.”

Steve chuckles, “Scared? Sugar, it’s not the first time I’ve gone back. Everything will be fine.” He gently pushes you away and stands up, “Now, the water should still be hot. Go on up. By the time I get done down here the water should be warm enough for me to join. I don’t want to boil alive today.” It’s your time to laugh. You’d think things like temperature wouldn’t bother a Super Soldier.

Once in the large bathtub you sigh, these thoughts were becoming intrusive. “Stop making something out of nothing. He will be-“

“Incredibly handsome?” Steve asked in a playful tone, startling you. “Baby!!” You yelped and splashed him. Steve pulled off his shirt and folded setting it on the toilet, laughing at your reaction the entire time. Soon his pants and underwear followed. You gave a whistle, and he chuckled before sinking into the warm water behind you, kissing your shoulder along the way. His arms wrapped around your body, drawing you further into his chest. He rested his face in your hair, inhaling softly before kissing it. Soft silence passed before you leaned up to add a bit more hot water into the tub. Steve’s warm hands stroked up your thighs down your shoulders, and back. It sent a pleasant shiver down your spine.

“I love you.” He said in a husky voice, “You know that right?” You sat up and eased back into his chest letting his chin rest in your hair.

“I know.” You smiled, “I love you too.” It came out in a whisper but he heard you. “I don’t think you realize how much I love you, Steve.” It was true. You never loved anyone this way before. There wasn’t another being on this planet that you’d want to share your time with. He was all you needed.

“I do.” He sighed, so quietly you only noticed it because of the rise of his chest. “Thank you for being here with me. For putting up with me and healing my soul. I couldn’t have survived those dark days without your love.” There was something about his tone, something sad. You turned facing him, thighs over his, breast to his chest. Eyes never leaving his. Sharing the air between you and oh so intimate.

“Without you, I would have been so lost. Shoot I was lost, sugar. Everything was so clouded. All I could think about was working. What other purpose did I have but to save others?” He wasn’t looking at you but lost somewhere within the fog of his mind. “When I found out Peg was still alive. I thought I had a chance of my old life but realizing I didn’t just…” he trailed off. I placed my hand on his stomach, he needed to say this. Both of his large hands settled on your hips, warmer than the water could have ever been. Your silence urged him to continue. “Then there you were, my light, leading me through the darkness. You’ve even saved Buck. For that, I’m eternally grateful.” He paused to look me over slowly. As if he was just realizing there was a gorgeous naked woman in his lap.

“Today, I wanted to show you how grateful I am. I’ve seen your body so many times, but I never had you. I’m ready if you are.” The shock that spread across your face was so loud. You searched his eyes to make sure he was ready. It wasn't a secret that Steve was still a virgin. Yes, it had been a four-year relationship without sex but you’d wait. The two of you were intimate in many other ways, and that was all you really needed.

“A-are you sure? Steve this is a big thing, babes.” Instead of answering with words, his large warm hands cupped your face smoothing a thumb over your lips. He leaned in and kissed you with heat and passion. Your eyes drifted closed as you allowed him to taste the wine from your lips. Butterflies danced within and sent fire straight to your core. How long had it been? The thought was gone as soon as it came. As he trailed down your neck, finding a spot that made you gasped in pleasure. That very sound had unleashed the beast that he tried to restrain for so many years. Once the chains had broken, there was no going back. Your body was his to worship and ravish.

Steve’s hot opened mouth caresses worked their way further down your body. His hands cupped your breasts pinching and tugging the soft buds. He kissed both of them, and growled at the moan that escaped your lips. His hands were active, grabbing your bottom to put you further into his lap. They squeezed your inner thighs, and he made haste to play with your clit. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you sighed and moaned in pure pleasure. Steve’s lips caress that spot on your neck pushing you further to the edge. His body is rigid and hard against you. He whispered sweet nothings in your ear as your body coiled then spasmed into release.

Before you could even finish, Steve stood up and wrapped your legs around his hips. He set you on the bed. Neither of you cared to dry off, leaving the wet covers to cling to your back. Steve kissed and nipped at you. Loving the way your skin tasted.

“Are you ready, sugar?” He breathed. You nod in agreement. Your brain is too muddled in pleasure and desire to properly answer. It had been a long time since anyone had touched you this way. Steve made love to you for the first time that night. It was soft at times, as if he were savoring the moment. His caresses seemed to memorize every curve and dip, every sigh and expression you made, held every ounce of his attention. He wanted to remember this night for the entirety of his life. Steve made love to you like a man starving for affection. His first time felt like it was also yours.

Steve held you close all night. Smelling your skin and kissing every part he could. Your bodies were intertwined between bare skin and silken sheets. Your cheek rested on his chest as you fell asleep listening to the strong steady hum of his heart.

Steve watched the soft rise and fall as you snored beneath him. You wouldn’t know yet but this would be the last time he ever held you this way. He memorized how beautifully you wore dawn on your skin. How delicate you were. How lucky he was to have had you in his life. To have had you as his first. To have loved you this way.

You’d hate him. He only hoped you could understand that he didn’t belong here. Did he love you? Yes. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that he loved you but was he in love with you? Could he ever truly give you every part of him? No. His heart belonged to someone else. No matter how hard he tried to forget Peggy, to forget what was stolen from him. He couldn’t bring himself to fully love you. The way you deserved.

So last night was his goodbye. It was his way of leaving the future behind. His closure. He was going to go home, and you were going to live your life. You were going to fall in love with someone who could love you back fully. Who could take care of you? Who would not simply love you but be in love with you?

Steve gave a sad chuckle, he just knew Bucky would fit in perfectly. He’d seen the way Buck’s eyes followed you. Heard how softly he said your name. That’s how Steve knew he couldn’t stay. Steve wasn’t angry at Bucky at all.

When Bucky came back from The Snap, Steve watched how the two of you interacted. Of course, you were faithful, but he loved the way Bucky looked with you. How your voice relaxed his pal, the way no other woman’s had. The old Bucky would have found a sweetheart by now, but he hadn’t. At first Steve chalked it up to Bucky recovering over Hydra, like Steve, they’d taken everything from him too. However, Bucky bounced back, accepting everything that happened to him over the years. Taking it much better than Steve ever could and that was when he noticed the way Bucky’s eyes always found you. Whether it was while you were reading paper work in the tower, or making coffee for the team in the mornings. Bucky always watched over you. For the first time in either of their lives, Steve had a woman that Bucky didn’t take away from him.

Back in their youth, Bucky had stolen plenty of Steve’s flings. It was just friendly rivalry back then. They never thought much of it. The respect Bucky held for you was different. You weren’t just a coworker or Steve’s girl. You were Bucky’s savior. Steve could see how much Bucky respected you. How much Bucky had fallen in love with you. You wouldn’t see it for a while but one day you would. If only he would be there to watch you fall in love with Bucky. His pal deserved a good woman, and you deserved a good man. Steve wouldn’t leave you with anyone else.

You stirred in your sleep. He shushed you then slipped out of bed. Wrapping a robe around his body and couldn’t help but notice how it smelled of you. When was the last time he actually used it?

He went into his office and pulled out a crisp blue envelope. It hadn’t been sealed. He then pulled out his wallet and slipped in a picture of the two of you. He was sitting down with a sour yet genuine smile on his face. Dressed in a tuxedo he’d only worn at Stark’s Galas. There you were hanging over him with a goofy grin. Laughter on your lips and half spilled drink in your hands. You had a beautiful red gown that hugged your hips nicely. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. No one could. Steve sealed the envelope and tucked it into the pocket of the suit he’d be wearing back home.

He went back into the room and lingered in the door for just a bit. Watching you sleep for one last time. The two of you had whitewashed the black brick walls. You had decorated the room with golds, blacks, and navy blues. Your beloved pathos draped around the room. Steve eyed the pictures you’d taken of blurred carousels and rainy cityscapes. Of pictures of him, even then his smile was so empty. He cursed himself. He should have let you go years ago. When he noticed Bucky was falling for you. He had done the two most important people in his life a disservice. This room should have belonged to you and someone else. Bucky should have making love to you after his long absence. Not Steve saying goodbye.

Most people would say Captain America was the least selfish man in the world, always putting the greater good above him. Even he had tricked himself.

“Baby?” You called out in a tired voice. Steve padded over to you, kissing your lips with more emotion than he meant to give away.

“It’s time to get up, sugar. I’ve got to get the stones back.” You sighed but sat up to get ready for the day. Steve made breakfast while you showered. He set the table up and talked about trivial things. Anything to pass the time and push away the heartbreak he knew he’d cause.

That knot was in your stomach again. He lingered closer to you for much longer than normal. All of his touches were tender. Meaningful. It scared you.

Both of you walked to the time machine hand in hand. Steve held you close, but his body was mostly tense. He was nervous too. Bucky stood on the other side of you and smiled when he noticed the wary expression on your face. Steve noted the action, internally urging himself to follow through with his plans.

Bruce stood by the time machine with Falcon nearby. Only Bucky had known this was the last time he would see his friend. Steve confided in him after Stark’s funeral. At first Bucky was livid. “You can’t just leave her like that, Steve!” Bucky’s voice was acid. Steve had never heard him use that tone. Steve sat on Bucky’s couch running his hands through his hair in frustration. They just didn’t understand, this world wasn’t meant for him. He just wanted to go home, wanted to have that dance with Peggy.

“Look Bucky I-I,” He sighed heavily, “I won’t get another chance to go home.”

“Home? This is your home. S-she’s made this home. That woman loves you more than most of us get a chance to experience.” Bucky didn’t want Steve to ruin what he had going. Here in this time, Steve had found someone that not only loved him but who had a good heart. An amazing partner. Someone you marry, but Steve already had that eating for him in the past.

“I thought she was home. Over the years I realized she was as close to Peggy as I was going to get but now-now I can have her. Start my life where I left it.” Steve looked up at his friend, eyes full of sorrow. “It’s not fair for her to love someone who can never give her all of them. She’s given me so much, Buck. I can’t do this to her anymore. I can’t pretend I’m here in the present when my soul’s in the past.” Bucky sighed, hearing the pain in Steve’s voice. Staying here was killing him. Though Steve was healthy in body, his soul wept.

“Are you going to tell her?” Bucky asked after a long heavy silence.

“No. Not verbally, she’ll just change my mind with those honeyed words of hers.” Steve then chuckled to himself. “That woman could talk a shark out of its meal.”

“She could.” Bucky said more to himself with a fond half smile on his face.

“You’re in love with her.” Steve stated. Bucky jolted almost hitting his head on the shelf he was leaning against.

“I never made a move on ‘er, pal. I’ve always kept those feelings to myself.” And he was right. He had never given any conscious indication of his interest in you. Only someone that was very observant or knew the soldier could see it. Someone like Steve.

“Hey, hey. No need to defend yourself. I understand. She’s been there for you too. I’m sorry. I should have let her go when I noticed. This would’ve been easier for all of us.” Bucky bristled a little at this comment.

“She ain’t a toy, Steve. Stop talking about her like we’re passin’ her around!” The Brooklyn accent ever present. Steve gave a hardy laugh, yeah Bucky was in love.

“Calm down. I don’t mean it like that. I respect her and I know you’d kill me if I didn’t. Kind of surprised you haven’t already. You love hard.” With those words the tension once again eased in the room. “I-Take care of her, Buck. Love her, marry her, have a family. She’s got big dreams, I know only you can help her fulfill. Do that for me.” Buck nodded once in reassurance. “If she'll have me.” There was nothing else to be said. Steve was going to do this and the last thing Bucky could do for his best friend, was support him. Steve stood and shared a thoughtful hug. The last hug he’d ever give the man that had been a brother to him. A brother that had helped him grow into the man he was today. Steve was ever so grateful.

“Ready, Cap?” Bruce Banner asked with a smile on his green face. “For you, it will seem like an hour but for us it’ll only be about ten seconds. Two minutes at the most.”

“Just a minute.” Steve turned to you and kissed you. The kiss spoke octaves. He held you close, arms around your back. Stealing away your breath and pouring in sadness. Your heart raced as he pulled away. Goodbye. His eyes met yours they reassured you that everything would be fine. He would be safe. He would come home. Right? Steve briefly turned to Bucky and exchanged a nod. Before walking away and handing his shield to Falcon. He would make an amazing new Captain America. Steve wouldn’t entrust the title to anyone else.

“Hold on to this for me will ya?” He told Falcon before walking to the machine and standing in the center of its rings. Relief washed over him. You would be safe and loved. Bucky would finally get the life he deserved. The world would be safer and Steve, he was going home.

As the machine warmed up he watched, Bucky put an arm around your shoulder and pull you in. Further, reassuring Steve that he’d take care of you. Your big eyes watched Steve not missing a beat, and it broke his heart. He smiled at you, tears falling from his eyes as the familiar warmth of the machine washed over him. Just like that he was gone.

It was only supposed to take ten seconds. Ten seconds and he’d be back in your arms. Panic surged through your veins like ice-cold water. Be patient. You reminded yourself. Banner said it could take up to two minutes for him to return.

Two minutes passed. Everyone began to panic except for Bucky. He was watching you, closely but in the frenzy you hadn’t noticed. “Bruce! Bruce, you said two minutes!! Bruce!” You screamed. Your body flew into action and you lunged forward. Bucky caught you before the onslaught continued. Bruce was typing frantically at the computer trying his damnedest to bring Steve back.

“Doll, it’s going to be alight. Steve’s fine.” You finally noticed how calm Bucky was. Instantly you yanked out of his hold and whipped around. The answer was written all over his. Steve wasn’t coming back.

“Bucky w-where’s Steve!? W-why isn’t he back!?” Bucky couldn’t meet your gaze. Realization hit you, the bad feeling, the romantic evening, the thank-yous, and the love making. He was saying goodbye. Tears swell in your eyes, Steve left you. He’d left you all alone. After all of this time and you couldn’t love him hard enough to stay.

“That bastard.” You cry through clenched teeth and clutched fist. Anger, despair, sorrow, heartbreak. All of these emotions coursed through your soul. The sob that left your lips broke the hearts of everyone around you.

“I said the same thing when he told me what happened.” The frail voice of a woman called out. An elderly woman stood up from a nearby bench. She looked very familiar.

The old woman slowly made her way over to you. She held her hand out and for a shake. You took it with a confused expression but when you went to pull away she placed her other hand on top of yours. Holding you in place and never breaking eye contact. Strong grip for such an old woman.

“I’m sorry my husband couldn’t make it. He passed away last year.” She didn’t seem sorrowful, they had lived a good life. Somehow you know exactly who her husband was.

“Just know Steve wanted to be here. To explain with an older wiser mind.” You knew exactly who she was, you’d attended her funeral years ago, it was Peggy. Your body slumped. He stayed to be with her. Tears began to roll down your eyes once again at the finality Peggy brought. She soothed circles into your skin. It felt familiar.

“Steve did love you.” Your head shot up to meet her tender gaze. “Choosing to leave you was the hardest decision he ever made.” You almost scoffed. “I know. Trust me I gave him hell. Just leaving you like that without an explanation or closure. He was very sorry, dear.” The words weren’t enough to heal your pain, but it was nice to know that you had meant something to him.

“Steve took a picture of you with him. So I know his love was real. I’d catch him staring at it from time to time.” She gave a smile, “I’m pretty sure he took that photo with him everywhere he went. I had half of a mind to bury it with him, but he wanted to return it.” She let go of your hands to dig around in a little black purse. She handed you a very faded blue envelope. It looked like the ones you kept in the desk at home. Your name was written by his hand on the front. “Thank you for healing, Steve. You helped him more than you could have ever imagined. If not for you the man that would have retuned may not have been the same. Know that he was loved and happy. We are forever grateful.” Peggy turned away leaving you to stare at the envelope with trembling hands.

“You take care of her for him.” Bucky nodded and assisted Peggy back to where she came from. The two having a quiet discussion along the way.

You didn’t open the envelope for weeks. Couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge Steve’s existence. You felt used, abandoned, and very much alone. Bucky came by every day. Passing every mission the team asked him to join and dedicated all of his time to healing your heart. You were grateful.

The first thing you did was redecorate the apartment, any and everything that reminded you of Steve was put into storage. You couldn’t bring yourself to sell it or throw it away. Steve overall would always be an important figure in your life.

After the first month you noticed things about Bucky you hadn’t before. Very subtle touches, the way he said your name was different from others. How you always found his eyes on you. How protective and observant he was when it came to you. It was like he had already known all the little things, what type of tea you liked, or the flowers you adored.

Two months had passed, and you finally had the courage to open the envelope. It smelled faintly of Steve’s cologne and old musk probably due to its age. It was a little worn like it had spent some time in his pocket.

You opened the envelope and pulled out a very worn colored picture of the two of you. It was taken at Tony’s Gala, right after the two of you began seeing each other. You turned the picture in your hand and noticed faint cursive writing on the back. No matter where I went you were always with me. Thank you. You smiled at the words, understanding. You noticed a black and white photo in the envelope and picked it up. It was a picture of him. He looked so happy, you could see the wedding ring on his finger and the smile on his face brought joy to your heart. You smiled back at it. Looking further into the envelope you found a faded piece of paper. It was Steve’s will. He and Peggy were to leave everything they owned to you. The only stipulation was that you spent at least one Sunday with her every month until her passing. As one last favor, Steve was asking you to make sure Peggy did not leave this world alone. It was an honor.

And so you did. Peggy became a dear friend and her passing was very hard on you. It turned out Peggy and Steve had a beautiful life together and hearing of their adventures and sharing some of yours brought closure. You no longer saw Steve as an ex but a very dear friend.

Over time, you fell in love with Bucky. He gave you more happiness and love than any person ever had. The two of you lived the life Steve always knew you would.

#bucky x reader #steve rogers x reader

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98prilla · 4 years ago

Text

Seeking Oblivion

AO3

...

It was… unnerving, Janus had to admit, walking through such a dead, quiet imagination. Virgil had taken the lead, eyes scanning the forest, head slightly cocked as he listened for anything approaching.

Idly, he let his hand trail through the mist, watching it part around his fingers. It didn’t even feel like anything. Nothing did. He was used to the imagination having substance, depth, birds singing, wind blowing, the thousand little details that made it all feel real.

Even the vines, huge as they were, didn’t seem fully really… real. There was no sound, not even their own footsteps made noise against the ground, no smell, from the earth or the vines or mist, and nothing different to see for miles. The land itself didn’t even have any character to it, it was all one endless flat plain of vines the size of redwoods and the smoky fog that obscured the ground. At least that made it easy terrain to traverse. They were making better time than anyone had anticipated, though now that they were getting deeper, it was getting harder to keep their bearings.

He let his pace slow just a tad, falling back to walk step in step with Logan. He seemed lost in his own thoughts, and Janus didn’t want to interrupt him. So he simply waited, walking silently until Logan seemed to come back to the present, acknowledging his presence with a small nod.

“Janus. Is there something you needed?” Logan’s voice was even and calm, and it was an absolute lie. And that was partially Janus’ own fault.

“No. But I have something long owed you, if you’ll have it. An apology.” He replied softly enough the others wouldn’t hear, but Logan could. This wasn’t their business, but he owed Logan this.

“For what, exactly?” Logan, not pausing in his stride, though some barely repressed emotion flashed across his face.

“A multitude of things. The most recent of which is pulling you out and replacing you yesterday.” He noticed Logan rub his neck where his cane had hooked him, wincing as he saw a flash of a bruise peeking out from under his collar. “I did not mean to hurt you, physically or otherwise, and I know I did both.” Logan looked hard at him for a moment before sighing, clasping his hands behind his back.

“What did you hope to accomplish, in impersonating me at that juncture?”

“I hoped they would listen, that Thomas, at least, would listen, before things went any farther. And they would have never listened to me, as I am, not then.” Logan let out a small, bitter laugh.

“Clearly you weren’t paying attention to events before you pulled me out. Patton skipped me. I did not agree with his views, so he decided no one needed to hear them. I already minimized my presence as small as it could be without being completely gone, and even that was not enough.” He was shocked at the amount of hurt Logan was displaying now. He’d known the logical side was not alright for quite a bit, but he hadn’t realized how deeply hurt he was.

“and I’m sorry for that as well, because I am guilty of silencing you when your opinions did not align with mine. I excluded you from the trial because I knew you would be able to much better defend Thomas, yes, but also because I was trying to show Patton, specifically, that his moral code was flawed. Regardless, that doesn’t excuse my actions, or my part in keeping you from being heard. You should be listened to, Logan. You have so much of such import to say.” They walked on in silence for a moment, Logan’s brain clearly turning over everything he’d said.

“I understand why you took the course of action you pursued. I also understand the frustration of not being listened to or ignored when you have the solution everyone is seeking, if only they’d take you seriously enough to listen. I appreciate the apology, Janus. You… are the only one who has apologized for anything, in regards to my treatment. I… don’t fully forgive you, yet, but… but I think I will, given time.” He nodded, tugging at his gloves, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Of course. I look forwards to earning your forgiveness, Logan. And, for the record, I have always found your lectures interesting.” Logan’s eyes were on him again, scrutinizing him. “Also, I know when you lie, about emotions, and the having of them, specifically. If you ever do want to discuss them, not a word of it will leave the threshold of my room.” He responded seriously, making sure Logan could see he means it. “you’re the one who said repression doesn’t work, Logan.” He threw in for good measure, and finally Logan sighed, adjusting his glasses.

“That was prudent of me, wasn’t it?” He laughed at the wry dryness of Logan’s voice, not missing the small upturn of Logan’s lips as well. “Perhaps, once this is resolved, I will take you up on that offer to… ‘spill the tea’, as it were.”

And that’s where Roman would have laughed. Janus could feel the absence of his booming voice, his bright laugh, in every echo of silence that passed by. He let out a long breath, trying to see anything ahead, but finding nothing new as he continued to follow Virgil’s lead, thankful for his impeccable inner compass as he kept companionable pace with Logan.

…

“We should stop.” Everyone looked up from their tired trudging at Virgil’s own tired voice. It was the first thing he’d said since they started walking, who knew how long ago. There didn’t seem to be any sun or day/night cycle, everything was the endless, growing gray.

“I concur. We need a break to rest. We should try and sleep for a few hours, at least.” Logan added, wincing slightly as he sat, feet sore from more walking than he was used to. “I would advise everyone avoid the thorns. You can experiment later, Remus, when we aren’t already on a quest to rescue a creativity.” Logan added, side eyeing Remus, who was about to lick one of the thorns. Remus huffed but plopped down to the ground, spread out like a starfish as he swung his arms and legs back and forth across the ground.

“Um… whatcha doin, kiddo?” Patton asked, looking down at Remus, who stopped his furious movement for a moment.

“Making mist devils.” He replied, sitting up. For a moment, a perfect outline of Remus stayed imprinted in the mist on the ground, before it coalesced once again. Patton’s eyes widened and he giggled.

“That’s pretty neat! Mind if I join?” Remus’s eyes widened and he smiled, small and hesitant, a real smile, as he nodded. Logan sighed, watching the two of them flail on the ground, devolving into giggles as they tried to make different shapes with their wild movements. It wasn’t rest, but they were relieving tension, and at least they seemed to be getting along.

Virgil had slumped to the ground as well, knees hugged to his chest, head resting atop them. That pose always meant he was worried. So did the eye shadow he wore, already a shade darker than when they had entered.

“What if we can’t fix whatever is wrong with Roman?” Virgil blurted suddenly, the thought clearly having been revolving through his head all day.

Janus sat down beside him, resting a hand on his knee, feeling him just barely shaking.

“we will.”

“How can you be so sure? We don’t even know what he’s done to himself! I mean, look at this place! And Remus said he didn’t feel anything, nothing, from Roman! What… what if we’re too late?” He asked, quieter, voice shaking, and Logan moved to sit on Virgil's other side.

“We have overcome all of Thomas's previous dilemmas, yes?” Virgil nodded. “And, though difficult, we have each worked through our own personal dilemmas together, correct?” once again, Virgil nodded. “and we are all still growing and changing and coming to terms with ourselves and with each other. But we have always gotten through it all by working together. It stands to reason this will be no different.” Logan finished, watching Virgil carefully, feeling a spike of pride as he saw him using the 4,7,8 technique.

“I know. I… I’m just… I can’t stop thinking, y'know?” Virgil said, running a hand through his hair. “I'm just worried. He went through a lot, yesterday, and I know how that can mess with your head.” He mumbled, not protesting as Janus wrapped an arm around his shoulders, letting his head rest on Janus's chest as his other arms wrapped around him, reminding him of the weight and pressure of his weighted blanket. It felt like home and he nearly cried, burrowing further against him, exhaustion from the trek and the day before and all the stress in general cresting over him now that he felt safe.

“get some rest, love. You could use it.” Janus murmured, and Virgil could feel a hand massaging his scalp. He nearly purred at the gentle touch, letting his thoughts go as he slipped into sleep.

…

“you’re rather good at that.” Logan commented, rolling his eyes as he looked over to see Remus and Patton had fallen asleep playing with the mist, and were now snuggled on top of each other, both snoring slightly. Janus followed his gaze and chuckled.

“I had plenty of practice. His Dark Days were something to behold.”

“Dark days? As in when he lived you as a ‘dark side' as Roman called you all?” Janus shook his head.

“Not quite. When… when he first formed, he was afraid, so afraid, of everything. He couldn’t stop the panic attacks, he was paranoid that everything and everyone was out to get him. Being in his room for barely a minute was unbearable. It took a long time to build trust with him, longer before he would let me help him. He slowly got better at managing, at recognizing the worst of the irrational thoughts, at not isolating himself quite so much. It was hard, the hardest was getting him to believe he deserved anyone’s kindness, getting him to fight for himself.” He shivered slightly, remembering the creeping fear of Virgil's room, the voices whispering, distant screams, eyes watching him from the corners of the room, shadows moving in the edge of his vision. Virgil’s own growling, echoing voice, tempest tongue tempering every word he said with that dark reverb that somehow only grew louder until it drove you insane.

“I’m proud of him. I’m proud of you, Janus.” His eyes widened as his gaze shot to Logan. “You’ve come very far as well. I know none of that was easy. Trusting us, wasn’t easy.” Unconsciously, Janus rubbed at his wrist, the ghost of bare skin making him sigh.

“I suppose not. But it was necessary. If I wanted your trust, I had to give some of my own. It… is terrifying. With the little I’ve given, how easy it would be to break me down. I know that you won’t, but it still doesn’t change the power you all hold over me now.”

“We haven’t done a very good job of showing you the benefits of trust. Recently, only the downsides have been demonstrated. None of us have been at our best for some time now.” Logan answered, sighing. Janus smiled tiredly, shifting away his extra arms, idly stroking down Virgil’s back as the side’s eyes twitched in his sleep.

“We should try and get some sleep. Remus is a font of energy, he’ll be up in a few hours badgering the rest of us until we get moving again.” Janus commented, Logan frowning.

“unless Roman’s state starts influencing Remus as well. I know they are linked, but I am unsure of the depth of their bond.”

“I hadn’t thought of that. It’s… unpredictable, how it affects him, sometimes. I’ll keep a closer eye on him just in case, I know his tells better than anyone else.” Logan nodded, smiling a bit fondly as he looked at the pile of Remus and Patton.

“hopefully we’ll have Roman back with us soon enough we won’t have to worry about it.” Logan answered, settling on his side on the ground, watching Janus do likewise, noticing his slight shiver now that he was closer.

Without thinking much of it, Logan moved closer, curling around Janus, who had laid down facing away from him, Virgil curled against his chest, still.

“Is this alright? I noticed you were cold, and with our combined body heat, you should be able to reach a more optimal temperature.” He asked, ready to withdraw, but Janus shook his head after a moment.

“It’s alright. This… is nice. It is warmer.” Janus replied after a moment of thought, and Logan shifted closer, resting his head in the crook of Janus’s neck, closing his eyes and falling asleep instantly, missing Janus' own small, happy sigh.

#sanders sides #tss #logan sanders #sympathetic logan #virgil sanders #sympathetic virgil #patton sanders #sympathetic patton #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #roman sanders #sympathetic roman #logan angst #deceit angst #a little fluff

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mollymauk-teafleak · 4 years ago

Text

Seeing You

Nureyev realises he's never seen Juno without his eyepatch on. He doesn't care that he hasn't.

But he does care about why.

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Please consider reblogging and leaving a comment on AO3 if you like this Softness

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Everything felt like the first time, Nureyev realised in a quiet moment. And he didn’t know how he felt about that. He supposed he felt everything, all at once and in equal measures, rather than something he couldn’t name.

Their kiss felt like the first time, when he’d gently pressed his lips to Juno’s mid sentence, overcome with twin desires to stop his words because he didn’t think his heart could take any more and the wild desire to just kiss him and have done with it. To cross the line before either of them could think better of it.

When Juno made him come, it felt like the first time. The first time with him or just the first time, it was hard to tell in that tumbling moment that seemed to roll on and on and on. Juno’s tongue and his fingers and his cock, it all felt new in the way things hadn’t been since Nureyev was a teenager. The noises Juno pulled from him, the blushes he raised wherever their skin met, the muscles he made to respond. It all felt like the first time he’d ever explored this body, mapped it out like the schematics of some place he was about to pull something precious from.

The way they talked, how opening up his chest and baring himself suddenly became so easy, the creeping want to tell this lady everything he was and everything he’d ever wanted to be. That felt like a first too, enough that Nureyev could almost forget how the last time had ended.

It all felt like the first time and there was something to mourn in that, the same as there was something to be thrilled by.

Except for the one time it was the first. The first time Juno Steel woke up beside him.

Nureyev was conscious first, immediately aware of the body next to him with how slim his bunk was. He slowly placed himself, feeling his arms splayed around Juno, his head lolling on his shoulder, nestled into the hollow of his collarbone. God, he was warm.

Embarrassment shot through him before he was awake enough to get a handle on himself and he stiffened up like a drawn bow. The sudden movement woke Juno too, he was shifting and rolling, leaving Nureyev to cling to him or be tipped onto the cold floor.

Such small things could be miracles, Nureyev thought with some quite mad, still dreaming part of his brain. The sight of Juno Steel freshly awake, for one. The way he pushed his hand through his sleep matted curls, the way his jaw stretched taught in a yawn, the way he blinked his one functioning eye slowly, for more. Every part of it a domestic wonder.

It had clearly happened by accident, Juno was still in the clothes he’d been wearing last night. Tight black turtleneck and a long skirt that was now rumpled and gathered around his knees. He was even still wearing his shoes, heavy duty boots hanging off the end of the bunk. It started coming back to Nureyev in wispy bits and pieces, slowly knitting together. They hadn’t made love last night, both tired and content just to talk and hold each other. What they’d talked about he didn’t know, it could have been everything or nothing. But he did recall Juno murmuring something about going back to his own room before he nodded off, Nureyev himself already drifting. Clearly they hadn’t made it.

Another line crossed, when they hadn’t even been looking. Nureyev felt his cheeks redden.

“What time is it?” Juno mumbled, his voice muddy and indistinct.

Nureyev looked at his comms on the sill of the small porthole window, it’s screen blinking on and off, “Nine.”

“Shit,” Juno yawned again, long and languid the way a cat would, “Good thing it’s our day off, huh?”

Nureyev managed a light laugh, eyes aching to gaze at him again and catch all those moments of newness, everything unfamiliar and precious, hungrily wanting to press it all to his chest and call it his. But would that be too much? Juno didn’t even seem to notice what they’d done, he was acting like it was nothing…

He risked a glance, feeling like he was sating an addiction. He kept rubbing his broad hands over his face, did his eye irritate him more in the mornings? Nureyev suddenly wanted to know, he wanted to know every little mannerism, every quirk.

Juno still had his eyepatch on, the one he wore during the day. He even had his make up, though most had been smudged into the pillow, all that was really intact was the eyeliner Nureyev had seen him and Rita putting on at the kitchen table, laughing and joking and making marks on each other’s faces. He remembered how he’d wanted to join in, he’d wanted to share their laughter but had been too afraid to.

“Juno…” Nureyev murmured, feeling like he needed to say something, starting but not knowing how to finish.

Juno made a vague noise to show he was listening, rubbing his eye again. But as he did, he caught the tie of it in his thumb and the material lifted back.

It happened quickly after that.

Nureyev saw a flash of mottled skin, puckered scar tissue, a messy heal. He felt a tug in his chest, remembering how those marks had got there, how his own palm had come away wet when he’d touched Junos cheek in the darkness of those caves. How much Juno had given to get them out of there. And how much more he’d been willing to give.

But it was just a flash. In an instant, Juno had jerked the eyepatch back into place, suddenly tense and wary like a cornered animal. All his sleepiness had vanished and he turned his face away from Nureyev, shoulders tight.

“I...I should get back to my room,” he said quickly, scrambling to his feet, upsetting the bunk as he did and sending Nureyev sliding into the depression left by his body, “Don’t want people talking, right?”

Nureyev opened his mouth, protests and thin agreements on his tongue, but he had no time to get any of them out before his door was open and then closed again, Juno disappearing down the corridor.

Stunned and hollow chested, Nureyev could only blink in the simulated sunlight as his room realised the movement and leapt into brightness. He could only feel the ghost of warmth in the bed around him and wonder what exactly he’d done wrong.

And it certainly wasn’t the first time.

Now he was aware of it, the pattern was obvious. As such things often went.

Juno came back to him the next evening like nothing had happened, their spending the whole night together or the way it had ended. And things went back to the normal they’d forged out of their strange situation; they would talk and kiss and have sex depending on how they felt, slowly growing closer and not only mending what they’d had before but building something stronger around it. What would happen when it outgrew the bounds they’d set, Nureyev didn’t know, but he was content with what it was for now.

Juno never stayed the night again, no matter how breathless and exhausted they were afterwards. And Nureyev was fine with that, he made himself be fine with that.

But he was noticing other things. Whatever state they were in when they fucked, whether it was a quick and hurried thing that started over the clothes and only pushed away as much fabric as was necessary to get those key parts of their bodies together, or something slow and languid like candle wax melting it’s way across skin where clothes were pulled away with teeth and hands like some burlesque show, Juno’s eyepatch never went anywhere. When he showered, he would always come back to Nureyev with it in place, even if the rest of him wore nothing more substantial than a towel and a light sheen of still drying water. And every time Nureyev hinted at following him into the shower and messing around in there seeing as they’d exhausted every place in their bunks, Juno would chuckle something about banging their elbows and the idea would be dropped.

Nureyev realised that, even with knowing Juno fairly intimately by now, he’d never seen him without his eyepatch since the day he’d watched him lose the eye in the first place.

And that bothered him.

Not that he didn’t understand wanting privacy, of course he did. It was only a suspicion he knew why Juno didn’t want to be seen without it. That was what he couldn’t abide.

Nureyev told himself not to push, not to pull ahead before Juno was ready and risk tripping them both. What they had was too precious, too necessary for survival on this ship, in this crew.

You care about him.

He had that revelation while brushing his teeth, looking at his own reflection in the fogged up mirror, as he’d been chewing over how to approach this. Not that it should have been a revelation, he realised, once it had settled in and the shock had faded. He’d been slowly falling for Juno since the Zolotovna job, since he’d seen him from across the ballroom and realised an easy, debt free life as her arm candy would mean little and less if that damnable ex-detective weren’t there with him.

Careful, he told himself, spitting out a mouthful of foam. How many times did he need to have his heart broken by the same lady until he took the hint? How much did he need to risk and lose before he walked away from the table?

But it’s not the same game. And he’s not the same lady.

Nureyev sighed and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. This was too big to consider right now, it threatened to press against his chest and break something. But helping him with his eye. He could do that.

But you do care about him.

Nureyev sighs. That would be another first.

Nureyev had always loved the ache in his muscles at the end of a job, the low, slow burn that told him he’d worked hard and done well. He was enjoying it even more when it came while he was stretched out across Juno’s chest, feeling his lips pressing against the top of his head and the oddly pleasant wetness between his legs.

“I should go back…” Juno murmured into Nureyev’s soft hair.

Nureyev made an unhappy noise, nuzzling into his chest, though inside his mind he’d become alert. There was no point in waiting, why not now?

“You don’t have to, you know,” he kept his tone light and playful, “You could stay here. You did the other night, right?”

Juno shifted underneath him, it felt like the whole world was tilting. It was a while before he answered, long enough to set Nureyev’s heart pounding ten times faster.

“Really?”

Nureyev lifted his head, “Yes. I...I’d like that. If you would, of course.”

A slow smile spread across Juno’s face, like dawn breaking, “Um...yeah. I’d like that. I’ve never slept too well on my own. Guess I got used to having another person in the room, sharing with my brother all the time. Never feels right when it's just me.”

Nureyev tried not to think about just how long his detective had been sleeping alone and kept his smile in place, leaning in to kiss him softly.

“So...last time…” he ventured quietly, as he drew back.

“Mm?”

“It seemed like something was bothering you...about your eye?”

Something crept into Juno’s voice around the edges, “Eye’s fine. Hasn’t hurt in years.”

“Not really about it hurting…” Nureyev took a few tentative steps forward, “About your eyepatch…”

“It’s fine,” Juno practically stepped on the end of his sentence and Nureyev could feel him tense where their bodies met, “It’s nothing.”

Nureyev wanted to pull back, he wanted to let it really be nothing. But some part of him knew if he really did care about Juno, he’d go forwards rather than backwards.

“Okay,” he said, “But just in case you ever were worried, I really don’t mind how it looks, it wouldn’t change-”

Nureyev stopped, tipping sideways as Juno sat up abruptly, pulling his knees up to his chest like he suddenly needed to have less of himself on display. He turned his face away, just like before, just like something had slipped again.

No, it hadn’t slipped. Nureyev had pulled it away.

“Juno…” he murmured, fearful, wanting desperately to reach out and pull him back in but he’d learned better than that.

There seemed to be a moment in Juno where he could have gone one way or the other. He could sink down further into himself or he could take a tentative step outside of it, in a direction he hadn’t gone before, either because he hadn’t seen it or because it hadn’t been open to him until now. Nureyev would say he couldn’t imagine the bravery it must have taken to go the way he did. He would say, without realising that he’d done it himself several times. That they’d both been doing it for each other since the first night Juno knocked on Nureyev’s door.

“I guess...I know you saw it happen,” Juno murmurs, “Or at least the aftermath, it was pretty dark down there. And...this is going to sound so stupid but I don’t like the reminder of who I was then. I don’t like knowing that...that I can change on the inside as much as I want but on the outside, I’ve still got all the scars, I still look...like a person who fucked up. And I’m always going to have done that. I’m always going to be the person who hurt you.”

Nureyev was quiet, tucking one leg under himself, thinking of what to say. He was suddenly so aware of how much Juno had just given him, how much he was putting out in the open. And he needed to be careful with it.

“You are,” he allowed, hands itching to hold him, “But you’re also the person who changed. And, Juno, that...that means everything.”

Juno’s shoulders eased down, slowly, defensives falling away just a little. He turned so Nureyev could see his face in profile, the imperfect curve of his nose that had healed badly too many times, his strong jaw, the edge of a smile that was almost hopeful.

“It does also look pretty disgusting,” he chuckled roughly.

Nureyev felt so much relief he was almost giddy as he edged closer to him, “Boys like ladies with scars, don’t they? Especially the scars they earned saving the whole of Mars.”

Juno’s cheeks coloured, “It wouldn’t have hurt anyone. It wasn’t for humans, remember?”

Nureyev’s hand finally reached him, wrapping his arms around his middle and resting his chin on his shoulder, “You didn’t know that. You were still going to do it. And I personally find heroes very attractive, irregardless.”

Juno gave a short laugh, sounding just as relieved as he felt, like they’d both just taken a leap and landed safely. His hand came up to grasp his arm lightly, as if needing the reminder he was there.

“Can you...can you take it off?” he murmured, turning his face to Nureyev’s, “I think it’ll be easier if it’s you.”

Nureyev nods gently, moving lightly and slowly so he has every chance to say no and still his hand. But Juno only stilled as his fingers reached the band of the eyepatch and lifted it away, saying nothing.

INureyev remembered the weeks in hospital after they’d crawled back up onto the surface, the nights Juno wouldn’t be able to sleep with the pain, the splitting headaches, the knowledge that he might wake up before he remembered what had happened and scream for an eye that wasn’t there and never would be again. The doctors had said that his eye couldn’t be saved, that the wound wouldn’t be clean with how ferocious the rupture was.

They’d talked to Nureyev like he was Juno’s husband and he hadn’t corrected them, rather liking that they assumed that. Who else would have stayed beside him all that time, sleeping on the chairs in the waiting room when visitor times had finished, bringing in take out for him, holding his hand when the painkiller in his system had been running dry. They’d told him there would be scarring, the deep kind that wouldn’t fade.

They’d been right. The new skin trying to grow over the wreckage was tight and shiny, several streams of it running from the centre of his hollow socket like a map of a river’s delta meeting the sea. It hadn’t faded even slightly in the years since he’d seen Juno’s face.

Nureyev gently touched the raised skin, turning so he could see, though still holding him around the middle. He didn’t flinch once as he passed feather light fingertips over Juno’s scars, watching with a devoted fascination as the former detective’s mouth fell open slightly and a shuddery sigh escaped. The kind of sound someone would make when the storm passed and they realised they were still alive.

“You’re beautiful, Juno Steel,” Nureyev murmured, hand moving to cup his face protectively, their chests still pressed together.

He didn’t let his eyes wander once, he didn’t want to miss a second as a smile grew on Juno’s face, as his eye became clear, as he believed Nureyev when he told him something good about himself.

And it felt like the first time. But Nureyev was determined for it not to be the last.

#cw scars #jupeter #juno steel #peter nuryev #tpp #the penumbra podcast #penumbra fic #canon compliant #hurt/comfort #softness #juno and Peter learn how to be good people #please reblog and comment!

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justjessame · 4 years ago

Text

The Deal Chapter 63

Jocelyn, Michonne’s friend, has a group with many kids. It seems odd to me, so many children, without as many adults, but who am I to judge? I see their eyes land on my bump, Michonne’s bump, and Daryl’s protective nature. I feel the cold chill I normally get when someone I love is in danger, but they all seem so normal. Survivors, by nature, are watchful. It’s what keeps them alive. At least that’s what I tell myself over and over.

Judith and our other young ones, kids I’ve helped teach and read to, have a bonfire and sleepover with the newcomers. Innocent, or so it seems. Why then, as Daryl sleeps comfortably next to me, can’t I let the chill be overcome by his warm? Why can’t I fall off to sleep too?

I tell myself, as I creep down the hallway and out the front door, that I’m only going to make sure that Judith has fallen asleep in the company of these strangers. It’s when I’m getting closer that I feel a sharp pain in my head and then darkness takes me under.

When I come to, I’m in the infirmary. The pain is terrible. From my head down to my toes and I can’t seem to move. What the literal fuck? And then I realize that I feel no movement from my baby. Nothing. Usually when I first wake up, or when I’m coming awake, the baby is so active that I feel like I’m going to pee myself. Nothing. And I remember going to check on Judith and the world spins and I feel like I’m going to throw up.

“Hey,” I guess I moved, flinched or groaned. It’s Michonne, and she’s holding tight to my hand. “You’re awake.”

“What happened?” My voice is hoarse and dry. “Why am I in the infirmary?”

She sighs, grabbing a cup of water from the side table and helping me sit up. I realize that my bump, usually so full and active is still so horribly quiet. “Jocelyn, her people, they-” She took a deep breath and after I drank helped me lay back down. “They took the children.” I tried to sit back up. “No, Jessi, it’s fine. We got everyone back.” But I can see, in the way she won’t meet my eyes that something is wrong.

“Judith?” My voice broke, my fear so very strong.

“She’s fine, Jessi.” I saw Michonne swallow hard. “They killed one of ours, and left you-” I waited, wondering if-

“Daryl.” My voice was a breath. If it wasn’t Judith, then Daryl. He was one of ours. Did they murder him?

She shook her head and took my hand in hers. “No, honey, not Daryl.” I was confused. Then what was so terrible that she couldn’t look at me? “It’s your baby.” My baby?

I felt my heart clench and I knew. It wasn’t moving. “My baby?” I felt my eyes sting. “Mom?”

Michonne finally looked into my face and I saw it. The pain of loss, a pain she knew. Her eyes were shining with tears. “Siddiq, he realized yesterday, when we brought you in.” Yesterday? Fuck. “He’s going to have to help you-”

I was gasping for air. “Where’s Daryl?” And then I saw him, in the doorway, holding Judith. “I’m sorry.” The tears were blurring my eyes. I was sobbing. I’d done it. I’d failed so terribly at the ONE thing we both wanted. “I’m sorry.”

Daryl handed Judith to Michonne and pulled me upright into his arms. “It’s OK, Jessi, we can try again.” He was kissing my hair, promising me that this wasn’t our only shot at our family.

It was our only shot. If I’d lost my baby during the time before, there would have been a way to induce my labor. I would have been able to give birth, naturally, and no harm no foul. This wasn’t the time before. And Siddiq, while a great medic, was NOT a OB/GYN with a full arsenal of medication at his disposal.

I ended up having a flash of Lori’s fear and death. Somehow, my baby did not turn, perhaps babies are slower in turning? Perhaps I got insanely lucky. What I wasn’t lucky in was having a cesarean that didn’t end in at least partial tragedy. My tragedy wasn’t death. It was simply an end to my ability to have children.

I will not go back through the pain of having that surgery performed. I will not graphically recall the blood and the fear and the pain. I won’t allow myself to remember finding out that Siddiq hadn’t been completely successful and that I would never get to have a child by Daryl, or anyone for that matter.

I survived. My baby didn’t. A tiny girl whose brain had to be pierced just in case. A little girl that would never play in Alexandria, never be given a piggy back ride by me or her daddy, a little girl that I couldn’t even name because my pain was so overwhelming.

Once I was well enough to move, I walked carefully back through Alexandria, a fog of grief and barely noticed anyone or their expressions. I made my way back to the house I shared with Michonne, Daryl, and Judith. I walked to my room, and I tried to focus on Judith’s gift of a painting. Me, Uncle Daryl, Mom, and was that Negan?

“Judith,” I pulled her carefully onto my lap, since I was still in pain. “Who is this?” I pointed to the bearded man that was on the other side of my colorful self.

“Negan.” She said, snuggling into my chest. Which also ached, because my milk hasn't dried up yet. “He make you feel better.”

I closed my eyes and felt my chest tighten. “He does?”

She nodded, and sighed. “Was scared.” She whispered and I kissed her curls. “Mommy was bloody.” Oh God. “All over. You weren’t there.” I felt my eyes start to burn. “Uncle Daryl and Mommy not tell me what happened.”

Damn it. “I’m sorry, baby.” I tried to rock her, but pain flashed through my body. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

“You were asleep on the road.” Fuck, she’d seen. “I wanted to see you, but they not let me.”

My eyes closed again. “You’re safe now, Jude. You’re safe.”

She tilted her face up to look at me. “You sad. Uncle Daryl said-” I saw her look at where my baby had once cradled inside of me. Her tiny hand touched it gently. “No more baby?”

I was crying and hugging her to me when Michonne and Daryl came to the doorway. “Judith, sweetheart, let’s let Jessi rest?” Mom offered, walking over and picking her up. “We love you, honey.” She was looking at me and I nodded, pushing Judith’s painting onto the side table.

She walked out with Judith blowing me a kiss and telling me she loved me. Daryl was leaning against the wall beside the door. “Get some rest, Jessi.” I sighed, and started to lay down. “I’m gonna go back to searching.” I closed my eyes and knew, even as he was saying it, that he didn’t want to be here with me. Not now. “Maybe I can find-”

I nodded, rolling over so he was confronted with my back. “OK, be safe.” I couldn’t offer more. Not now. Not after failing so spectacularly.

“I love you.” He said quietly and I nodded. If you loved me, I wanted to scream, then you’d stay. But I didn’t. He needed time to grieve in his own way. And being alone was Daryl’s way.

“Me too,” I offered, but I wasn’t sure he’d waited. Or if he’d heard.

I healed. Physically, and as mentally as I could. I had to. Mom was growing closer to her due date, and I had to be there to help. I wanted to be there. I’d watched Judith be born, traumatizing though it was, and I wanted to see my newest sibling come into this world.

Daryl was seen less and less. We drifted further and further apart. And between the grief I felt over the loss of our baby, the excitement I allowed to take its place in part at the impending arrival of Mom’s baby, I didn’t get to visit Negan.

My little brother, Rick Grimes Jr came into this world with a lusty scream and I swore that I could see Dad and Carl in his tiny face. I see Michonne, and my heart nearly explodes with love. He doesn’t replace my little girl, but he’s wonderful.

I’m walking home, after his birth, when I decide that it’s time to see Negan. The guard barely looks at me and I go inside, the darkness of his cell pisses me off. Light isn’t a luxury, so he should have some. I’ll have to talk to Mom about it later.

“Come to show me your little one?” His voice, sounding hoarse from disuse, is quiet. My heart pounds at the reminder of my loss, but I can’t be angry with him for not knowing. I am appreciative that no one told him.

“No.” I answer sadly, taking the single hard chair and moving it closer to his cell. “I don’t think you can see the cemetery from here.”

“Cemetery?” He takes in my appearance in the dimness. “Oh, Jessi, no.” Strange, he sounds like he cares. As though he feels the pain I feel. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He’s moved so he’s standing at the bars, his hands reaching through, but I don’t take them.

“Yeah, I-” I feel a sob building and force it down. Today is a happy day, I remind myself, think of little RJ. “She didn’t make it.” I take a deep breath. “My new baby brother did.” I smile, remembering his tiny fist. “There’s a new Rick Grimes in town.”

Negan kneels on the hard floor and looks up at me. “Sweetheart, let’s go back to the baby.” I shake my head. No, I won’t. “You need to talk about it.” Shit, why? “Tell me.”

And I do. What I’ve pieced together about the night Jocelyn’s people kidnapped Judith and the others. About the head wound they gave me, about being found JUST in time to save me, but not the baby. How my little sister and the other kids, including one of Jocelyn's group was saved. About my cesarean operation and the resulting damage. And how, even after all that, I wanted to just think about RJ and Judith.

“Where’s Daryl?” It was quiet, but loaded. “Why isn’t he here, making sure you’re talking?”

“He suffered a loss too, Negan.” It sounded lame, but it was true. “Daryl does better on his own to process.”

He nodded, sensing no doubt that I wasn’t in the mood to rehash his feelings on Daryl’s failures where I was concerned. “I can’t have kids either.” It was quiet, but just as pained as how I felt when I learned that my hopes were gone. “Lucille and I tried, and tried. Nothing. I shoot blanks.”

“Why did the wife-” It was weird, but I was curious about the pregnancy test I’d seen, which led me to Alexandria’s cache of tests.

“Sherry.” He nodded. “She, before she agreed to-” He sighed. “Her and Dwight-”

“Oh.” They’d run off together, but I’d assumed, god knew what. “Guess we’re a sad pair.” I gave a dark chuckle. “Both genetic dead ends.”

Negan shook his head. “No. We can’t make babies, Jessi, but that doesn’t mean we can’t make an impact.” I snorted. “OK, not necessarily the best fucking impacts in my case, but you, oh, Jessica Grimes, you are more than fucking remarkable.”

I felt better, slightly, by the time I’d kissed him goodbye and walked home. Judith came rushing to greet me, and I told her all about RJ and how she could meet him the next day. Smiling at the woman who’d stayed with her while I was with Michonne, trying hard to ignore the pity I could see in her eyes, I closed the front door and got us both some dinner.

#The Walking Dead #OriginalGrimesDaughter #rick grimes daughter #daryl dixon x ofc #planned pregnancy #miscarriage #grief/mourning #negan x ofc

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amayawolfe · 4 years ago

Text

Ch. 4 - On Death's Doorstep

My Stories Masterlist

Word Count: 4468

Summary: Hisoka finds himself back in familiar company from his past. Is this all real? Or is he dreaming? Perhaps even... dead? The only thing that quickly becomes clear is that the redhaired teen is most definitely not safe.

⚠️ Warnings: angst, blood, gore definition, mild violence, nightmares, mental trauma, mentions/suggestions of trauma, mental instability, panic attack, rot/decay, self harm, strangulation, near death experience, unintentional/accidental suicide, death rattle

Hisoka

A warm, bright light slowly penetrated Hisoka's closed eyelids, steadily rousing his conscious mind. He could tell he was laying on something soft and was covered with some sort of blanket. Keeping his eyes closed, he attempted to shift his position to get more comfortable only to be greeted with a wave of intense pain. He winced and hissed through his teeth, he felt as though his entire body had been trampled by a herd of stampeding horses.

Having been overcome with such a great amount of pain so quickly, his muscle tensed and cramped, making matters all the worse. He swallowed hard and felt his brow furrow as he tried to focus on making his muscles relax. It was a slow and exhausting process.

The sound of someone walking on soft flooring close by caught his attention. Whomever it was shuffled right up beside him and stood silently next to him. Before he could speak, a warm hand lightly lay on Hisoka's sweaty forehead as though checking his temperature. After a moment, it began to gently stroke his head, brushing his damp hair away from his forehead. The act was soothing, and Hisoka could feel himself start to relax and take some of the edge off the pain.

"I'm sorry, baby, that last one was really rough with you, wasn't he..."

Upon hearing his mother's soft, tender voice, Hisoka felt as though he had downed an entire bucket of ice water; ice and all. He forced himself to suppress a shiver when chills ran down his back and he felt himself nod in response. Confusion trickled into Hisoka's brain, was this a dream? Or was he dead, too? How come the pain felt so real? If he was dead and now in the afterlife with his mother or simply dreaming of her, he shouldn't feel this kind of pain, right?

"Am I-" ♣ his voice cracked, sounding hoarse and brittle. He licked his lips and found that they were dry and cracked. He then realized he was horribly thirsty as if he hadn't drank anything in days.

"Water," ♠ he pleaded in a croaked whisper.

His mother loosed a pain filled sigh, "I'm sorry, sweetheart, but the water was shut off again. I'll have to leave to try and find some." The soft rustle of clothing indicated his mother was starting to move away to do just that.

Hisoka shook his head, causing it to throb and spin behind his eyelids. Everything hurt so badly, it made him feel weak and vulnerable. He didn't want to be left alone, even if it meant the company of someone he hated. He feebly reached out to where he had heard his mother's voice coming from. His arm shook and ached as he reached for her.

After a hesitant moment, he could feel her soft, warm hands gently wrap around his own. He sensed her draw close; the movement was followed by a tender, motherly kiss placed upon his brow. Her actions made a tight ache form in Hisoka's chest. How he wished that this could have been his mother all the time. Loving, caring, gentle. He knew all too well this facade was only the beauty that hid her venom.

He slowly opened his eyes, his vision was a little blurry but he could see her sitting there beside him in her pale green bathrobe. Hisoka guessed she had just recently gotten out of the shower since her hair was up in a towel. The warm light that filled the little apartment they shared was brighter than normal and gave their surroundings a very fuzzy and surreal feeling.

Hisoka tried to recall how he could have possibly gotten here. His brow furrowed again as he struggled to remember the most recent past events.

I was with the troupe, we reached Dolle, we got to the inn, Jasper harassed Aba- Wait! ♠ Hisoka's eyes narrowed as flashes of being pulled into an alley darted through his mind. He could see and hear Jasper talking to him, and the brief scuffle they had. Then someone was behind Hisoka, but the broken stream of memories ended there.

Hisoka felt a sinking sensation within the pit of his stomach. He licked his lips once more and tried to swallow before he spoke, "Am.. Am I dead? ♠"

His mother gave him a sorrowful look, "Oh, sweetie, no no, you're not dead." She let go of his hand with one of hers and began to stroke his head again.

"You must feel awful, I told that last one to be gentle with you. I'm so sorry sweetie."

Her tone had become sickeningly sweet with empty apologies. Hisoka's nose wrinkled as a wave of disgust washed over him. He pulled his hand away from hers and looked away, yet she continued to stroke his head.

"You always did say you were sorry, mother," he barely croaked in a rough, broken voice, "but you never did anything to prevent it." ♠

The hand that had been stroking his head stopped and slowly pulled away. There was a heavy silence for a few minutes before he heard his mother sigh.

"You're right, I'm a terrible mother. I should have done more to love and protect you."

A scowl started to form on Hisoka's face yet he did not respond to her. Another heavy silence, one that grew uneasy with every tick of the second hand in the clock on the wall.

After a while, Hisoka finally broke the silence, "Do not expect me to disagree with you..." ♣

He could hear her shuffle and shift uncomfortably beside him.

"I didn't- I mean, I know..." She trailed off and Hisoka snickered at her pathetic attempts.

His anger and disgust with his mother was starting to override his pain and dissipate the fog in his mind. It gave him new energy to say the things he had wanted to for so long.

"You knew perfectly well what you were doing," ♠ he snarled, glaring at the back of the couch he was laying on, "Yet you never did anything to fix it. Your own pleasures were always more important than me. ♣ Even though you could see what it was doing to me and what I was being put through you-"

Hisoka stopped his tirade, he could sense something was wrong. The warm light that had been filling the room started to fade away and the air around him had become cold and heavy. His mother's breathing changed, becoming thick and ragged.

"I know," her voice rasped, barely above a hoarse whisper, "I know I was a horrible mother. No, a horrible person. But Hiso, my son, my love, did I really deserve... this?"

Hisoka hesitated, dreading what he would see. The air had become so heavy he could barely breathe as the room continued to descend into darkness. He slowly turned his head to look back at his mother. What he saw caused him to open his mouth wide in a silent scream and desperately attempt recoil to further into the couch.

All color had drained away from his mother's flesh. A horizontal slit appeared in the middle of her throat. The wound wept crimson rivers as it began to yawn wider and wider. He could see muscles, tendons, and trachea seemingly rot away at a frighteningly rapid pace. Hisoka tried to scramble away but his battered and bruised body failed him while his decaying mother leaned forward and slowly began to reach for him with both hands

"Tell me, please sweetie, did mommy deserve to die like that? Did you really have to kill me?"

As she spoke her lips started to rot and pull away exposing her teeth and gums. Her cheeks became sunken as her eyes fell back into her head, leaving empty withering voids that bore into Hisoka's tortured soul. She wrapped both of her rotting hands around her son's throat and began to squeeze, cutting off the precious oxygen his body so desperately required to sustain life.

Hisoka began to thrash and tear at the arms in a frantic and desperate attempt to pull death's hands away from his throat. His actions were futile as he only managed to tear away large handfuls of rotting flesh leaving behind exposed bone. His mind was in full panic, he couldn't breathe to scream and his eyes were blown wide, staring into those voids in his mother's now skeletal face. She drew closer, slowly descending upon him as she chanted over and over.

"Hisoka, why did you do this? Why did you do this to me? I'm your mother. Hisoka? Hisoka! Hisoka! Hisoka!"

Abaki

"Hisoka? Hisoka! Hisoka wake up!" Abaki cried out to her unconscious friend who now thrashed around in his bed and wasn't breathing as his own hands were wrapped tightly around his throat. She desperately tried to pry Hisoka's hands away to free his airway but couldn't get a good enough grip.

She watched in horror as his usually pale, freckled face started to change to an angry shade of red and his lips began to turn blue. Shaking her head, Abaki turned and bolted for the door. Flinging it wide open, she screamed out into the hall, "HELP! PLEASE, SOMEONE, ANYONE, HELP! IT'S HISOKA!"

She looked back over her shoulder, tears of fright were streaming down her face. Terror gripped her heart as she feared she was going to lose her closest friend. That she was going to watch him die right in front of her, unable to help.

Within seconds, Abaki could hear doors opening and hurried footsteps rushing in her direction. The first to the door was Magikana, barefooted and in her long sleeping gown.

"Abaki vaht-" the magician's gaze darted from the frightened girl to the thrashing, dying boy. Her already wide eyes grew even wider as she pushed passed Abaki and made a beeline for her apprentice. As she made it to Hisoka's side, another showed up at the door in boxers, a tank top, and socks. It was the juggler that had seen Hisoka before the sideshows. His eyes grew wide with shock amd concern as he took in what was going on.

"Do not just stand zere, Zane, hold him still for me!" Magikana snapped, struggling to hold Hisoka down the best she could. The juggler blinked then rushed over to help. He barely managed to grab hold of Hisoka's legs to pin them down.

"Kids stro- OOF!" Zane was cut short when Hisoka unconsciously delivered a hard kick to Zane's gut, knocking the wind out of him a bit.

The next person who appeared at the room's door was Moritonio in a house robe. With a quick look he immediately understood the dire circumstances, grabbed Abaki's wrist, and made his way towards the others.

"Come girl," he instructed calmly, "we'll need your help, too."

Moritonio drug a dazed Abaki with him over to the bedside opposite Magikana, nearly tripping over her own feet in the process. Zane was now laying over Hisoka's struggling legs, keeping them pinned to the bed.

"Press your hands on his chest, Abaki, try and keep him still as best as you can," the troupe leader ordered, "Kana, hold his shoulders, I'll try and pry away his hands."

"Be careful as to not break his neck," she warned as she adjusted her position and pressed Hisoka's shoulders down into the mattress.

Just as Moritonio took hold of Hisoka's wrists he noticed the boy's thrashing had diminished greatly, becoming nothing more than feeble twitches. A sense of dread washed over him as he realized what was happening.

"Hisoka?" The boy's hands were still wrapped tightly around his own throat. Moritonio strained to carefully pull Hisoka's hands away. As he did so, Hisoka's nails drug across his own flesh leaving behind bright red trails in their wake. The moment his airway was free, a strange gurgling sound started to emit from the trainee's throat. The adults grew pale as Moritonio felt for a pulse. After a moment, he looked up at Magikana and shook his head.

Abaki's chest grew tight and it felt like her heart had stopped. Her eyes grew wide and became brimmed with tears, gaze falling upon her friend's face, "H-Hisoka?"

At the sound of her voice, Moritonio glanced over at Abaki and his eyebrows suddenly shot up; an idea came to mind. He looked back to Magikana who seemingly heard the ringleader's thoughts and she nodded. The magician then snapped her fingers at Zane to draw his attention away from the poor boy and onto her,

"Quick, fetch zee doctor, ve vill do vaht ve can."

Without question, Zane nodded and bolted out the door. As soon as he was gone Moritonio looked back to Abaki once more.

"Abaki. Abaki!" The traumatized girl jumped a little and turned her focus to her troupe leader and nen master. "Listen to me carefully, Hisoka's heart has stopped as well as his other bodily functions. We could try to resuscitate him, but Kana and myself are not familiar with the methods and may make matters worse trying. However, we need to try something, and I may have just the thing. I want you to emit a small amount of energy into his body. Give it a jump start."

Abaki blinked a few times, she was in a mild state of shock, "W-what? You want me to..." She looked down at her friend's lifeless body and nearly broke down. Magikana turned swiftly and grabbed the girl by the shoulders, shaking her just enough to snap the trainee's attention to the magician.

"Listen carefully, if ve are to save Hisoka," she said in a cool, calm yet stern voice, "ve need you to listen to vingleader, okay?" Abaki nodded with a sniffle before looking over to her nen master.

"O-okay, what do you need me to do?"

"Place your dominant hand here," Moritonio instructed, pointing to an area of Hisoka's chest just over his heart. Abaki hesitated, but only for a moment, then she leaned forward and rested her hand lightly on his still chest. Her lip quivered but she kept it together and looked back up at her nen master.

"Okay, what's next?"

Moritonio spoke clearly and quickly as he explained to Abaki to move her nen to her hand. Once she had done that, she was to slowly and carefully emit her nen into Hisoka's fading residual nen. Abaki was terrified, she knew there were so many ways this could go wrong. She could accidentally force too much nen into her friend causing organs to be ruptured and bones crushed. Or she could completely fry his nervous system rendering him brain dead. She could even damage his aura nodes and cause him to become nenless.

Tears started to spill from her eyes again when those horrid thoughts threatened to cloud her mind. She gave her head a little shake and bit her lip to help maintain focus. She understood why Moritonio was having her do this instead of himself. Emitting nen would flow smoother from a person who is naturally an emitter. With Moritonio being a transmuter, the task would most likely be more dangerous even though he was the more experienced nen user. The fact that her and Hisoka had been training their nen together for the past several weeks and were more intune with each other's nen was another positive factor.

Abaki bit her lip a little harder as she felt the strain of her efforts start to fatigue her body. She had no idea how much time had passed. Seconds? Minutes? Or had it been hours? She honestly felt as though it had been the latter. Her eyes having been shut during most of the process, she wasn't even sure if Magikana and Moritonio were still there.

Hisoka, please, wake up, her heart and mind pleaded as one. She pictured his warm, mischievous smile as he teased her about her crush on Camilla. Those sparkling amber eyes filled with life and excitement as he showed off his nen and magic tricks. She couldn't picture him any other way. This cold, still, lifeless body she was mixing her nen with was not, no, could not, be her friend.

Her brow furrowed and her jaw tensed all the more as she pushed those happy memories of their short lived friendship down through her nen and into his. She now tasted blood coming from her abused lip, but she didn't care.

Hiso, I'm not giving up on you. Wake up. Wake. Up. NOW!

Abaki gave her waning nen a gentle but firm push in a last attempt to save her friend. The last of her nen energy that she could spare. She gasped and would have collapsed onto Hisoka if not for Magikana catching her and holding her upright.

Her vision had begun to blur from over use of her nen, but she could see her friends' still, lifeless face. Moritonio checked for a pulse once again. After a moment his shoulders drooped and the look on his face became sad and grim.

"H-Hiso?" Abaki whimpered. She began to reach towards him with trembling fingers when all of a sudden his entire body jerked.

Abaki cried out in frightened surprise as Magikana pulled her back in sheer reaction; even Moritonio jumped back. Hisoka threw his head back into his pillows and his back arched greatly, lungs hungrily sucking in a massive breath. His bloodshot eyes were now wide open and possessed a frightened, feral look.

When Hisoka started to flail again, Moritonio quickly stepped forward and grabbed the trainee's wrists in case he were to hurt himself again.

"You're alright, boy," Moritonio calmly stated, "no need to thrash about, you're safe. Nothing and no one here is going to harm you. You're among friends."

Hisoka blinked several times, pupils so constricted they were barely visible within their golden irises. He was obviously confused, not to mention terrified. He seemed to slowly recognize the older man as he began to settle down. Moritonio let go of Hisoka's wrists and slowly backed away a bit to give the boy a little more room to breathe. And breathe he did, for he was alive and now conscious to the waking world.

Abaki let out a choked sob as an enormous wave of relief washed over her. She wanted to rush forward and hug her friend, but Magikana held her back. A task not too difficult since the girl was now quite weak herself.

"Is best to let him rest, yes? Little one still has injuries."

Abaki glanced up at the magician and saw that, she too, had tears in her eyes and her lower lip trembled ever so slightly. She looked back at Hisoka then reached out and gingerly took her friends hand. She winced a little at just how cold his usually warm hands had gotten. The touch made Hisoka look in Abaki's direction. His gaze was a little unfocused, and he still seemed a bit confused. He blinked a couple times before he attempted to speak.

"Aba-" Hisoka, Magikana, and Abaki all winced in unison at the sound of Hisoka's voice. Broken, dry, hoarse, it sounded painfully horrible. Hisoka lightly touched his throat with his free hand then jerked it away with a ragged hiss. He then looked over to Magikana with a muddled expression.

"Is bit of story," she sighed softly, reaching over and gently brushing the red raspberry hair out of the eyes of her apprentice. "Rest now, you are safe. Doctor should be here any minute now."

As soon as the magician finished her sentence, a huffing, red faced Zane magically appeared through the door with an exhausted looking woman in tow. She wore medium length salt and pepper hair up in a messy bun, wore glasses, and carried a doctor's bag.

"S-sorry it- *pant* took so long," Zane puffed, "She was *pant* asleep."

"Well," the doctor mumbled under her breath, "it is the middle of the night." She spotted Hisoka and adjusted her glasses as she walked towards him. Moritonio stepped back to give the women more room while Magikana and Abaki stuck close on the opposite side.

She instantly frowned upon a closer look at Hisoka and looked back over at the ringleader.

"Is this the same boy that was attacked in the alley a couple days ago?" she asked, carefully tilting Hisoka's head up to get a better look at his neck.

"Yes," Moritonio answered plainly.

"These are not the injuries my colleague told me about, these are fresh," she glowered at the marks on Hisoka's neck and snapped her head back round angrily. "What happened to him? Who did this?"

"It would appear that while the boy was in comatose he had a horrendous nightmare," the ringleader explained calmly. "He's been mumbling and talking in his sleep throughout most of this past day. We figured he would soon wake up, but instead, he attacked himself. He strangled himself to the point of losing consciousness once more, as well as he had stopped breathing."

The doctor's face paled a few shades and even more serious, something Abaki had not thought possible just a moment ago.

"Heartbeat?" Moritonio slowly shook his head.

"How long?" she further inquired.

"Close to thirty minutes I'd say."

The doctor's frown depended and she continued her exam. She checked his eyes and listened to his vocal cords, heart, and lungs. Once that was done, she asked Hisoka to do some simple motor function tests which he completed relatively well. Abaki held Hisoka's hand while the doctor worked, giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze whenever Hisoka flinched or seemed uncomfortable. She was relieved to feel the warmth returning to his fingers.

When the doctor lifted his shirt, Hisoka's eyes blew wide with surprise. His attention was drawn to the vast collection of bruises and bandages all over his body as well as the ones on his arms and legs. He looked over at Magikana and Abaki. His trainer frowned and shook her head slightly, silently mouthing the words, "vill explain later".

Finally the doctor sighed, removed her stethoscope and placed it back into her black bag.

"Well," she started in a tired voice, "his vocal cords and trachea are damaged, but not to the point of needing hospital care, thankfully. The rest of his injuries seem to be coming along nicely; and quickly, might I add. But he will still need at least two weeks of bed rest, plenty of good food, and lots of water. You want to have him stretch a couple times a day so his muscles don't stay stiff all the time. It'll help up blood flow and healing as well. I will be back to check on him in a week, but call me or my colleague if anything strange starts to arise. Not breathing or having a heartbeat that long, I am honestly surprised he's doing as well as he is, all things considered."

"Thank you, doctor," Morintonio replied solemnly.

Abaki noticed the older man frowning at the doctor's news and how he exchanged looks with Magikana. This was an issue, the troupe was supposed to have been in the next town by now, but due to the recent events things had been put on hold. To put travels on hold for another two weeks could prove to be devastating to the troupe's finances.

Moritonio motioned for Magikana to come with him as he walked with Zane and the doctor outside the room. She nodded then gently brushed Hisoka's hair once more.

"Rest, little vun, I vill explain everyzing in zee morning." Hisoka frowned a little as he looked over his trainer's face. He then sighed through his nose and weakly nodded his head. She produced a tired smile and gently ruffled his already messy hair. Before she left, she retrieved two blue sports drinks from a nearby grocery bag and handed one to Abaki and Hisoka each.

"Both of you, drink, rest," she instructed then focused on Abaki, "Stay viz him, I vill be back as soon as I can be." And with that she left the room.

Abaki shifted her position so she could lean back against the headboard to rest more comfortably. She watched as Hisoka opened his bottle and chugged down over half of the blue liquid in one go, wincing from the pain as he swallowed.

Once Hisoka drank his fill, he pulled the bottle away from his dry, cracked lips and took a large, shaky breath. He looked over to Abaki and the two friends stared in silence.

I wonder if he knows that he nearly died. Well, I guess he actually did die. At least for a short bit there. Should we tell him if he doesn't know? Or would it be better left not telling him? I'm not sure if I would want to know that I did something like that to myself without knowing.

Her mind continued to wander as she carefully examined the red haired teen. His dark and sunken blood shot eyes, messy hair, bruised and scratched face, then finally the freshly forming brushes on his neck. She felt her lips twitch as she surprised a grin and snorted through her nose.

Hisoka blinked and opened his mouth to question her but quickly thought better of it. Instead, he closed his mouth and tilted his head, giving Abaki a look of inquiry.

She couldn't help it, a wry, exhausted smile lightly danced across her lips as she said to her friend, "Hiso, you look like shit..."

~ ~ ~

📜 A/N: Thank you so much for reading my story and I really hope you liked the chapter. If you did, please remember to heart and pass word along of this story! I do apologize for the long wait on this chapter, life just gets crazy sometimes, yah know?

Also, I wanna add that if you are feeling down, depressed, unstable, or think that you could cause harm to yourself or even others, please, please, please reach out and get help. Whether it be friends, family, or even someone from a help service, someone out there does does care about you and you do, in fact, matter! As a survivor of attempted suicide, and one who deals with Bi-Polar I Depression, I know that the battle can seem tough, endless, and just down right exhausting. I know that asking for help can be tough and scary, but the first step to anything worth while usually is.

With that said, I again thank you for reading, and please take care of yourself. Get lots of rest, sunshine, exercise, and drink plenty of water! Until next, laters!

~ ~ ~

Previous Chapter: Ch.3 - The Show Must Go On!

Next Chapter: Ch. 5 - Whispers of the Cards

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salemwritesxx · 3 years ago

Text

𝓽𝓱𝓻𝓮𝓮 𝔂𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓼 | 𝓾𝓷𝓯𝓲𝔁𝓪𝓫𝓵𝓮

𝔹 𝕒 𝕜 𝕦 𝕘 𝕠 𝕦 𝕂 𝕒 𝕥 𝕤 𝕦 𝕜 𝕚

⇴ male reader [24, pro-hero, alpha, quirk: ice-phoenix] ⇴ all characters are depicted as [18]+

↣ rating: mature ↣ warnings: abo universe, male pregnancy mentioned, angst version – if you want to read the happy ending version read here.