#all the res comes from his ptsd

[minimutty]

baby lucius may be over a year old at this point and powercrept to hell and back, but by golly is he going to keep his title of King of Res™. Not very useful bc thesis-long skills and infinite damage reduction exists, but it's a title nonetheless, and I'm so proud of him for it. 😤

[ellecdc]

HI QUEEN 🎀🩷🎀🩷

I literally just atalkws all your marauders fics for like 2 solid hours. You're writing is healing me at this point.

I was wondering if your requests were open? And if they are can I please request a fic that happens directly after the first war (marauders era) and reader has ptsd and maybe got triggered by the smallest of domestic actions done by one of the boys and comfort ensues for the episode and aftermath guilt?

I'm sorry it's oddly specific, just fighting some demons rn and your awesome writing kinda does the trick heheh

please feel free to ignore this one! love u <33

thanks for your request, love. hope things have been easier on you as of late <3

poly!marauders x fem!reader who is struggling with PTSD [1.5k words]

CW: PTSD, post-war, mention of past character death/grief, panic attack, hurt/comfort

The war had taken its toll on all of you; ghosts of the people you lost and the people you all once were haunted you, reminding you of scars both visible and invisible that coloured every aspect of your life.

There were things that the four of you staunchly refused to talk about; Remus refused to speak about his time in the feral packs, Sirius refused to speak about his brother, James refused to speak about Peter’s betrayal, and you refused to speak about what happened when you went missing.

Perhaps there were healthier ways to manage the grief and pain, perhaps you would all benefit from reconsidering those lines each of you had drawn in the sand.

But you were all alive, you were all together, and you had your whole lives ahead of you, and for now, that was enough. 

It was enough until it wasn’t.

It was enough until Remus was sitting on the floor of your kitchen with you pulled into his chest as Sirius hovered in front of you, holding your hands against his chest as he begged you to breathe, to copy his breaths, to come back to him. 

To come back to him. 

You and James had been fussing in the kitchen making breakfast this morning; Remus being wholly uninterested in mornings but very much interested in the two of you had been sitting at the kitchen table in camaraderie as Sirius shuffled sleepily into the room. 

He took the time to admire Sirius’ sleep rumpled hair and the faint lines over his face and bare torso, clearly having rolled straight out of bed before going in search of his loves. 

You were reaching into a cupboard to retrieve Sirius’ favourite mug when he came up behind you and placed his hand at the nape of your neck at the exact moment that James burned himself at the stove; cursing loudly and dropping the pan which landed on the floor with a bang, closely followed by the sound of breaking glass. 

Remus was up from his seat in record time, aching joints be damned, and at James’ side.

“I’m sorry, I’m okay; sorry.” James gritted out, acquiescing to Remus’ probes and allowing him to examine his hand.

“Awe bubs, you got yourself good.” Remus cooed as he cast a quick aguamenti over the burn.  

“Shit, yeah.” He breathed out. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“What broke?” Remus asked then, looking down at the pan that had landed horribly close to James’ feet and searching for evidence of a broken bowl.

“What do you mean?”

“Did you not drop something?” Remus clarified.

James shook his head with furrowed brows. “Just the pan.”

Their bemusement turned to concern when they heard a choked “baby” coming from Sirius’ lips. 

Remus’ stomach dropped as he turned to see you half keeled over, leaning against the counter with one hand at your abdomen and the other over your mouth as if you were suppressing a scream. 

“Is she hurt!?” James asked quickly, moving swiftly along from his own pain.

“It…I- it was me. I-” Sirius started, sinking to the floor in time with you as your legs seemed wholly unable to hold you up in your current state. 

“She’s panicking.” Remus surmised aloud, quickly tiptoeing over what he realised were shards of Sirius’ mug that you’d been procuring moments before. 

“Dove? Hey, look at me.” Remus offered as he crouched in front of you.

You shook your head quickly and sucked in a stilted breath. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry, my love, just look at me.”

You shook your head again and tried to back further into the lower cabinets as if hoping they would simply swallow you whole.

“I’ll clean it up. I’m sorry.”

“Sweetheart,” Sirius pleaded, “we’re not worried about the mess.”

“I’m okay.” You sobbed, sounding anything but.

“I know you are, dove. You’re okay, come now.” Remus said as he finally joined you on the floor, leaning back against the cabinets and pulling you into his lap so that you were fully enveloped in his embrace. “Big breath, babylove, can you do that for me?”

You made a high pitched keening sound and shook your head quickly. “I’m sorry.”

Remus looked over to notice that James had his burnt hand held protectively against his chest while his other kneaded into Sirius’ shoulder as he whispered into his ear.

“Look, dove, Jamie can fix the mug no problem, and Siri’s gonna help you take big breaths, okay?” Remus tired then, stirring both boys into action as James straightened and cast a quick reparo to Sirius’ mug and Sirius shuffled over on his knees to station himself between Remus’ spread legs and in front of you. 

“Can you copy me, baby? Like this?” Sirius begged. “Just like this.”

Sirius pried your hands away from your face and encouraged them to flatten out against his chest where Remus was sure you could feel the hammering of his heart as he took a dramatic breath for your benefit. 

You choked out a few more apologies that both boys gently admonished you for as you tried to copy Sirius’ breaths; they were nowhere near as deep or graceful, but Remus was thankful for your effort nonetheless. 

James reappeared then, his own hand now wrapped with medical tape and smelling strongly of Remus’ healing balms when he held something out for you.

“Angel, can you do me a favour?” He asked extraordinarily softly that it even had Remus feeling more at ease. “Can you hold these for me?”

Remus watched your face as you wretched your eyes open - another ‘deep breath’ stilted by a sob as you looked to him - to see him holding two large spheres of ice that Sirius had for his firewhiskey. 

Sirius kept his hands gently stationed on your arms as you removed them from his chest and accepted the ice from James, still never letting go even as the ice began to melt and drip freezing water down your wrists. 

When your sobs became the occasional hiccups and Remus felt you deflate further into his embrace, he braved a gentle caress of your upper arms in warning of his presence.

“Better?” He murmured lowly into your shoulder, earning him a deep sigh that came out only slightly shaky. 

“I…think so. I’m s-”

“No, no, dove.” He admonished quickly, peppering slow kisses along your shoulder and the column of your neck. “There’s nothing to apologise for.”

“I didn’t mean to cause a scene.” You murmured quietly, and Remus watched as Sirius’ face crumpled.

“You didn’t cause a scene, baby.” He argued quickly. “You were scared; I-”

James made a sympathetic sound in the back of his throat as he wrapped an arm around Sirius and pressed his lips to his long-haired boyfriend’s head.

“Should we not touch you like that, dove? Here?” Remus asked carefully then; dragging a barely-there finger across the nape of your neck and watching goosebumps appear.

“No, that’s fine, I- it wasn’t that I…it was just both and I…I didn’t sleep very well and it was just…”

“Too much?” Sirius offered as James relinquished you of what was left of your ice that had you and Remus damp, drawing circles into your wrists that he still had secured in his grasp.

“Just at once, I’m sorry.”

“Angel…” James chided.

“I am sorry.” You insisted as you looked at James imploringly. “I’ve not been doing a very good job handling my shit lately and now I’ve ruined the morning for everyone.”

“It’s not your shit, baby, and it’s not only yours to handle; we’re supposed to be helping you too, yeah?” Sirius pressed as he craned his neck to meet your eye that you were trying to avoid. 

“And you didn’t ruin anything; you could never ruin anything.” James added. 

You sniffled at that and took another deep breath that hardly shook at all as you leaned further into Remus. “Is your hand okay, Jamie?”

James smiled softly at you before bending down to press a kiss to your forehead. “It’ll be good as new, but I owe Moons some healing balm since I used a whole jar from his stash.”

“I’ll buy it!” Sirius announced quickly, surprising a small laugh from you.

“I’d think not, Pads; I’m the one who used it up!”

“Yes but you’re the one who was hurt, I’m the one who upset our girl.”

“I upset her too.” James countered as they began arguing who had played a bigger hand in this morning’s commotion. 

You and Remus shared a fond yet exasperated look before the two of you stood - on shaky legs after being folded up for so long - and opted to take a warm shower and change into dry clothes.

It may not have been the start to the day any of you would have liked, but you all made it out okay, you were all together, and you had your whole lives ahead of you. 

And for now, that was more than enough.

[mypoisonedvine]

𝖇𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖉𝖘𝖕𝖔𝖙𝖘 | professor!jonathan crane x batgirl!reader

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞 | it can be difficult, living a double life: spending your days as a scholarship student at gotham university, and your nights as batgirl, the legendary heroine, fighting alongside batman and robin. though it proves to take a toll on you mentally and physically, flunked term papers and missed lectures will be the least of your problems when you encounter the scarecrow somewhere in the shadowy alleyways of gotham...

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙 | 7k

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 | NONCON SMUT (18+ only; violent/rough sex, use of fear toxin, degradation, semi-public sex/exhibitionism, bondage), professor/student dynamic (therefore implied age gap), some angst and depiction of ptsd/aftermath, reader is dating robin/tim drake

“And so,” Professor Crane continued, looking towards the class from the board, chalk in hand, "this triggers the fear response, and all that comes with it.  You're probably familiar with the symptoms of fear: heart rate increase, cold sweat, overall heightened arousal."

A few giggles could be heard at that, and he rolled his eyes.

"Not that sort of arousal, necessarily," he frowned.

Everyone else just brushed off the childish humor of the moment, but you narrowed your eyes, getting a sense that the word necessarily was doing a lot of heavy lifting in that sentence.

He returned to his lecture, drawing lines in chalk over his crude diagram of the human brain, explaining how each area of the brain contributed to fear and the fight-or-flight response.  As he spoke, you re-read the handout he’d given today— and you chewed on your lip absent-mindedly as you reviewed the bibliography.

"Dr. Crane?" you raised your hand, interrupting his lecture mid-sentence.  "I had a question about some of the studies you reference here."

"Yes?" he returned, turning to face you with a slightly confused expression.

"Well you cite a paper out of Berkeley from 2002, to support the conclusion that exposure therapy is the best response to aggressive phobias— however, if you actually read the paper—"

"I read the paper, Miss," he interrupted sternly.

"Then, if you actually understood the paper," you continued, a few students gasping and laughing softly at your insubordination, "then you would see that the conclusions indicate the perceived decrease in fear response comes at the expense of long-term stability.  Don't you think that negates any positive implications?"

The silence in the room was tense: everyone was waiting for how he would respond to your critique.  Instead, he just smiled at you slightly.  "I think you may have more context for how research is conducted, and reevaluate your conclusions, when you get a chance to organize your own research— in about a decade."

"Actually, Professor, I'll be leading my own experiment this quarter," you corrected, just as he was about to turn away from you and keep lecturing.  "I'm the recipient of the Wayne Enterprises Collegiate Scholarship— which pays for my education here and also comes with a fifty thousand dollar research grant."

“Ah,” he said, bitterness dripping from his tone as he set his hands on the desk and leaned forward a bit.  “May I ask what topic you hope to explore with your research?”

“Crime,” you explained, “and criminal behavior.”

“Hm,” he nodded, frowning slightly in an impressed sort of way, taking his weight off the desk.  “And it doesn’t bother you that you’re here studying psychology?”

You lowered your brow, confused by his question.  “I’m sorry?”

“Criminology is a subfield of sociology, which is related to but distinct from psychology,” he explained.

“Would you recommend that I switch majors, Doctor?” you asked simply.

“Well, it’s no secret that you’ve set the curve on our last two exams,” Dr. Crane smiled, tilting his head slightly.  “So, no— I think I’d rather keep you here.”

You straightened up slightly, taken aback by his wording.

“Plus, while you’re still in my department,” he continued, “I have a better chance of talking some sense into you.”

With that, he returned to teaching, and you noticed how the other students were watching you before you sighed and tried to listen to the rest of class.

~

You caught up with him on a long stretch of hallway, just as he stepped up to his office door.  “Professor!” you got his attention, and he turned to you with a slightly smug look as he held his hands together.

“Ah, yes,” he greeted, “I see you’re here to apologize for how you spoke to me in class today?”

You knew he didn’t actually expect that, he knew better after having you under him for the last two quarters— um, so to speak.  “Just as soon as you do,” you offered with a smirk in return, shifting your weight on your hip.

That was what moved your button-down slightly, and his eyes drifted down to your neck— when they did, confusion and concern suddenly painted his expression. “My,” he gasped a little, pulling on the collar of your shirt with one finger to expose a healing scrape on your chest; his fingertip brushed over your skin and the golden chain of your necklace, and you jumped away slightly.  “How’d you get that?”

“It’s nothing—” you blurted out, blinking quickly, “I tripped, on campus, actually.”

“That wonky step up to the Commons?” he assumed.  “I’ve filed two complaints about that loose brick…”

“Yes,” you agreed quickly, smiling.  “Yeah, I wasn’t looking where I was going, and I didn’t catch myself well while holding my books—”

“Hm,” he nodded back, “that’s a shame.  A girl as smart as you, forgetting the Commons building doesn’t have brick steps— or steps at all, in fact.”

You swallowed thickly, glancing away. 

“You sure were eager for an explanation, though,” he smiled.  “How’d you really get such a nasty scrape?  It does look like concrete, but I’m guessing it didn’t happen on campus—”

“It’s no matter,” you assured.

“It wasn’t that boyfriend of yours, was it?” he pressed.  “Mr. Drake, as I recall?”

“Wha— no!” you gasped.

“He’s not your boyfriend?”

“Well, he is,” you explained, “but he didn’t—”

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” Crane offered, lowering his voice slightly.  

“Of course,” you sighed, “but there’s nothing to tell.  Things are fine with Tim, I promise.” 

“He shared your interest in criminal studies, didn’t he?” Professor Crane recalled.  “Clearly, he didn’t share your scholarly aptitude, though, seeing as he’s dropped out.”

“H-he was smart enough,” you justified, “he left because of stress.”

“Ah,” the Professor nodded, “and he doesn’t take that stress out on you at all?”

“C’mon, Professor, Tim’s a good person,” you promised.

“I’m inclined to agree,” Crane replied, “but it’s the ones that act the kindest that have the most to hide, isn’t it?”

You knew there was another meaning to that statement, but there were so many possibilities that you couldn’t settle on one.

“You understand that if I suspect anything, I’m required to alert our student wellness services,” he reminded you.  “They’ll have a counselor reach out to you—”

“Listen, Dr. Crane— I didn’t come here to speak to you about my personal life,” you reminded him, “I wanted to ask you about my performance in the class so far, in your opinion.”

He paused before sighing in relent.  “I’m a little concerned, actually,” he admitted, “about your most recent paper.”

He pulled it from the folder under his arm and handed it back to you— covered in red ink.  You blinked at him, biting your lip in confusion.  “I thought these wouldn’t be returned until—”

“I worked on yours first,” he explained quickly, even though that explanation only brought more questions than answers.  “It’s still very strong, but it’s not what I expect from you at this point.  It feels rushed.”

Rushed— yeah, I remember this one.  I wrote it all the night it was due because I spent the three days before recovering from that fight with Falcone’s thugs at the docks—

“I’ll let you rewrite it,” he offered, “if you can get it back to me before I return the rest of your classmates’ work.”

You laughed a little, looking at the paper in front of you, and Crane knitted his brows together.  “You know, Professor, sometimes I can’t tell if I’m your favorite student, or your most hated.”

He smiled a little, glancing down briefly at the floor in a sort of self-effacing way.  “I don’t have favorites,” he assured, unconvincingly.  “You’re not my best student, or my worst— you’re an entirely different kind of student.  You’re nothing like those other… juvenile, moronic co-eds looking in the exact wrong place for an easy A.”

Your eyes widened a little, seeing the way he let a little irritation— disdain, really— paint his tone.  He snarled a bit as he spoke, his nostrils flaring; like he was holding it back, how much resentment he really had for your classmates.  

As quickly as it came, he seemed to shake it off, and then he smiled again… but it was tight, and forced, you could see that just as easily.  “You challenge me,” he finished quickly.  “I appreciate that as much as I detest it.”

You smiled back, somewhat genuinely despite the icky feeling that suddenly wiggled in your stomach.  “I suppose I feel the same way,” you admitted.

He opened his mouth, hesitating slightly, before tilting his head the other way and starting over.  “Could you come into my office for a minute?” he asked suddenly, a strange glimmer in his eyes behind the thin silver glasses.  “I’d like to show you my latest work— I think you’ll find it quite intriguing…”

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a ring of keys and started to unlock his office door, and you didn’t feel too excellent about it.

Just then, a group of students walked by, and you heard them talking amongst each other as one looked at a text message on her phone.  “Oh my god,” one said as she explained to those around her, “my friend’s at the bank right now— she said someone’s holding up the place…”

“What?” another student asked, and you tilted your head a bit to hear them better.

“Yeah, the one on Main and 57th?  The police aren’t there yet— she said they have guns…” 

Your heart started to race.  Sounds like a job for Batgirl.

Crane was in his own world, though, about to open the door.  “Maybe I can even convince you to change some of your conclusions about the study of fear,” he posited.

You stepped back, motivated to leave just as much by a strange suspicion of Professor Crane as the opportunity to stop the nearby bank robbery.  “I-I have to go,” you said, before you’d thought of a good excuse— and that hadn’t gone well for you last time, but hopefully he wasn’t going to quiz you on campus architecture again to trip you up.

He looked confused, a little sad even, as he turned to you again.  “This won’t take long,” he promised, “I’d just like to show you—”

“Sorry,” you blurted out as you kept backing up, “I gotta… you know, um… buy tampons.”

Hoping something that awkward would get him to stop asking questions, you turned on your heel and darted off down the hall, looking for the best way off campus and to a secluded spot where you could pull your Batgirl get-up out of the false compartment in your bag and get to work.

~

“I don’t like you going out there alone,” Bruce said flatly, not looking up from his hands clasped in his lap.

“Wow, really?” you rolled your eyes, feigning surprise.  “News to me.”

“You’re too young, and it’s dangerous,” he continued anyway.

“Doing all the greatest hits tonight, huh?” you smirked.  “Next you’ll say you need to keep up your identity better, study hard so no one suspects you and then finish it off with don’t touch the Batmobile.”

He sighed and shook his head.  “You can touch it, you just can’t drive it.”

“Right,” you agreed flatly, sighing as you adjusted in your spot on the couch.  You’d taken up shop here in the Wayne Manor private library: something about your interaction with Professor Crane yesterday made you want to study off-campus for the afternoon…

You knew Bruce had a point about working alone— you didn’t really want to be alone, you were certainly safer when you had Batman by your side.  The problem was that you were too safe… Bruce protected you so well that he hindered you; you’d accused him of wanting you to just stay behind and patch him up after fights rather than actually helping.  He denied it, obviously, but actions speak louder than words— and there was such a difference in the way he treated you and Robin was obvious.

In fact, that itself had driven a wedge between you and your boyfriend— one of many reasons Bruce had implored you both not to get involved in that way, but it was sort of unavoidable.  You can only do such high intensity, high pressure work alongside someone for so long before the tension is too much to bear… 

Then again, that very tension that made your relationship with Tim threatened to break it, and you knew that— you felt that, even now, as he looked at you with a sympathetic sort of stare.  You cleared your throat and focused on your book again.

“Please don’t go out without us again,” Tim asked— softer, sweeter, lacking that father-figure-sternness Bruce was always trying to muster.

“I think the people in that bank are pretty happy that I did,” you replied with a snarky smile.

“We were on our way—” Bruce began.

“It was a one man job!” you insisted.

“There were seven men on that heist team— and two more parked outside,” Bruce explained, getting more frustrated as this discussion continued.  “It doesn’t matter.  We work as a team.”

“Except when you go out alone,” you reminded him.

“I’ve been doing this longer,” he explained, standing up, “I’ve been doing it better, and I’ve been doing it on my own since you were still in high school.”

“Then why did you take me in?” you returned sharply, knitting your brows together in confusion and frustration.  “Why did you train me, why did you bring me here and tell me the truth?”

“Because I saw your potential,” he answered as he began to walk away, “not because you’re ready to save the whole fucking world by yourself.”

You shook your head in frustration— almost disbelief, except of course he would do this— as Bruce shut the door behind him.  Conversation didn’t go his way, he just left— that was normal.  Ironic, for a man who interrogated criminals on the street almost daily.

“He’s right,” Tim informed you after a pregnant pause, and you glared at him.

“Would you excuse me?  I have to study,” you explained sharply as you motioned to the textbooks and notepads laid out on the table, as you’d had them before you were interrupted by these two, “because apparently the best thing Batgirl can do is not be Batgirl.”

“Hey,” Tim sighed, “he doesn’t mean it like that… he just wants you to keep focusing on your studies, that’s all.”

“I just think it’s funny—” you began.

“I bet it’s not gonna be very funny,” Tim noticed with a frown.

“— that Bruce thinks it’s so important that I keep my grades up so nobody knows what I’m doing at night— so nobody knows that I’m not getting any goddamn sleep— but you got to drop out and that apparently wasn’t going to make anybody suspicious?” you noticed.  “You know, I had a professor ask me about you today— wondering what was up with you leaving so suddenly.  Why is nobody worried about that?”

“We worry about you because we care about you,” he explained.

You tossed your books aside, standing up to face Tim properly.  “That’s bullshit,” you spat.

“You think I don’t care about you, seriously?” he asked.

“I know you care about me, but you don’t respect me,” you explained, “neither of you do.  You two go off and do what you want, you’d rather me be your nurse than actually be out there— when you know damn well that you need me!”

“I need you,” Tim promised, “in so many ways.  That’s why I can’t let anything happen to you—”

“Well, things need to happen to me sometimes!  Isn’t that what life is, things happening to you?!” you laughed exasperatedly.  “I mean, shit, why do I go to school at all?  Why don’t you guys just lock me at the top of Wayne Tower and I’ll never ever leave and you can just climb up my hair when you wanna come visit!”

“Christ,” Tim groaned, “you are so fucking ridiculous sometimes— what are you trying to prove?  Why do you need to be out there every night beating up bad guys, whether Bruce tells you to or not?”

Instead of answering that, you simply accused: “He obviously likes you better than me.”

“Is that really what this is about?  You want Bruce to like you?!” Tim scoffed.  “Are you that shallow?”

“I want him to trust me!” you clarified.  “I want him to understand what I’m capable of!”

“You know what you’re capable of,” he replied, grabbing your shoulders.  “I know.  Is that not enough?”

You let out a long breath, looking down at the floor.

“I love you,” Tim sighed— but it didn’t sound very sweet when he said it like that, it sounded sad.

“I love you too,” you replied instinctively, but it felt oddly hollow leaving your lips.

“Please,” he breathed as he pressed his forehead to yours, “please stay safe.  You’re stronger than me, you can take a lot more than I can.”

You were about to ask him what he meant by that, since you both knew he was physically stronger and more resilient than you, walking away from fights that could’ve put you in a stretcher.  But before you could ask, he spoke again.

“My heart can only take so much.”

But that only proved your point, though you didn’t tell him out loud: that what him and Bruce wanted you to do had nothing to do with your strength, and everything to do with their weakness.

~

In your defense, you took the night off.

But the next night, you had to get out there— Bruce and Tim told you to stay behind so Batman and Robin could go save the day, and you?  You were holding down the fort, keeping the couch warm.  What a fucking waste; there was more evil in this city than two men could purge— there was more for you to do.  As tempting as it was to meet them at the rendezvous location they’d figured out and try to help clear out the gangsters there buying an illegal weapons shipment, you knew that would just lead to the same fight again.  This time, the plan was to go out, kick some criminal ass, come back, and leave Bruce none the wiser.

You scanned police radios patiently, waiting for just the right thing— small enough to fix on your own, big enough to matter.  You wished, sometimes, that you had less to choose from…

Units respond, units respond — 10-79 reported at West Main and 88th.

Bomb threat.  That felt manageable, and you were pretty handy with defusal in case that threat had any credibility.  You turned off the radio and stood up, looking down over the city from your vantage point on a highrise fire escape.  It was beautiful, in its grimy Gotham way: a light rainfall coated everything in a fuzzy static like old film; it made the concrete reflect the neon lights a little clearer, the whole skyline sort of slick and steamy.  

Running and jumping to the next roof, you made a path to your destination and navigated the city unseen, like any good Bat-person would.

You were nearly there when you stopped on a roof above an abandoned manufacturing plant— well, that’s the thing, it wasn’t as abandoned as you thought.  There was a glass sunroof, and even though it was dark and rainy, the light inside brought your attention to a group of men inside.  Not to profile or anything, but 4 bald guys with guns standing around is usually a good sign that someone’s up to no good…

Trying to get a better look at what was going on inside, you carefully lifted one of the glass panels and slipped inside, sneaking around the metal scaffolding as the sound of the rain was muffled and replaced with distance, echoing voices.

You crouched in the rafters, watching with narrowed eyes as the group of men faced against a figure you couldn’t make out with the shadows and pillars in the way.

“So, are we good for this deal, or what?” the leader of the group asked.

A modulated, deeper voice answered: “This is half of what we agreed.”

“My team had some… road bumps, trying to bring this to you,” the man explained, stepping forward slightly.  “We lost some of the compound.  This is what we’re offering, take it or leave it.”

“I’ll take it,” the shadowy figure agreed.  “How much for what’s left?”

“The same price we discussed.”

“For half the amount?  How does that work?”

“It’s a flat rate,” the smuggler— that’s what he must have been, right?— explained with a smug smirk.  “In fact, I should charge you more— call it hazard pay, for what my men had to go through to get this here.”

“I see,” the deeper voice replied.  “How about this: I kill all of you, and take it.”

Your eyes widened; isn’t this guy alone?  He’s sure got some balls…

The group of men paused before beginning to laugh.  “You?” the leader repeated.  “This skinny guy in the suit is gonna kill all of us?”

“I can do worse than that— I’ll make you beg for me to kill you.”

Feeling the tension of this discussion reach its breaking point, you realized you needed to intervene now: leaning over to make sure you had the right spot under you, you took the grappling hook off of your belt and pointed it down.

Firing it with a metallic whooshing sort of sound, the device grabbed one of the men and yanked him up into the shadows of the ceiling with you.  Everyone on the ground looked up in shock and fear, pointing their guns aimlessly into the darkness.  Before he could even really react to what had just occurred, you dropped the man back down— onto one of his friends, of course, which incapacitated them both but saved him from a much worse fate than if he’d landed on that concrete warehouse floor.

“What the fuck?” the leader of the group yelled as he tried to fire indiscriminately up at you— but you were already running along the steel beam, following one of the men as he tried to make a dash for the exit.

A blast from your long-distance taser gun brought him to the ground instantly, and as the last one left searched for the source of your attacks, you jumped down to the ground just behind him, landing in a crouched position.  As soon as he’d turned around to face you, you’d grabbed a loose metal pipe from nearby and hit him over the head with an oddly-satisfying bong noise.

You knew the other man was still somewhere in the dark nearby, and you called out for him: “Whoever you are, stop hiding in the shadows: that’s kinda my thing,” you informed him.

He stepped forward in the cool, gray light: a man in a torn and tattered suit, with a burlap mask that had massive stitches like scars.  Batman had just warned you about this guy, what was his name again?

"My," he purred with pleasant shock, his voice clearly deepened electronically by something in that sack on his head.  "If it isn't Batgirl.  Nice outfit, very… shiny."

"Yours looks pretty rough," you noticed.

He shrugged.  "It does the job."

You smiled back, remembering finally who you were dealing with.  "Not with me.  I'm not scared of you, Scarecrow."

"You will be," he promised.

You swung first, a roundhouse kick right at his head, but he ducked and came back up at you— he tried to grab you but you slipped away.

Instead of going after you again, he ran— grabbed one of the suitcases off of the palette nearby, whatever this ‘shipment’ was, and bolted for the door into the alleyway.  You almost laughed, impressed that he thought he could outrun you, but then again this was the guy who threatened to kill four armed men straight to their face.

You chased him right out the door, but as you dashed into the alley behind the manufacturing plant— the one that faced the northern street— you learned a moment too late that he hadn’t run at all, but was waiting for you there.

He sprayed something in your face, and you coughed as a cloud of vapor filled your lungs.  You assumed it was pepper spray at first, but it didn't burn— actually, it smelled a little sweet, sort of herbal.  But the effects were almost instantaneous, the pounding in your chest and the sinking feeling in your gut, the world spinning around you.

The fear response: heart rate increase, cold sweat, overall heightened arousal.

Instantly you felt old memories rushing in— awful, horrifying ones, and even worse than you remembered them.  For a moment, there was fear with no real object, just the feeling… until he grabbed your face and forced you to look at him, at the wicked mask that seemed impossibly close— that seemed like it could swallow you whole.  You screamed, trying to turn away or shut your eyes or something, but nothing assuaged the terror.

"Please," you sobbed.  "Make it stop!  Please!"

“Nothing can stop it now,” his voice returned— even rougher and darker than before, the deep bass of it making you shiver.  “This is who you are.  Give in to the fear.”

If nothing else, he had a point that fighting it wasn’t proving very useful— but giving in meant letting the world collapse in on you, letting the darkness pull you back… the darkness you’d fought so hard to make into an ally was becoming your enemy again.  

He grabbed your mask and tugged it away; even overwhelmed with primal terror, enough logic remained for you to reach up and try to cover your face.

But he simply grabbed your hands and shoved them away.  You heard a laugh behind that horrible mask, just before he suddenly took it off.

The toxin changed his face, too— his smile was wider and his teeth sharper, his eyes totally black— and you couldn't recognize him at first.  Only when he addressed you by name did you finally put it together; "Professor Crane?" you realized with a horrified gasp.

"I imagine you haven't finished rewriting that paper yet?"

"Oh god," you sobbed, "you— you're— how can you do this?"

You struggled against him again, but he held you back effortlessly.  “I said I liked you because you’re a challenge,” he remembered with a laugh.  “But out here, you’re no challenge at all.  Just a stupid little girl in a mask.”

He slapped you hard across the face, making you stumble even more as you lost your balance, colliding with the damp black asphalt.

He descended onto you, turning you on your back when you tried to hide your face in your arm as an escape from the terrifying visions.  “I’ve been waiting for a chance to put you in your place,” he admitted with a growl as he started to pull your armored clothes off of you roughly.  “You act a little too fearless for my liking… good to know it’s all an act.”

You cried, shaking and flailing beneath him, but you couldn’t actually put up a fight like this— the darkness throbbed around you, shadows reaching out to pull you into their abyss.  “Please,” you begged again, “no!  Stop, please!”

You weren’t even sure yourself if you were talking to him or to the hallucinated, anthropomorphized energy in the dark, but neither stopped.  He struggled at times to get your clothes off, they weren’t exactly designed to come off quickly but you shuddered violently from the cool night air when your chest was exposed.  You heard a deep growl from him, and you whimpered loudly as his hands ran over your skin.  “What are you so scared of?” he asked, sounding amused— but in your mind, those hands were claws that could shred you to pieces at any moment, and you breathed so fast that your chest just spasmed and quaked.  “I think you’ve been needing this for a while…”

He roughly turned you onto your stomach, face down against the street, and started to tug down your pants.  You were too scared to even beg him to stop, to try to bargain or reason with him— you just shuddered and cried, hiding your face and hoping for relief from the dread.

He smacked you on your bare ass, once it was exposed, and chuckled to himself at your whine in response.  The next thing you heard was the sound of a belt opening, a zipper unzipped…

Was it the toxin that made you afraid he would rip you in half, when he pressed his erection against your thigh?  Or was that just common sense?

You grimaced when you heard him spit into his hand, but it fell into a whining cry as he pushed his tip against your opening.  With your pants only down to your knees, you couldn’t even spread your legs at all, making you feel even more like there was no chance he could fit.  The sick, anxious fear felt a little different now— maybe not as strong, but mostly just something new… something deeper and subtler and heavier.  It wasn’t visions of monsters or memories of suffering, it was just this inevitable violation and the sureness that you were completely helpless.

He pushed his hips forward sharply, making you scream out and instantly reach back to try to grab his hips and push them away.  He ignored it and kept going forward with a low groan.  “Mm, you can take it,” he promised gruffly.  “Fucking take it.”

You cried as he put a hand on your shoulders, keeping you pressed down painfully into the ground, as he slid the rest of the way in.

It stung, it stretched you in an awful way and went far too deep… but you were wet, you could feel it.  Overall heightened arousal… not that sort of arousal, necessarily.  He obviously noticed as well, growling a bit.  “You like this, hm?” he accused.

“N-no,” you managed to slur, but it was hard to even breathe with his weight pressing you down.  You pushed back harder against his thighs through his undone trousers, but he growled and grab your hand to pin it down above your head.  He brought the other up beside it, and quickly pulled his belt out from the loops to tie around your wrists.  “Professor,” you pleaded under your breath, feeling your warm tears mix with the cold rain on the ground.

But he was already inside you, it was too late for that— and with your hands conveniently out of the way, he breathed heavy as he started to pull back and shove back in.

There was no build-up after that, he just fucked you as hard and fast as he wanted with no regard for how you cried and struggled under him.  He grabbed your hair and forced your head back awkwardly as you sobbed.

“Say my name,” he ordered, apparently irritated by the title of ‘Professor’ — but you didn’t know for sure if he wanted to be addressed as Jonathan or Scarecrow, and you feared the consequences if you chose incorrectly.  

Still, you blurted out the first thing that came to mind: “J-Jonathan,” you spat out hoarsely, and he grinned happily before dropping you back onto the ground.  You struggled against the belt around your wrists— not actually expecting to get out of it, and not having any plan if you did, just mainly out of instinct.  All it did was dig the sharp edge of the leather into your skin, making you cry harder.

It rocked you back and forth on the ground, those rough thrusts— the friction inside you was hot and fast, and each time he slammed all the way in, you heard the clapping of skin on skin and felt his tip ram against the deepest places inside you.  You didn’t even realize it was possible to be bruised inside like that, but you knew you would be by the end of this.

He didn’t slow down, really, but he changed his rhythm slightly and found an angle to go even just a bit deeper into you, until you whined pathetically with every pump into you.  It seemed like the toxin was wearing off, in that you weren’t seeing things anymore, but there was still obviously a sick feeling in your stomach, and an unreliable beating in your chest, and a deep throbbing in your ears.

“You’re getting even wetter,” he noticed with a low chuckle, and you whimpered as you hoped not to have to acknowledge that.  “Fucking soaking me— poor girl, I don’t think you can help it…”

At least it made this hurt a little less, but no amount of wetness could prevent him from holding your hips painfully tight and fucking you so forcefully it seemed hateful.  You whined loudly with every movement, fingers curling into shaky fists even when it was useless with his belt restraining you.

When you turned your face to the side, you saw figures at the other end of the alley— not hallucinations, nothing scary, just passersby on the street— and you reached out for them instinctively as hope flooded your chest.  Blinking the tears from your eyes, you could see them clearer: a man and woman, older, well-dressed.  “P-please,” you croaked out in a broken voice, “please, help me— call the police—”

They heard you, and they turned and looked at you, only to grimace and turn away; the man pulled his date closer, shuffling her away with him as they kept walking.  You whimpered pathetically, and Crane laughed above you.  “That’s Gotham for you,” he mused.  “No one wants to get involved.  These are the people Batgirl wants to save?”

They weren’t the only ones who saw, either; later, a small crowd of young men in bandanas and baggy pants passed by— some of them looked young enough to still be in high school.  You prayed to anything that would listen that they would move along without noticing, but one of them saw and pointed at you two with a scoffing laugh.  Feeling as if you could throw up, you shut your eyes tight and heard the chorus of jeers as they realized what they were seeing.  They laughed and hollered; what the fuck, dude! and ohh shit and hey, she’s pretty hot declared in juvenile voices between raunchy chuckles.  You saw flashes of light when you blinked your eyes— were they taking pictures of this with their phones?  You wondered if Jonathan would be forced to stop them, if he was concerned about evidence, but he didn’t react at all… he didn’t even slow down.

Once they’d gotten an eyeful and the sight had lost its shock, they wandered away— you could still hear their voices echoing around the buildings for a moment until it all faded in with the ambient sounds of the city: sirens, horns, footsteps, and that perpetual Gotham drizzle.

“I can feel it,” he whispered to you suddenly, “it keeps squeezing me.  Such a needy fucking cunt.”

You didn’t know if the ‘cunt’ was referring to your anatomy or to you as a person, and either option made your throat a little dry— but dryness was the least of your problems between your legs, in fact you were pretty sure you were dripping now, you could feel how slippery and sticky you’d become.  Your thighs were coated, it was even running down over your swelling and neglected clit.

He lowered himself a bit, resting his arms beside your head and breathing close to your ear.  He even brushed some of your hair out of the way with his hand, wanting to get a better look at your face, and you shut your eyes.

Increasingly loud groans and sighs above you made you realize what was about to happen, just as much as the throbbing feeling inside you.

“F-fuck,” he let out in a scratchy voice.  “Fuck!”

You whimpered yourself just as you heard him choke out a sort of high-pitched, shaky moan, and his thrusts went from erratic and desperate to slower and uneven.  He twitched inside you, and you felt the flood of heat in impossible contrast to the cold ground under you.

“God…” he groaned, his hand on your shoulder tightening and digging a little too deep into your skin.  Then he laughed a little as he finally came to a stop— breathless, light, almost making him sound impressed.  With you or himself, it’s hard to say; it sounded like a laugh of relief.

A lump formed in your throat as you considered what you were supposed to do now— he’d just come inside you, raw, and it made your stomach sink (but it made your walls clench unexpectedly, too).  As he carefully pulled out, you whimpered at the way it reawakened the sting of his first entrance— especially when he first pushed inside.  He sighed heavily when he finally got himself out of you completely, and then his hands— hot, a little clammy, and strong— came into view to free your aching wrists from his belt.  

He stood up over you, and you heard him readjust his trousers before zipping them up and putting back on his belt.  “Was it good for you?” he asked with a quiet, but smug, chuckle.

Bringing your hands nearer to press against the ground, you tried to lift yourself up on shaking arms.  When your torso was only a few inches off the pavement, Jonathan put his polished shoe on your back between your shoulder blades and pushed you back down.  You whimpered as he looked down at you, tilting his head while he admired your helpless form.

“Stay down,” he ordered.

Finally taking his foot off of you, he picked his mask up from the ground, sighing as he shook some of the raindrops off of it and put it back on.

“Well,” he began with a sigh, his voice modulated by the sack over his head again, “I’ll see you in class.  I look forward to seeing what you do with that paper.”

You didn’t watch him leave; you just heard the warehouse door shut again.  Your eyes were looking blankly forward, blinking away stinging tears, looking at the way the neon lights of the buildings across the street reflected in the puddles on the ground.

~

You jolted, much more than necessary, when someone knocked on the bathroom door; it made the water in your bath ripple, though the fluffy white surface of the bubbles was hardly disturbed.  “Can I come in?” you heard Bruce’s voice.

“Yeah,” you answered, but he stopped when he opened the door.

“You’re not decent,” he noticed, turning away.

“There’s bubbles everywhere, you can’t see anything,” you sighed, and he stepped the rest of the way in.  A pause that both of you pretended wasn’t awkward occurred.

“Tim told me that you came back roughed up,” he said eventually.

You said nothing.

“I told you not to—” he began.

“I know.” 

He sighed; you kept staring forward at the white tile wall in front of you.  "What happened?" he asked simply.

“I know Tim told you already— two guys, probably Falcone’s— they went at me in a tunnel by the Southside,” you explained with a sigh.  “I was just following a stolen van, I didn’t know who took it— I would’ve called you if I knew.  I just wanted something I could handle on my own.”

You knew the story didn’t add up; Falcone’s men would’ve probably given you a black eye, maybe a broken nose, and bruises on your stomach from kicks and punches.  Instead what you had were concrete scrapes on your cheek, fingerprint-sized bruises on your hips and thighs, and thin abrasions all around your wrists.  Not to mention the jitters and auditory hallucinations from working Crane’s toxin out of your system— his voice, still in your ear: just a stupid little girl in a mask.  You’d stopped looking over your shoulder by now, but your heart still raced every time.

You knew the story didn’t add up, but you knew it didn’t matter, because Bruce was going to buy it.  He wasn’t ready to imagine the truth yet.  This time, when you heard Crane’s voice, it wasn’t a hallucination but a memory: you sure were eager for an explanation.

Bruce nodded and began to walk out of the bathroom.  “Alright,” he said.  “Rest up.”

You scoffed to yourself as he left quietly— for a detective, he still had a few blindspots.  Surely, we all do.

Left alone in the bathroom again, you were surrounded by silence once more.  In silence, it was easier to hear his voice in your ear.  Just a stupid little girl in a mask.

The shrill sound of your cell phone startled you, and you awkwardly leaned out of the tub just far enough to grab it off of the pile of towels you'd left it on.

"Hello?" you answered, irritation obvious in your tone.

“Hello, ma’am, this is Tracy from the Gotham University Student Wellness Center,” the sweet, lilting voice came from the other end of the line.  “We recently received notice of concern that you may be experiencing domestic violence.  We’d love for you to come into our office to discuss this and receive complementary counseling, when’s a good time that we could—?”

You hung up and tossed the phone away, sinking down into the water.

[so-much-for-the-seashells]

Taming the Supe

✨ Soldier Boy x Fem!Therapist!Reader ✨

Minors do ¡NOT! interact with this post. Thanks.

A/N: Let me be upfront and say that I actually haven’t seen the boys 😭 not my cup of tea as far as shows go. So this perception of SB might be very far off. But like, he’s hot and he keeps showing up on my feed so this is happening >:) and in my defense I did try to do a little bit of research on America’s Ass(hole), so hopefully that shows lol. From what I understand he’s a TERRIBLE person who just so happens to be extremely attractive, so slay. Oh, also, to any therapist reading this: I am so, SO sorry.

Icons by me! Any and all interaction is very much appreciated!

Also- I’m looking for a beta reader/ editor! If you think you’d be interested, dm me!

Content Warnings: 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️ 🌶️honestly that about sums it up. There’s SOME- A LITTLE- plot but it’s more plop if you catch my drift. This is toe-curling, eyes-rolling, name-screaming, tsunami-coming level shit, ya hear?? At least, that’s what I went for. ;)

Just note that SB is… very SB for the better half of it. And he has an INSANE breeding kink.

The ending’s real rushed cause honestly this was mainly written for the spice, but hopefully it’s enjoyable!

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Taming Soldier Boy was a feat that should have been impossible. In all regards.

He was a jackass- apple didn’t fall far from the tree as far as he and his dad were concerned. It wasn’t necessarily Ben’s fault; you cant help your blood. But because of said aforementioned father, Ben was brought up on misogynist ideals and the ideal that he was simultaneously both a disappointment and the bearer of a massive god-complex. The former applied to when he was around his father, the latter to when he was around literally anyone else.

Not only that, but he was separated from society for forty years, being tortured- sorry, “experimented on���- by a skeevy Russian organization that his own teammates had pawned him off too. Sure, he had committed massive, unforgivable atrocities, but quite frankly, the other supes on Payback weren’t much better. Maybe not as bad, but certainly not much better.

He re-walked upon the United States at the very young age of one hundred and three, coupled with PTSD, a god complex and more “back in my day” rants than your weird old uncle could ever hope to spew.

And now the thing is: it’s easy to make him look like he blends in. Trim the disheveled forty-year-old beard, give him some boyish bangs, throw him in a tight white shirt and a Giants jersey with grey sweats and all of a sudden you have a normal looking, abnormally attractive dude. Looks maybe thirty seven. Has a smile that has probably actually, literally charmed the pants off of someone.

But to make him act right? That’s the hard part.

That also where you came in.

You were a therapist with a damn good reputation. Shouldn’t have been involved with Supes in the slightest, but you owed Hughie Campbell a favor. Good kid who just so happened to have powers. So be it.

The kid had stumbled into your office a few years before Soldier Boy returned, and you had had multiple sessions before he dropped of the grid. You paid it no mind- you have a lot of clients, and therapy isn’t a good world to get attached to any of them.

But then one day, after one of Homelander’s many destructive “saves” of the city, you found yourself stuck in a burning building. By some miracle Hughie was in the same building, and he teleported you out and onto safer ground. Sure it was awkward being held up bridal style by a young dude who was ass-naked, but stranger things have happened.

Because of the save, you felt that you owed him, and told him as much. He was gracious, not wanting to take advantage of you, and you went back to not hearing anything from him.

That is, until just after the news article about Soldier Boy’s return broke out. It was definitely a headline that had caused you to raise a brow, but from what you knew America’s first supe was not what Vought made him out to be in the eyes of the public. He was an asshole who killed activists, and was most likely very racist. If anything, seeing the headline made you slightly wary for the good of the world. But you let it slide, figuring that if you already existed in a world where psychos like Homelander did you would probably be fine if there was one more.

Well, you were very much wrong.

A few days after the article broke out, Hughie called you. Asked if you would be okay to take you up on that favor. Of course, you said yes- you were only alive because of him. He had showed up to your house, and teleported you to a dinghy motel with no explanation, rendering you both in the same awkward situation as before. Him holding you bridal style, ass naked. If you had a nickel for every time he’s done that… you’d have ten cents, but it’s still oddly specific of it to happen twice.

“Listen,” he had said, setting you down. You had no choice but to do so, given that he was ass naked and it would be really awkward to see that. So you kept your eyes locked on his as he talked. “You know how Soldier Boy is back?”

“Mhm…” you nodded warily, knowing damn well that that was an ominous hook to your situation.

“Uh, he’s insane.”

“Sorry, he’s, like, he is? Presently?”

“Yeah… he’s in there and I think he would really benefit from a little therapy. His mind’s wired like a grandpa who has stories from every war.”

“Fuck, Hugh,” you cursed. He winced, his sweet eyes opened wide. “Sorry. It’s just.. are you kidding me?” Soldier Boy? It would probably take a team of specialists to figure out what’s going on in that head.

“Look, I know it’s a lot to ask, but could you at least try?”

“Only for you.” It was really hard to have resolve with those puppy dog eyes staring at you.

“Thanks, y/n. Really.”

So you had walked in behind him; waiting as he threw on some sweats that were in a plastic bag outside of the motel room door.

You walked in together, only to see the most beautiful man you’d ever seen sitting on the bed, shoes still on.

Look. Everyone has fantasized about Soldier Boy at least once in their lives. The pinnacle of physical perfection, charisma oozing from his pores- it was hard not to. You were no exception- in your younger years there had certainly been more than a few nights where you were fucking yourself to pictures or videos of him, pathetically rutting on your clit and wishing it was his huge, gloved hands instead.

Of course, that was well before the article on the truth about him broke out. After that he had majorly lost his sex appeal.

However, seeing him in person immediately flashed you back to being younger and sexually frustrated, wondering how a man like that even existed. He was even better looking in person, piercing green eyes boring holes into you.

Thankfully it only took one douchey comment to snap you back to reality.

“So prostitutes are still a thing?” he asked, the question directed at Hughie. You immediately balled your hands into fists at your side, ready to tell this old-ass off, before remembering that you were there on professional business.

“No, no, she’s a therapist,” Hughie told him. “Y/n L/n, the best in the business.”

“You brought me a shrink?” he laughed incredulously. “Fuck you, I don’t have shell shock!”

He definitely had shell shock.

You didn’t bother waiting for Hughie to answer. “Listen, Mr. Boy, I’m only here ‘cause I owe this kid a favor. Would it really pain you so much to talk about yourself for an hour?” Your hands were planted on your hips.

“Man, when did women get so feisty?” he asked, that 1950s accent oozing through his words.

“Once they came to their senses,” I say with sass.

“So what? All I have to do is talk to a pretty thing about me?”

“Pretty much,” you conceded, ignoring the “compliment” he payed you.

“Fine.” Great. He agreed. How wonderful.

“I’m going to get some food, I’ll be back in an hour. If you need anything at all, just text me,” Hughie told me. “Thanks again.”

“Sure,” you replied, leaning in by his ear. “I think you’re going to owe me after this.

“Yeah, you’re probably not wrong,” he agrees, patting you on the back before teleporting away to the store. Man, this power thing… never gets any less weird.

“Take a seat,” Soldier Boy patted his lap.

“Hilarious,” you rolled your eyes, sitting on the other bed. Look, if he hadn’t been the jackass you knew him to be you most definitely would’ve sat on his lap. But you knew better. At least in the moment. “So, tell me about yourself.”

“M’name’s Ben, and I’m a soldier. My daddy hated me, so became a superhero. Surprise, surprise, he still hated me. But I’m better, stronger than he ever was. Might go take a piss on his grave while I’m here.”

“Interesting,” you murmur, putting together a mental file. Name: Ben. No last name? Weird. Daddy issues- makes the god complex make sense. Hmm. “Did you ever have a mother in the picture?”

“No. Died when I was a boy.” Added to file.

“Okay, so then why take the serum?” You know why, but you want to see something.

“You deaf? I said it was cause my daddy hated me.”

“You took a untested, potentially dangerous serum just because of your daddy issues?” you ask, matching his rude tone.

“You- you know what? This is boring. How about you and I fuck instead of this, hm?” he asks. Him saying the word fuck turned you on more than it should, but his misogyny was a quick turnoff.

“I think I’m just going to text Hughie,” you said, moving to stand, wholly unimpressed.

“Wait, no- I did it cause I hated feeling weak. Feeling stupid. Thought it would turn me into someone, just turned me into a jackass machine,” he said honestly, his eyes big and sad.

“Okay,” you said simply, sitting back down. That’s much more like it. “So then what led you to murder innocent people?”

If this were a normal session you would have never asked such a thing. Ever. But this was anything but normal.

“What did you just say to me?” And there it was. A glimpse of that Soldier Boy quick temper. You probably shouldn’t have been making him mad, but you didn’t know how else to go about this given that you weren’t in your professional environment.

“You heard me,” you told him with your arms crossed, trying to bite back the fear caused by

“You’re playing with fire,” he warns, fists balled at his sides. “A question like that’s gonna cost ya.”

You roll your eyes, standing my ground. “Why. Did. You. Murder. Them?”

“Because they deserved it,” he yelled, standing up. You do your best not to flinch, but he was an imposing six-and-some feet tall.

“How? Did the Milk family deserve it? Did their son?” you yell, fighting off the fear in your voice.

He stops then, jaw clenching. “I was the good guy. The hero.” His voice breaks, ever so slightly. His green eyes burn holes into yours. You stare right back, just as intensely.

“So, imposter syndrome.”

“No!” he roared, the sound threatening to bring down the roof of the motel room.

“They were good people. Activists. Made a difference in their community.”

“That got what was coming to them.”

“What? A car being thrown at their house?”

“You…” he steps closer. You sit up in the bed, back against the headboard. “You don’t know me.”

I stand up then. Not nearly as tall as him, but in anger. “Yeah, but I know your actions.”

“Then you should think I’m a hero.”

“I don’t.” I say grimly, arms crossed.

“I’m Soldier Boy, for Christ’s sake,” he spat.

“Yeah, and I’m Y/N L/N. Who fucking cares.” Well this went from therapy to argument real fast.

He leans down then, by my ear. It’s all you can do not to back away as his hot breath fans the column of your neck. “Maybe you should.” His voice is gravelly, rough from anger but also from something else…

“Well I won’t.” You said, maintaining your ground.

“Wrong move, sweetheart,” he said, before crashing his lips to yours. You squeaked into the kiss, surprised, but he just took initiate to shove his tongue in your mouth, exploring with great fervor.

And you knew damn well how wrong this was. How unprofessional you had been; how bad it was that his tongue, this tongue of a murderer, was half down your throat. But in the moment you couldn’t find it in yourself to care, because he was just that good of a kisser. Made you forget about the misogyny and his volatility. At least, for the time being.

He pulled away, smirking down at you.

“If we do this, you’re going to talk to me after. Act like you’re an adult,” you told him sternly, as if your underwear wasn’t soaked with arousal from the kiss.

“Fine, fine,” he grumbled.

“I fucking mean it,” you reiterated, hands on his pecs.

“And I fucking said fine,” he retorted. “Ben,” he introduced as an after thought.

“Okay, cool. Ben.”

“That’s the name I better hear coming off those pretty lips in a couple minutes here,” his gaze darkened with lust, emerald green eyes darkened to the color of a forest cloaked in the dead of night..

“O-okay.” And there it is, the first time you gave into the stutter derived from your desire. This was dangerous, but once he kissed you again you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

When he pulled away he thumbed at your lower lip, and you immediately react led to his touch, mouth falling open around the digit. “Good girl,” he praised, and you hated the way you felt proud at his words. He pulled off his jersey and under shirt, urging you to do the same until you both stood before each other, topless. He crowded you against the bed until you fell back, calves draped over the edge. He made room for himself between your legs, kissing you furiously, and you let out little breathy sighs as he did so.

“Attagirl,” he breathed when you gasped his name as he bit along your collarbone. He continued his fiery trail, from the juncture of your earlobe and neck to your collar bone and then down your chest, and you knew damn well that you weren’t going to be able to cover up half of the marks he gave you. But you also couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

“You-you can come in me,” you mumbled as he kisses the valley between your breasts.

He chuckles darkly. “Oh, I’ll fill you up real good” he said, eliciting a gasp from you when he bites your nipple.

He continued his path of kisses down your body, and in the bottom of your eye you could already see dark marks on the tops of your breasts, making your head fuzzy.

He stopped at your pants, biting the juncture of your hip and and thigh.

“‘m gonna get you ready for me,” he explained, before ripping off your pants and underwear in one go. This is not a metaphor, he literally tore them of you. You whined in protest, but he dismissed you, saying “I’ll get you new ones.”

And even though you knew he most definitely wouldn’t, his breath on your clit stopped you from caring.

He gave you no warning before diving into your soaked pussy, and you all but screamed his name when he fid, your fingers grasping his hair for dear life. He groaned into your cunt but kept going, spurred on by your actions.

The thing was, you hadn’t expected him to be good at eating pussy. He was from, like, the forties, after all. You thought that most people then probably didn’t bother as no one really cared about women and probably their pleasure back then.

Well, Soldier Boy- Ben- was very different.

He worked at you methodically, licking long stripes before thrusting his tongue in an out of you, testing the waters. He kept eye contact, and you could feel the smugness in his gaze as he watched you come apart.

Eventually he switched so that he was sucking on your clit, which would’ve been enough to bring you over already but then he added one of his long, thick fingers to your pussy. You yelped his name, not ready for the stretch and on the edge.

“Don’t stop,” you urged, whining. “Please don’t stop, Ben.”

And he didn’t, adding a second finger and scissoring within you. If his fingers were already like this, his cock…

But you couldn’t think about that then, nor could you really think about anything at all because he started tracing tight patterns on your bud and added a third finger, stretching you so far that you had no choice but to come. He helped you ride out your high for longer than you thought possible, lapping up all of your release before standing up to full height.

“That good, Sweets?” he smirked, looking down at your fucked out self. You nodded dumbly, and he chuckled. “Thought so.”

Your release covered his facial hair, but he didn’t seem to care much, just wiped a little off with his forearm. He then kicked off his shoes and took off his pants and underwear, and that’s when you saw it.

You were already baffled by him- beyond hot, perfect physique, pussy-eating champion, etc.

But his cock? It was huge. And it was perfect, a word that shouldn’t be able to be used to describe the male genitalia.

“Ben- that’s not going to fit-,” you gasp, sounding like a cheap porno.

“We’ll see about that,” he said, and from his tone you could tell he was going to bottom out no matter what.

Oh, god.

He climbed over you, his large forearms on either side of your head as he rested over you in a plank. He put a pillow under your hips, and you knew you were in for it.

He rubbed his glorious dick over your hole, your clit, and through your folds, covering it in your slick, and you moaned his name.

“Good girl,” he praised, before finally lining up with your entrance. You were already clenching around nothing, but then he started pushing in.

If his fingers were big, his dick… even the tip had you a moaning mess.

“Oh, honey, you’re tighter than a virgin who’s never touched herself,” he groaned as he pushed in, you writhing beneath him. “‘n I just stretched you out, too.” The pillow under your hips let him get impossibly deep, and after an eternity he finally bottomed out, so large that you shouldn’t have been able to take him. But you did, and he hadn’t even done anything yet but you were a whimpering, whiny mess under him.

“I’m gonna move now,” he told you, before pulling almost all the way out and back in, slowly. You were writhing under him, but he was undeterred, and just kept going until you gave him easy access.

“Ben?” you asked, your voice sweet. And you didn’t know what possessed you to add the next part of your question, but you did. “Can you fuck me?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” he groaned, before rearing back again and slamming back into you. It was hard and it was rough, and it was exactly what you wanted even if you knew you weren’t gonna be able to sit right for a week.

You literally had a supe cock in you. You’d seen dildos of these, maybe even owned one, but nothing could do the real thing justice as you whined beneath it.

And if you thought it was already enough just taking him like this, once he started talking you were through.

“Yeah, take it,” he smirked, pounding into you at literal superhuman speed. “I’m going to destroy this cunt until we’re both leaking out of it, and then I’m going to keep going,” he promised against your collarbone, biting anywhere he pleased. You whimper against him, pussy clenching around his enormous length as it crashed in and out of your fluttering walls.

“You like that? Wanna be my little slut?” he grinned, rutting on your clit so you couldn’t answer. “You’d be a real good slut. Would just keep you at home all day, naked and always ready for me. Always full of me too,” he mused, his pace somehow getting rougher. Your mouth was dropped in a permanent ‘o’ as you reveled in the way his huge hands are squeezing your hips and pulling you against him, filing you to the base.

“No other boy can do it like me, sweetheart,” he said cockily. “Fill you up so good, make you mewl.” And as it turns out he was most definitively right about that. But then it was too hard to think about what’s right and wrong when-

“Ben- I- ‘m gonna-.”

“Aww baby, what’s the matter? ‘M I fucking you too good? You can’t talk?”

You moaned pathetically, pulling on his fluffy hair.

“I know, I know,” he said with a soft grunt. “Come for me, pretty thing. Come.” And you did. Hard, all consumingly. It hurt so good that you almost blacked out, but he kept going, doing his damnedest to overstimulate you.

“Ain’t done with you yet, sweetheart. Ain’t even close,” he told you, pulling you off of him and sitting, legs swung over the edge of the bed, feet planted on the ground. He grabbed you, letting you straddle his lap before slamming you down on his length. At this angle he could get impossibly deeper, his dick easily reaching your cervix on every thrust. You screamed, holding onto him for dear life with your face buried in his neck.

“Gonna fill you until you’re full, and then some,” he promised, lifting you up and down, flexing that super strength. “Rub on that pretty clit for me, doll,” he asked. You tried, you really did, but you were just so sensitive.

“That’s okay, I’ll do everything for you, you just take it like a good slut,” he cooed, bringing a hand between the two of you and rutting on your clit without abandon. You came again with a wail of his name before he pistoned into you sloppily, finally spilling his own release into you. And it was messy, and you were far too full to keep going, but he doesn’t care, somehow still hard even though he had just painted your walls with his thick, sticky cum.

You were babbling at this point, raking your nails against him as he kept going to town on your cunt.

“It’s just been too long, baby,” he explained, kissing the side of your head. “Got a little too much energy.” Yeah no shit, with the way that you knew that you were not going to be able to walk.

But he just couldn’t seem to shut up. “Y’know, if I had you back in my day we would’ve had ten kids. You would’ve give birth to one and then I’d put another one in you the next month,” he said as he continued his brutal pace. And damn, this man really had a breeding kink. It was not really your thing-kids tend to get in the way of careers, and also, you were infertile- but anything’s hot when it comes out of those plush lips with the 50s accent, so, naturally, you moan in response.

“Would’ve kept you sated all the time too, sweetheart. Any time you were hot and bothered, had an attitude… I’d fuck it out of you,” he murmured, enveloping you in his arms to hold you closer. You didn’t know if it’s the proximity to him, his voice, or the way that he hasn’t really let you come down from any of your highs, but suddenly you were coming again… just in a different way.

“Aww baby, did you just squirt?” he chuckled. You did all you can to further hide your face in his neck as he just kept going, only concious enough to register your embarrassment and fatigue. He pulls you by your hair to look at him. “Don’t be embarrassed, sweetheart, that was so hot.” You smiled, cheeks pink, your somehow still horny self proud of his compliment.

“It’s okay, just give me one more and you’ll be done, alright?”

“O-okay,” you say shakily. You hadn’t even noticed hot much your legs were quivering until then, and he laughed, squeezing them close.

“You’re so cute, y’know that?” he praised, rubbing your clit. Your blush became even more furious before you came again at him tracing patterns into your poor, overstimulated, sensitive bud. He came in you shortly after with a very sexy grunt, and it was just leaking out of you, going all over the tops of his thighs. He held you at the base of his cock though, not ready to pull out.

“You alright, Dollface?” he asked, gingerly moving- somehow while keeping his cock in you- you onto your back. You nodded, sleepiness overtaking you.

“Good girl,” he nuzzled your nose, gifting you the view of all of the pretty freckles on his cheeks looking like gold specs. You whined as he pulls out, and he tutted, plugging you up with his fingers.

“Don’t tempt me, sweetheart. If you were a supe we’d be going another ten rounds, but I know you’re tired,” he warned, cock still semi-hard.

“Ben,” you gestured towards it, unsure what you were going to say because as much as you wish you had his stamina, you didn’t.

“It’ll be fine, sweets,” he shrugged it off. “Perks of the unbelievable stamina.” He kissed your forehead, before lightly thrusting his fingers in and out of you in attempt to keep the cum in. Pitiful tears leaked out of the corner of your eyes from the overstimulation.

“There, there,” he cooed, kissing them away. “Just don’t want to waste any,” he smirked, before leaving his long, thick fingers where they were inside you, all the way up to the knuckle. Your legs can’t stop shaking, and you try to talk but you can’t.

“Let me get you some water, put your fingers here for me,” he said, waiting until you do so, feeling your sticky release on your hand. You knew damn well that you werenot going to be able to stand.

“Here, sweets,” he returned, still ass naked, holding a glass, taking your fingers out of your cunt and licking them clean. “We taste real good, sugar.” You whimpered, ready to go at it again, abused pussy be damned. Speaking of, the poor cleaning staff… your mixed releases were dripping out of your poor hole, coating the bed and the bottom of your thighs in the stickiness.

“You really are an insatiable little minx,” he chuckled, holding you up so you can take a sip of the water. You obliged, eagerly chugging it down.

“I’m not going to be able to walk,” you muttered, resting your head on his freckled shoulders.

“Looks like you’re going to need to stick around, so I can take care of you,” he squeezed you.

“I’ll tell Hughie to take another hour, tell him that the therapy’s going real well,” you suggested.

“Oh yeah, real well. Definitely a happy ending, if you catch my drift.”

“Multiple happy endings.”

“Atta girl,” he kisses the top of your head.

You sat there in silence for a bit, basking in the afterglow as he rocked you back and fourth gently.

You’d seen so many sides to this man: Misogynistic, quick tempered, sex-god… but sweetness? This was the one that surprised you. Maybe there was hope for him yet.

“Ben?” you broke the silence.

“Yeah?”

“Uh, I could help you, y’know. If you want, anyway. And it wouldn’t even be proper therapy- you know, cause we just- yeah.” your words were shaky but you meant them. There was something about the supe that made you think that maybe, just maybe you could help him.

“I dunno, sweets. I think I’m a little too far gone.”

Vulnerability. That’s progress.

“Could you at least try?”

“I can’t say no to you,” he said. And you’d take him up on that.

••••••••••••A Couple Years Later••••••••••••

Ben Johnson, as he was now known, ended up becoming a normal member of society. After a LOT of work, he’s grown into himself. He cares about people, his ego’s lessened, his temper too. You had helped him through the whole way- gotten him a proper therapist and everything. And now you two were a couple who could just go out and get donuts, and do normal couple things.

“They’re cream-filled!” he beams boyishly, his bangs in his face and his eyes sparkling. He sets the box down in front of you, somehow having already gotten powdered sugar in his beard. He leans in and whispers excitedly, “you know, like you!”

“You’re bad,” you giggle, as if you don’t have him leaking out of you where you sit. You had stopped for a quickie before you made it to the donut shop, it wasn’t your fault that you were so irresistible to each other.

“Not anymore, sweetheart,” he winks with a click of the tongue. Which is true- there’s a certain softness to him these days. His jaw isn’t so set, the crow’s feet by his eyes have deepened. He isn’t so volatile, his tempers dissolved a bit. He’s become more human.

Not to mention that he’s made great progress in apologizing to his victims and making amends to the best of his ability. It may never be enough, but now that he has someone to teach him how to be right and a better understanding of the complexities of the modern world, there’s a chance. And that’s a chance worth taking, to help someone who could’ve been good become good.

Taming Soldier Boy was a feat that should have been impossible, but you had nailed it.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Hope you enjoyed this fic! If you have any ideas for headcanons or fics, my ask box is always open! I don’t bite- not unless you want me too 😏 (so. So. Sorry 😭)

Xx!

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Harry Potter and PTSD

I think no one would argue Harry Potter isn't traumatized, but I actually wanted to go through PTSD symptoms and find evidence of them in book quotes. It's mostly as a fun, little exercise (the word fun is debatable here, it made me quite sad, actually) as I'm not a licensed therapist, and I have no qualifications to diagnose anyone with anything. But I wanted to take a look at some of how Harry's trauma manifests especially in the final 3 books as the signs of PTSD are most obvious and glaring after Voldemort's resurrection and get worse after Sirius' death.

(As the title and first paragraphs suggest, this post isn't a happy one, so beware. I will be discussing symptoms of trauma as shown in the HP books)

I will be using adult PTSD symptoms since:

Older children and teens usually show symptoms more like those seen in adults. They also may develop disruptive, disrespectful, or destructive behaviors. Older children and teens may feel guilt over not preventing injury or death, or have thoughts of revenge.

(Source)

All further quotes regarding PTSD and its symptoms and how they might show were taken from the same website linked above.

To be diagnosed with PTSD, an adult must have all of the following for at least 1 month: * At least one re-experiencing symptom * At least one avoidance symptom * At least two arousal and reactivity symptoms * At least two cognition and mood symptoms

So, let's get straight into it and go into the diagnosis categories:

Re-experiencing symptoms

* Flashbacks—reliving the traumatic event, including physical symptoms, such as a racing heart or sweating * Recurring memories or dreams related to the event * Distressing thoughts * Physical signs of stress Thoughts and feelings can trigger these symptoms, as can words, objects, or situations that are reminders of the event.

Harry definitely suffers from nightmares post-Voldemort's-resurrection, and memories coming back about it:

Had they all forgotten what he had done? Hadn’t it been he who had entered that graveyard and watched Cedric being murdered and been tied to that tombstone and nearly killed ... ? Don’t think about that, Harry told himself sternly for the hundredth time that summer. It was bad enough that he kept revisiting the graveyard in his nightmares, without dwelling on it in his waking moments too.

(OotP)

In the meantime, he had nothing to look forward to but another restless, disturbed night, because even when he escaped nightmares about Cedric he had unsettling dreams about long dark corridors, all finishing in dead ends and locked doors, which he supposed had something to do with the trapped feeling he had when he was awake.

(OotP)

And it continues even months later, he's still dreaming about the graveyard:

He was not going to share his dreams with anyone. He knew perfectly well what his regular nightmare about a graveyard meant, he did not need Ron or Professor Trelawney or the stupid Dream Oracle to tell him that...

(OotP)

Distressing thoughts are par for the course for Harry, but I'll bring up some examples:

And Harry saw very clearly as he sat there under the hot sun how people who cared about him had stood in front of him one by one, his mother, his father, his godfather, and finally Dumbledore, all determined to protect him; but now that was over. He could not let anybody else stand between him and Voldemort; he must abandon forever the illusion he ought to have lost at the age of one, that the shelter of a parent’s arms meant that nothing could hurt him.

(HBP)

He feels responsible for all of their deaths even though they are all adults who chose to be there and protect him. Harry still feels guilt and responsibility over them, even when it isn't his fault, and he shouldn't feel responsible for those who stood between him and Voldemort.

While Harry shows physical signs of stress (such as a racing heart or sweating), They are shown in actual moments of stress where any human would be stressed, so I don't count them here since they are not an immediate result of trauma.

Regardless, I'd say he does have relieving symptoms. Recurring dreams, thoughts, and a sense of guilt are all present.

Avoidance symptoms

* Staying away from places, events, or objects that are reminders of the experience * Avoiding thoughts or feelings related to the traumatic event Avoidance symptoms may cause people to change their routines. For example, some people may avoid driving or riding in a car after a serious car accident.

Harry doesn't actually have the luxury to really avoid anything (poor boy) but he does avoid talking about his dreams of the graveyard, as mentioned in the quote in the Re-experiencing section. He doesn't tell anyone, not even Ron or Hermione about his nightmares. Neither does he want to talk about Cedric. He doesn't even want to think about the graveyard and Cedric as mentioned in one of the above quotes:

Had they all forgotten what he had done? Hadn’t it been he who had entered that graveyard and watched Cedric being murdered and been tied to that tombstone and nearly killed ... ? Don’t think about that, Harry told himself sternly for the hundredth time that summer.

(OotP)

Even though Cho keeps bringing Cedric up to process her own experience, Harry does not want to talk or think about him and what happened at the graveyard.

She shook her head and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. “I’m — sorry,” she said thickly. “I suppose ... it’s just ... learning all this stuff... It just makes me ... wonder whether ... if he’d known it all ... he’d still be alive...” Harry’s heart sank right back past its usual spot and settled somewhere around his navel. He ought to have known. She wanted to talk about Cedric.

(OotP)

“I came in here with Cedric last year,” said Cho. In the second or so it took for him to take in what she had said, Harry’s insides had become glacial. He could not believe she wanted to talk about Cedric now, while kissing couples surrounded them and a cherub floated over their heads.

(OotP)

Zacharias said dismissively, “All Dumbledore told us last year was that Cedric Diggory got killed by You- Know-Who and that you brought Diggory’s body back to Hogwarts. He didn’t give us details, he didn’t tell us exactly how Diggory got murdered, I think we’d all like to know — ” “If you’ve come to hear exactly what it looks like when Voldemort murders someone I can’t help you,” Harry said. His temper, always so close to the surface these days, was rising again. He did not take his eyes from Zacharias Smith’s aggressive face, determined not to look at Cho. “I don’t want to talk about Cedric Diggory, all right? So if that’s what you’re here for, you might as well clear out.”

(OotP)

And when he mentions some of it, he's emotionally overwhelmed and stumbling over his words. He didn't really process everything that happened in the graveyard and he doesn't know how to talk about it:

Ron and Hermione were still smirking and Harry felt his temper rise; he wasn’t even sure why he was feeling so angry. “Don’t sit there grinning like you know better than I do, I was there, wasn’t I?” he said heatedly. “I know what went on, all right? And I didn’t get through any of that because I was brilliant at Defense Against the Dark Arts, I got through it all because — because help came at the right time, or because I guessed right — but I just blundered through it all, I didn’t have a clue what I was doing — STOP LAUGHING!” The bowl of murtlap essence fell to the floor and smashed. He became aware that he was on his feet, though he couldn’t remember standing up. Crookshanks streaked away under a sofa; Ron and Hermione’s smiles had vanished. “You don’t know what it’s like You — neither of you — you’ve never had to face him, have you? You think it’s just memorizing a bunch of spells and throwing them at him, like you’re in class or something? The whole time you know there’s nothing between you and dying except your own — your own brain or guts or whatever — like you can think straight when you know you’re about a second from being murdered, or tortured, or watching your friends die — they’ve never taught us that in their classes, what it’s like to deal with things like that — and you two sit there acting like I’m a clever little boy to be standing here, alive, like Diggory was stupid, like he messed up — you just don’t get it, that could just as easily have been me, it would have been if Voldemort hadn’t needed me — ”

(OotP)

He mentions how it isn't easy for him to talk about it when he does his interview for the Quibbler:

Harry had not found it an easy experience to talk about the night when Voldemort had returned. Rita had pressed him for every little detail, and he had given her everything he could remember, knowing that this was his one big opportunity to tell the world the truth. He wondered how people would react to the story. He guessed that it would confirm a lot of people in the view that he was completely insane, not least because his story would be appearing alongside utter rubbish about Crumple-Horned Snorkacks. But the breakout of Bellatrix Lestrange and her fellow Death Eaters had given Harry a burning desire to do something, whether it worked or not...

(OotP)

So, I'd say Harry shows avoidance symptoms in abundance as well.

Arousal and reactivity symptoms

* Being easily startled * Feeling tense, on guard, or on edge * Having difficulty concentrating * Having difficulty falling asleep or staying asleep * Feeling irritable and having angry or aggressive outbursts * Engaging in risky, reckless, or destructive behavior Arousal symptoms are often constant. They can lead to feelings of stress and anger and may interfere with parts of daily life, such as sleeping, eating, or concentrating.

"CONSTANT VIGILENCE!" anyone?

But more seriously, Harry is extra vigilant and alert in the final 3 books especially. As mentioned in the above quote with Smith, Harry is more angry in the final 3 books:

“If you’ve come to hear exactly what it looks like when Voldemort murders someone I can’t help you,” Harry said. His temper, always so close to the surface these days, was rising again.

(OotP)

His temper, which was always present, got worse after the graveyard. In book 4, Harry holds Ron back from hitting Draco when Draco throws his usual insults:

“You know your mother, Malfoy?” said Harry — both he and Hermione had grabbed the back of Ron’s robes to stop him from launching himself at Malfoy

(GoF)

In book 5, Harry punches Draco himself over similar insults because he's angrier and has less of a handle on his emotions and reactions. He is barely aware of what he's doing:

Harry was not aware of releasing George, all he knew was that a second later both of them were sprinting at Malfoy. He had completely forgotten the fact that all the teachers were watching: All he wanted to do was cause Malfoy as much pain as possible. With no time to draw out his wand, he merely drew back the fist clutching the Snitch and sank it as hard as he could into Malfoy’s stomach —

(OotP)

And in general, Harry is much more on guard:

He raised the cup to his lips and then, just as suddenly, lowered it. One of the horrible painted kittens behind Umbridge had great round blue eyes just like Mad-Eye Moody’s magical one, and it had just occurred to Harry what Mad-Eye would say if he ever heard that Harry had drunk anything offered by a known enemy.

(OotP)

He startles easily and is ready for an attack at all moments:

Dudley lay curled up on the ground, whimpering and shaking. Harry bent down to see whether he was in a fit state to stand up, but then heard loud, running footsteps behind him; instinctively raising his wand again, he spun on his heel to face the newcomer.

(OotP - after the dementor attack)

Malfoy wheeled around, drawing his wand. Instinctively, Harry pulled out his own. Malfoy’s hex missed Harry by inches, shattering the lamp on the wall beside him; Harry threw himself sideways, thought Levicorpus, and flicked his wand, but Malfoy blocked the jinx and raised his wand for another — 

(HBP)

“Pathetic, Weasley,” said Snape, after a while. “Here — let me show you — ” He turned his wand on Harry so fast that Harry reacted instinctively; all thought of nonverbal spells forgotten, he yelled, “Protego!” His Shield Charm was so strong Snape was knocked off-balance and hit a desk. The whole class had looked around and now watched as Snape righted himself, scowling.

(HBP)

By HBP and OotP, Harry is always ready for an attack and he defends himself on instinct. It doesn't matter where he is or what he's doing, fight or flight instincts take over and he's acting. It's always there, under the surface, ready to spring.

After Sirius dies, we also see a change in what Harry keeps to himself and what he says out loud. All his sassiest quotes towards Snape come from after Sirius dies. Harry becomes more reckless with his words (and actions in general). The pain makes him care less about his own life and future:

“What are you doing, Potter?” said Snape coldly as ever, as he strode over to the four of them. “I’m trying to decide what curse to use on Malfoy, sir,” said Harry fiercely. Snape stared at him.

(OotP - after Sirius' death)

“Yes, sir.” “There’s no need to call me ‘sir,’ Professor.” The words had escaped him before he knew what he was saying. Several people gasped, including Hermione. Behind Snape, however, Ron, Dean, and Seamus grinned appreciatively.

(HBP - yes, this famous scene is because Harry is depressed)

This is Harry just speaking his mind with complete and utter disregard for the consequences of what comes out of his mouth. This is something we see with him only after Sirius died, as before that, he made an attempt to not anger his professors, even Snape. In the earlier books, Harry is all for de-escalating situations with Snape:

“What on earth were you thinking of?” said Professor McGonagall, with cold fury in her voice. Harry looked at Ron, who was still standing with his wand in the air. “You’re lucky you weren’t killed. Why aren’t you in your dormitory?” Snape gave Harry a swift, piercing look. Harry looked at the floor. He wished Ron would put his wand down.

(PS)

“Let’s see,” he said, in his silkiest voice. “Fifty points from Gryffindor and a detention each for Potter and Weasley. Now get inside, or it’ll be a week’s worth of detentions.” Harry’s ears were ringing. The injustice of it made him want to curse Snape into a thousand slimy pieces. He passed Snape, walked with Ron to the back of the dungeon, and slammed his bag down onto the table. Ron was shaking with anger too — for a moment, it felt as though everything was back to normal between them, but then Ron turned and sat down with Dean and Seamus instead, leaving Harry alone at his table. On the other side of the dungeon, Malfoy turned his back on Snape and pressed his badge, smirking. POTTER STINKS flashed once more across the room.

(GoF)

Harry may be thinking of wanting to say/do something, but he doesn't, because he has some self-preservation. This self-preservation disappears as the books go along. Harry in the early books is much more concerned for his own well-being than in the later books, and I don't think it's due to bravery or childhood trauma, at least, that isn't all there is. I think it's a reaction to some of his more recent trauma as well. A combination of feeling responsible for everything and thinking it's fine he goes through pain and danger because that's what he should do. In HBP and DH, he repeatedly says how willing he is to endanger himself, but not others. It's why he breaks up with Ginny, it's why he initially doesn't want Ron and Hermione to come with him on the Horcrux hunt. He thinks his own life is worth less. That it isn't so bad if he dies.

So he shows 3 arousal and reactivity symptoms at least.

Cognition and mood symptoms

* Trouble remembering key features of the traumatic event * Negative thoughts about oneself or the world * Exaggerated feelings of blame directed toward oneself or others * Ongoing negative emotions, such as fear, anger, guilt, or shame * Loss of interest in previous activities * Feelings of social isolation * Difficulty feeling positive emotions, such as happiness or satisfaction Cognition and mood symptoms can begin or worsen after the traumatic event. They can lead people to feel detached from friends or family members.

I already mentioned Harry's guilt regarding people "who stood between him and Voldemort". And it's true for this section as well. And I mentioned above how Harry considers his own life as worth less than others, which leads him to be incredibly reckless.

Besides the above two points, Harry also shows clear signs of depressive states:

On the fourth night after Hedwig’s departure Harry was lying in one of his apathetic phases, staring at the ceiling, his exhausted mind quite blank, when his uncle entered his bedroom. Harry looked slowly around at him. Uncle Vernon was wearing his best suit and an expression of enormous smugness.

(OotP)

Harry mentions that after the graveyard in the summer between 4th and 5th year, he starts having what he calls "apathetic phases", in which he just feels too tired to even think, just staring blankly at the ceiling. Him calling it "phases" as in, plural, suggests this is a common occurrence at the Dursleys.

Even later in Deathly Hallows, we see this is something Harry still does. After Ron leaves Harry and Hermione are at their most depressed:

She [Hermione] threw herself into a chair, curled up, and started to cry. Harry felt dazed. He stooped, picked up the Horcrux, and placed it around his own neck. He dragged blankets off Ron’s bunk and threw them over Hermione. Then he climbed onto his own bed and stared up at the dark canvas roof, listening to the pounding of the rain.

(DH)

Hermione reacts to her emotions by crying and letting them out, she's processing her emotions in some capacity, as hard as it is. Harry, on the other hand, just gets tired. His mind goes blank and he just stares blankly at the ceiling. Another one of these "apathetic phases". Instead of feeling, he goes numb.

We also see in book 6 how he loses some of his interest in Quidditch. The one pastime that reliably brought him joy, wasn't as important to Harry post Sirius' death. Sure, he was still playing, still interested, but there was none of the joy described previously. He doesn't have the same passion and interest even though he's the captain:

Harry smiled back vaguely, but as he pulled on his scarlet robes his mind was far from Quidditch. 

(HBP)

“Don’t be stupid,” said Ron sharply. “You couldn’t have missed a Quidditch match just to follow Malfoy, you’re the Captain!”

(HBP)

Some of it is to follow Draco who Harry thinks is a Death Eater, sure, but Harry in 4th year would not have acted the same. He wouldn't have let it make him miss a game, he wouldn't have even considered it.

In Deathly Hallows we also see Harry struggling with happiness in many ways. Yes, the situation is bad, but he is so incredibly affected by it, and I do want to mention that:

But they were not living, thought Harry: They were gone. The empty words could not disguise the fact that his parents’ moldering remains lay beneath snow and stone, indifferent, unknowing. And tears came before he could stop them, boiling hot then instantly freezing on his face, and what was the point in wiping them off or pretending? He let them fall, his lips pressed hard together, looking down at the thick snow hiding from his eyes the place where the last of Lily and James lay, bones now, surely, or dust, not knowing or caring that their living son stood so near, his heart still beating, alive because of their sacrifice and close to wishing, at this moment, that he was sleeping under the snow with them.

(DH)

This above quote makes me so sad whenever I read it, and I do want to mention it here. Like, Harry isn't actively suicidal, but he's in a lot of pain that he wants to stop. These negative thoughts are practically a constant in DH even when he isn't wearing the Horcrux.

A hundred dementors were advancing, gliding toward them, sucking their way closer to Harry’s despair, which was like a promise of a feast. ... He saw Ron’s silver terrier burst into the air, flicker feebly, and expire; he saw Hermione’s otter twist in midair and fade; and his own wand trembled in his hand, and he almost welcomed the oncoming oblivion, the promise of nothing, of no feeling. . . .

(DH)

Harry is the character with the most reliable Patronus, but even for him at some point, it's too much and he struggles with it. Struggles to bring up the happiness he needs for a Patronus. The happiness part is what he always struggled with most when it came to this spell, after all:

“No!” said Harry. He got up again. “I’ll have one more go! I’m not thinking of happy enough things, that’s what it is. ... Hang on. ...” He racked his brains. A really, really happy memory . . . one that he could turn into a good, strong Patronus ...

(PoA)

So, I'd say he shows at least 4 cognitive and mood symptoms.

Conclusions

Someone get this boy a hug and therapy, I really don't have much more to say.

I started writing this post to see if I could find evidence of PTSD symptoms in the books, and I searched and found so many that it just made me sad. So, yes, Harry obviously deals with untreated PTSD he has no idea how to regulate in the final 3 books and I think his readiness to walk towards his own demise is influenced by it.

[honeyhotteoks]

this night together - chapter fourteen (j.yh + s.mg)

chapter fourteen: what we mean to each other

chapter summary: making amends is hard, moving on is hard, but you have a home now in a way you've never had before. together, you move forward through it all.

warnings/notes: this chapter still deals with the aftermath of the attack, so all previous warnings apply, but i think you'll see we're coming out of it now and into much happier times. this is the start of an absolute fluff fest, and we'll be back to smut in the next chapter. specific warnings for: discussions of physical attack, anxiety, ptsd, consent conversations, past s*xual assault (mentioned in passing), issues with police and the legal system because lbr the cops aren't doing anything good for assault victims, and reader has a triggering moment with her neck but she works through it just fine

pairings: alpha!yunho x alpha!mingi x omega!reader

genre: smut, a/b/o/omegaverse, angst, fluff, romance, polyamory

word count: 14.3k

previous chapter | next chapter | AO3

It’s been days. Days of staying safe behind the walls of their apartment, days of dodging calls from your friends, days of cocooned self preservation. They haven’t left you for a single minute. You spent the weekend trading off who’s lap you were cuddled on and bickering over episodes of Single’s Inferno and you’ve never needed anything more. 

Slowly though, things start to shift. 

You’re showered, for one. And Yunho and Mingi both have settled back into their routines as best they can without leaving the apartment. Video games, mindless scrolling, paging through books and cooking balanced meals instead of another day of takeout. 

On Monday, Seonghwa confirms your worst suspicions by texting you a photo of the formal letter he received via Minseok’s attorney. You expect Yunho and Mingi’s are in the mail. Every time your phone chimes you expect it to be the police or some other official legal summons. Your mind has started to turn over every detail of the event with calculated detail, and your internet history stretches long with research. 

By Tuesday, you’ve caved and finally started answering Wooyoung’s texts with more than just single word responses or emoji confirmations that you’re still alive. The moment you do, he takes the opening and runs with it just like you knew he would. 

As you wait for the hot water for your tea to boil in the kettle, you re-read his most recent text again. 

Do you want to get out of the house for a bit? We can try that new spot by the bookstore?

Your stomach feels tight at the idea of going out and you do your best to tap out a reply that you think sounds casual and relaxed - Maybe next time, let’s just catch up and relax here? 

You watch the message send and deliver and in nearly real-time it flicks over to read. Dots appear as he types. 

Sure - his message reads - I’ll be there in an hour

An hour. You shouldn’t be so nervous to see your best friend, but the idea of opening up your little sanctuary to anyone right now feels a little fraught. The kettle whistles, and you hear feet shuffling against the vinyl flooring as Yunho crosses over into the kitchen and you lock your phone and Wooyoung’s messages away so you can focus. 

“Hey,” You murmur, giving him a smile as you pull the kettle off the heat. 

“Hey,” Yunho smiles back, leaning against the opposite counter, “everything okay?” 

“Mhm,” You tell him, just a little white lie. 

“Is Woo still coming by?” He questions.  

“Yeah,” You nod, setting the kettle on a pad so it doesn’t damage the countertop, “he said around an hour,” 

Yunho nods and then slides a bit closer to you, his hand stroking up and down your back once until he settles it on your hip. “Hey,” he says again, “can we talk?”

A nervous pang strikes in your gut, but he doesn’t look upset, so you take a guess at what he wants, “Is it okay that he’s coming?” 

“Wooyoung?” His brows draw together, “Of course, that’s not what I meant,” 

“Oh,” You turn towards him more fully, leaning against the counter with him, “okay, what’s up?” 

“I want to apologize,” He says, swallowing tightly. 

“Apologize,” You blink. 

He nods. 

“Okay,” You can see how whatever he’s about to say is bothering him, the stress under the surface, but you have no idea what he’s sorry for. 

“Listen,” He reaches and takes your hand, pulling you a little closer to him, “I know you know I’m sorry, but I haven’t said it clearly and you deserve that,” 

“Oh,” You relax further into his space until you can feel your bodies brushing together, the warmth radiating off his skin. 

“The way I reacted at the studio after your last heat was wrong,” He says in a rush of air as he laces your hands together, “and I haven’t gotten the chance to really say that,” 

“It’s okay,” You shake your head, soothing him a little, “you don’t have to,” 

“No,” He insists with a squeeze of your fingers, “I do. That day, I was worried and jealous and confused, but I let my anger get the better of me and that’s not something I normally do.”

You squeeze his fingers back, letting him know you’re listening. 

His eyes flick up from your joined hands to your eyes as he continues, “It’s not something I should have ever put on you or something you should ever see,” 

“People get angry,” You start to say. 

He’s firm when he shakes his head, “People get angry, but I don’t get angry at you. Ever.” 

“Yunho,” 

“I yelled at you,” He squeezes your hands, “I cursed at you,” 

“I did the same thing right back,” You remind him. 

“It’s not the same,” He presses, brushing right past your words, “and I’m apologizing because I’m telling you, y/n, it will never happen again.” 

“You think we’ll never have a fight?” You smile, “That’s optimistic,” 

“This isn’t a joke,” He sighs, “please,” 

“I’m sorry,” You tuck closer to him, unlacing your hands so you can snake your arms around his middle, “and I appreciate you apologizing for that fight, but I was upset you were being possessive and emotional after all the cold shoulder, you yelling wasn’t really high on my list of concerns,” 

He’s quiet for a moment, but then he nods, “I’ll get to that in a second, but will you hear me on this one thing?” 

“I’m listening,” 

“I hate to bring it up again,” He grimaces a little, “but I’ve just spent four days watching you jump at every noise around the apartment and wake up every night fucking terrified,” 

Your eyes shoot down. 

“And before I apologize for all the other ways I’ve been an ass to you,” His warm hands settle on your skin, thumb brushing along your jaw, “of which I know there are many,” 

You smile at that. 

“Yelling at you like that,” He sighs, “talking to you like that has been bothering me for months. I need to apologize for it because I need you to know that you’ll never, ever hear it again. Mingi said his peace, but it’s important to me that you know you’re safe with me in every way. If we’re going to do this, I need you to know you can tell me anything, including telling me off when I make mistakes, and I won’t get angry like that again.” 

“I already know that,” You look up, meeting his firm gaze and reaching for his cheek, “and I hope you understand that I know the difference between how you were angry then and what he did and how he spoke to me.” 

“I just had to say it,” He nods, “I would hate it if anything I ever did made you afraid to be honest with me, or made you feel like you’ve been feeling the past few days, I’d never,” 

“Baby,” You cup his cheeks in both hands, holding his eyes so he hears you fully, “I forgive you, and I am not afraid or uncomfortable with you or with Mingi. Not at all.” 

“Good,” He exhales hard, his eyes a little shiny and you press forward to wrap your arms around him and hug him close, his arms closing around your back. 

“If you’re being idiots,” You kiss his chest through the thin fabric of his t-shirt, “I’ll tell you you’re being idiots,” 

He laughs low, the vibration running through your chest, “Good.” 

“And if I’m being an idiot,” You add, “I’m not going to freak out if you get pissed at me or yell at me,” 

“I appreciate that,” He squeezes your shoulders, “but I don’t want to be the guy that yells, that’s not really an alpha stereotype I’ve ever wanted to fit.” 

“Okay,” You nod against him. 

He clears his throat a little roughly and you’re about to pull away but he holds you steady for a moment, “There’s one more thing,” 

Your hand strokes a line down his back, as you hum softly, “Hmm?” 

“I have more to say and to apologize for,” You can feel his heart beating a little faster under your cheek and you stroke his back again, “but I’m still figuring out how to do that, and it might not be fair of me to ask, but I wanted to see if you can be patient with me for that.” 

“Yunho,” You murmur, “what’s going on?” 

“I, uh,” His fingers flex tightly against your skin, “I started seeing someone,”

“Someone?”

“Professionally,” He adds, “Mingi used to and I know it helped. I didn’t think I needed to, but I think we can both agree I am not the best at managing my own emotions here,” 

“Oh,” 

“So,” He breathes, “after our fight, when I finally cooled off and realized what we did I asked him for a referral. I’ve been meeting with her once a week and it’s been helpful, but I’m not ready to apologize to you for the rest of it until I understand why I treated you like that,” 

Emotion fills your chest like a balloon and you nod into him, “Yunho,” 

He clears his throat again, “Sorry,” he says, “this is a little uncomfortable for me to talk about, but I’m working on it,” 

You wriggle out of his arms to find his face again and press up on your tiptoes to catch his mouth, kissing him with as much surety as you can before you lean back, “That means everything to me,” you tell him, “everything. You have all the time in the world from me, okay?” 

“Yeah,” He smiles, “good, okay,” 

“Is it helping?” 

“Definitely,” He nods, “it’s almost like the professionals know what they’re talking about,” 

You smile up at him. 

“I know I mentioned it before,” He adds quickly, “and I won’t press it, but if you do feel like it would be helpful for you too, you can come to me and I can ask my therapist for some numbers for you to call. I’ll even help set up an appointment if you need that,” 

Your chest goes tight at the thought, “I’ll let you know,” 

“Okay,” He smooths a hand up and down your back, “no pressure,” 

“For sure,” You manage. 

His lip quirks up and he presses a long kiss to your forehead as he gives you one more squeeze, “I said I won’t press, don’t panic,” 

“Sorry,” You breathe. 

He makes a noise dismissing that and then steps back, “So,” his eyes are bright again, everything equalizing back to normal with his smile, “you were making tea, can I help?” 

Your shoulders relax, tension bleeding out of you in an instant, “No,” you turn back to the warm kettle, “but can I make you a cup?” 

“Sure,” He pulls two teacups down from the cupboard, “so Woo will be here in an hour?” 

“Mhm,” You tap your phone to light up the screen to check for any other texts.

“Got it,” He nods, “would you feel alright with Mingi and I stepping out for a while?” 

“Out?” 

“I need to run by the studio and check in on things,” He explains, “and we need to get some food in here. I figured we could do that while Wooyoung keeps you company,” 

“Yeah,” Your heart picks up a little at the thought, but you press that feeling down and drop a teabag in each of your cups, “I’ll be just fine,” 

“Good,” He drops another kiss to your hair, keeping his fingers lingering on your skin while you pour hot water into your cups. 

“Do you,” You almost stop the question, but you find the words bubbling out of your mouth before you can second guess, “do you need to leave right away?” 

Yunho smiles wide, taking the kettle from your hands as he shakes his head, “No,”

Your heart eases a little. 

“Let’s have these together,” He nods to the tea and picks up both cups, “we’ll go when Woo gets here,” 

You follow him out into the living room, and he sets the cups down on the table before settling himself into the corner cushions and reaching up for you. It’s easy to take his hand and to melt into the familiar position on his lap, and you let him draw you in close and cuddle you, his arms wrapped securely around you as he nuzzles your cheek with his nose. 

You sigh, resting your hands on his chest and turning your face a little to catch his mouth in a kiss. 

He hums pleasantly against your mouth, “Is it strange to say that I’ll miss you while we’re out?” 

You smile, shaking your head, “No,” 

“Will you miss us?” He pecks your lips again. 

“More than I want to admit,” 

“You know,” Yunho smooths his hands over your body to rest in their familiar homes, one on your thigh and the other curled around your waist, “I hate what happened, and I wish I could take all the bad memories away, but I’m also so glad you’re here with us,” 

“I know what you mean,” You nod. 

“The months we spent apart were terrible,” He confesses, kissing you softly. 

“We’ll have to make up for lost time,” You agree quietly. 

“A proper date,” He smiles, “or a vacation somewhere warm?” 

“Mm,” You hum, thinking of being stretched out on a beach somewhere with your boys on either side of you, “perfect,”

“I’ll think on that,” He runs a hand down your hair and relaxes back into the couch, “you deserve something nice,” 

Twisting on his lap you reach for both of your teacups before settling back into the same, comfortable position, “I think it would just be nice to come over here without having something traumatic happen beforehand,” 

He frowns a little. 

“I’m kidding,” You nudge him softly, “kind of,” 

“I know,” He nods, “still,” 

“Yeah,” You quietly agree, taking the first sip of your tea. 

Yunho takes a sip too, and then hums a short, quick laugh, “This smells like you,” 

“Like me?” 

“The tea,” He takes another sip and nods, “you smell just the same, but sweeter,” 

“Do you like it?” You find yourself asking. 

Yunho’s head cocks slightly to the side, a line between his brows, and then he says, “Have I not made it clear how much I love your scent?” 

Your cheeks heat and he smiles at the way your skin reddens. 

“Sweetheart,” He shifts, pulling you in while still being careful of the tea, pressing warm, lingering kisses over your jaw to the hollow of your ear, “if I could drink you instead, I would.” 

You swallow, heat curling in your belly. 

“Soothing tea,” He murmurs, “sweet honey,” he adds with a kiss, “and the willow is sharp and fresh. You wake me up and calm me down all at the same time,” 

Your pulse quickens, and slowly your head drops to the side, extending the column of your neck to his lips. 

He takes it slow, remembering the way you jerked back in bed a few nights before, and he’s careful not to press too firmly or give you any inclination that he’s going to touch you with anything but his lips. 

“You smell like home,” He murmurs, his hand coming up to cup your head in his wide palm, kissing just a little lower still. 

Your muscles are stiffening up at the feeling of his mouth getting lower towards your exposed gland and your fingers tighten on his shirt where you hold yourself steady. 

“I’ve got you,” He whispers, “stay with me,” 

You nod, just a little, enough to tell him not to stop, “W-what else?” 

He smiles against your throat, “Well,” he kisses again, to punctuate his words, “when you’re happy, really happy or excited, there’s lemon too,” 

Your breath feels staggered, thready, and you focus on the feeling of him and the warmth of the teacups against your thigh. 

“When you want us,” He takes a deep inhale, sighing hot against your skin, “it’s all honey, thick and syrupy. After your heat I smelled that honey here for weeks,” 

You feel a whine building a little in your throat, and you bite down on your lip to keep it buried. Your body feels like it’s fighting itself with every touch of his mouth, hot arousal knots up at his scent mingling with yours and at his words, but the isolated touch alone has you fighting little flashes of a place that isn’t here and isn’t him. 

“I’ve got you,” He repeats, “I love you,” 

The reply settles on the tip of your tongue, but then he presses one last closed-lipped kiss directly over your gland and withdrawals entirely. You blink hard, a shudder running up your spine. 

“Alright?” He checks, smoothing his hand down your hair again. 

You nod, letting your fingers unknot from his shirt while you collect yourself. 

“Hopefully that answers your question,” He clears his throat softly. 

You start to nod, but the sound of the bathroom door opening cuts through the moment and you start, tea spilling over the lip of your cup onto your fingers. 

“It’s Mingi, baby,” He assures you. 

“I know,” You have to tear your eyes off the hallway though. 

His mouth is set in a concerned little line, and you know he’s probably thinking about your conversation in the kitchen again, but he lets it lie and doesn’t push it, just like he promised. 

Mingi appears a moment later, a towel slung around his hips and his shoulders and hair wet from the shower. He smiles widely when he sees you both, “What’s going on in here?” 

Yunho raises up his cup, “Tea,” he smiles, “nothing much,” 

“Mm,” Mingi nods and stretches, “nice,” 

“Will you be ready soon?” Yunho asks, “Wooyoung will be here in a bit,” 

“Yeah, sure,” He confirms and then glances at you, “you’re good with us going out?” 

“I’m good,” You confirm. 

“I’ll stay if it would make you feel better,” Mingi adds, “I can hide in the bedroom and listen to music or something if you want privacy,” 

You love them both so much in this moment you feel like your chest might crack right open on its own, and you shake your head at him with a smile, “No, I have to get comfortable at some point, it might as well be while Woo is here with me,” 

He nods, “Well, we won’t be too far, just call us and we’ll turn around.” 

“Thank you,” You reach up to take his hand and he twines his fingers with yours immediately. 

Yunho shifts, pressing his lips against your shoulder, “Are you and Woo going out anywhere?” 

He’s clearly trying to be subtle, but you hear the anxious note in his voice and it occurs to you that they might be just as nervous leaving you as you are staying here without them. 

You shake your head, “No, just staying here,” 

“That’s good,” Mingi adds a little too quickly, “if you do go out, would you let us know?” 

“I will,” You promise them, “but you don’t have to worry,” 

“It’s in our nature to worry over you,” Yunho sighs, “but I think we’re both trying not to be overbearing about this whole thing,” 

“Trying,” Mingi shrugs, “but also the idea of not knowing where you are feels like it might give me hives,” 

You laugh at the image, easing back into Yunho’s chest. 

“To be clear,” Yunho shoots Mingi a look, “that’s in a nice ‘we care about you’ way, not in a ‘controlling boyfriend’ kind of way,” 

“Relax,” You tell them both, “I get why you want to know, it’s the same reason I want to know where you are.” 

“Studio first,” Mingi offers without you asking and your chest warms, “then groceries, and then I want to swing by that cafe that has that caramel cheesecake you like, then home,” 

“Don’t say we don’t have to,” Yunho adds, “we want to,” 

You smile as he takes the words right out of your mouth. 

“Plus, I want some,” Mingi says with ease. 

You’re not used to this type of relationship yet, having alphas of your own who actually want to be with you and take care of you, who worry for you and feel for you in all the deep nervous ways you feel for them. You hush the nagging voice in your mind that tries to tell you not to show them how much you need them, the voice that doesn’t want you to jump too fast, you already know what you get by listening to that voice. 

Instead you ask them what you want to ask, “How long do you think you’ll be gone?” 

“Two hours,” Yunho offers, “maybe three at the most,” 

“Okay,” You exhale, weight dropping away from your shoulders, “that’s perfect,” 

“We’ll let you know,” Mingi adds, “and if you need anything special while we’re out, we can stop,”

You shake your head, “I’m fine,” You assure them, “a little anxious, but you know, it’s good for me.” 

Mingi smiles warmly, brushing his hand over your cheek and tilting your face up with his thumb and forefinger on your chin, “We’re a phone call away,” 

“I know,” You nod. 

Yunho sighs as Mingi’s hand drops away, and he kisses your shoulder again, “It’s funny,” he says, “I really don’t want to leave you,” 

“We did just spend three months not seeing each other and in a state of constant relationship limbo,” You point out and give him a squeeze, “we really went from nothing to a whole lot of something fast,” 

“Not too fast?” Mingi checks, trying to sound casual. 

“No,” You say, “and even if it is, I don’t care,” 

“We’ve always felt right together,” Yunho adds, “we’re just letting ourselves enjoy it now,” 

He’s never said something so true. 

Mingi gets dressed and collapses onto the couch next to both, pushing closer into your space with Yunho until you’re both practically on his lap, but it works. You stay knit close together until there’s a knock on the door and then it’s fast kisses goodbye and big hugs from your best friend, and before you can really process it you’re without them for the first time in days. 

Your stomach is fluttering, a nervous quiver deep in your gut that you really don’t want Wooyoung to over-analyze. A moment later you find yourself back on the couch in the warm spot Yunho left, wrapping yourself in the blanket you had all shared the night before. You can smell them on it, earthy, warm, and sweet. 

Wooyoung watches as you start to relax, and he takes a seat right next to you to keep close, a closed smile on his lips. 

You can’t believe you miss them already. 

They must miss you too though, because Mingi only makes it a scant ten minutes before he texts you, his message lighting up your phone - Forgot to say I love you - I love you.

“What?” Wooyoung nudges you under the blanket. 

You pass your phone to him and he reads the message, his eyebrows shooting up high, “I leave you alone for a few days and you’re all saying ‘I love you’s?” 

You grab the phone back and tuck it away, “That’s the thing about life changing trauma,” you laugh, “it really accelerates the big feelings,” 

Wooyoung nods, keeping things light, but finds your hand on the back of the couch so he can hold it. 

“Also we’re not all saying it,” You confess, “they’re saying it,” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean they’ve told me,” You explain, “the day after the studio we had this big talk,” 

“Don’t tell me they put all that shit on you like that,” He wraps his hand around yours, “y/n,” 

“Not like that,” You shake your head, “it’s actually hysterical, they thought that Seonghwa and I have been dating,” 

His eyes go wide, “What?” 

“It’s truly the longest story of miscommunication,” You tell him, “at this point I think someone should write a book about me and make it a romantic comedy,” 

“Erotica,” Wooyoung smirks. 

“Shut up,” You swat at him. 

“There have been too many good orgasms for a romcom,” He shrugs. 

You roll your eyes, “Anyways, it turns out the whole not talking period while you were all away was just me pining but feeling like I fucked it up, and them pining but thinking I had moved on with Hwa,” 

“Damn,” 

“But when they realized that they were wrong about that,” You continue, “we just got it all out there,” 

“And they love you,” He smiles a little, “and they actually said it,” 

“Yeah,” You soften into the cushions. 

“I hate to ask the obvious,” He squeezes your hand, “but if you’re so happy about that, why haven’t you told them? You do love them?” 

“So much,” The words fly out like you’re defending something, and you run a hand through your hair as you get your real thoughts steady, “I do, Woo, so much. We’re scent matches,” 

“I know,” He nods warmly. 

“You do?” 

“Anyone with eyes can see that,” Wooyoung smiles, “well, apart from you three.” 

“Thanks,” 

He nudges your thigh with his foot under the blanket, “Honestly, though, after what happened I could see it on them. You couldn’t keep your hands off each other, and they kept flanking you, watching you like you might disappear,” 

A memory of the studio plays like a clip in your mind, the way they held you between them, the three of you against everything. You nod, “They’ve been doing that for days,” 

“Which…” Wooyoung trails off, trying to guess where your head is, “you’re happy about?” 

“I am,” You nod emphatically, “and I love them, I just… I can’t get the fucking words out of my mouth,” 

He sobers a little, sliding closer to you on the couch so he can draw your legs over his lap and give you exactly the kind of comfort you need, “I’m listening, babe, talk to me,” 

“I don’t know why,” You hold his hand tighter, “but every time they say it, and I think I’m going to say it back, I’m right back in that room with Minseok’s teeth on my neck and I can’t,” your chest feels tight, “I can’t get it out,” 

His eyes soften, empathetic in the way that only he can be, “Does being in love with them scare you?” 

“No!” You pull your hand back from his. 

“Babe,” He takes your hand back and holds tight, “I’m not saying they scare you, I’m saying does being in love, being vulnerable like that scare you?” 

Your shoulders drop, “A little, but,”

“But?” 

“I thought about it for three months,” You argue, “I had it rehearsed, I knew exactly what I wanted to say and the big reveal was supposed to be the ‘I love you’ part not the ‘I’m sorry’ part,” 

“Your plans on that kind of fell apart when that asshole tried to claim you,” Wooyoung pushes back a little. 

“Yeah, no shit,” A flurry of anger bubbles in your belly. 

He nods, “And now you’re off kilter,” 

“You could say that,” 

“You rarely do anything without thinking it through,” He offers, this thumb drawing a comforting line over your palm, “and your plan got fucked, and you’re emotionally vulnerable, and traumatized, and stressed. You feel like you’re out here without a life vest,” 

His words stun you silent. 

“And this thing you worked up in your mind for three months is now totally derailed,” He continues, “am I on the money?” 

You nod. 

“Can I ask you something?” He says. 

You nod again. 

Wooyoung asks this question softly, his voice quiet and gentle, “Do you want to bond with them?” 

Your heart thumps in your chest. 

“It’s just you and me,” Wooyoung soothes you, “and whether or not you bond with them is your choice, okay? But, babe, is that something you think you’ll want?” 

Suddenly you remember the feeling of your heat with them. The way you begged for them, the way it felt so right and so sure that you belonged to each other. You remember how your mind spun imaginary futures that all ended the same way. 

Silently, you nod. 

“Loving them isn’t bonding,” He murmurs, “you can just love them for now at your own pace.” 

Tears prick at the back of your eyes, “What if I can never do it? They can barely touch my neck without me falling apart, what if I can never take a real claim?” 

“Oh, babe,” He pulls you towards him, crushing you to his chest, “I wish you called me earlier, you shouldn’t be thinking like this,” 

“It was so terrible,” You confess into his shoulder, “I can’t even tell you, I don’t even know how to explain,” 

“You don’t have to,” He hushes you, a hand stroking up and down your back, “and I don’t know if this is going to help or hurt, but I know right now you feel like there’s no way you’d ever be able to take a claim without it being scary and awful, but someday you might be able to without even thinking of him.”

A few hot tears escape your eyes. 

“And I know I give Yunho and Mingi shit,” He adds, “but you know that both of them would rather die than do something to hurt you or scare you,” 

“And if I can never bond?” You manage. 

“Then I’d say thank god your scent matches are two men who would never, ever push you into a bond you weren’t ready for,” He says, squeezing you tight, “and I think if you asked them, they’d tell you that they’d rather be with you unbonded and happy than bonded and in pain.” 

“You’re right,” You wipe away the wetness on your cheeks, “I know you’re right,” 

“They’re not going to try to push you into a bond just because you love each other,” He lets you lean back but he slides his hand back into yours, “especially not now,” 

“I know that,” You sigh, “rationally, I was just,” 

“I’m telling you, I get it,” He eases you, “sometimes you go through something and you think a part of you is wrecked forever, that you’ll never be able to do something again or feel normal again, but you will. I promise,” 

You know the truth of him so suddenly you can’t stop the words, “Woo,” you feel your heart beating faster, “did something happen?” 

“A long, long time ago,” He says softly, “and today’s not the day for that story, but I’m telling you it does get better and it does soften in your memory and someday your alphas are going to touch your neck and you won’t even think about it, it just won’t be there anymore.” 

Grief and relief mingle in your gut at his words, and you want to ask him more, to be there for him like he’s been there for you but you can see it in his face, today isn’t the day for that story. 

You squeeze his hand, “I love you, Woo,” 

“I love you too,” He assures you. 

Silence sits between you for a moment while you turn over his words, and though you can’t imagine the day he’s describing, you still believe him. You have to. You don’t know what happened to him or when, but you’ve never met someone as bright and open and happy as him, and you have to hold onto that truth. 

You look down at your combined hands, “Yunho offered to make an appointment with a therapist for me,” 

“Say yes,” Wooyoung replies without a thought, “I waited years and I wish I hadn’t,” 

“Yeah?” 

“Does he have a contact?” Wooyoung asks, drawing your eyes back up, “I have some options for you if not,” 

“He said he can ask his therapist for a referral,” 

“His therapist?” Wooyoung grins, “I knew I liked him,” 

“You’ve been friends for years,” You nudge him. 

“Liked him for you,” He corrects, “that’s different,” 

“Yeah, yeah,” 

“My best friend deserves an alpha who is fully therapized and capable of complex emotions,” Wooyoung says with confidence, “nothing less.” 

“Don’t mention that I told you,” You add quickly, “he told me that in confidence, it just slipped out,” 

“I wouldn’t,” Wooyoung shakes his head, “that’s private. But between you and me, I’m glad to hear it.” 

“Me too,” You sigh. 

“And as far as you going?” Wooyoung circles back to the real question at hand, “Say yes, the sooner the better. If Yunho’s offering to help set it up, let him. Making that call is hard, and if he can make it easier, just say yes.” 

“Okay,” You sigh, your shoulders dropping. 

“And tell them how you’re feeling about bonding,” He adds, “trust me.” 

“Maybe,” You say, “I know you’re right. We’re just moving so fast,” 

“So slow down,” He offers. 

“I don’t know if I want to,” You admit, warmth and nervous energy filling your chest, “it feels right like this, I just don’t know if I can handle a claim,” 

“Tell them,” He reiterates, “don’t let them stumble into that one, they might hurt you without even knowing it if they bring it up sooner than you’re ready for.” 

“Right,” You nod, “you’re right,” 

He huffs a laugh, “Usually am,”

You flick his arm, rolling your eyes, so grateful at him for helping you work through something this hard while still keeping you smiling. You should have called him earlier, he’s right about that too. 

You let silence stretch around you both for a moment, and then something occurs to you. 

“Do you know anything about the charges Minseok is filing?” You run a hand through your hair, “Not to bring up yet another pleasant subject,” 

Wooyoung snorts a little air through his nose and shrugs, “I probably know what you know, have you talked to Hwa?” 

You shake your head. 

“At all?” He seems surprised. 

“I have,” You correct, “but it was quick and we were all on the call. I haven’t been to my place to see if there’s any mail, but I’d guess Yunho and Mingi will get a summons soon.” 

Wooyoung nods, “That’s what the police said,” 

Your eyebrows raise, “You talked to the police?” 

“Seonghwa did,” He clarifies, “and he gave San and I the run down.” 

“Why is no one telling me what’s going on?” You exhale heavily. 

“Because last we heard you were having nightmares,” Wooyoung rests a hand on your folded legs, “and we don’t have a lot of information to give, and I don’t think any of us want to cause you more stress than you need.” 

“Do Yunho and Mingi know?” You press. 

“Not exactly,” Wooyoung says, “though, I guess Seonghwa might be telling them now if they stopped by the studio,” 

You wait for him to continue, but you’re a little relieved at least that your boys aren’t keeping anything from you directly. 

“Seonghwa spoke to the police who explained the charges. Minseok is alleging that the guys misunderstood what they saw and ignored his attempts to explain, and that they used unnecessary force intervening on your behalf.” He says it plainly. 

“Misunderstood?” You repeat the word. 

“I know,” Wooyoung nods, “we all know, but that’s what he’s saying. The police advised Seonghwa to get an attorney and let him know that further charges were being filed. I think we can safely assume that’s Yunho and Mingi, maybe San if he’s really going after it.” 

“Maybe me too,” You add. 

“Maybe,” He nods, “but that would be tough to prove I think,” 

“Hmm,” Your eyes feel a little unfocused. 

“Hey,” Wooyoung gets your attention with a squeeze, “we don’t know anything yet, and we thought this might happen. It doesn’t change the truth and it doesn’t mean any of them regret what they did to make sure you were safe, okay?” 

“Yeah,” 

“Tell me you understand,” He presses, “because I’m not letting you put this one on yourself,” 

“I do, I understand,” You nod, “it just sucks,”

“That’s fair,” He gives you a soft smile, “but it’s going to take a lot more than this to fuck us over,” 

“Yeah,” You murmur, “you’re probably right.” 

Wooyoung says something else but you hardly hear it, in the back of your mind all you can think of is that first night at the hospital. The detectives who interviewed you were kind, but bordered on dismissive, and you know Minseok and his family have deeper pockets than you do. You have to figure this out, you have to.

  “Babe?” Wooyoung nudges you. 

“Yeah,” You snap up, coming back to the present moment and letting those anxieties fade into the background until you can really think them through, “sorry,” 

“It’s okay,” He soothes you. 

Your phone buzzes on your lap again and you pull it up to see the message. It’s Mingi again - Budae Jjigae for dinner, ask Wooyoung if he wants to stay? We’ll have plenty

It’s like he felt your anxiety from miles away and you can feel the tense knot of your shoulders unlocking. You send back a quick heart emoji and then look back up to your friend, “You want to stay for dinner?” 

He smiles, “Who’s cooking?” 

“Mingi,” You tell him, “he’s been on a comfort food kick for me,” 

Wooyoung smiles, “I’ll stay,” 

“Great,” You tap out a reply to Mingi letting him know and take a big sigh. 

“They make you happy,” Wooyoung says, “it’s nice to see,” 

“It’s nice to feel,” You tell him, “after all this time, and after everything,” 

“You deserve it,” He murmurs. 

You smile, a little tease at the corner of your mouth when you nudge him, “So do you, and speaking of,” 

His face lights up fast, “I wasn’t trying to bring my too-good mood over here if things weren’t going well,” he sighs, “but now that I know you’re all in love,” 

“So you and Yeosang?” You turn the conversation to something so much happier, and feel lighter the second you do. 

“It’s so good,” He gushes, head falling back against the cushions, “he’s kind of quiet, kind of hard to get to know at first, but y/n, he’s so funny,” 

“Yeah?” You smile. 

“And smart,” He adds, “and considerate, he’s always getting me coffees or refilling my water, just like, those little things,” 

“Wow, look at you,” You squeeze his hand, “serial dater of alphas, turned into a blushy mess over a funny, smart, considerate beta,” 

“He’s packing like an alpha, I’ll say that,” Wooyoung grins wolfishly. 

You smack his chest, “Woo! Literally that is too much information,” 

“Please,” He rolls his eyes, “I share a locker room with your boyfriends, I know what you’re working with,” 

You feel your face flush red. 

“Cute,” He teases. 

“So,” You divert, “does Yeosang feel as strongly?” 

His smile drops a little, “I mean,” he says, “I think so? But he’s not really an oversharer,” 

“Have you told anyone else?” You try to be casual about that question, but if you’re being honest you’re dying to know where things will land with San and Seonghwa. 

Wooyoung shakes his head though, “Not yet, but I think when everything calms down I might have him pick me up at the studio or something? I want you to meet him and I want everyone to know, I just,” 

“I get it,” You assure him, “you go at your own pace.” 

“Yeah,” He sighs. 

“Just don’t follow my lead,” You smile, “if you like him, don’t run away in a panic,” 

“Noted,” He laughs. 

He looks so happy, bright from the inside in a way that matches his sunny scent, and you think he’s not far from sharing ‘I love you’s of his own at this rate. 

You squeeze his hand again and catch his attention back, “You really look so happy,” you tell him. 

“I am,” He sighs, “he’s exactly what I needed,” 

You smile, and then push his legs to the side, “Move over, I know you have pictures, you’re holding out,” 

He laughs sharply, head falling back but letting you manhandle him a little so you can snuggle into his side. Wooyoung tugs the blanket around you both and pulls out his phone, “Fine,” 

“Like it’s a burden to show your best friend pictures of your hot new boyfriend,” You smack his chest, “come on,” 

Wooyoung drops his arm around your shoulders until you’re slotted together on the corner of the couch, but he still hasn’t lit up his phone. You’re about to nudge him again, but then you feel him press a soft kiss to your hair. 

“You know,” He says softly, “when Sannie called me and told me what happened, I just felt so sick,” 

You find his other hand under the covers and lace your fingers together, “I’m okay,” 

He nods, sighing into your skin, “I just want you to know,” he says, his voice a little tight, “you mean so much to me, and I’ll be grateful to them forever for stopping him,” 

You blink back a few tears and nod, “I am okay, though,” 

He nods again and clears his throat, “I know,” 

“I think you’re avoiding my questions about Yeosang,” You squeeze his hand tightly, an acknowledgement of his emotions and his words, while steering the conversation back to happier topics. 

“You’re right,” He laughs, “you caught me.” 

“Come on,” You nudge him again, pushing down the little swell of emotion that his words brought up. 

“He’s not really a selfie guy,” Wooyoung slides his finger across his phone screen until he finds Instagram and then navigates to his new man’s page, “but, I don’t know, I think you’ll like his vibe.” 

Your face cracks into a wide smile when you see the profile, clearly that of an artist, a photographer. The first post on his page is of Wooyoung, though you’d have to know Wooyoung well to know it. He’s walking away from camera through a dark Itaewon street, the lines of his body accented by the neon club signs. 

“Oh, Woo,” You relax against him and open that photo to see it larger, “he really likes you,” 

He snatches the phone away, a little pink in his cheeks as he rushes to downplay the truth of what you can see plain as day, and you fight to get back the phone, your cheeks starting to hurt from how much you’ve been laughing. 

You and Wooyoung stay like this for ages, warmly locked together as you swap stories and funny things on both your phones. By the time your phone chimes with another text from Mingi, at least two hours have gone by.

Almost home! His message reads. 

Your chest feels warm, your heart whole at the words. 

“They’ll be back in a minute,” You tell Wooyoung as you set your phone aside. 

“Perfect,” He grins, “so exactly how much teasing can I get away with before you get mad?” 

You fall apart again into laughter, happy tears stinging at your eyes. You don’t hear the front door open at first, but when you finally look up you see them standing frozen in the doorway with such softness in their expressions. You feel the words bubble up at the sight of them, but again they stay resting at the tip of your tongue.

Wooyoung rolls his eyes and pushes off the couch, “Alright, alright stop making heart eyes at each other and tell me what’s in the box,” 

Your eyes flick down to the large white box in Mingi’s hand, the perfect cheesecake nestled inside waiting just for you. Wooyoung takes a few grocery bags out of their hands and heads off to the kitchen, and just like that your night falls together naturally. 

You don’t think about Minseok again until later that night. For a beautiful, blissful four hours you just laughed and ate and relaxed with your best friend and your boyfriends, and he doesn’t enter your brain at all. 

It isn’t until you’re lying in bed alone with your thoughts, Yunho and Mingi deep asleep on either side of you, that you realize what you have to do. 

In the morning you wake from a dreamless sleep, and you start to put your plan in motion. You slip out of bed and leave them to their rest, light only just stretching its way through the Seoul skies outside. Seeing Wooyoung made you feel lighter in a way that you can’t explain, and within minutes you’re scrawling out a note, stealing Mingi’s key, and lacing up your sneakers. 

Out for a walk, be back in a little while, don’t worry too much x

You leave it on their kitchen counter and you hope it’s enough to keep them from looking for you. You need a little space from your own scared reflection in the mirror, and a new perspective on the plan you’ve been turning over since your head hit the pillows last night. 

The note isn’t a lie, strictly speaking, you are out for a walk, but you also know if you told them exactly where you were on a walk to, they'd worry. They wouldn’t just worry, they would have insisted on coming with you, but this is something you have to do alone. 

You take the long way to the hospital down the river path, letting the cool day calm your mind and keep you centered. You go over in your mind all the things you want to say to him when you see him, assuming you actually make it into his room. You wonder how hard it will be to convince him. You wonder if you’ll even be able to get a single word out of your mouth. 

You have to try. 

Yunho’s words from yesterday morning in the kitchen sink into you. The tenderness in his eyes when he mentioned how jumpy you’ve been around the apartment. You hadn’t even realized it, but now you feel it in your shoulders and your stomach with the sound of every opening door, every squeak of a shoe on vinyl flooring. Everytime you look up into a mirror you expect to see a face over your shoulder, to feel hands on your hips.  

Minseok had taken so many little things from you in the span of three minutes. 

You need to take something back. 

Every step leading into the hospital is heart pounding and nerve wracking, stress inducing on a level you’ve never experienced, but standing in front of reception you suddenly feel an overwhelming calm. Your mind is clear, operating on something wholly unconscious and you don’t know where you’ve mustered this feeling from, but you let it take you. 

You give over Minseok’s full name and provide the kindest smile you can to the woman behind the desk,“I’m his sister,” you tell her. The lie rolls right off your tongue, so clean and easy you surprise yourself. 

“Oh,” The nurse nods, “well visiting hours don’t start until eleven,” 

“I have work,” You counter, softening your face, “I’m sorry, but do you think you could make an exception? I’ll be very quick, I just want to see him for a few minutes before I have to run,” 

She considers it, and you know you have her the minute she checks the nurse’s station to see who else is there with her before she breaks a rule, “Alright, but just be quick, five minutes,” 

“Thank you so much,” You smile, “really, you’re so kind,” 

She waves you off, glancing around her again, “He’s in 305, the third door down on your left when I open the doors,” 

“Thank you,” 

She presses a button on the wall and the lock springs free, opening the heavy security door to your side. With one last smile and deeply grateful bow, you slip through the door and make it through into the hospital hallway where you are most definitely not supposed to be. 

Third door on the left. 

You have to be quick, not so you don’t get caught, but so you don’t chicken out. If you stand in this hallway and let yourself really think about what you’re doing, you’ll turn right around and go home. Steeling yourself, you rush forwards and find the door to 305 and with a deep breath you slip inside. 

Private rooms are expensive, that thought occurs to you as you shut the door tightly behind you. That fact, plus the reality that he’s already talking about pressing his own charges, tells you Seonghwa was right, he has some kind of family money. You hope that when you turn around and actually face the room you won’t have to contend with his mother or father or god forbid some girlfriend you know nothing about. You need him to be alone. 

Blissfully, the room is quiet, the only sounds are medical and simple. With your palms flat against the door you take a deep breath, and if Minseok is awake he says nothing, makes no sound, while you gather the nerve to do this. 

Finally, you turn. 

He is awake, studying you with a careful expression, but then your eyes flick over him. He’s more than injured, he’s completely incapacitated. You catalog it all quickly - his leg suspended in an elevating sling, ankle wrapped up tight, wrist sprained and in a brace, his face is bruised and battered and you realize in seconds that his broken jaw is wired shut. He has an oxygen cannula tucked into his bandaged nose, and you remember that his ribs are broken too. 

You wonder which of your boys delivered each piece of punishment. 

Your mouth feels dry, and your pulse is quickening, the sight of him so close is enough to induce panic but he can’t really do anything to you in this state so you have to just be brave. You push yourself off the wall and walk to the end of his hospital bed, “Hey,” 

He gestures to his jaw and shrugs to communicate that he can’t really talk. 

“I know,” You nod, “I heard.” 

It’s strange to be here with him like this when last week you were working side by side. It’s bizarre to suddenly feel this bubble of uncomfortable space and distance, and to feel the fear underneath it all. 

He gestures towards you with his bandaged hand and you know he’s asking why you’re here. 

“I heard about the counter charges,” You came here with a purpose and you have to stick to it, “and I came here to ask you to drop them.” 

He shakes his head and looks down at himself and then back up to you. 

“After what you did?” Anger curls up in your belly, “I think they took it pretty easy on you.” 

He huffs, a puff of air from his closed lips. 

“Listen,” You try, “you and I both know what you tried to do, and whatever your excuse is, it doesn’t matter. If they hadn’t gotten you off me… I guess what I’m saying is do the right thing now. You said you were sorry, just drop these charges and we can all move on.” 

His eyes harden and he shakes his head. 

You thought he was apologetic after, coming to his senses and realizing in the haze of his rut he almost broke someone’s mind, but now you’re starting to think he was just pleading for his own beating to stop. 

“You won’t consider it?” You ask, stomach clenching tightly. 

He shakes his head again and points to his injuries. Jaw, ribs, leg. 

You want to hit him yourself, so suddenly that your fingers curl tight into fists, “You tried to fucking claim me because I wouldn’t go out on a date with you, and you think you’re the victim here?” 

He seems irritated by your question, and he reaches for something on the tray table to his side. He pulls up a small whiteboard and marker, clearly given to him by hospital staff to communicate, and he wipes away the words that were there to write out his message to you. 

I’m the one in a hospital bed.

“You bastard,” The words just slip out, “why do you think? They put you here for a fucking reason, Minseok,” 

He wipes the message away and writes something else. 

Keep your alphas on a leash.

You’ve never understood the phrase ‘seeing red’ before, but now it’s meaning is crystal clear, “You should keep yourself on a leash.” 

He huffs. 

“Using tone to submit an omega is illegal, Minseok,” You round the corner of the bed, “the prison time for something like that is long. It’s not even just assault, I think that’s something like three or four years? But using tone… claiming against an omega’s will? That’s irreparable damage. I wonder how many charges they’d stack on top in court? Psychological trauma? Sexual assault?” 

His eyes darken and he wipes the board again, his marker squeaking roughly against it as he angrily writes out the next message. 

I never touched you like that.

“You would have,” You shake your head, “as soon as I was your nice obedient omega and couldn’t say no.” 

He stares daggers, but says nothing. 

“They might be able to prove intent,” You tell him, “throw a few more years on top for good measure. How old do you think you’ll be when they let you out? Do you think a dance studio would hire a forty year old man?” 

His face pales, he looks sick suddenly. 

“You’ll drop the charges,” You tell him, “and when you do, I’ll drop mine.” 

His eyes widen. 

“You’ll never set foot in the studio again, and you’ll go find another job somewhere else.” 

His eyes skim over you, trying to gauge your honesty. 

“Do you understand me?” You don’t know what’s possessing you, what’s holding you up so you can get these words out, but you’ve never felt more sure. 

He says nothing. 

You lean in closer, close enough that if he was uninjured he could easily have you back in control, but with his jaw wired shut and his lack of mobility, he can’t do a thing. Nerves flutter up your body as you lean in, and you’re sure he can smell Yunho and Mingi on you, but the guarantee that he can’t touch you is filling you with a sick sense of power, of sure joy. 

“You tried and you failed,” You tell him, and he huffs, “and that’s on you.”

His cheek twitches and you’re sure he’d be clenching his jaw if he could do it without exceptional pain. 

“You’ll do this for me, you owe me,” You hold his gaze despite the flutter of fear it brings you, “and if you don’t, I don’t care what it takes. I’ll see you in court and if that doesn’t work, I’ll make sure that you never, ever get hired again. Every studio in Korea will know what you did, and every omega in Seoul will know what you really are, and if you ever get close to me again after today I’ll break your jaw myself.” 

His eyes flick down. 

“Do you understand me?” You repeat, enunciating clearly. 

He nods once. 

“Good,” You push back from him and get some distance, “get the charges against all of them dropped by tomorrow and I’ll call and withdraw mine. Don’t ever come back to the studio, if you left stuff there consider it gone.” 

He holds your gaze, and then he writes out a question - How do I know you’ll keep your word? 

“You don’t,” You shrug, “but I promise you I wouldn’t be here in this room with you at all if I wasn’t willing to drop them.” 

He turns your words over. 

“Minseok,” You sigh, “they mean more to me than watching you go to jail, please, just do the right thing.” 

He wipes his hand again across the whiteboard and then he shifts, looking back up to you to nod in agreement. 

“You’ll do it?” 

He nods again and then picks the marker back up to write something. 

“Don’t,” You stop him, “there’s nothing you can say I want to hear. Just do this and we’ll be done.” 

He looks away and without meeting your eyes again, he nods.

“Don’t make me come back,” You press him, but he doesn’t respond and that will have to be enough. You’ve done what you came to do. 

You’re out of his room in a flash, back through the security doors and quick past the front desk. You don’t spare a single glance at the nurse who broke the rules for you, you just need to get out of here before you let the reality of what you’ve done hit you sideways. You don’t let a single thing consume you until you’re out of the hospital and on the street again, and you sink down onto the first available bench. 

Your heart is pounding, hands trembling. You need to get this under control before you go home because the last thing you want is to cause Yunho and Mingi anymore stress or heartache. You give yourself some time to come back into your body, to forget the hard set of Minseok’s eyes and the way his fingers twitched when you got too close, the way you fought the curling panic in your gut to get the words out. 

When you do feel whole again, you order a taxi back. You’ve been gone a while, probably a little longer than they expected, and you hope they’re not worried.

Using Mingi’s borrowed key, you slip into the apartment and let their scents wash over you, soothing you instantly. You shut the door quietly behind you and toe off your shoes before calling out, “Is anyone home?” 

You hear movement immediately, Mingi from the kitchen and Yunho from his bedroom and it fills you with warmth. 

“Hey,” Mingi gets to the living room first, “how was your walk?” 

“Really good,” You tell him, and that’s the truth. The walk itself was nice until you cut it short with your little errand. 

“You look good,” He smiles, and Yunho appears from his side of the apartment as Mingi continues, “fresher,” 

“Yeah,” You sigh, “it’s a beautiful morning out,” 

“Hey,” Yunho says, smiling at the sight of you. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t wake you,” You say, “I just wanted to clear my head a bit, so I hope you don’t mind that I borrowed your key,” 

Mingi shakes his head as you hang his keyring up by the door. 

“We’ll have to get one made for you,” Yunho says, “if you want,” 

You let the implication of that lie and you nod, but excitement sparks in your belly.

“Is there any coffee?” You ask, moving into the apartment and heading towards the kitchen. You need to tell them where you’ve been, but you just need a breath before you can. 

“Mhm,” Mingi says, “I just made a cup,” 

“Oh,” You shake your head, “I don’t want to take yours, I’ll make my own.” 

“No, no,” He slides behind you and presses a kiss to your hair as he does, “take it, I’ll make another. Yunho, do you want one?” 

“I’m good,” He replies, coming to stand next to you at the small kitchen island. 

Mingi looks like he’s thinking about something as he finishes off your cup of coffee and throws an electric kettle back on to make another pourover, but Yunho draws your attention away. 

“Jagi,” He starts, “I don’t mean to… well, can we talk to you about something?” 

“Sure,” You angle towards him, his words making you a little nervous, “is everything okay?” 

“Absolutely,” He assures you, brushing his hand down the length of your arm, “but Mingi and I were talking while you were gone, about how to handle everything with these charges,” 

“Oh,” His timing is impeccable. 

“We just want to include you,” He says, squeezing your hand, “and make sure we’re handling things the way we should, but it might be smart to try and hire a lawyer before this goes any further,” 

You’re not sure how you’re supposed to say this. 

“We talked to Seonghwa and he agrees,” Yunho continues, “this will be the easiest way to protect all of us,”

“Yunho,” You start, “hang on,”

“If this is upsetting we can talk about it later,” Yunho adds, “but Seonghwa has some connections through his parents, he wants to make some calls.” 

Your stomach twists at the idea of Seonghwa needing to lean on a favor from his parents, and every choice you made that morning becomes perfectly validated with just that thought. You would never, ever let him do that, not after everything he’s done for you.  

“It’s not upsetting,” You assure Yunho, trying to interject, “I just don’t think that will be necessary,” 

“Getting a lawyer?” He clarifies. 

“Yeah,” You swallow hard and glance at Mingi, “I don’t think we’ll need to.” 

“I mean, having representation would be best,” Yunho says, “I know it’s stressful, but we need to be careful,” 

“Right,” You sigh, needing him to give you a breath to explain, “that’s if there’s a suit,” 

“Well sure, but,” Yunho starts but the penny drops for Mingi. 

“Tell me you didn’t,” Mingi turns to you fully and the words die on Yunho’s lips as he plays catch up. 

You stay quiet, holding his gaze, but when you let out a soft breath he sets his coffee back down. 

“y/n,” Mingi says, voice serious and leaving Yunho visibly more and more confused, “tell me you didn’t do what I think you did.” 

“I took care of it,” You settle on the most neutral words you can. 

“No,” He shakes his head, “you can’t just say that, you have to give us more than that.” 

“I was planning on it,” You push past Yunho to approach Mingi, resting your hands on his upper arms as you get closer into his space, “I swear, you just guessed it too fast,” 

“You smell like the hospital,” He explains, his nose crinkled up. 

“Whoa, whoa,” Yunho finally catches up, “why were you at the hospital?”

You just have to say it, “I talked to Minseok,” 

“Absolutely not,” Yunho pushes around the island and closer to you, “are you insane?” 

“He’s completely incapacitated,” You tell them both, “he couldn’t have touched me even if he wanted to,” 

“Yes, but you didn’t know that!” Yunho presses, his voice running high in surprise, but you can see he’s doing his best to keep level and cool. 

“Look at me,” You settle him, “do I look hurt? Upset?”

“No,” He admits with a puff of dejected air. 

“Am I myself?” You take both their hands in yours. 

“Yes,” Mingi admits. 

“Okay,” You sigh, “now stop freaking out and listen to me, because I promise you I’m perfectly fine,” 

Mingi nods once, and Yunho stays silent, which is enough for you to do what you need to do. 

“I went there to talk him out of the charges he’s filing,” You explain, “and I guess… I just wanted to understand what he did, so I wanted to talk to him.” 

“And?” Yunho prompts. 

“He’s an asshole,” You start. 

“Did he touch you?” Mingi asks, his voice a little tight and thready, “Say anything to you?” 

“No,” You promise, tugging him closer until his hands are properly on you, “come here,” 

“You can tell us if he did,” Yunho’s fingertips stroke a gentle pattern over the back of your neck, “we’re not angry, we just want to help,” 

“Speak for yourself, I still want to kill him,” Mingi says sharply. 

“Hey,” Yunho nudges him, “chill,” 

“Both of you relax,” You interject and they fall silent, “he didn’t do anything, he couldn’t even talk, his jaw is fully wired shut,” 

Yunho huffs a laugh, “Good,” 

You smile, “Honestly, he looked pretty pathetic,” 

“He is pretty pathetic,” Mingi points out. 

“Right,” You sigh, “well, aside from some choice words written out on a whiteboard, he didn’t have much to say or do. I explained that if he didn’t drop his charges things would be much worse for him in the long run… and he saw reason.” 

“He agreed to that?” Mingi’s eyes go wide. 

“Mhm,” 

“Why?” Yunho’s brows draw together, “Not out of the goodness of his heart, I assume,” 

“No,” You shake your head, “but when I tell you, I need you both to promise me you won’t be angry.” 

“That’s unfair,” Yunho says. 

“Just say it,” Mingi nods, “we won’t know until we know.” 

You chew the inside of your lip as you search for the right way to say this, and you know they’ll be upset no matter what, but they deserve honesty. You nod, “I agreed to drop my charges if he drops his,” 

They’re silent, deathly silent. 

“y/n,” Yunho swallows tightly as he gets his voice even, “why would you do that?” 

“He didn’t want to listen to me at first,” You explain, “and I thought it through on the walk. That’s the only piece of leverage we have right now,” 

“But he did something wrong, he should be held accountable,” Mingi exclaims, taking a full step away from you and running a hand through his hair. 

“You heard the questions the police asked me,” You interject, “how close was I to my next heat? Did I know Minseok was in pre-rut? Why did I stay in the room if he was making me uncomfortable? What was I wearing?” 

“But it wasn’t your fault,” Yunho insists, “he used tone, that’s fucking illegal,” 

“I said he used tone,” You counter quietly, “but he’ll say he didn’t and he’ll say I got confused or misunderstood. He’ll use our relationship against you both, and my relationship with Seonghwa to paint… a very particular kind of picture about me. We all know what he did but I’m telling you, legally? We’re on the losing side,” 

“But,” Mingi shakes his head, “that’s…” 

“I know,” You nod, “believe me, I know.” 

“You should have taken us with you,” Yunho says quietly, “we could have talked to him for you,” 

You shake your head, “No,” you need them to understand, “you got to hit him… you got to do something, I didn’t get to do anything but be fucking scared,”

His expression softens, “Oh,” 

“You protected me when I needed you,” You feel tears welling up now at the thought of it, “it’s my turn to protect you,” 

They’re so quiet, watching you carefully. 

“Nothing is taking you away from me again,” You say it, plain and clear, “nothing is taking away you or my friends, I won’t let that happen,” 

Mingi’s arms fold around you fast as he tucks you into his chest and you feel Yunho step close too, laying a warm palm on your back as he leans into you both. 

“Whatever you want, we’ll do it,” Mingi murmurs, “okay?” 

You nod, closing your eyes as you snuggle into the warmth of him. 

“And we’ll handle it together,” Yunho says, “but don’t make this decision for us, make it for you. We,” Yunho’s voice trails, but then he clears his throat and says what he wants to say anyways, “we love you. No matter what happens,” 

“I know,” You sigh, snaking an arm out of Mingi’s hold to find Yunho’s hand and tuck him a little closer too, “but I’m sure,” 

“I hate to state the obvious here,” Mingi pulls back from you so he can look at you both, “but if he’s not charged with anything, then he’s a free man.” 

That thought does make your stomach flip, but you knew that when you walked into the hospital room, “I know,” 

“It’s your choice,” Mingi reiterates, “but I still don’t know if I’m comfortable taking that kind of risk with you.” 

“I don’t even want to think about that,” Yunho says, his hands finding your shoulders as he tucks closer behind you. 

The image of Minseok’s face when you asked about his dance career flickers through your mind and you smile, “I think he got the picture,” 

“y/n,” Mingi’s voice is hesitant. 

“I told him in no uncertain terms,” You can’t get the smile off your face now, “that if he came anywhere near me again I’d break his jaw myself.” 

“You didn’t,” Yunho looks down to see your face. 

“I did,” You nod, “and before you freak out again, please remember that I’m here and totally fine in front of you,” 

Mingi gives you a truly withering look but lets you speak. 

“Honestly,” You breathe, “you should have seen him, he was lying there and could barely move, and when he didn’t want to drop the charges at first, I kind of got in his face,” 

Yunho’s hands tighten on your shoulders and Mingi scrubs a hand over his face, “Don’t tell me that,” 

“But I did,” You press your palms flat against Mingi’s chest, “I told him that if he didn’t drop his charges he would never get rid of me, I told him I’d make his life hell, and he couldn’t even move. He couldn’t touch me,” 

Mingi’s quiet, his eyes flicking up to Yunho behind you. Yunho sighs, dropping his forehead to rest against your hair and then his arms relax, wrapping around you from behind. 

“I really hate this story,” Yunho says, “but I’m also really proud of you,” 

“Me too,” Mingi’s hand closes over both of yours to give you a squeeze. 

“I just wish you had told us,” Yunho admits. 

“If I had told you I was going there you would have never let me go alone,” You point out. 

“Exactly,” Yunho’s arms tighten. 

You turn your head to press your lips to his arm where it wraps around your shoulder, and you nuzzle a little into his warm skin, “You know why I had to go though, right? You get it?” 

He nods against your head. 

Mingi smooths his hand up and down your forearm, “We do,” 

“I just hate the thought of him seeing you again,” Yunho admits, lifting his head and readjusting you in his arms, “or being close to you at all,” 

“I know,” You lean back into his embrace, “but this is the thing, he got to see me be fine after what he did,” 

“And you got to see him,” Mingi puts two and two together with ease and nods, “and he looked pathetic?” 

“More than that,” You smile, “he looked… afraid.” 

“Good,” Mingi says firmly. 

You remember the way he looked in that hospital bed, his eyes darting around the room. He shrank back when you got close, no doubt the scent of Yunho and Mingi lingering on your skin, and you smile up at them at the thought, “He was terrified my alphas were with me,”

Yunho’s lips quirk and he leans around you to meet your eyes, “He wasn’t afraid of us, sweetheart, he was afraid of you.” 

“No,” You laugh that off, but they don’t join in and Mingi makes a funny expression at your words. 

Yunho slides away, shoulder to shoulder with Mingi now as he looks down at you, “Yes, y/n,” he shakes his head, “he was vulnerable and alone and stuck in a hospital bed, and you’re…” 

“A powerful fucking omega,” Mingi supplies. 

Yunho nods, “And he knows that you could ruin the rest of his life.” 

You don’t know what to say. 

“y/n,” Mingi sighs, tugging you in until your bodies are close together, “if you ever do something that reckless again, I’ll lose my mind,”

You move to lift your head and push back, to keep trying to get him to understand why this was so important for you to do alone and why you made the choices you made, but he stops you short. 

“But,” He adds, kissing the top of your head, “it was also very brave, and I love you for it.” 

“Yeah?” You nudge him. 

“Yeah,” He admits. 

“I do wish I could have seen it,” Yunho grins, “that asshole scared of you,” 

Mingi’s hands slide to your hips, tightening their grip and he swallows hard, “Our fierce little omega,” 

A ripple of something needy and unexpected passes through your belly, “Is that what I am?” 

Yunho steps closer, finding a home for his hands on your body too, “You called us your alphas,” he says softly, “isn’t that what we are?” 

Mingi’s thumbs brush a warm steady pattern into your hips and you feel yourself melting into their hands, “Yes,” 

“That makes you our omega, sweetheart,” Yunho eyes flick from yours to your lips. 

The way they say omega to you doesn’t sound cold. It doesn’t sound cruel or commanding, no undertone of ownership despite the content of their words. When they say it all you hear is love. 

“Say that again,” You murmur softly. 

Mingi smiles, lifting his eyes to watch you.  

Yunho dips closer, his lips dangerously close, “Our omega?” 

You nod a little, heat flushing your cheeks. 

“Our omega,” He repeats, pressing his lips to yours. He waits to make sure you want it, he waits to feel you twist in their arms and reach up for him, and then he lets his body follow his thoughts, lips opening and his tongue dipping into your mouth. 

Mingi’s hand shifts, spreading wide over your lower belly, his fingertips at the waistband of your pants. You’re not ready for that, and you hope he doesn’t notice the way you twitched in his hands when he first adjusted his grip, but either way he makes no move to take anything further. Neither of them do. Despite Yunho’s lips on yours, and the breath between you both, his hands stay put on your back and your cheek while Mingi just holds you, patient and soft at your side. 

When your lips break from Yunho, settling back down your heels after pushing up on tiptoe, Mingi uses his grip on you to spin you to face him, his mouth finding yours with ease. 

You hum pleasantly against his mouth, your hands gripping his broad shoulders for balance. 

“Ours,” Mingi murmurs between kisses, and then his hands spread to your backside, maneuvering you up into his arms in one quick motion, “you’re ours,” 

You wrap your legs around his middle and sink into the kiss, “I’m yours,” 

“Fuck, I missed you,” He mumbles between kisses, nuzzling your cheek with his nose. 

You nod against him, stealing one more kiss before you lean back, still perched comfortably with your legs around his waist. You smooth a hand over Mingi’s cheek and then reach for your other lover to bring him close, drawing him in by the hand until he’s nestled against both of your sides. Yunho’s hand reaches around to cup under your thigh and you settle your own hand on the back of Yunho’s neck, fingers stroking the shaggy bottom of his dark hair.

“This is nice,” Mingi smiles a little, eyes flicking between you and Yunho. 

Yunho nods, his free hand settling on Mingi’s back. 

“I can’t believe I convinced myself that we weren’t scent sympathetic,” You sigh a small, unfunny laugh, “this just feels so right,” 

“Knowing it and knowing it are two different things,” Mingi says, emphasizing the word. 

“I guess so,” 

“And it’s not like all scent matches work out,” Yunho adds, “we still have to work at it,” 

You nod, relaxing into their hold, “I want that,” 

“We do too,” Mingi squeezes your thigh a little with his wide hand. 

It’s funny how different it all feels now than months ago during your first panicked heat here, how settled you are with everything. You glance between them and ask the obvious, “When we go back to work, what are we this time?” 

“Pack,” Mingi says easily and your head snaps to his, eyebrows high. 

“Mingi,” You blink at him, surprised at his easy reference to such a permanent state of being. Scent matches and compatibility is one thing, but pack is something so much more. All of it flickers in your mind - claims, bonds, tying you together permanently. 

“Someday,” Yunho interjects smoothly, giving you a soft, reassuring kiss to the head, “far in the future, if you’ll have us.” 

“Someday,” The word slips out of you like an agreement, and despite all the fears shared with Wooyoung earlier, you do want them like that. You want to someday be able to give each other that.  

“Then we’re pack,” Mingi lights up at your words, “officially, unofficially, I don’t care. You’re with us, we’re with you.” 

Your body fills with warmth, but you can feel your heart rate picking up. 

Yunho smiles, “What did they used to call that back in the day?” 

“Courting,” You fill in the blank for him, and the word feels strangely old fashioned considering the fact that you’ve already spent a heat with them. When packs were more common, groups of alphas would court compatible omegas until it was sure they were a good match in more ways than just scent. The implication then was something more akin to a modern engagement and you can’t believe after everything you’ve been through with these two men, this is the conversation you’re having suddenly so casually in their kitchen. 

“Well,” Yunho laughs, “we don’t have to call it that,” 

“We’re,” You trail off, trying to find the words, “dating?” 

“Partners?” Yunho offers a slightly less casual word. 

“Together,” Mingi cuts in, “that’s what we are. We’re your alphas, we belong to you, and you,” he draws you closer in his arms to press a soft kiss on your lips, “are our omega.” 

“And at work?” You trail off. 

“We’ll be ourselves,” Yunho suggests, “people probably already know after last week anyways,” 

Mingi nods, dipping forward and pressing a kiss to your lips, “No more pretending we don’t mean something to each other,” 

“No more pretending,” You shift in his arms, wrapping your arms properly around his shoulders so that you’re hugging each other tightly. 

Mingi hums appreciatively, his breath warm against your hair and then he chuckles a little as he readjusts you in his arms, “Is it too fast if I start calling you yeobo, though? I feel like it suits you,” 

You pull back from the hug, “We’re not married, Mingi,” you remind him, “and I didn’t hear a proposal,” 

“You want to get proposed to, baby?” He teases and you shove his chest. 

“Knock it off,” Yunho smacks the back of Mingi’s head, “our relationship doesn’t have to break the sound barrier,” 

“I’m kidding,” Mingi squeezes you, shifting to take a few steps and deposit you on the kitchen counter before stepping back with a quick peck on your lips. 

“Hmm,” Yunho rolls his eyes and slumps back against the counter next to you, one wide hand smoothing over your thigh, “we just got you back, I’d like to avoid scaring you off,” 

“I’m not scared,” You shake your head, and as you say it, you realize it’s true. Six months ago you would have balked at Mingi’s veiled promise of his intentions, you would have told them all their hormones were mixed up and confused. You would have told yourself the same. It feels strange to feel completely at peace with the idea of a real someday with them. 

Yunho’s eyebrow quirks up in a question at your words and Mingi grins, a little self satisfied. 

“Actually,” You exhale heavily and straighten up, “I talked to Wooyoung yesterday and he helped me figure some things out,” 

“Things?” Mingi asks. 

“Um,” Your pounds in your chest, “yeah,” 

Yunho gives you an encouraging squeeze to keep going. 

You meet his eyes and take the leap, “Can you make that call? For me to talk with someone?” 

He softens and nods, “I’ll do it first thing,” 

“Okay,” You say, taking another deep breath, “then there’s one more thing to tell you,” 

Mingi doesn’t say anything, but he steps back closer to you, resting his hand on your opposite thigh. 

“It’s my turn to ask you to be patient,” You give them both an anxious, close lipped smile. 

“We’re listening,” Mingi soothes you. 

“Okay,” You take both their hands in yours, “here goes. The idea of bonding with you both is kind of sending me into a tailspin right now, and I’m terrified that it’s something I’m never going to get over. Wooyoung told me to talk to someone to work through that and I want to. I thought about it all day, and the truth is that I want to be with you both for as long as you’ll have me. You feel like you’re mine, now more than ever, and I’m scared, but I’m also scared of not trying,” 

“And if I can be yours like this for now,” You continue, “without bonds like you said, pack even if it’s unofficial, then maybe I can work through this and make it official someday. I’m just scared your definition of ‘far in the future’ and my definition are different though, and I,” 

“Fuck bonds,” Mingi interrupts, moving to cup both your cheeks and draw your eyes to his, “that shit doesn’t matter to me at all. We’re together by choice, not by claim. If you want my bite someday, I’ll give it to you, but you won’t ever hear me ask, alright? Never.” 

“Me too,” Yunho’s hand brushes down your hair, coming to rest on the back of your neck, “as far as I’m concerned it’s secondary, I don’t care what anyone thinks. I’d sooner leave you than push you into a bond you aren’t ready for,” 

You jolt forwards, throwing an arm around each of their shoulders and nearly slipping off the counter when you do, but they hold you steady as you pull them in. 

“We just want you,” Mingi’s rough, low voice murmurs, “just this.” 

You feel their warmth, the steady thrum of each of their heartbeats, their scents curling around you like a safe, easy memory. The words find themselves right on the tip of your tongue again, only this time, this time they come. 

“I love you,” You take in a sharp, emotional breath as you get yourself together, overwhelmed by their words, “I love you both so much,” 

Yunho dips back to find your mouth, locking his lips on yours and sighing a breath of true relief against your mouth, “I love you too, sweetheart,”

Mingi redirects your gaze with his fingers on your jaw the moment Yunho starts to lean back and he kisses you hard, leaving you gripping his shirt for balance, “I love you,”

“God,” You smile, every part of your body alight with joy, “I think we might be crazy, but I don’t care,” 

“Good,” Yunho glances between you both, “because I think I’m having a crazy idea,” 

“What idea?” 

“Move in,” He blurts out, and he can’t stop smiling, “fuck giving you a key, fuck calling you our girlfriend. Move in properly, be ours. If we’re together, let’s be together, we’ve lost enough time,” 

“Who’s moving fast now?” Mingi says, but he’s smiling too. 

Everything in your body feels right, feels safe. You’ve been calling this home for days, and you’ve been calling them yours in your head for so much longer. 

You’re nodding before your mouth can catch up with your brain, “Okay, okay, yes, let’s do it,” 

Yunho pulls you up into his arms and holds you close, peppering kisses across your temple, “We’ll figure everything else out later, but at least we’ll be together,” 

“Thank God,” You melt into his embrace, meeting Mingi’s eyes over Yunho’s shoulder, “because I really didn’t want to leave,” 

“No leaving this time,” Mingi smiles softly as Yunho nods his head against yours. 

“Mm-mm,” You shake your head, agreeing with his words. 

“We’ll get everything from your place as soon as we can, make it official,” Mingi adds. 

You nod, and then a thought occurs to you, “Is there even enough room for me here?” 

Yunho unwraps himself from around you and nods, “We’ll need a bigger bed,”

“For a start,” Mingi nods, “and you need a nest,” 

“Yeah?” Your very own nest, a real one. 

“Oh, babe,” Mingi finds your hand, tugging you in, “you’re about to get fucking spoiled, anything you want, we’ll figure it out.” 

“You don’t have to, I just want to be here,” You tell them. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Yunho says, “we’ve waited for you for so long,” 

“Too long,” Mingi wraps his arms around you both, “way too long,” 

It doesn’t matter anymore what pushed you into their arms, what kind of day you’ve had, everything you’ve had to get through. Not a thing in the world matters but this choice, the safe home of their arms, three of you against the world like it was always meant to be. 

[moody-alcoholic]

Decisions

MDNI +18 content

Summary: 4.3k words. Ghoap x Reader, throuple. Reader is female (she/her), army nurse, non descript physical features, names used: Ashe.

CW: MDNI +18 content Smut, PiV sex, blowjob, handjob, voyeurism (kinda), cum swallowing, cum play (kinda, licking cum of a persons body), cum sharing, slight over stimulation. PTSD, choking, PTSD induced attack, mentions of nightmares, hurt/comfort, mental health, descriptions of injuries, death, use of weapons, assault, Physical violence, kidnapping, mentions of drowning, mentions of suicide, murder. Wow what a total 180 of content warnings amirite…

Previous parts - masterlist - next part

Enjoy <3

“Are you sure about this?” Price asks as he pulls the car into the empty car park by the river. 

“I hurt her Price, I could have killed her.” Simon replies.

“You didn’t though, I can take care of this.” Price says sympathetically. Simon shakes his head.

“It has to be me.” He says pulling his mask down and getting out the car.   —————————— 

36 hours earlier. 

You picked Johnny up from the hospital with Simon. He was more then happy to leave after a week of being on the ward. Some complication with his liver, he wasn’t happy being told he couldn’t go home a day after major surgery. Conveniently it was the same day you had to get your stitches removed. You were going to have a nice scar on your cheek, but it had healed well and at least it wouldn’t re-open every time you ate. 

“I think it looks hot.” Johnny said as you came back into his room with the bandages off for the first time. You shake your head at him helping Simon pack his bag while you sat down for the long wait for the discharge. Johnny was almost skipping to the car insisting on driving which Simon wasn’t too happy with, especially since it was dark now. Simon agreed though, sitting in the front to watch him, his hand nervously tapping on his thigh.

When you get to the apartment Johnny is all over you and Simon. Taking any opportunity to touch or kiss you, his hands slipping up your shirt, on Simon’s neck as he called the lift.  

“Johnny you have bullet wounds.” You say while he’s kissing you all over your face and neck. 

“They’ll still be there when we’re done.” He says. You laugh as you stumble into the flat, Simon guiding you as Johnny is almost picking you up in his arms. 

“I’ve been waiting a week for this, dreaming about this.” He says between kisses. You can’t help but smile as Johnny half drags you to the bedroom. 

“Simon you coming?” Johnny asks you turn back to see Simon carrying Johnny’s hospital bag, you smile at him over Johnny’s shoulder. 

“You really should take it easy.” He calls.

“I’ve been taking it easy for a week, I’ve missed you two.” Johnny buries his head back in your neck. You don’t mind letting him take you through to the bedroom. 

“Will you lie down at least. I don’t want you doing anything crazy.” You say as he lets you go and jumps on the bed. 

“Simon get in here she’s being mean!” Johnny calls. Simon appears in the doorway smiling. You crawl on the bed kneeling over him. 

“I’m not being mean.” You scoff sitting down on him you can feel his hard cock through his pants, you almost want to grind up against him. 

“You’re being so mean ‘cause I’m still clothed and you’re sat on top of me.” Johnny says with a cheeky grin on his face. His hands squeezing your thighs. You hear Simon put Johnny’s bag down behind you as you turn to look at him. He walks up to the bed his hand resting on the small of your back.

You turn back to Johnny as he squeezes your thighs before you know it his arms are round your back as he flips you over in the bed. Now he’s on top of you. You let out a yelp as your head hits the pillows and you can feel his weight on top of you. You hear Simon sigh as he grabs Johnny’s shoulder pulling him off you so you’re laid side-by-side. 

“Take it easy Johnny or I’ll strap you to the bed.” Simon says.

“Is that a promise?” Johnny says winking. 

“You’re a menace.” You laugh resting your head on his chest and rubbing his stomach. You can feel the bandages under his shirt, the ones he said you would change for him when the nurse asked if he knew how to do it. You look up at Simon who’s standing at the end of the bed. 

“Maybe I should leave you two.” You say your eyes flicking between them. 

“Don’t be silly lass.” Johnny says. Sitting up in the bed a bit and throwing his arm over your shoulder pulling you up to his face. 

“Si, c’mon.” Johnny says gesturing for Simon to get in the bed behind you. Simon smiles walking round the bed as you hear him take his belt off. Johnny presses his face to yours humming in your mouth, your hand rubbing his stomach. You feel Simon scoot up behind you pressing his back to you. His hands slipping up your shirt to your breasts, you moan in Johnny’s mouth enjoying Simon’s hands squeezing your nipples.

Your hand slips from Johnny’s chest to his pants as you manoeuvre your body for Simon to have easier access to you. His mouth is licking your neck, his lips tickling each spot. Your hand is deep in Johnny’s pants now rubbing his bulge as he hums. You lean back looking in his eyes glossed over as you rub his cock in your hand. He’s almost trying to move and shift his body closer to you.

“He said he’ll tie you to the bed.” You joke with Johnny. 

“I’m okay with that.” Johnny breathes his hand stroking your face. 

“I’ll move.” You smile shifting your body so your head is aligned with his hips. Simon moves too taking the opportunity to be closer to Johnny as well. Laying next to him where you once where so he has easy access to Johnny’s body. You know Simon has missed him, spending as much time as he can at the hospital, visiting twice a day while you distracted yourself cleaning the flat from top to bottom.

You would visit Johnny in the evenings and sometimes Price came too, giving Johnny updates on what has been going on. Price didn’t know much about what was happening with Jack or the rest of the family. The Met were still scouring through all the stuff they had taken from the house, it was going to take months.

Simon’s hand squeezing your ass pulls you back to reality, you look up at Johnny who’s smiling as Simon nuzzles into his neck. You swing your body right around so you’re crouched over Johnny’s legs your hands pulling his sweat pants and boxers down. Before you have a chance to grab his now freed cock Simon’s hand is there rubbing the bead of precum off the tip with his thumb. You look up at Johnny his eyes glistening as his head flops back on the bed. 

“You really have no patience.” Simon almost growls into Johnny’s neck as he squeezes his hand up and down Johnny’s cock in front of you. It makes you smile, it makes you wet and desperate to have it in your mouth. 

“A week of being surrounded by hot nurses.” Johnny says between breaths. Simon smiles taking his hand away and pushing his thumb into Johnny’s mouth. You take this as an opportunity to move up and take him. You hear him moan as you lick the head, wetting it with your lips before thrusting your mouth down.  

“Easy, almost had my thumb off.” Simon says. You smile taking Johnny as far as you can before you hit your gag reflex. You’re trying not to pay attention the aching in your pussy, to distracted by watching Simon making out with Johnny, who now has his shirt off, somehow.

Simon is running his hand over Johnny’s chest, every now and then pinching his nipples. Each time he squeezes one Johnny twitches in your mouth which makes you go deeper for him. You can hear the kiss getting sloppy as Johnny becomes more needy his hips almost thrusting into you.

Simon rests his hand on Johnny’s stomach to keep him in place. You want him to be inside you, now you’re feeling desperate. You pull off Johnny as he lets out a long frustrated moan. Simon smiles at you as you hop off the bed quickly ditching your clothes, almost too eagerly. Johnny watches you straddle over him realising what you’re about to do, you’ve never seen him smile so big.

His hands grip your thighs as you ease yourself down on him. It feels good, he feels good and your head tips back as you moan bouncing up and down. You start slow making sure you’re not causing him any pain. The noises he's making are enough for your pussy to flutter with each call of your name. He’s almost babbling incoherently, telling you how much of a ‘good girl you're riding him so well’. The praise makes you smile as you look down at him. Simon is still rubbing his chest, kissing his neck.

You see what Johnny has been distracting himself with fisting Simon’s cock with his free hand. Christ thats hot. You bring one of your hands to rub your clit which only makes you move faster as Johnny's free hand squeezes your thigh.

You’re hot and sweaty, you’re close as you press your fingers harder on your clit. Johnny is thrusting his hips, driving himself into you hitting your cervix as you're clenching around him. His nails digging into you now, he must be close too. Simon has stopped kissing Johnny’s neck instead just bucking his hips into Johnny’s hand as his cock twitches. You can hear Simon whispering things in Johnny’s ear as his head tips his back arches.

Simon Presses his stomach down which makes him curse Simon as he cums. You squeeze round him, your fingers rub your pulsing clit as Johnny throbs inside you. You almost don’t even realise Simon’s cum too until you look down seeing his seed all over Johnny’s chest. Simon had moved up in the bed at some point while you were distracted riding Johnny.

You bend down over Johnny in your post orgasm haze licking his chest collecting a tongue full of cum before going over to kiss him. Johnny moans wrapping his arms round you as his tongue licks yours clean. It makes your pussy flutter round his cock as the kiss becomes a desperate sloppy mess. He pulls away moaning from the over stimulation hands gripping your waist. You laugh and get up off of him. 

“That what you needed Johnny?” Simon asks also getting off the bed. 

“Aye.” Johnny says as he lets out a long breath. You smile going into the bathroom to get a towel, you bring it back in and throw it at Johnny so he can clean up. 

“You okay?” Simon asks you as you meet him in the doorway. You smile looking up at him and plant a kiss on his lips. He kisses you back as his hand wraps round your waist. You take a long breath breathing him in. 

“That was nice.” You say smiling. You look over Simon’s shoulder to see Johnny with his eyes closed and the towel covering his stomach. You can’t help but chuckle, gesturing for Simon to look. You hear Simon sigh as he rolls his eyes which makes you chuckle more. 

“Go take a shower, I’ll sort him out.” Simon says kissing your head. You nod turning back to head to the bathroom. 

Simon joins you in the shower which turns into more of a another make out session. Simon has been tense since Johnny has been in the hospital, waking up in the middle of the night, having nightmares. Sometimes you’ll wake up and he’ll be asleep on the sofa or in the other room. Telling you he didn’t want to wake you.

He seemed more relaxed, you let him wash your body, he takes his time by the time when he’s done the heat from the shower has you sleepy. When you get to the bed Johnny is softly snoring so you change then lay up against his back hugging him from behind. Simon gets in behind you his arms resting over you on Johnny’s waist. 

“I love you,” You yawn.

“I love you too.” Simon says kissing your head.            

  —————————— 

You don’t know why but you dream you’re drowning. You’re in the middle of the ocean and something is pulling you down. You keep gasping for air and nothing comes, each time you inhale salty water blocks your nose and mouth. You’re trying to swim up your legs and arms kicking. Each time the pulling gets harder, its getting harder to reach the surface for the pitiful gasps of air. You can’t breathe as you’re pulled under the water into the blackness.

Your eyes fly open, there’s pressure on your chest. It’s Simon towering above you his hands round your neck. He looks angry, your eyes flick around his face. It’s almost like he’s not there, his eyes hollow looking through you. You can’t breathe, Your arm moves to slap Johnny who you’re surprised hasn’t woken up. He groans and you hear him turn as your vision goes fuzzy. 

“Fuck! Simon!” You feel Johnny push him off you with such force he’s thrown off the bed. You gasp for air throwing your body upright, your hand flying to your neck. 

“You okay?” Johnny asks trying to pull your hands away so he can see. You’re confused sucking in gasps of air as you look over as Simon pulling himself off the floor, rubbing the back of his head. 

“What happened?” He says getting up and turning the bedside light on. He blinks looking at the scene before him. All the colour is drained from his face, his expression switches from confused to horror. He backs up hitting the wardrobe behind him. His mouth is moving but words don’t come out then he’s rushing out the room. You hear the bathroom door slam. Johnny’s rubbing your back. You don’t know what to say.

“Let me see.” Johnny says pulling your hand away from your neck you let him, turning to see him tears welling in your eyes. He brushes them away with his thumb. He looks sad, like he’s about to burst into tears too. 

“You okay?” He asks, you nod you don’t know what to say. Johnny swings his legs out of bed you hear him sigh before he gets up.

“Stay here. I’ll talk to him.” Johnny says. You watch as he leaves the room. 

“Si, can I come in?” You hear him say as he knocks on the bathroom door. There’s no reply, you get out of bed hugging your arms as you look through the bedroom door to see Johnny with his hand on the bathroom door handle. 

“Simon, let me in please.” Johnny says, there’s an edge to his voice you can hear him trying really hard not to crack. You walk up next to him gripping his shirt as he lets out a breath. You look up at him and knock on the door. 

“Simon.” Your voice catches in your throat, the door doesn’t have a lock. You want him to know you’re okay. It’s not his fault. You know about this, it’s common with soldiers, you’ve been taught how to deal with things like PTSD, nightmares. It’s part and parcel of the job, especially as a nurse.

You press down on the handle Johnny’s hand is on your back almost like he wants to pull you away. You push the door open slowly Simon’s stood hands braced on the sink his arms tight, knuckles white. You take a step to him feeling Johnny’s hand leave your back. He’s looking down in the sink as you step next to him. You reach out to slowly touch his hand scared he’ll flinch. 

“Simon,” you say quietly, gently squeezing his arm. He lets out a sigh. You place your other hand on his trying to get him to relax, stroking his arm, looping your fingers with him. You can hear the shaking in his breaths. He turns to look at you, his eyes filled with moisture, his eyes flick to your neck as his body turns towards you.

“It’s okay, Simon I’m okay.” You say moving your hands up to his face. Slowly pressing your body against him as he moves away from the sink.     

“Simon, hey look at me.” You say grabbing Simon’s cheeks in your hands, forcing him to look at you. He looks sad, you’ve never seen him like this before, it’s making you feel sad.  

“You’re okay. I’m okay. Johnny he’s always okay.” You press up against him, wrapping your hands around him. You hear Johnny move as Simon wraps his arms round your back. You close your eyes, you can hear his heart-beating rapidly in his chest. 

“You’re okay, I love you you’re okay.” You say into Simon’s chest as you feel him let out a long breath. Feeling his arms wrap round you. 

“You’re okay.” Johnny says kissing Simon’s cheek. You can feel Simon’s heartbeat slow. You squeeze him, Johnny rubs his back standing on his toes. You can hear Johnny whispering in his ear, as you wait for him to calm down. 

You watch as Johnny comes out the bedroom closing the door behind him. You’re sat on the sofa sipping on your drink. Johnny makes his way over and sits next to you. 

“How is he?” You ask, you lean up against him. 

“He’ll be okay. I made him take a sleeping pill, hopefully the rest will do him good.” Johnny says. You let out a sigh. 

“Has this happened before?” You ask. Johnny doesn’t say anything for a second his hand resting on your back.

“Once or twice.” Johnny says. “Usually after something major has happened, like the last week or so. What happened with you and me, Jack being out. He’s not good at talking about his feelings, lets the bottle up like this.” You swallow hard your throat still raw. You’ll be okay, you're more worried about Simon now anyway. 

“He needs to talk to someone.” You say hoping it won’t offend Johnny. 

“I know, but it’s like trying to get water out a rock.” Johnny says sighing. You relax up against him, you’re still tired you don’t know if you’ll sleep but you feel like you should stay by Johnny. Let Simon get some good rest maybe he’ll feel better tomorrow.   

 —————————— 

Simon sleeps until mid day then leaves the flat without saying a word. You can tell Johnny isn’t quite sure what is happening with the way he starts pacing the flat. When he does sit down he’s nervously tapping his foot and playing with his wedding ring. You try to distract him and yourself watching the TV to give you both some background noise. Around 5pm Simon comes back, he looks tired, dark circles under his eyes his hair messy.

He goes over to Johnny in the kitchen and whispers something in his ear. You see Johnny grip his arm turning to look at you then saying something back to Simon you can’t hear. You feel nervous like something bad has happened as Simon steps out the kitchen coming towards you. He stops and you turn round on the sofa to look at him. He bends down and kisses you on the forehead, you look up at him watching his eyes flick to your neck. 

“I’m so sorry.” He says stroking your cheek. You kneel up on the sofa and kiss him, pressing your lips to his as his hands wrap round your back. 

“It’s okay, I’m okay.” You say wrapping your arms round him resting your head in his chest. 

“It’s not okay but I’m going to make it okay.” He says as he lets you go. You look up at him confused. He strokes your cheek looking down at you with his big brown eyes. 

“I’ll be back later, keep Johnny company for me yeah?” He says. You nod as he walks away. Johnny is waiting for him in the hall and he gives Simon a kiss as he throws his jacket on. You look at Johnny frowning, he looks worried. What the hell is Simon planning 

It’s cold, wet, dark typical British weather. Simon takes a long inhale of the last of his cigarette letting it warm his lungs and calm his mind. It will be easier when Price gets here. It will be easier when all this is over. Price didn’t need much convincing when Simon burst into his office early afternoon to explain his plan. Price always understood, Johnny did too but Price understood in a different way.

Jack needed to go, Simon can’t function knowing the person who hurt the people he loves the most is still out there. Could be out there for a very long time. The nightmares had been ramping up, visions of him failing to save you or Johnny. Night after night of horrors, all leading up the the the worst thing Simon could imagine. He flicks his cigarette butt in the river as Price pulls up. He gets in the car in silence as they drive the short drive to the location. 

“Are you sure about this?” Price asks as he pulls the car into the empty car park by the river. 

“I hurt her Price, I could have killed her.” Simon replies.

“You didn’t though, I can take care of this.” Price says sympathetically. Simon shakes his head.

“It has to be me.” He says pulling his mask down and getting out the car. Ghost walks round the back of the car but waits until Price is out the car hearing the door slam. Price reaches him and opens the boot. Ghost holds his breath as he sees Jacks body is arms bound behind his back his mouth gagged, blood is running down his face. 

“Nice job.” Ghost says. Price nods. Jack looks confused, worried Ghost doesn’t care. They both reach down pulling him out the boot onto the floor as he groans in pain. Price slams the boot closed.

“What you wanna do?” Price asks as they stand over Jack. Ghost has had all day to think about it. Had all day to imagine all the different ways he could hurt Jack, breaking his legs and throwing him in the river was his favourite option so far.

Price was right though, they needed to make it look like they were never involved. Price walks to the side of the car opening the door and taking out a pistol wrapped in a towel. Simon bends down pulling the gag out of Jacks mouth. He doesn’t say anything at first just looking around taking in his situation. Price walks back over and hands the pistol to Ghost. 

“You really manged to piss a lot of people off.” Price says. 

“Please don’t do this I have a family.” Jack pleads.

“Should have thought of that before you went after my family.” Ghost says checking the weapon mag. 

“You know what it’s like then, you’ll do anything to protect them.” Jack says looking directly in Ghost’s eyes. Ghost doesn’t say anything. 

“Is he left or right handed?” Ghost asks Price.

“Left.” Ghost nods kicking Jack over so he’s laid on the other side. Price moves out the way as Ghost bends down next to Jacks head pressing the barrel against his temple. 

“At least let them find my body so they can get closure.” Ghost’s surprised, he expected Jack to put up more of a fight in the end. Guess he knew this was coming. Price told Ghost how the family would lose everything, they were planning on pinning the blame on Jack. Making him the scapegoat. How ironic. Ghost has nothing to say, he doesn’t want to say anything. He moves his finger to the trigger takes a breath in and fires the shot.

He stands back up handing the pistol back to price who wraps it back in the towel. Ghost doesn’t know what to say, there is no big finally, no gotcha moment, Jack even got the last word. He was gone that's what matters. He helps Price clean up his brain switching to autopilot. He just wants to get home, wants to forget this ever happened.   

 —————————— 

Simon sneaks back into the flat kicking his shoes off and pulling his mask over his head. The light is on in the hall but the rest of the flat is dark. He flicks the light off and walks towards the bedroom. He cracks the door open his eyes adjusting in the dark. He can see your body pressed up in Johnny’s arms. He leans against the doorway taking it in for a second.

The two people he loves the most resting peacefully, he almost wants to sleep in the other room so he doesn't disturb the perfect moment before him. He silently walks round the bed pulling his shirt and trousers off and slowly slips into bed pressing his chest up against your back. Johnny stirs his fingers finding Simon's face in the dark, Johnny’s fingers brush his lips and Simon kisses them.

“Feel better?” Johnny whispers. Simon lays his hand over you grabbing Johnny’s waist. He can feel you breathing, he can see Johnny’s eyes glistening in the moonlight. This is all that matters. 

“Yeah.” Simon says tears rolling down his face. Now’s the time to be emotional. That’s what Johnny taught him, let yourself get emotional around the people you love. Johnny must be able to tell as his hand comes up to stroke Simon’s cheek, brushing the tears away. 

“Yer a good man Si.” Johnny says rubbing his chin. Simon doesn’t believe him. He killed a man to protect the people he loves now he’s left someone a widow and a kid without a dad. It doesn’t matter, Johnny’s safe you’re safe and that’s all Simon cares about. He smiles at Johnny in the dark, letting himself get emotional. He can feel Johnny’s hand on his face, he can feel your heartbeat up against his chest. He closes his eyes listening to your breathing. 

“I love you Si,” Johnny says.

“I love you too Johnny.” Simon replies and kisses the top of your head.

“Get some sleep yeah?” Johnny says yawning.

“‘Course.” Simon replies his voice barely a whisper. He would get some sleep. For the first time in a week, he would get some sleep. Surrounded by the people he loved, in a place that’s safe he would sleep like a baby. 

Next

[gremlingottoosilly]

First of all, I love your fics so much that I keep re-reading them! Second of all, I'm sorry for bad English, third of all! What about kidnapper!König and sick reader, like reader has a chronic illness that requires taking medication everyday ? Like would he just let reader die orrrr???! (Ignore if you want, I know this is dumb)

Hey, don't apologize!! English isn't my first or even second language too. Honestly, being chronically ill and relying on meds might just be the only thing that would save you from total isolation initially. When Konig just kidnapped you, he was vigilant enough to scoop all medication you had in your room - he would find your prescription and read it carefully, knowing how lack of meds can mess a person up. He is taking his anxiety meds - something he often forgets but swears it's not really important to him, as he is a strong, cool man without any problems. He had a few comrades taking prescription drugs from PTSD, and he is dealing with chronic pains from his many injuries - sometimes, when it becomes too bad, he is taking quite strong pain killers...so he won't really make you beg for your meds if you're good. If you're a nice, polite girl for him, you're having your pills in restricted time and he will be very observant to feed you and give you water - he doesn't want you sick, making you fall ill would require him finding a doctor who won't ask questions and, well, he is a mercenary, not a mafia member. In this AU, at least. (Mafia!Konig? Anyone???) If you're bad, however...if you can survive missing a day in taking your meds - you'll have to experience all the pain and withdrawals that come with it. Konig won't hesitate to cut your food privileges, and pills are being taken as well - he would wait to make sure you're not dying, of course, but you won't feel fine even after he allows you to take the minimal dosage. When you're crawling to him, all teary and ready to apologize, he would gladly accept it, and everything would return to normal. If you need to refill your prescription, however...well, Konig never planned on keeping you in the basement for forever - he wants you to be his pretty cute housewife, so he knows he had to let you go out eventually. He will watch over very carefully as you slowly run out of pills - and right before it would be over, he will suddenly make you get dressed and...let you out?? Really?? Well, don't be too happy - he is only doing a drive for a city hall because he wanted to make sure you're married first. Without a flashing wedding, unfortunately, but he'd then be able to get you under his insurance and his family doctor. Doctor visits in Austria(and Central Europe) are abysmal even if you are covered by a very good insurance, and you'd have to cling to Konig for translations - doctors are smiling and nice, but they won't acknowledge you beside the prescription you had, even if you had it in Austria too. Konig is handling all the communication and you know you're trapped - with a psycho holding your hand, holding your meds and literally taking away your last name to replace with his. But, well, at least you got your insurance, right?

[ctheathy]

Hello, I hope you have a nice day! , I would like to request a headcanons of yandere nine x reader being kidnapped by doctor eggman

Yandere Nine w/ Darling who got kidnapped by Robotnik

Nine x Reader

Yandere Headcanons

Short Concept

Author's note: You, my dear reader, are all out for the drama and I'm here for it~!

Nine/Reader [Romantic Tendencies]

[Gender-neutral Darling|Female Darling|Male Darling]

Potential ⚠️TWs⚠️ :

Possessiveness • Nine is so traumatized omfg- • Eventual PTSD • Age regression • Overprotective behaviour • Poor mental state • Paranoia • Emotional dependency • Trust Issues • Insomnia • Violence

Pfft. If Nine wasn't already considered severely unhinged before, he most certainly will be right now. Oh how much terror the fox would feel in the pits of his stomach, the horror in his eyes, the helplessness in his heart. He most certainly would have never allowed this to even remotely come forward if he were the one to be in your presence. But... he wasn't. The whole team would have felt this immense sense of hesitance and dread to even tell him about it, having noticed his attachment and emotional bond towards you... and when the words slip from Sonic's mouth, not ready to test the nine-tailed foxes’ impatience, he cracks. And not just any regular burst of anger, he has a complete mental breakdown.

Nine will be nothing less than a ball of angst and fright at this point, something which he desperately tried to cover up with an infuriated facade, despite his evident worries from your abduction. But none of that would matter in the end, because he'd behave completely berserk one way or another. He doesn't dare rest or waste time for that matter until he can hold you in his arms again. Likely as soon as they reach The Chaos Council to try and bring you back... Nine would not hold himself back, still taken over by his violent meltdown. Instead of trying to avoid the Council's eyes and enemies that are in the way, maintaining a low profile as he'd say, he releases all of that pent up malice.

Though he'd leave many of the his robotic opponents onto the grounds ...torn to scraps by the fierce abilities of his mechanical tails, Nine would be surprisingly merciful to any living mobian for the sake of getting answers on where you're being held hostage. Because remember; although venting out some of his frustrations during the fight was equal to his hostility towards those who just so happened to be in his way, this mission is not and never will be about assassinating every enemy he comes across for the sake of just hurting them. It's all just to release you from The Chaos Council's grasp, take you back to his workshop where you rightfully belong ...bring you back to him. An objective and promise he will never allow himself to forget ever again after seeing your frightened face and body.

Even after he does get you back to the team, and he will no matter the costs or sacrifices he has to offer. But although you're back home, safe.... His paranoia will continue to linger and remain at its highest. Though the wounds you obtained through your abduction will eventually heal, his trauma of your kidnapping won't for a very long time. The side affects seemingly starts off small through your perspective, and you probably wouldn't even know how much it deep down affected him. Especially as the amber fox just seems to want to stick closeby you, seeking for comforting reassurance and some guidance to get himself back on the right track, which you more than understand and accept with open arms.

But what if I told you that he just got much, ...much more insane and delusional than you may think after you got taken away like that. It was like a newborn kitten being taken away from its mother right after birth, one whom he'd desperately cry out to and crawl after. To Nine, it wasn't just the idea of losing that happiness of having somebody to care about, but this also re-activated his defense mechanism to his past trauma.

Kill or be killed.

Nine's whole mentality practically returns to that of his younger self, almost similar to an age regression... You'd probably also notice the changes in demeanor, how he's practically almost behaving like a juvenile again. Decisions are made more so out of instinct rather than rational, logical thoughts. Which, to you, is something completely foreign and out of character for Nine.

His overprotective impulses would kick in at full force and he'd be quicker to lash out, along with his pessimistic mentality and stress being multiplied in the process, which is something his already poor mental state is absolutely not emotionally capable of handling. Even with you just not being in his eyesight can leave Nine with severe anxiety. His emotions are quicker to flow over, resulting in either anger outbursts or crying... And he practically treats you as if you were actively dying from a disease, constantly thinking of and mentioning the “what ifs”.

There would be many restless nights where he wakes up in the middle of the night, teary-eyed after a dream vision or isn't even capable of drifting off into a slumber at all. The simple thought of you ending up hurt and scarred while he wasn't there to protect you keeps his nerves excessive and senses on constant high alert. Even just the consideration in itself can leave him in a condition of hysteria for the next half hour, unable to calm himself down. These sudden exchanges of panic making you realise just how inconsistent it is, as Nine was usually known as collected, self-assured... in control of the situation. Something you'd consider the other side of the coin of how he was operating at this very moment. A complete and sudden reverse swap in his very identity.

Making you pray... that this was a crutch you could hopefully help him grow out of

[therookieimagines]

Not that he cares..or anything - Tim Bradford X fem!reader 2/?

Summary: After being released from the hospital Tim is quick to make sure you’re taken care of with a place to go..even if that’s his house, but don’t get it wrong now lovelies..it’s not that he cares about you..or anything.. ;)

Warnings: past mentions of being shot, PTSD flashbacks for you and Bradford, Tim crying..a lot..panic attacks, mentions of killing somebody, guilt and regret of killing a ‘suspect’

After being released from the hospital, you didn't really have anywhere to go, but you knew you needed clothes, all your belongings, etc. While everybody offered to go with, you knew it needed to be done on your own. Tim knew better, through his year of training and chasing you around, he knew you were stubborn and wanted to do things on your own no matter the pain it caused you, so he followed you, waiting outside for you to come out. Anxiety sank in whenever he realized you hadn't come out in over twenty minutes.

As you entered your hallway you felt every muscle in your body tighten, falling against the wall, desperate to catch your breath as the memories flashed freshly in your brain, you could feel your pain all over again. As Tim walked inside he heard your cries, trying to push down his own PTSD to find you. You screamed as you felt hands on your body, attempting your training to take down the threat, but this time the 'threat' easily grabbed your hands holding them in front of you "Y/n, y/n, It's Tim, you're okay, nobody is trying to hurt you, I won't allow them" he whispered, you immediately let yourself fall into his arms, wrapping your own around him "I can't do it! I c-can't be here!" You sobbed, he held onto you tightly, not letting you fall once, he had made a promise to himself, he'd never let you fall, and if you did? he'd be there.

Tim never realized he was crying until he finished packing your clothes, he had sent you to his truck, knowing it'd be easier for him to grab your things than it would be for you, before he realized it the sadness turned into anger, which turned into having to pull his fist out of your hallway wall, where your blood stain was still splattered. He couldn't help it, what if he had been a minute later? What if you died? "Tim.." You whispered standing in the doorway, your body shaking like a scared puppy, but standing your ground to get your friend from the home. "I..I didn't think about a place to go" You mumbled disappointed "Don't talk like that, you're staying with me" He whispered carrying your bag to you sighing "I also got your side table contents" He whispered smirking resting a hand on your shoulder leading you back to the truck as your cheeks went bright red with embarrassment "It was..clean" You mumbled, not wanting to look him in the eye "I would assume" He chuckled "You can have my bed, I'll take the couch" he explained driving to his house "After I go back to work next week I'll take an extra break to take you to any appointments or to check on you" He spoke parking in his usual parking spot.

"I can't take your bed! It's huge!" You gasped flopping down onto it "Oh my God it's like a cloud" You whispered, Tim rushed over, ghosting his hands over your gunshot wound "Careful!" He lectured looking at your shirt back to you "I don't want you bleeding everywhere" He basically whined, you rolled your eyes sitting up watching as he started grabbing your clothes he had packed "What're you doing?" You asked suspiciously "Getting you night clothes, you need to shower because one you smell like a hospital and it stinks, two we gotta change that bandage before you go to bed" He explained nonchalantly, you couldn't help but watch in awe, nobody cared for you that much other than your great grandmother who passed whenever you were still a kid.

"Come on, rookie" Tim encouraged softly as he helped you off of the bathroom counter where he was re-applying your bandages, you gripped his hand tightly in pain, trying to hold back tears, but ultimately failing "Hey, hey, I've got you, let's get you in bed with some pain killers" he encouraged helping you lay down, he wiped your tears helping you take your meds. You laid in bed for what felt like hours, before the door slowly opened shining light in "I can't sleep" You heard Tim whisper "I-I can't..I keep seeing you..lying there.." You could hear the unsteadiness in his voice, like he was on the verge on crying, or had already been crying. He made his way in, sitting down next to you, taking his spot next to you on the bed but still leaving some distance between you. "I-I can't convince myself that you're here..or alive..I just keep seeing your blood" He whispered, you could see in the darkness the way he was staring into the distance, you took the opportunity to close the space and hug him tightly "I'm alive, because of you, Tim" You said, he quickly wrapped his arms around you holding you tight.

It was a few hours before actual reality hit you, you had killed a man, maybe you could’ve handled things differently, de-escalated, maybe if you would’ve never grabbed your gun after he shot you he never would’ve had to die, you didn’t want to kill him though, you were always taught to neutralize the threat to your life in the academy and training, but you never thought you’d actually have to shoot to kill. You didn’t realize you had slowly moved out of bed, now sitting on the back porch trying to stifle your sobs, you felt like this was all your fault, you could’ve done something, your roommate never deserved to die, he just had some issues but everybody had issues. Goosebumps were proudly presenting themselves on your skin, the cold night air blowing against your body violently. “Y/n?..why’re you out here?” Tim asked, seeing your curled up body in the corner of the porch fencing “it’s freezing, it can’t be good for your body right now” he protested walking over wrapping the throw blanket he had been using around your shoulders, lifting you to your feet before feeling your body shake with sobs. “Hey hey, what’s going on? Are you hurt? Y/n come on talk to me” he demanded, you could barely understand what he was saying he was speaking so quickly, but you just walked with him towards the kitchen.

“Tim, I killed someone..I-i shouldn’t have a badge or be a cop” you whimpered looking down at your hands “hey! You did what you had to. You were just following your training and protocol, there was a threat to your life and you took out that threat do you understand me?” His voice was stern, rough almost, but his gaze on you was nothing but caring and sweet. “H-he dropped the gun the minute he shot me..I-i could’ve just..waited for back up-“ he cut your ramblings off “and what? Him to get spooked and take out an on-duty cop? Take out me?” He asked you, not letting up that you were not in the wrong. “He wouldn’t-“ Tim wouldn’t let you finish any excuse you thought of “he would’ve. He would’ve been spooked the second we busted in, y/n. Listen you did the right thing, you followed protocol to a point, I just..I should’ve listened to you whenever you were trying to tell me about him, I just thought it was another one of the stories you tell to fill the silence of the shop..” he whispered hugging you tightly, you accepted the hug gratefully holding onto his arms tightly.

You both ended up just sitting on the couch until sunrise, Tim telling you about the first time he shot someone as a rookie, how it affected him for months, how he got through it, and all it did was help you realize not only that maybe you weren’t as in the wrong as you thought, but also that you were really grateful for Tim Bradford, and from what you’ve heard from Lucy, he was happy to have you as part of his team. You woke up the next morning to everything in your body hurting, not understanding why until you realized you and Tim both had tried to squeeze yourselves on the sofa together, poor Tim hanging halfway off the ledge of the couch, his arms wrapped tightly around you. You weren’t sure if it was for you, or for him to keep himself from falling, but you stayed there, afraid any certain movement might wake up, you knew he was an veteran and with the things he sees in the LAPD, you understood that waking up sometimes could be a spook, especially being so close to someone.

Tim did end up waking up with a startled jump, not remembering how he ended up on the couch in the first place, the last thing he remembered was talking with you about what you two were going to accomplish whenever you got back to work. He took in your frame, your back facing towards him as you counted the threads on the couch cushions, he coughed awkwardly, an attempt to get your attention “are you..counting my threads?..” he asked groggily trying to shriek his eyes from the sun as he sat up to get a better view of your face, that was turning red as a tomato “w-well I- I didn’t want to wake you up by moving b-but I also didn’t want to be creepy and watch you sleep so I-i just-“ he cut you off by smiling at you to your surprise, you thought he’d at least call you weird. “You’re fine, get up let’s get that bandage changed and get you to the doctor, see about getting those stitches out and getting you into work appointed physical therapy” he said standing up, stretching his arms above his head, you couldn’t help but check out his bare chest, you never got a good look in the hospital.

His abs were what you believed every girl and woman’s dream would be, his V line was prominently showing above the waistline of his boxers and night pants, it was like he was sculpted by the gods themselves. “L/n, come on up and at em” he said snapping you out of your obvious staring contest with his torso “S-sorry” you muttered shyly rushing to your feet.

There shall be a part three my lovelies with some smut hidden somewhere in future parts ;)

[elaselat]

Repetition (Pt. 2)

Warnings: PTSD, Rape, Torture

When you awoke, murky black met your eyes. With a groggy mind, you assumed they were Az's lovely shadows, always doting on you. Reaching out a hand to give them a loving caress, you felt cold metal bite into your skin, kickstarting your heartbeat and clearing part of the fog in your mind.

You looked around, reforming the prior events of your assigned mission. Your arms were suspended upwards in chains connected to the ceiling, located in the middle of a cold, dark cell. This darkness was quite unfriendly in comparison to Az's dark effortless beauty. You pulled on both chain, just to ensure yourself you truly couldn't slip from them. The chains were tight, racking fear further into your mind.

"Which Night Court Scum can I smell this time? You all spend so much time together your scents are practically smeared" That was a voice you knew. The voice of someone you had been looking for.

"Eris, what is with your personal inconsistency and temper?" You practically growled, a defense against the person who had seemingly sold you out.

"Why are you here youngin? Came to dig me out of my father's hole?" At this, you startled.

"Are you... in a cell? Did he trap you here? I came to see you, you sent a letter...." Eris cackled, the only trait besides his looks that reminded you of his father.

"My father captured me a week ago, I wrote no such letter that landed you in this place. I assumed the Night Court was better than this" Eris's confession was an ice cold bucket shading your eyes. That meant you two were stuck here..... and no one knew you needed rescuing.

You were fucked. Royally and thoroughly fucked.

___

Time moved different down here. The time before your tortures came were spent trying to remaining conscious and calm, collecting information and talking to Eris.

But then Beron came, spitting near his son and stopping in front of you. Only to kick his boot square into your chest, sending you backwards only to be stopped by biting chains.

"I was hoping the Shadowsinger or General would've come, but instead I got a whore. Oh, the things I would do to a whore. But unfortunately for you, you're not just any whore. You're a traitors daughter of a whore, and for your fathers misdeeds you shall pay" Beron remembered. And you were done for.

He was always slow in his torture, setting a small flicker to your clothes, slowly burning away the fabric and caressing your body as the ashes fluttered away.

"I'm going to have fun with you" You could only think that Beron and your father must've been close.

After having his way with you, Beron moved your chains to a side wall and sent in his guards to have their fun. Two or three of them would always be there, shifting in and out like clockwork. You grew accustomed to the pain of rape, and only shed tears thinking of Azriel, after they had decided they should add some fire to their fuck.

Azriel, who was ashamed of his hands because they had been burnt to a crisp. Azriel, who would have to see you again, if you survived, with lacertations and burns. Azriel, who could never love you, not now.

"I don't know what you did, but I'm enjoying it. Beron doesn't care what the hell we do with you" The most frequent guard who visited you, this time with knives in hand. He took his right hand and stabbed it straight into your stomach, straight through to pin it to the ground. The other he lifted to you eyes, then dragged down your chin. A thin line of red dribbled down onto your chest, still exposed as he used his free hand to re-investigate your body.

"Now, now, girl, let me teach you a lesson" The knife he trailed downwards, to your lower chest where he began to drag out the word WHORE in large, ugly red letters. He stopped at the point where his other dagger was located, yanking it out and showing you the blade. He moved onto your back, where he pinned you again by the shoulder, and wrote SLUT for him to admire. He was proud and happy, you could tell by the growing member you felt against your legs.

"Not much reaction from you, let's have some real fun" He gave a low whistle and in walked two more guards, hands grasping objects obscured behind their backs.

"I heard you're from the Night Court, oh dearest whore. So, I'll do you a favor. I plan on bringing you closer to that Shadowsinger friend of yours" Your heart dropped. This was a trick. He wouldn't be so foolish as to bring you to Az, right? He reached for your hands, tied behind your back. Doused them in a cool liquid, something you couldn't identify.

"Light the matches boys"

__________________________________________________

Azriel was going mad.

It had been three days since you'd left and they still had no trace of you. You, his sweet best friend. The girl he loved.

"She went to meet with Eris, right? So why didn't Eris respond when you sent him a letter?" Rhys, exhausted by this shocking event, only retrieved the letter he'd recieved from Eris that sent you on your mission.

Azriel snatched it out of Rhy's hand, scouring the contents. "This isn't Eris. Rhys, you made a huge mistake" The High Lord whipped his head up at that, eyes wide.

"Eris always rights his t's with a line under them (like a t with _ at the bottom). These one's are crossed. This has to be someone else, they have her, which means they have Eris, oh god no" Azriel's world was spinning, shattered by the lines of a letter.

Rhys was silent for a moment, "Eris gave me a location to one of their underground torture cells not far from the border a while back. If we go there, we might find one or both of them"

Azriel turned on his heels, ready to go.

"We must strategize brother. Do not blind yourself to any traps"

"Rhys, I'm not waiting another goddamn moment when the Autumn Court is out to kill her! Screw traps and strategies and plans, she's in danger!"

" The Autumn Court is out to kill her...."

Azriel could only blankly stare before opening his mind to Rhys, showing him the story of your past. "I thought you knew Rhys, I can't believe I...." Az shook his head, disbelief coursing through him.

"She didn't tell anyone Az, but you're right, we need to go now"

______________________________________

You were numb. Utterly, empty and numb.

How could you return to the Night Court as this broken shell?

You were so pathetic, having curled into the corner of the room anytime the men left. And while they were there, as they were now, you stared blankly ahead and let tears stream down your face. You would die. And you wouldn't know until the after life hit you.

So, when three Illyrian shadows loomed over your captors, you were silent, assuming it all a trick of their Fae Bane. But these shadows, they snapped necks, and the beautiful blue cobalts shined through the haze of your mind, wrapping you in the comfort of the night.

"Y/n.... sweetheart, look at me please" Az's voice was muffled as Rhys snapped away your chains. You gave him a grin and shut your eyes, waiting to become the darkness again.

Part 3 will be out sometime soon, I promise!

Taglist:

@tele86 @acourtofbatboydreams @imgunnapayforthis @fhgsvbnh @minnieoo @anainkandpaper @romantasyreader28 @i-am-infinite

[m-ilkiee]

Monsters: Manjiro "Mikey" Sano x Reader x Izana Kurokawa

“He ate my heart”

Pairings: Manjiro ‘Mikey’ Sano x female reader, Izana Kurokawa x female reader

Series summary: Your grievous sin was Emma standing up for you to her brothers. And now you’re going to pay the heavy price for destroying their perfect family dynamic.

Content warning generally: DARK CONTENT, Tokyo revengers AU, female reader, virgin reader, heavy smut, polyamory, Dark Impulse Mikey, Manipulative Izana, inaccurate/inconsistent university terminology, heavy angst with little comfort, betrayal, misogyny and sexism, emotional, physical and mental abuse, mental break, manipulation, gaslighting, sexual harrassment, dubious consent, noncon, drug, alcohol and substance misuse/abuse, extreme violence, use of weapons, Torture, criminal activities, PTSD, paranoia, emotional incest, power imbalance, character death(s) (not reader), anal penetration, mention of self-harm, religious guilt and trauma, religious themes, Vouyeurism, gangbang, masochism, sadism, hard kinks, strangulation (non sexual), psychological horror (more warnings to be added soon)

main masterlist||taglist link||playlist [available on a03 + extra chapters and wattpad]

Chapter 1: Warning Signals

chapter summary: Being friends with Emma Sano is nice, until you get on the wrong side of the Sano brothers.

cw: DARK CONTENT, NSFW, misogyny, alcohol/drug use, brief mention of violence, religious and purity culture themes, classism, slutshaming, p*rn mention, sexual assault, noncon, public initimacy, fingering (fem recieving), dacryphilia, gaslighting, manipulation, mention of vomitting, victim blaming.

wc: 10.1k

Chapter 2: Shots Fired

chapter summary: Izana Kurokawa demands your attention and he doesn’t take no for an answer. Not even when his demands are outrageous.

cw: DARK CONTENT, MISOGYNY, NSFW, r*pe mention, religious guilt, depictions of PTSD and CPTSD, emotional incest, abandoment issues, violence, revenge porn, depression, filming without consent, drugging, implied domestic abuse, victim blaming, blackmailing, manipulation, gaslighting, mind break, psychological torture, use of firearms

wc: 11.6k

Chapter 3: The Lesser of Two Devils

chapter summary: Emma has a suspicion that both her brothers are into you when you all go shopping. She couldn’t be farther from the truth.

cw: coming soon

wc:

Chapter 4: The Calm

chapter summary: After your college professor tries to harass you for grades, you turn to the oldest Sano for help. But nothing comes for free, not even for Emma’s sweet friend.

cw: coming soon

wc:

Chapter 5: Act on Dark Impulses

chapter summary: You knew better than to trust Mikey and Izana. Yet you fall for their plan hook, line and sinker and live through the worst night of your life.

cw: coming soon

wc:

Chapter 6: The Closest you’ll ever get to being in Love

chapter summary: Things get sicker and twisted with the two brothers and Emma is none the wiser.

cw: coming soon

wc:

Chapter 7: Trials and Tribulations

chapter summary: You learn the hard way what happens when you refuse to be their stress relief because of your important exams.

cw: coming soon

wc:

Chapter 8: Divine Intervention

chapter summary: You are called home to bury your mother and learn that nothing has changed since you left.

cw: coming soon

wc:

Chapter 9: Lead me not into Temptation

chapter summary: Emma notices that something isn’t right with you when you come visit her in the Sano residence.

cw: coming soon

wc:

Chapter 10: Deliver Me from All Evil

chapter summary: You’ve finally broken the cycle, but at what cost?

cw: coming soon

wc:

authors notes: updates are irregular, depending on when i have time. some chapters have been re-written to fit the original storyline. don't pressure me to update and please don't be rude to me. I do not condone any negative actions done on this fic. comments, reblogs and asks are very much appreciated. if you are a minor, please refrain from interracting with this series.

taglist (please turn on your mentions in 'settings' before filling the form.): @officiallyjaehyuns @haikyuusboringassmanager @ilybbg @merrymerrykiss @cockonoi @Rindou24689 @short-cxke @kokoch4n3l @GenAwi @ryuguji-sana @nuyoo @getonite @anxious-chick @reiners-milkbiddies @kiwixpi @gh0stgirl333 @brisssaaa009 @fushiqruo @kawaiikoalagarden @damidamimongalam @raven-nevra

[inkonparchment]

re6!Leon x agent!Reader drabble.

decompressing after missions is not as easy as it seems.

mentions of ptsd, implied age gap, slightly graphic scenery but nothing we aren't used to in the RE-verse.

Your fingers flex by your side. Fingers splaying out against your thighs as though in search. In search for the feel of cool metal against your skin. Your hand feels empty, too light, the weight isn't correct. And then you clench your hand, rounding up your fingers in a fist.

Breathe. Breathe.

Maybe you should have stayed home instead of coming to the office party. You couldn't even remember what the celebration was for. But what good would it have done you by staying home? Staring at the walls, watching the paint peel, letting the harsh blue glare of your TV bathe you.

Breathe. Breathe.

You bring your glass to your lips, taking a small slip, rolling the liquid around in your mouth to coat it with bubbles. What was it your therapist had said? Find other ways to ground yourself. The tonic water did help put your mind off your hand. No alcohol for you though, no. So afraid that if you ventured once to seek comfort at the bottom of the bottle, you wouldn't be able to stop.

You squint against the harsh lights. Are they harsh or do they just seem like that to you? You can't tell the difference right now. The music is nice, low and soft, the sight of your coworkers intermingling keeping your eyes busy. But you can't help it, can't help your eyes darting across the room.

Locate the exit. Any hostiles? How many active shooters? Anyone with their skin peeling off, eyes popping out of their skull with their hands outstretched, mouths upturned in a snarl, the scent of rotting flesh-

Breathe. Bubbles. Breathe.

You take a step back, melting more in the background. Best not to attract attention right now, you don't think you have the energy to muster up a social conversation. You exhale a deep breath, looking down at your shoes, slight pain starting to creep in your toes from standing around in your heels too long.

You don't notice someone slide next to you.

"You're standing so far back, people might mistake you as part of the decor."

You freeze, recognising the voice. The soft, gentle low cadence that you're sure you'd be able to recognise anywhere. You lift your chin and the gnawing voices in your head cease.

The lights cast a shadow on his blond hair, almost creating a halo, blue eyes hiding under his bangs that are gentle in their way of looking at you. His warmth, the scent of his cologne drifting around him wherever he goes. And suddenly you feel awake, brought back to the ground with a sudden yank to your chain.

"Agent Kennedy!" You sound surprised and that amuses him.

"And here I thought we were finally going to be on first name basis."

You look away, put at an ease by his teasing tone. A running joke now between the two of you. Passing each other in the hallways, he would greet you by your name and you would greet him with an 'Agent Kennedy'. You don't know what it is but you can't seem to find it in yourself to call him 'Leon'.

He watches you carefully, a little shake of his head to move the bang from his eyes. "When did you get back?"

You shift the glass to your other hand, "Yesterday."

When he doesn't respond, you look up at him again to see a small smile on his face, a question dancing in his eyes. So blue. You could almost drown in them.

"What?"

"Can't believe you came to this party right after an assignment." He shrugs his shoulders. "I would've headed out to Hawaii instead."

A chuckle escapes from your lips, "Well we can't all do what you do, Agent Kennedy."

He's grown his stubble out a bit more, you notice. Eyebags lighter, more colour in his cheeks, like he isn't carrying around an unsurmountable exhaustion.

You want to know how he does it. How he's so much at ease right now. How much he's able to handle the shitload well that he's not standing in the middle of an office party of one of the most secure departments in the country, mere moments away from a breakdown.

Your eyes get a bit hazy, not wanting your state to be put on such a display, especially not around Agent Kennedy. You can feel a slow spiral beginning to grip you but it almost immediately stops.

Warmth blossoms against your skin and  the sound of your name falling on your ears brings you back to reality. He's standing more closer now, a reassuring hand pressed on your wrist where neither your dress shirt nor the coat of your pant suit covers your skin.

His face is full of understanding as though he knows, knows exactly what's been running your mind like he's been there himself. A soft squeeze. "You know where to find me."

And with a final smile, he let's go, walking away from you. You watch until he disappears into the crowd, leaving the ghost of his burning handprint against your skin.

The lights feel softer now.

[sentientcave]

Retirement Party

Chapter 5 - Wouldn't It Be Nice?

<<First Chapter - < Prev Chapter - Next Chapter >

Contains: No Y/N, Kidnapping, Forcible relocation, Dubcon, Plus-sized Reader/OC, female Reader/OC, John introduces Doll to some normal people, Everyone learns new things about each other, Manipulation, PTSD, Doll has a tragic backstory, Doll is kinda sorta Catholic? Who knew (me I knew)

~3.8k - MDNI - Dark fic! Please mind the content warning above but honestly this chapter is pretty mild all considered.

Ghost, Soap and Gaz come back a few hours later with the blue sports car (a bit scratched up, but tail-light repaired) and a pick up truck that looks a lot like the one John had before, but a generation older, and green instead of gray. John speaks to them briefly before he coaxes you into the truck and drives off, promising that the others will be gone before you get back.

He drives a few miles down the road, and pulls up in front of a little farmhouse. It looks idyllic, children and a dog playing in the yard. Two people on the porch wave, and John hops out and circles around right quick to open your door and help you down.

The couple trots up to greet you both. "Who's this?" The woman asks, looking at you and beaming. "You finally introducing us to a girlfriend?"

"Doesn't feel like the right word, does it, doll?" John winks at you, like your circumstances are all just a funny little blip, nothing nefarious or terrifying about it.

"No, it doesn't," you agree, keeping your face carefully neutral. "I'm Dalisay. Nice to meet you, um, Melissa, right?" You stick your hand out and shake hers. There’s no sense in being rude to them, just because they know John. He’s probably smart enough to keep his old life, and his boys away from his new one as much as possible.

"The very same! We were a bit worried John was going to be an eternal bachelor. Nice to see he's found someone." She introduces her husband, Rob, and her kids, Hannah, Haley and Jackson, who are ten, seven and five, respectively.

"Do you want to see the puppies?" Haley asks, grabbing your hand. Jackson grabs the other one and they pull you along to the garage, not waiting for an answer. You very deliberately don’t look over your shoulder at John, because you’re fairly sure that he’ll be looking back at you with a sickeningly hopeful expression. His comments from last night still ring in your ears, and you’re not willing to indulge that foolish fantasy of his.

The puppies are in a play pen with high enough walls to contain them, but still allow their mother to hop in and out. She hops out to inspect you, sniffing your outstretched hands warily. Her tail starts to wag after a moment, and you give her a proper pat, smiling. The dog has soft ears and a silky, black and tan coat, but you're not sure what type of dog she is.

"What's her name?" you ask, kneeling down.

"Bonnie-bell," Hannah says. "And our other dog is Charaid."

"Proper Scottish names," you say. The kids all have a slight burr, and although Melissa sounds scouse, it's the first hint as to where you are.

"Da said we was gettin' too English, livin' in London," Haley says. "I like it better here anyway. Mum says maybe we can get some coos. "

"I grew up near Aberdeen," you say. "But I've lived in Manchester too long. Lost my accent."

"No' far off, then, aye? We're only about an hour and a bit south and west," Rob says, appearing at the open garage door to supervise. His stern face looks friendlier now that he knows you're not proper English. "Was worried John dragged some poor city girl out'f England to live out here."

You hum. "Well, I am something of a city girl now. Been in Manchester since I was seventeen."

"Weel, welcome home then," Rob says with a wink. "We'll get ye proper re-acclimated soon enough." He leans over and plucks a puppy out of the sleeping pile inside the pen, and hands it to you. The pup is at the age where its somewhere between looking like a potato and a proper dog, maybe six or seven weeks old. "Gordon setter, by the by," he says. "Good dogs."

"Cute too." You settle the puppy in your lap, petting its soft little head. Bonnie-bell licks your wrist and hops back into the pen to lay down next to the others.

"Ye want one? This girl's no' spoken for yet. John's been hemmin' and hawin' about it, but I figure he wouldna want ta leave ye home alone, neither."

"Oh, I'm not sure I'll be staying that long. I'm only here because there was an incident at my apartment and John wouldn't hear of me staying anywhere else." You're not certain why you're stretching the truth to fit around what he and his wife think is happening, but you have no idea what John would do if you did say something. Maybe he would laugh it off like you were making a joke, or maybe he would snap. You don't really think he would hurt these people, but there's a wide-eyed prey animal in the back of your mind that warns you to be cautious, to be careful.

"We'll talk about it," John says from behind you. You hadn't even noticed his approach, with the noise the kids had made when they dashed back outside. "I'm trying to convince her to stay."

"Ye've gotta buy her a ring, ye daft bastard," Rob says, laughing. "A good catholic girl isna goin' ta wait for you ta get yer head out'f yer arse."

"If you don't, I'll introduce her to some lads in town that will," Melissa threatens. "Pretty girl like her has better options than you, old man. Better make your move before she realizes it." She swats John on the arm playfully.

You laugh nervously, touching the little cross around your neck absently. The puppy in your lap seems to sense your discomfort, because she starts wiggling in your arms and trying to lick your chin, little tail wagging. John kneels down beside you so he can pet the puppy too, eyes creased with a smile. "Is that it, doll? You need me to buy you a ring?"

"John," you say warningly. "We don't need to talk about this right now."

"No, I suppose you've had a rough morning. I'll try again later."

"You're impossible."

"Think you might kind of like that about me," he says.

"Not remotely. I think you're an awful, stubborn man," you tell him. Your voice comes out softer and sweeter than you intend, like you don't really mean it, even though it's true. The smile around his eyes grows deeper.

"I am." He picks up the puppy and holds her up in front of his face. "What do you think, girl?" he asks. The little dog's tail wags furiously, and she answers with a high pitched yip. And then she endears herself to you by trying to bite John’s nose. He looks stunned for a moment, but he grins when you start laughing. “Guess we’re all in agreement then,” he says, setting her down in the pen and standing up.

You accept his hand up, and quickly put a little distance between the two of you, before he anchors you to his side with a solid arm, or tries to reel you in close for a kiss. Rob and Melissa invite you in for a cup of tea, and somehow you end up sitting at a dining room table that’s obviously mostly used for crafts, and handed a piece of blank printer paper by Haley, and told by Jackson that you should draw dragons with them. The walls of the dining room are filled with tacked up juvenile masterpieces— Dragons seem to be a particular fixation of Jackson’s, whereas Hannah and Haley have more varied portfolios.

John stands leaning in the door to the kitchen, talking to Rob and Melissa quietly enough that you can’t quite pick up his words over the children’s chatter. You hate him a little for this, dangling Rob and Melissa’s idyllic little life in front of you. The implication is obvious. We could have this, his blue eyes seem to say when you look his way. Wouldn’t that be nice?

It’s frustrating, and confusing. You want to keep him at arms length for your own safety, but he’s already doing his best to roll right past your doubts and better judgment, like they’re just silly barriers between now and the future he’s dreamed up for the two of you.

And worse, you do want it.

“Didn’t know you were an artist,” he says on the drive back. Jackson had been so excited about the dragon that you drew for him that he’d shown his parents and John.

“There’s a long list of things you don’t know about me,” you say.

"For now. We'll get there, sweetheart."

You hum, looking out the window. Spending time with the Stuarts has you wistful and homesick for something you can't get back. Days like this, you'd usually pour yourself a glass of wine, look through your family photo albums and have a good cry before going to bed early. It's been a while since it's caught up with you like this, but you'd always been reliant on your routine, burying grief in structure and familiarity. "Do we need to?"

"I'd like to."

"I'm not going to be what you want me to be."

John drums his fingers against the steering wheel. "What is it that you think I want?"

"Some little housewife. Someone soft and sweet to come home to."

"You seem plenty soft and sweet to me."

You sigh, pulling your arms around yourself. "I'm not consistent. I don't know what Johnny told you I was like, but he only knows me from work. I'm not like that all the time."

"I don't expect you to be."

"You say that now, but you'll change your mind."

"I'm not stupid enough to change my mind based on a bad day or two, doll. You're allowed to be upset. I wouldn't blame you if you spend the next week slamming doors and snapping at me. I'm still going to like you." He puts a hand on your knee and squeezes gently. Men like him shouldn't be allowed to have such attractive hands, and you shouldn't be attracted to hands like his, scarred knuckles, a few fingers broken and healed crooked. You know he's killed people, know it would be so easy for him to kill you. It turns your stomach that you feel any kind of desire for him at all.

Men like him are no different than the ones that killed your parents. Dealing death is not a noble trade, there's nothing honourable about exporting violence.

You push his hand away, and keep your eyes trained on the window.

He sighs, but he doesn't press the issue, just clicks on the radio to fill the silence.

When you get back to his house he sets you up in a cozy room down the hall from the more open main space where the kitchen is, an office of some kind with a couple of arm chairs and a desk with a clunky looking laptop set on top. The room smells kind of smoky, but you're just glad to have a door you can close while he "moves some things around". He opens the laptop up so you can watch something, but you just curl up in one of the armchairs and fall asleep.

When you wake, the door is open, one of your blankets is draped over you, and there's a mug of tea sitting on the desk, alongside a couple biscuits. You uncurl, your muscles stiff and joints cracking from not moving for too long, and pick up the tea. It's cold, like it had been left a while ago, but you drink it anyway, and eat the biscuits. There's a note underneath, explaining that John had run out to the shops, and that he'd be back by 18:00. You shake your head, and check the time on the laptop. 18:00 exactly.

Military habits must die hard. You imagine he’s usually prompt too, so you wander out into the main room, and put the clean dishes in the rack away. You realize that the living room side has been rearranged, condensed to a slightly smaller footprint, with some open space left by the far corner behind the bigger couch. The smaller leather sofa has been replaced with the little red love-seat from your apartment, and your T.V. is sitting on it’s familiar perch on the refinished credenza that you’d painted twining vines and little red flowers up the side of. You’d found it on by the curb on the Kinsey’s street a few years ago, and your friend Ripley had bused over and helped you carry it all the way back to your apartment.

You’re not sure you like seeing more of your things merging into John’s house, like any of it belongs there when you still want to insist that you’ll be leaving soon. You hate him for being presumptuous, but you can’t help but think it’s sweet, too, that he makes space for you so readily, that he’ll happily include your painted flowers and colourful blankets and bright red couch into space that was all his just twenty four hours ago. That he would leave you tea and biscuits for when you woke up, that he would tuck a blanket around you while you slept. You’re not used to someone wanting to take care of you, and it feels strange.

Strange, but nice too.

You glance at the clock on the wall, realizing that it’s twenty past six, and John still isn’t back. It’s getting darker out there, the sun nearly setting, and as much as you try to tell yourself that you’re not worried, it’s hard to deny the stab of relief when you finally see the truck's lights pull up the wooded drive.

You slip on your trainers and step outside as he parks. He grins at you around a lit cigar as he hops out. “Did you miss me, doll?” he asks, insufferably smug.

“Your note said you’d be back at six,” you say lamely. “I just wasn’t sure if you’re usually on time.”

“Usually am. Got caught talking to Wells, down on the corner. Seems someone drove right through his fence last night. Teenagers, like as not. I’m goin’ to help him fix it tomorrow.”

“Oh.” You grimace. He must know it was really you. “Sorry about that.”

“No harm. By the sounds of it, you’re quite the driver. Soap said you nearly ran him off the road. That what they teach these days?”

“Defensive driving is well and good, but offensive driving gets you the last good spot in the lot,” you say.

He laughs out loud at that, and leans over to pick up a big paper bag from the passenger side. “Here, can you take this in while I grab the groceries?”

You take the bag (which is slightly greasy and smells like curry), and shift it to one hip. “Can I take anything else?”

He nods and hands you a second paper bag, this one with two wine bottles inside. “Wasn’t sure if you liked red or white, so I got both.”

You settle the bags in your arms and turn to walk away. “Bad time to tell you I like rosé hm?” you tease, glancing over your shoulder.

“Terrible timing. But that’s alright. One more thing, doll.”

You turn back toward him, and he’s right there. One big hand cups your jaw and then his lips are on yours, pressing a kiss that tastes like smoke against you. You stand frozen, holding onto your cargo for dear life, too surprised to do anything. It’s just as well, because in that moment you’re not sure if you’d slap him or pull him closer.

He pulls away without trying to deepen the kiss, which is a relief. You’re certain that you’d drop dinner and the wine.

“John, that wasn’t fair.” Your feet are still frozen in place, and his hand is still on your cheek, his fingers threaded into your hair.

His eyes practically sparkle. He’s entirely too pleased with himself. “Not fair because I kissed you, or not fair because I stopped before we got to the best part?”

Your cheeks flame hot, and you pray that he can’t feel it. “You can’t just— You’re impossible.” It takes concentrated effort to take ordinary, measured steps to the door instead of running. The effect he has on you is apparently very obvious. He never would have tried it if he didn’t know you were teetering on the edge of giving in already.

Boundaries need to be set-- Set and followed-- before you can really even contemplate letting this get any further. Unchecked, you have no doubt that John will have you underneath him in a matter of days. Once that happens you know he'll never let you go, and you'll never have peace of mind if you don't really get to know him first. You know he's not as good as he makes himself out to be, but you suspect he's a better man than your deepest fears might whisper to you. He's genuine about his wants, but that's not enough. You need to know him before you can trust him.

You set your packages down on the table and turn to open the door wide for John as he carries a tote full of groceries into the house. “Thanks, doll.”

The paper bag rips when you open it to pull take-out containers out, setting them on the table neatly. "John, can we talk?" You ask, glancing at him as he stows things in the fridge.

"Course, doll. What's on your mind?"

Nerves threaten to choke you, so you take a steadying breath, in and out, trying to quiet the sea of dread that pitches back and forth in your stomach. “You can’t just take what you want from me. Not if you’re serious about wanting this to be something. I’m afraid of you, John, and I’m not going to fight you. If you push me, I’ll fold, and I’ll hate you for it.”

He pauses, holding a box halfway lifted to the cupboard. It takes a moment before he moves again, setting the box on the shelf slowly. The silence is palpable in the room, settling across both of you like a thick blanket of snow. You fold the ripped takeout bag flat, nervous, the crinkle of heavy paper hardly breaking through the rush of blood in your ears, the panic that grips you by the throat. It’s as though the admission has given your body the chance to catch up with everything that’s happened in the last two days.

You’d been drugged and taken from your home, you’d been handed off to someone you didn’t know, with no clear indication if you’re free to leave or not, you’ve been picked up and manhandled and shot at.

Darkness flickers in the corners of your vision. All you can hear is the pounding of your own heart, the sick, dizzying drums of war, and high pitched ringing like a flat-lining hospital monitor, and screaming, and the rapid burst of machine gun fire. No. The screaming you hear is just in your head, the gunshots aren’t real, they can’t be. It’s not happening, it’s over, it’s been over for a decade, you’re safe.

Except you’re not safe.

Hands land on your shoulders. You lash out, fists striking something solid, knocking the hands away. You have to get away, you have to hide until it goes quiet again. Arms wrap around you in a tight hug, stilling your thrashing limbs and bringing you down to the floor gently.

“Doll! Dalisay, sweetheart, you’re alright, come back.” The voice has authority. You know that voice. It rumbles, shaking loose memory. “Come on, love, breathe slow. You’re okay.” You breathe in, warm spice and tobacco smoke, not burning petrol, not scorched flesh. You’re kneeling on the floor, and John is holding you tight, thighs bracketing yours.

The fight melts out of your limbs.

You’re not safe, but you’re not in danger either. John loosens his hold on you and cups your face, his worried face eclipsing all else. “Doll, where’d you go?” he asks. “What happened?”

“Panic attack,” you lie, because that’s easier to say than My parents were killed in a terrorist attack while we were visiting London ten years ago and sometimes I get so stressed out that I forget it’s not still happening. “I’m fine, I’m sorry.”

“That wasn’t a panic attack, doll. Worked with Simon long enough to recognize PTSD. You were somewhere else.”

It’s hard to imagine that Ghost is as fallible, as human as you are, but you suppose there’s no shortage of opportunities for even the the biggest, toughest military men to to wade hip deep in trauma. The worst day of your life would be just another mission for them. The worst day of their lives would probably kill you outright.

"Yeah, I guess it was," you admit haltingly. "Everything just caught up with me. I won't let it happen again."

He shakes his head. "Did I set it off? I need to know— I don’t want to hurt you, sweetheart.”

"No, it's not like that. It’s just stress. It's been building since I got here."

"I guess that's what you meant in the truck, huh?"

You nod weakly. "I don't think I can explain it any better right now. But maybe tomorrow."

"Alright." John sighs, some of the tension in his shoulders releasing. " I don't want you to be afraid of me, doll."

"Then you're going to have to give me time, and space. I need to know what kind of man you are. And you should get to know who I am too.” There’s a wrinkle in his shirt, so you fixate on that rather than look right at him, smoothing it out with your fingers. “Let’s worry about becoming friends, for now. And then we can see if there’s something more.”

He doesn’t like that, you can tell by the way he pulls his hands back, reluctant to let go of you. But still, he nods, and smiles ruefully after a moment. “Guess I’m not as patient as I think I am. Too eager to get to the good part.”

You laugh lightly, the sound shaky from frayed nerves. “John, if we can be kind to each other, and come to an understanding, then it’s all the good part. You can’t build the things you want on foundations like this and hold it all together with sheer force of will.”

“You sure about that?" he jokes, trying to lighten the mood. "I’ve heard I’m pretty stubborn.”

Your eyes flick up to meet his. You still feel unsettled, your heart still pounding, your stomach still roiling with anxiety. The emotion in those blue eyes is something you can't identify, something fathomless that strikes you with a foreign kind of fear, the kind that's shot through with hope that you shouldn't feel.

“You don’t know me too well yet, John,” you say gently, “but so am I.”

Image Credits: Banner

Dividers: 1 - 2 - 3 by @/Cafekitsune

[runningfrom2am]

requiem // prologue

summary: according to coriolanus snow, his best friend had the most beautiful voice in all of panem. she had been training her whole life constantly to get where she was; being up for a residency at the most elite opera house in all of panem. singing was her passion. her true love; and when that got stripped from her in a second, his world became a whole lot quieter. he loathed every minute of it.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 0.8k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: opera singer!mentor!reader (blink and you'll miss it), she's kind of a prodigy!! p cool imo, mute!reader, bestfriend!coryo, friends to lovers trope ooo, mentions of graphic violence early on (particularly the prologue) but after that it's pretty safe, depictions of ptsd/trauma, mental illness and minor suicidal ideation but at least she's not entirely alone, descriptions of minor medical treatments and use of medication.

a/n: hi! welcome to the prologue for requiem!! just a taste to set things up :) sorry !!

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist // pinterest board

'Are you coming to the zoo after class?' The note Coryo slid in front of you asks. You look up at him and nod, before taking your pen and scribbling underneath his penwork on the same page, sliding it back as your teacher went on and on about things you had already studied and knew by heart.

'Walk together?'

Now it's his turn to nod, meeting your gaze with a smile.

You hadn't had the chance to meet your tribute yet, but Coryo's idea to go and greet his tribute was very smart. You admired it- he was brave to do that, but something deep in the back of your chest made you uneasy about it. Regardless, you and several of your classmates would make the trip after school to go greet them, bring them food, and get to know them as much as you could. You part ways with him once you arrive, planning to walk home together later.

"Valkyrie?" You call out, scanning the tributes trapped in the cage to try and pinpoint her. You see her when her head turns at the name and you smile, waving her over. "My name is Y/N. I'll be your mentor."

She doesn't say anything as she stops in front of you, giving you a death glare that could give you chills. She looked strong. It was good, she'll do well in the games. "It's nice to meet you," you continue. "My job is to help you however I can. So anything you need or want, I'm your girl. Just say the word."

Her cold stare doesn't falter, but you try not to let your discomfort show. You need her to trust you, that was Coryo's best advice, so you would do all you could to take it. "Are you hungry? You must be. I brought you some food." You don't wait for a response that you know isn't coming, digging in your bag already.

"It's my favorite, but I do hope you like it." You hum, pulling out a container with some crackers and honey, and a lemon to cut up and put in your water bottles. "Care to sit?" You offer, already sitting down yourself, kneeling in front of the bars. You smile when she obliges, matching your posture across from you.

"I'm a singer, and honey is really good for the throat." You explain, hoping that she'll begin to trust you if she knows you a little better. "It's a nice bonus that it tastes good, too. I'm not supposed to have sugar, but I think honey is the next best thing." You open the container, trying not to expose the shakiness in your hands as you grab the small bowl of honey and a knife to spread it, but this fails drastically when you accidentally drop it and it falls past the bars just out of your reach.

"Oh, gosh- I'm just so clumsy, would you mind passing that to me?" You ask, trying to reach for it anyway. You grin when she reaches out for it, picking it up by the handle. "Thank you..." You tell her, leaning closer to grab it from her hand. Something in her eyes shifts so fast you have no chance to really pick up on it before she grabs your hair with her other hand and pulls you back into the bars.

You scream, adrenaline pumping through your veins in an instant as you try and pull yourself away but it's too late and your screams are silenced by the blade of the knife against your throat.

Your eyes go wide as she lets you go, hands coming up to your neck out of instinct and when you pull one away it's warm and covered in red. Blood. Your own blood. You're choking, trying to breathe but the air feels sticky as you fall back. "Y/N! Y/N? Hey, look at me. Look at me!" Your best friend cries out, suddenly in front of you with his arms at your sides, lowering you carefully to the ground.

You stare up at him, hands still clasped over your neck which he matches with his own, doing his best to try and stop the bleeding. "Help! Somebody, help!" He shouts, turning and hoping help is coming as your heartbeat drums behind your ears.

Several gunshots ring out, echoing in the back of your head as you stare up at the sky and Coryo drops down on top of you, likely trying to dodge the bullets. You don't know where they were going- and you don't care.

You try and speak but no sound is coming out, just the sickening gurgle of your own blood replacing the smoothness of your voice. You know it's really not good when your vision starts to blur, the last thing you see being Coryo's panicked expression as he looks over you, desperately yelling at you to stay awake and for someone to please, please help.

no taglist this time around!! my fics usually get over a hundred requests to be added to the taglist so instead i made a library! follow me over on @runningfrom2am-library and turn on notifs to get updates when i post new parts!!

[cultofdixon]

Haunted by what is forever told on our skin

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • When the group found the prison, no one expected the past to come and haunt us all even if they don’t understand until life is re-written • ANGST/SFW • TW: PTSD / Past Abuse / Domestic Violence / Scars / Injuries / Past Attempt Mentioned / SH Scars

Requested by: Anon

“We found a place that we can make into our new home” Rick started. “We obviously need to fix a few things for the immediate future. But it’s got good walls”

“What is it?”

“It’s a prison, which I know sounds unsettling at first but once we take care of the walkers…it’s pretty golden” Rick finished and went to check on his family while the others started to pack up the vehicles knowing they will be leaving once he’s ready.

Daryl noticed Y/N stand still for a really long time for unknown reasons that started to concern him. But when she noticed him looking at her, she quickly picked up her pack and went to join Glenn and Maggie.

Odd…

They weren’t going to tackle the main prison just yet given the time of day. All they did was take out the walkers in the yard and get their cars within the gates before making camp for the night.

Y/N watched Carol go over to Daryl to give him what accounts for dinner with what they’ve got before turning her attention back toward the prison. This time catching the attention of someone more curious and willing to speak up.

“Have you been here before?” Beth questions Y/N, snapping her out of her thoughts as she gave her a concerned look.

“Like what, a prisoner?”

“No, just. Well yes and no”

“Not as a prisoner…more like. Visiting…loved ones…” Y/N frowns squeezing her hands together to avoid an anxious harmful habit that she knew she wouldn’t be able to do in front of them anyway.

“You think we killed them?” Glenn suddenly blurts as Maggie smacks him in the arm. “What? You’re telling me people survived the outbreak in that prison?”

“Don’t mean you have to ask somethin’ like that when you don’t know the rel—-“

“I haven’t…seen him in years. He could’ve been released or…executed for all I know. Only have seen him twice and the second time wasn’t…pretty” Y/N got up from the group, going to take a walk and clear her head on the matter. All while Maggie lectured Glenn about pushing boundaries.

When Daryl came back to the group with Carol, he noticed her absence immediately but as he scanned the surrounding area for her…he watches Rick make his way over to her given he hasn’t stopped walking the perimeter since they’ve gotten inside.

Y/N stared at a walker gnawing at the fence from the other end trying to reach for her. She stepped closer to the fence rolling her sleeve up and testing fate when the voice in her head told her to stop, as well as the voice behind her.

“What’s wrong” Rick asked with a concern look on his face when she turned toward him. With the light from his flashlight he noticed the scars that littered her arms making her instantly cover them. He knows as a cop not to trigger the situation further, even if most cops tend to do that anyway. But he’s not like most. “You want to scout with me? Don’t have to be in the mess of people for a moment”

“Mess of people?” Y/N laughs slightly. “You know you’re including your wife and son in that mix”

“I do…” Rick frowns, now walking with Y/N around the place. “Honestly we’ve all done something stupid and yet I’m paying for it the most given the silence I’m receiving from Lori”

“…You know, don’t you?”

Rick didn’t utter another word but gave her a look that confirmed it all.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner”

“Well, I still don’t know you. Not a stranger. But still not enough to share something like that” Rick shrugs. “I’m not mad at you”

“Right…still. I feel bad. No one should have to deal with that. End of the world or before”

Something about what she said only drew the concern to a higher level. Rick gestured with his head to return to the rest of the group and as he went to sit with his family, Y/N went to sit alone outside of the group facing away from them. The only time she was addressed was when T-Dog dragged a blanket over her shoulders, the flinch that came from her caught Daryl’s attention even more.

When the morning came, which meant time to progress inside the prison grounds…they were careful taking out the walkers in the courtyard before taking the risk of entering the building. Rick, Daryl, T-Dog, Maggie, and Y/N took care of being the first to sweep the cellblock they entered. Taking out the few walkers they came across, including seeing a few prisoners that have met their fate to the undead or found a quick way out of the mess before they met that end.

Y/N lingered too close to a locked cell on the second story not seeing anything immediately until the walker forced itself against the bars causing her to stumble back.

Rick quickly came over taking the walker out as Daryl brought himself to her checking her person.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah. Uh…yeah” Y/N frowns stepping past him returning to the first floor to help Maggie in any way.

The group started to make home of the cell block for now and will progress further into the place in a bit. Just for now they were taking a break. While others claimed cells as their new “rooms”, Daryl took the catwalk not liking the idea of living in a cell and he wasn’t the only one to think such.

“Need help?” Glenn asks Y/N if she needed a hand pulling the mattress out of the cell and into the main walk way on the first floor.

“Oh uh. Yeah sure” She frowns letting Glenn help her move the mattress and before he left, he quickly grabbed one of their many blankets handing it to her. “Thanks…”

“Of course” Glenn smiles leaving to check on Maggie and her family.

Daryl leans against the railing watching Y/N sit on the mattress bringing her knees to her chest and hide her face. Her whole body tensed and hasn’t relaxed since they’ve entered the prison.

The group hasn’t relaxed like this since the farm and they were getting used to the temporary quiet.

The next morning a few took inventory of the gear they’ve found in the prison, then came to the decision of checking the rest of the prison. The men plus Maggie and Y/N. Daryl took lead while the rest followed through the darker parts of the prison.

Maggie getting spooked by Glenn after he marked the direction they came from only stressed the others and Y/N did her best not to scream as a trigger response to hers.

Then it became a game with the walkers coming from every direction, even where they came from. Resulting in being separated from Maggie and Glenn. But when Hershel retraced his steps, he unfortunately gotten bit. A bit of scrambling resulted in T-Dog and Y/N holding the doors to their only entrance and exit while the others held down Hershel so that Rick can cut off the infected part of his leg.

But it wasn’t long for them to realize they weren’t alone.

Y/N felt as if she was struck down with the realization that she recognized one of the prisoners that Daryl and T-Dog were currently holding their stand with.

“We gotta go!” Rick shouted resulting in Y/N pulling away from the door ignoring who she had just saw and helped Glenn with holding the makeshift gurney to get Hershel on.

Everything seem to escalate while a good chuck of their own focused on Hershel then Daryl took liberty with T-Dog to keep the prisoners in check until Rick came to break the news about the reality the prisoners are now living in.

It wasn’t until they stepped outside to see for themselves when Tomas, the one with the gun, turned to the three with one question that led to a million internal ones.

“The woman with yea, where the hell you find her?”

T-Dog gave Daryl a questioning look as to who he’s referring to. Maggie or Y/N. Because they were the only women they saw.

“Who are you talking about?” Rick questions keeping his hand hovered over his gun. Tomas took note of such and decided to drop it.

Meanwhile inside the prison the chaos died slightly, all they could really do is keep an eye on Hershel and check his dressings. Y/N stood by the cell with Glenn to keep an eye on him in case you know what happens, orders by Rick of course. Glenn couldn’t help but get more anxious just from being in Y/N’s vicinity.

“What’s wrong?” He whispers to avoid alerting the rest. “Do you think he’s—-“

“It’s not about Hershel. Don’t…worry about it”

“How can I not when we just learned we’re not alone in here? What do you think the prisoners have done to get in this place?”

Y/N clenched her fists trying to fight back the anxiety induced tears or more so the PTSD she’s trying to avoid reliving but the sheer knowledge alone of him alive was driving her insane. Carol from the corner of her eye couldn’t help but have concerns for her because she understands.

________

“It’s…not the best, Sophia. But at least we’ll be safe until he calms down…” Carol reassures her daughter as they were directed into a room they were gonna have to share given how many people the facility has in that moment.

The woman on the other side of the room hugging her knees to her chest avoiding looking at them when they entered. She had just arrived there for the first time and wasn’t used to how many people. Granted the amount of people only made her feel worse that so many in her shoes need to find this escape instead of leaving the relationship they were in.

“Hello” Carol started, letting Sophia get comfortable on the bed as she hesitantly approaches. “I’m Carol. This is Sophia, my daughter” she frowns watching tears roll off her cheeks. “I guess we’ll be roommates for a while. We won’t make a fuss—-“

“You’ve been here before…the way you’re talking…you’ve been here before”

“Unfortunately” Carol frowns watching the woman finally face her to notice the swollen black eye and her wrist in a cast. “You’re new aren’t you?”

“…Unfortunately” She scoffs. “I should’ve known…sooner…before the cops got involved”

Carol brought herself to sit on the bed with her giving her a look asking for permission to rest a reassuring hand on her knee which she granted.

“We like to believe that they will get better. Some just. Go too far and need the intervention…”

The woman frowns only nodding to her words as she held herself close again feeling her hand slip away.

“Do you have a name?”

“It’s—-“

________

“Y/N” Carol frowns finally having a moment away from the mess, being handed a towel from her because of the blood all over her person. “Y/N are you alright?” She whispers to keep this conversation between themselves but all Y/N could do was show discomfort in her expression and try not to let the tears fall.

“We can’t let them stay here. They aren’t good people. He’s not a good person” Y/N wanted to let go but they were soon interrupted by Rick.

“Y/N I need your assistance with clearing a cellblock for the prisoners”

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” Carol questioned immediately and for her.

“We’ll kill them if they go too far but for now. We made the deal so we can get half of their supplies. We need to hold a front for a short while longer or until they’ve proven—-“

“Rick” T-Dog calls for him outside their block as he nods indicating they’re on their way.

“I’m sorry. I need Y/N. Glenn is watching Hershel and Maggie is out of commission for now. I need a good fighter and she’s one of them” Rick states, taking Y/N’s arm only for her to shove him off before walking toward T-Dog. The smallest action made Carol smack him in the harm.

“You push her and you won’t hear the end of it” Carol threatened before returning to Hershel’s aid as that left more suspicion with Rick.

When they started to go over the plan with the prisoners, Tomas instantly locked onto Y/N who made herself known finally.

“Baby—You’re alive” Tomas declared about to make his way over to Y/N when Rick stopped him. Daryl instantly looked at her as the tension and anxiety from her all made sense when they arrived. “What? There’s no prison laws anymore. I don’t have to wait for visiting hours to see my girl”

“She’s here to help. Not rekindle anything from the before” Rick stated pushing him back as that only angered the man but before he could even retaliate, Y/N quickly pulled Rick back blocking the way resulting in hesitation from Tomas.

“Just listen to him Tomas” Y/N struggled to keep a steady speech but the way he relaxed and nodded. This was only going to put her in a position that Rick will hate himself for later. Hell, the hate will come from more than him.

As Y/N steps back she felt Daryl’s gently tap her arm indicating for her to stand with him. Which she did. Tomas had her attention all on her while Rick explained how they are going to handle the walkers.

As the group watched the prisoners take out a handful of walkers in their own creative way. Daryl turned to Y/N watching her struggle to get a deep breath in given being in the same room as the man who hurt her was only making her suffocate.

“Hey…take a breath. C’mon” Daryl whispers keeping his attention on her, lifting his hand and lowering it then repeating to show he’s trying to get her to follow the breathing pattern. “There. You’ve got it…I’ve gotcha”

When they were alone in a room for a more controlled way of taking out the walkers, Tomas brought himself close to Y/N but enough for her to hear him given Daryl was hovering.

“Miss me?” He smirks watching her step away. “Aww come on baby. I’ve been good. I was going to get out in good behavior if the world didn’t end”

“Oh yeah, which guard did you bribe into helping—-ow!” Oscar snapped as Tomas smacked him in the arm.

“I have a restraining order. You wouldn’t—-“

“Baby girl. You’re right here. Right now. It’s the end of the world and the laws don’t apply—-“

“Focus” Rick snaps and then one of the prisoners got scratched right when the wave calmed down.

The other prisoners were trying to argue in saving their friend but right as the arguing got to a point, Tomas suddenly took the crowbar he had to killed the prisoner. The action put Y/N in a frozen state of mind as she tried to get herself out of there but she wasn’t moving. Then when Tomas decided to put all his anger toward the prisoner when he really wanted it toward another, Daryl forced Y/N to look away but she wouldn’t move so he blocked her view.

“You see the look on his face?” Daryl asked Rick as they hung in the back covering Y/N from Tomas who was in front of them.

“He makes one move…”

“Just give me a signal” Daryl stated as they all entered the laundry room from the looks of it.

One door.

One door was what Rick told Tomas to open.

…

Everything just has to go to shit huh?

Tomas tossed the walker at Rick directly and while he did and the others took care of the rest. He instantly went for Y/N. He heard the two of them talking and it doesn’t take a genius to understand that one wrong move and he’ll get killed in the process.

“No—No no” Y/N instantly thrashed against his grip only for Tomas to pull her into him wrapping his arm around her front but have his hand on her throat. “Please——“

“I tried to be buddy buddy for this pig bastard. But I know the only reason I’m in here in the first place is because of you” Tomas whispered angrily, tightening his hand around her throat.

“Let go of her” Daryl snapped readying his crossbow but before he fired, Rick stopped him as the gun Tomas had pressed itself against her throat.

“Lower it or I won’t hesitate” Tomas threats putting his finger on the trigger as Y/N couldn’t help the tears in that moment. “I know you’re just going to kill us the second you have a chance because of what we were in the past—“

“Right now you’re just provin’ you haven’t changed” Rick stated keeping his attention on Tomas as well as Daryl but he also took note of how Y/N was doing and by her body language, she wants this to be over. “The fuck do you want in order to let her go unscathed…mostly” he watches his grip on her neck lessen but not enough for her to free herself.

“Let me go. Like that one said before. Let me try to fend for my goddamn self out there with the stuff I’ve got” Tomas pressed the gun into her neck more when he watched the two move. “You have to lower your weapons entirely…or I will kill her on my way out”

I’m not losing her Daryl instantly lowered his crossbow, even set it on the ground and that action led Tomas to glare at Rick to do the same along with T-Dog who had a different vantage point.

Tomas slowly stepped back, dragging Y/N along with him before tossing her to the ground keeping his gun pointed at the few. He waited a moment then turned on his heel making a break for it but before Daryl could grab his crossbow, Rick stopped him as Y/N took out her holstered gun aiming it at Tomas and taking the shot. He dropped instantly and his death led to another prisoner losing it and making a break for it.

As Rick grabbed his gun chasing after the other prisoner, T-Dog kept the other two in check while Daryl quickly brought himself to Y/N’s aid assessing how bad the bruising was on her throat and noticing the return of the frozen state she was in.

“Has she spoken to anyone since it happened?” Lori questioned Rick as the two were at the entrance to the prison watching Y/N sit in the field alone.

“No, but I know for a fact Daryl ain’t gonna leave her out there alone for much longer” Rick referred to the archer who couldn’t keep his gaze away from Y/N when he was helping T-Dog with more walker burn pits.

After some time, Y/N flinch hearing footsteps as she turned around to find Daryl holding his arms up in surrender. She relaxed turning herself back around as he brings himself close taking his poncho off and carefully putting it on her.

“If you’re gonna stick around out here might as well have that” Daryl sat himself down beside her leaning back on his hands.

“You wanna know don’t you?”

“Know what?”

“What he did. How he got there…I can’t explain why he was the way that he was but I can try—-“

“We all have our scars. You don’t have to share yours…we all were just. Scared for yea even when we didn’t know” Daryl frowns watching her get comfortable with the poncho on her as she kept her bruises hidden the best she could.

“He hurt me. The first time was…or I thought it was an accident. Then it kept happening every time I did something wrong or he was mad at something else.” Y/N frowns hugging her knees close to her chest. “He even got mad when I tried to get out of it…”

“Get out of the relationship, right?”

The look she gave him was full of sadness and even when the threat being permanently gone, there was still the anger toward her past self for letting it happen for so long and not ending it sooner.

“Oh…well, uhm. I’m glad you’re still here” in some way, that was him telling her exactly how he felt about her.

Y/N finally let herself break with the tears starting to stream down her cheeks. She held herself while she sobbed, gripping onto the poncho reminding herself that she’s safe now.

“I won’t let anyone hurt yea…ever again” Daryl promises then…

and will promise forever.