#but I can’t cause there’s only one spare bedroom and I can’t sleep on anything that’s not a bed

[yoohyeon]

My aunt was so annoying asking my parents to go to THEIR house this weekend that they really decided to go and leave me alone here 😐

[cordeliawhohung]

Touch Me 'Till I Vomit (pet!au) [6]

pet!au part 6 | ghoap x fem!reader | tag list | early access available on patreon

open wide

cw: overall theme of non-con, dub-con medication taking, mouth inspection, lots of exposition

Everything hurts when you wake up.

Though you’re plagued by an ache that targets your hips, shoulders, and back, it’s namely your throat that hurts the most, which is something to be said considering you’ve been sleeping in a kennel for the last week. It’s a surprisingly spacious cage, tucked into the far corner of the bedroom across from the large bed Johnny and Simon sleep on. A small, foam pad fits perfectly inside of the bottom of the cage, providing you with some cushioning between your body and the frigid, metal bottom of the cage, but it’s certainly far from humane. There’s not enough room for you to stand up in it, but you’re grateful to at least be able to stretch the full length of your legs out.

It’s jerry-rigged, you’re sure of it. Not store bought, but handmade with spare metal bars and a half decent welding job. By the size of it, you’re certain it used to hold something much larger than yourself. As for what — or who — it was, you don’t even want to venture a guess. Every night, Simon locks you in with a padlock, trapping you for the hours everyone is asleep. You wake each morning with a full bladder, but he wakes you up no later than six in the morning, allowing you to use the bathroom before he starts getting ready for his day.

In some ways, Simon is considerate like that. Always ensuring you’re not going too long without any sort of need. Never starves you, or has done anything to intentionally cause devious harm. But there are many instances where he is not so generous.

Like last night, when Johnny got needy. He had complained something fierce the first night Simon locked you up. The man can hardly go a few hours without needing to put his hands on you in some capacity, and you took note of the way his blue eyes grew misty seeing you locked away out of his reach. Simon assured him it was only a temporary solution until he could get you fixed — which you’re still too scared to ask what getting you fixed means — but that could only quell Johnny’s emotions for so long.

He had lasted six days before he needed to put his hands on you again. To his credit, you had expected him to crack significantly sooner, and a part of you wished he had. Perhaps he would have been easier on your throat if you hadn’t pitifully shrugged off all his attempts he passed at you during the daytime while Simon was away. It all came to a head last night when Simon was getting ready to lock you away until morning when Johnny decided he just couldn’t handle it anymore.

Johnny has a way of begging that makes you feel bad for him, and Simon has a gaze that tells you it would be stupid to refuse his favorite pet. So you obeyed. Got on your knees like a good pet while Johnny abused your throat with his cock. You’ve gotten better at not crying when it happens, and he’s gotten better about letting you breathe while he uses you. Still, your eyes water on their own volition, blurring your view of Johnny above you and Simon behind him, going about his nightly routine as if you’re not being torn to shreds on the bedroom floor.

You’re still feeling the effects of it this morning as Simon unlocks your cage and allows you to relieve yourself in the restroom. In a way, it almost feels like strep. Raw skin sticks to itself, and you try your best to choke the ache to soothe the pain, but it always seems to come back. It dries and cracks, and you’re wholly surprised that you can’t taste blood when you swallow.

Breakfast that morning is the same as it usually is: eggs, toast, milk, bacon, sausage — everything fresh and homemade. Simon insists that the three of you sit at the table for every meal as if he’s afraid you’ll choke and die off without him. No one makes conversation, and if anything is said, it’s usually some sort of comment made by Johnny. He thanks Simon for the food, and compliments how juicy the bacon is before he silences himself by eating. All you do is keep your head down and attempt to keep the attention off of you.

It’s a strange thing, surviving in that place. You exist so quietly you hardly feel like you’re in your own body. In order to live, you have to play the part. The chew toy. The pet. Bonnie. It’s a balancing act between remembering who you are, and behaving well enough that Simon has no reason to punish you. Whether you like it or not, it’s easy math. You stand no chance of escaping that place on your own. Still, as you pick at your eggs and nibble on your toast, you quietly promise to yourself that you’ll get out of there one day. No matter what it takes.

Something’s different when Simon leaves for work today. Johnny’s not hounding you the moment the door shuts. Usually, he demands that you sit with him to watch a movie of some sort on the countless DVD’s and VHS tapes stored on old bookshelves in the living room. It’s not a terrible way to pass the time, and there are a few movies you rather enjoy. Every now and then you’ll fall asleep and wake up with his hands groping your chest or shoved down your pants like you’re some play-thing, but he’s oddly quiet this time.

Once breakfast is finished, he takes his plate, cleans it up and then leaves you alone after giving you a chaste kiss on the cheek. His figure vanishes down the hallway that leads to the back of the house — a place you have yet to explore. His disappearance is marked by the shutting of a very squeak door, and you finally feel like you can breathe easier. You’re not curious enough to follow him, and you’re certainly not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. A moment of peace and quiet in your life is rare these days when you’re too busy playing the pliable fawn so that you’re not hurt — or worse.

Enjoying your rare solitude, you take refuge by the open window in the living room. There’s an old recliner that smells vaguely like oak and grass that you like to curl up in while you read one of the old classical books Simon has stored next to the fireplace. It’s been a few days since you’ve really been able to get a breath of fresh air, but it doesn’t do much to calm your nerves. Though you’ve been there for a week, it’s strenuous trying to comprehend the situation you’ve found yourself in. Your fingers fiddle with your name tag as you rest your eyes from reading and look out at the trees that line the edge of the property, lush with the summer heat and rain.

It’s an enticing view with foliage that dances freely in the breeze. Grass and moss covers the field haphazardly, covering everything in a soft blanket of vibrant green. It whispers for you to run toward it and never look back. To soak in the feeling of the earth between your bare toes.

You know better than to run from a man who already has your scent memorized.

Your mind flashes back to the bath Simon gave you a few days ago, where he had you get dressed in clothes you already owned, and washed you with the same soap you’ve been using for years. How many signs did you miss? How long did you live in blissful ignorance to the insidious intentions that were being planned for you? Would you still be at home right now, safe in your own bed away from these freaks had you done anything different? Or were you always destined to be stuck there? Locked away in some home. How cruel and fickle fate can be.

Simon smells like blood and muscle when he gets home. You’ve gathered from the fresh nicks on his knuckles and old scars that litter his hands that he does some sort of blue-collar work. Judging by the fact he always seems to come home with some type of meat to cook up for dinner, you’re guessing he’s a butcher. You wonder if that’s why he’s keeping you and Johnny. Perhaps something in that twisted, stupid brain of his is unable to love the animals he tears apart limb by limb. Maybe he keeps you in order to cover up his guilt.

When Johnny emerges from whatever room he had holed himself up in for the entire day, he’s disheveled. Messy, black strands of hair stray flippantly from the shape of his mohawk, and the sides of his hands are darkened with some sort of grey dust. It reminds you of the graphite stains you would get as a kid practicing writing skills in school. Still, he’s all giggles and grins for Simon as he rubs up against him. Sickeningly loyal. Such a good dog.

He stays just as close and attached to Simon all throughout dinner, and just like you did that morning, you keep your head down while you eat. If Johnny wants to play the part of the devoted pet, that’s fine by you. Anything to keep Simon’s burning gaze away from you.

As he eats his meal, you wonder if he dreams of cutting you up. Shredding tendon from bone and shoving you into his maw like you’re a well deserved meal. You wouldn’t put it past him, that type of violence. He’s been more than content with collaring you and treating you like an animal, it would make sense. You wonder if he likes playing with his food before he eats.

“Bonnie.”

There’s hardly enough time for you to wash your plate after dinner before Simon’s demanding your attention. Despite the insane size of this man, he has an odd ability that allows him to sneak around the house nearly undetected, and by the time you turn around to answer him, he’s already in your space. You swallow as you look up at him. That terrible rawness still plagues your throat, but you know better than to stay silent.

“Yes?”

He has a small package in his hands that he keeps rotating, inspecting it closely, drawing your own eyes to it. It’s a thin sheet full of several small tablets that are meant to be poked through the foil encasing it. You count each row — seven tablets each in four total rows. An odd sensation tugs at your stomach as you realize what he’s got: birth control pills.

Relief floods through you as Simon fetches a small glass of water. You’re not sure how he got them — and you’re not sure you want to know — but if this is his idea of fixing you, then you’ll take it. It’s certainly better than your other theories of him potentially trying to perform an actual surgery on you himself. You’d wager he’s good with knives, but not that good. Though, he’d probably like tearing you apart like that, but you refuse to entertain that thought. You’ll take the pills.

Anything to not get pregnant.

Simon places one of the small pills in the palm of your hand, and you turn it over in your fingers. It looks legitimate. Not something that’s manufactured in someone’s basement, at least. You pray that your instincts are right as you place it on your tongue before swallowing it down with a gulp of water. It goes down just as easy as you anticipated, and it settles in your stomach without protest.

There’s hardly enough time for you to set the glass on the counter next to you before Simon’s fingers dig into your cheeks. You whine as you brace your hands against his chest, eyes already wetting from the pain as his grip grows too firm to be loving. You wince at the pressure and stare up at him with bewildered eyes.

“Open,” he demands.

You instantly comply, praying that he’ll loosen his grip if you do, but he doesn’t. Instead, he starts to tilt your head side to side, inspecting every inch of your open mouth as he presses the inside of your cheeks against your teeth. He looks about ready to shove his fingers into your mouth, to feel every inch of your wet tongue and dull teeth, but he doesn’t. Once he’s determined that you’re not hiding the pill underneath your tongue or in the pockets of your cheeks, he relinquishes his grip on you. His fingers leave a lasting pain that throbs just underneath your skin, and you stare up at him like he’s betrayed you, as if you should have expected any better of him.

“Good girl,” he says, voice dull.

“Does this mean I can have her now?”

You hadn’t realized Johnny had been behind you, and when you turn to face him his eyes are full of wonder. This is the downside of birth control, you realize. Now that you’re on the pill — now that you’re fixed — Johnny’s going to have free rein of you. If he fucks you as often as he abuses your throat, you know you’re in for a bad ride. Your cunt already hurts at the thought of it.

“Down boy,” Simon snaps.

Johnny’s shoulders tense and he frowns at Simon’s harsh tone. The poor, pathetic thing looks wounded as Simon disregards you and approaches his favorite pet. His pale hands look out of place on the warmth of Johnny’s arms as he pulls him close. It’s uncharacteristically soft. Johnny melts at his touch and leans into him, lips parted in a silent plea for an embrace.

“Look at you. Poor mutt,” Simon croons. Despite the abrasiveness of his words, his voice is the softest you’ve ever heard from him. “Have I been neglectin’ you? Gone too long without a proper fuck? Want me to fix that?”

A switch flips inside Johnny. You can tell by the way his eyes widen and how he begins to paw at Simon’s chest, like he’s trying to tear his clothes off right then and there in the kitchen. Something freezes you to the ground. Forces you to stay still, as if they won’t see you and forget about you if you don’t move. Nothing but prey, hiding from the predators.

“Yes, please Simon,” Johnny whimpers.

“C’mon, I know you can beg. Used to do it all the time before we got Bonnie, yeah? Beg,” Simon demands.

“I’ve been so good,” Johnny says, words exploding out of his mouth before he can stop them.

“Have you?” Simon challenges.

He nods. “Haven’t fucked her, just like you asked. Didn’t even touch her at all today while you were gone.”

Simon smirks, and you avert your gaze like it’s blinded you. “That why you’re so worked up?”

“Please,” he tries again. “I miss you.”

The only thing you hear after that is the sound of their lips crashing together. It’s wet and hungry, and you flinch at the sound of Simon’s groan. Something terrible and sharp twists in your stomach, and you feel sick at their words. Despite the terrible things Simon does, and the grotesque words he calls him, Johnny seems helplessly in love with him. So starved for affection, he’ll take it from the very hand of the man who’s hurting both of you.

“Good boy,” Simon whispers.

Reality shifts, making the air feel thicker, and that’s when you realize that Simon’s attention has been brought to you. There’s no time for you to retract as he reaches his free hand toward you and slips a finger in the loop of your collar. With a swift yank, you’re tumbling toward him with your hands grasping his forearm to try and keep yourself steady.

He chuckles, and you realize you think it’s the first time you’ve ever heard him laugh. You don’t like the sound of it. It’s dark and grating. Gargled like a wolf’s laugh. Something that precedes pain.

“C’mon, Bonnie. Johnny’s hungry.”

[ametrictonofaudacity]

Gaps 3

Yandere Platonic Batfam x Mentally Ill/Forgetful Reader

Warning: This is a yandere work, and as such, contains themes of obsession and unhealthy relationships. This particular snippet from Gaps will be an escalation, since this is a series, so trigger warning for kidnapping, non-consensual drugging, obsessive behaviors and manipulation.

There was a half full bottle of psychiatric meds in the glove box of your car. You have absolutely no clue when this got there, buried as it was under your insurance information, registration, and car owners manual, but it was there.

You turn the bottle over in your hands, reading the small label. Prazosin. You were glad to have some extra, in case Bruce hadn’t been able to get your refill this month. He had been good about it, the past couple of months while you waited for your appointment at the DMV, but it was always good to have spares, just in case. And something in your stomach urged you not to rely on the billionaire too much.

You pocket the bottle of pills. Sure, your script had been changed from prazosin to nitrazepam, by Dr. Leslie Thompkins since she was the only person that would treat you without an ID, but you didn’t like how the nitrazepam left you sluggish the next morning. You also didn’t like the thought of just how vulnerable you would be, in such a deep sleep.

Your cell phone rings. You pick up on the first ring, humming.

“(Y/N).” It was Damian. A bit of a surprise, since he didn’t really seek you out, but not an entirely unwelcome one. “You used to have a cat, correct?”

You snort. Of course one of the few times Damian calls you, it was about an animal. You didn’t expect anything less.

“Yeah. I had a Maine Coon kitten for a while before I moved. She was the sweetest little thing too, would always climb onto my shoulders whenever I got home from work.”

“What happened to her?”

“When I moved, I had to give her to my roommate. I visit her whenever I go to Bludhaven.” You explain, beginning your nightly routine. You brush the knots out of your hair, root around for your pajamas, drop two tablets in your hand.

“I see. I’m sorry you had to leave her behind.”

You smile, glancing at the time. The two tablets go down easy, and you double and triple check your locks. In Gotham, it didn’t hurt to be vigilant.

“It’s not a problem. I do have work tomorrow, so I’m gonna turn in, okay?”

“Of course. Get some rest, (Y/N).” He says it like it’s practically a demand, and you laugh when the line goes dead.

You drift off to sleep, eventually, your limbs heavy and numb.

——————

Your woken up by the sound of your bedroom door creaking open. Your heart stops, before thundering in your chest, slamming fast against your ribs.

Your mind races, and you force yourself to breath slow and deep, feigning sleep. The average thief wouldn’t bother to kill a sleeping person, but who knew what would happen if they thought there were witnesses. Carefully, you shift, making sure the movement looked to be the shifting of a sleeping body.

There’s a sound of crackling above you, and you don’t know what that means before the intruder speaks.

“You sure you got the dosage right? They’re moving around a lot for someone who’s sedated.” A modulated voice, indistinguishable thanks to the static. Your stomach drops, and it takes everything you have not to stiffen in terror. No average thief would have a fucking voice modulator. And what did they mean, the dosage? What the fuck did they mean?

Your fingers close around the handle of the small folding knife you kept under your pillow.

“It’s not full sedation. They’ll sleep deeply enough that we can move freely, but too high of a dosage would cause issues.” A low, gravelly voice and you feel your breath hitch. Both voices go quiet.

You hear a soft rattle as a pill bottle is picked up. Your heart hammers in your throat. You can’t remember which bottle of meds was by your bedside.

“Didn’t you get them put on nitrazepam?”

“Yes.”

“Old man, this isn’t nitrazepam. It’s an old script of prazosin.”

Silence. Deafening silence. Your eyes snap open.

You don’t even give yourself time to process the fact that there were two of Gotham’s vigilantes in your room. You don’t give yourself time to panic, or feel betrayed, because if you do, you won’t stop. You’ll be frozen and defenseless and unable to do anything.

You lunge up, throwing the blankets off yourself, and you try to twist away when the goddamn Red Hood lunges to catch you, only for his arm to wrap around your waist, yanking you back. The small fold out knife clatters to the ground, and a hand wraps around your wrist.

“Why don’t we all just cool off, yeah? No more stabbing attempts.” He sounds almost amused, but there’s an edge of danger in his voice that makes you shudder. He releases you, and you stagger away from him.

Batman hovers in the corner of the room, and even though he is the furthest from you, he feels so much closer.

“You got my script changed. Why?” Your voice is trembling, and you grimace. You don’t like the way you sound far too vulnerable.

“The old man is paranoid as hell, that’s why.” Hood grumbles, crossing his arms. He leans back, giving you space, and even though you know you aren’t any safer, you appreciate it.

“Hood. Now is not the time.” Batman growls, and Hood snorts.

“When would be the time old man? We would have avoided all of this if we had just gone with my plan.” Hood points out. You have no idea what he means.

“They weren’t ready.” Batman snaps, and you don’t know what that means. “This isn’t the place for this discussion, Hood.”

He turns to you, and for a moment, hesitates. The moment passes, and he lifts his hands, tugging back his cowl.

You stare. Staring back at you with intense blue eyes is Bruce Wayne.

So many things click in your mind. The inexplicable cancelling of your appointments. The paranoia. The way you had been struggling to work past the constant fear you were being watched. The way your things went missing when you needed them.

“(Y/N), I know you’re confused right now. Just let me explain.” Bruce says gently, and you shake your head, backing up.

“I don’t want to hear anything you have to say right now. You.. how long have you been breaking into my apartment? How long have you been using my meds to do it? And why?!”

“(Y/N), you barely manage to function on a day to day basis. I was just insuring your safety.”

“My safety?! Arguably I would be even more vulnerable SEDATED in an apartment in Gotham? Why do you think I check my locks so often? Why I have lists, of every possible thing I could need? I KNOW how to take care of myself, but clearly I made some sort of mistake when met all of you!” You shriek, and there are hot, ugly tears streaming down your face.

You didn’t need this, you didn’t need him, and you certainly did not need him pulling the strings on your life.

“Alright, you clearly can’t handle this old man.” Hood turns to you, arms crossed. “Listen, I get it. Batman’s a controlling, manipulative bastard. But we aren’t having this discussion here.”

You yell when his hand closes around your arm, and raise your hand to slap him away. He tugs you forward, twisting your arm behind your back and holding it there, and you yell.

A sharp pain in your neck, and your vision blurs.

You feel your knees buckle, feel yourself start to sag.

Gloved hands hold you up, and your head spins. Armored arms scoop you up, and you push at the thick Kevlar.

The last thing you see before unconsciousness takes you is white lenses staring down.

[uhzuku]

Omg! Your last Shounya fic was so good! Want more of those, where the reader bonds with shinsou!

𝐚 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐜𝐚𝐬: ngl i’ve kept this lil thought in my pocket for a bit, i love lil shinsou sm. tw for traumatized kids n crying

At first, you don’t really understand why you’re awake. Shouta’s chest is warm against your back, and the room is dark. Rain softly putters against the glass of the window and every so often the deep rumble of thunder fills your ears; it’s soothing, you’ve always loved thunderstorms and they’ve always helped you sleep so deeply ( and likewise with Shouta ), so what had woken you up? You wonder if maybe you had to pee, but you didn’t, then if you were thirsty, but you werent. 

And then you hear the crying. 

You’re on your feet immediately, tossing the blankets back and ignoring the immediate grumbles and whines from your still-sleeping partner as you make your way to the other bedrooms. Upon instinctively checking, Eri and Izuku are both fine, each still deeply asleep and half-purring along with the sounds of the rain, but the bed you’d set up for the new kitten all those weeks ago was notably empty, and you begin to worry. 

I’ll only wake Shouta if I can’t find him, you think to yourself, and you search for over fifteen minutes before you nervously start padding back to the master bedroom to wake said hybrid. The only reason you don’t make it is due to the choked sobs you hear coming from the closet to your left that you’d only glanced in, and after listening for a moment you realize that the kittenboy must have purposefully quieted himself so he wasn’t found. 

Regardless, crying so much would make him sick, and even if it didn’t you needed to help him.

Opening the door carefully, you click on the light, pausing as the trembling purple-furred kitten hybrid stares at you with wide, teary eyes from a corner in the back of the closet. “What are you doing in here, sweet boy?” you ask softly, squatting and reaching out for him slowly — though not slowly enough. 

“N-No! Go away!” the kittenboy hisses through tears, swiping at you and breaking skin with his small claws. It takes a moment, but when his purple eyes lock on the blood slowly starting to drip down your arm he seemingly realizes what he did and bursts into frightful tears. “No, no, no — I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to!”

“It’s okay-“ you attempt to soothe him fruitlessly as he bawls and pushes himself back farther into the corner he’d found for himself. 

“I’m sorry! I won’t do it again! I’ll be good!” he wails, tears and snot running down his face as he hiccups out his words with his ear pinned back against his head and his fluffy tail clutched tightly in both arms. Every instinct in you seeks to comfort him, but you fear moving will only scare him more. 

Thunder booms, and a shrill cry tumbles from his lips anew at the noise as he starts shaking violently, and you realize that the thunderstorm is the cause of the initial fear. Carefully you back out of the room before returning with a thick comforter from the former spare bedroom that had become Shouta’s when he first came home. The blanket was no doubt saturated in his scent, and the kitten visibly calmed a little after you threw it over his shoulders and the weight and smell covered all other stimuli. 

You don’t say anything as you slowly crawl beneath it with him, and he’s so absorbed with the simple treasure you’d covered him with that he doesn’t realize that you’re so close until you start gently petting his hair. He jolts then stiffens, but you give no reaction, softly humming a slow song that you’d heard on the radio this morning; you remembered Izuku mentioning that you humming was as close to Shouta’s soothing rumbling he reserved for the little ones as a human could get, so you found no reason not to try it now. Clearly it worked, because after a moment the exhausted kitten hybrid slumps against you completely, still crying and whimpering but notably calmer. 

“Better?” you ask softly, stopping your humming for just a moment as your fingers gently comb through his wild hair. 

“Y-Yes,” he answers in a whisper. “I’m sorry for scratching you, I didn’t mean to.” You’re about to tell him to not even worry about it when he continues with a whimper, “I’ll appreciate whatever punishment you choose to give me, it’ll help me learn how to be better.” His voice is small, and you find yourself horror-struck  as you realize just how deeply his trauma must run. 

“You aren’t going to be punished,” you whisper softly, gently pulling him close to you. He looks up at you in teary-eyed confusion, ears flicking to-and-fro as he mulls your words over. 

“No punishment?” he asks hesitantly, and you shake your head. 

“No, sweet boy. Never.” His bottom lip starts violently trembling, and it takes all of a moment for his repressed emotions to boil over before he’s bawling all over again, burying his face against your chest as you cradle him close in the closet. You rub his back gently, soothingly whispering that everything would be okay and holding him close just like before as he cried and cried. 

“No one will ever hurt you again, alright?” you say softly as he sobs, soaking your shirt in tears and snot that doesn't bother you even a little. “Shouta and I? We’re going to take care of you from now on. You’ll never need to fear a human again.”

In an almost wicked moment of irony, he starts calming down the moment thunder booms aggressively and the power pops out, drawing a frightful shriek from the hybrid and triggering him into hiding against you all over again. It takes around a half hour of coaxing before you convince him to leave the closet with you. He insists on keeping the comforter and you allow it with no fuss, and together you pad through the halls and back to bed, a confused chirp leaving his throat as you direct him past the bedroom he was in before. He hesitates as you stop in front of your bedroom door, but after a gentle bit of insistence he steps inside silently, freezing when Shouta grumbles in his sleep and rolls over, the larger hybrid nestling deeper into the mattress. 

“C’mon, he won’t wake up right now,” you promise, “He’s a deep sleeper, can’t get enough of it.”

The kitten mumbles something bcm through a tiny tremor that wracks his entire body, but you don’t catch it. Tipping your head to the side reminiscent of the man in your bed when he’d not heard something prompts the boy to repeat himself. “Mad,” he whimpers miserably, “He’ll get mad.”

You smile fondly at him and shake your head in denial. “He won’t be, I promise,” you say, beckoning him closer, and he slowly does as you ask and steps to you. “Hop on in!”

Slowly crawling into bed and under the covers, he keeps a wary eye on Shouta while watching you change shirts from the dirty one to a loose tank top before returning to the bed as well, gently sandwiching him between your partner and yourself as you get cozy. “Sleep now, you’re safe,” you murmur, and after a moment he nestles close to you, one of his tiny cold hands clutching at yours. He stiffens when Shouta rolls over again in his sleep, but you raise no alarm ( knowing the older hybrid was just searching out for your body in his sleep as he did often ) and he relaxes, tensing only once more when Shouta curls around him and throws an arm over both of you, tugging your bodies close protectively as he rumbles in his sleep. Eventually the boy loosens up, and you begin tk doze off when you believe he’s fallen asleep. 

“Hitoshi,” you hear a tiny voice say, and you blink  into the dark in shock as you wake up fully. He’d never shared his name before when he’d first been brought home by Shouta, and after the experience you had with said man you knew hybrids off the street tended not to share their names with humans until they met them, so you didn’t push it. Shouta didn’t bother to share his name either; you didn’t even know if the man knew it, but you wouldn’t doubt it with how the skinny boy clung to him as best he could. 

Now the kitten was giving it freely. 

“That’s a lovely name, sweetheart,” you murmur, combing your fingers through his hair again as he presses close to you with a sniffle. “Is it okay if i call you that in front of Eri and Izuku and Shouta?”

“Uh-huh,” he confirms with a nod against you, voice thick from the crying and from growing drowsy. He’s quiet for a moment, then you feel him yawning. “Sleeeeeeepy,” he whines, taking on the toned voice of an overtired child that you’d heard time and time again from Eri and Izuku, and you just hum softly all over again. 

“Then sleep, sweet boy. Shouta and I will be here when you wake up.”

[zeltqz]

| ran x reader

part one is here

still dont know what to title this so ignore that

nsfw content: timeskip to reader two months pregnant, babysitting, pining, riding, kissing, soft ran

author's note: not proof read ignore any mistakes sorrytytytyty

@thatoneuchiha @kvzufys @ittasteslikepoprocks @jxjoba @accordingtoallknownlawsofaviatio @seshokiii @tsuyalovebot @haitanibros0007 @fuckthatfeeling @peachebmad @trashmemebitch @sleeplessreader @liyazliya

In the spare bedroom of your apartment, loud shrieks and baby cries race through the entire house. Ever since the sudden announcement of your pregnancy, your mother took it upon herself to give you lessons on how to take care of a newborn, asking her co-worker to babysit her babyboy for practice. 

Though it’s still fairly early, you still feel regretful, angry, scared, nervous, anxious and tired . 

Tired has to be the sum of all the emotions flowing through your body. You’ve barely slept, bladder failing you in the middle of the night, causing you to stumble over to the bathroom to release it, only for your body to do a little double hit combo on you, vomiting into the sink at the same time. 

When you weren’t throwing up or pissing, your breasts were sore, so so sore that you couldn’t even change shirts without pain. 

The babyboy cries, pushing your hand away when you try to feed him. Groaning loudly, you throw the baby bottle, not caring a single bit at the noise it makes when it bounces against the wall, ultimately rolling back towards your feet. A clear telltale sign that you’re not going to get away from this, you’re not going to run away from the problem at hand. 

Another loud, frustrated groan powers up from the depths of your stomach, and you have to remember there’s a baby in your arms before you tug at your hair.

Your friend and mother watch your breakdown from the bed, sharing compassionate glances at each other, before looking back at you. 

“Everything okay?” Your friend chooses her words carefully, not wanting you to explode on her midst breakdown.

The baby starts crying when you try to feed him again and you’re on the verge of tears, exhausted, sore, numb emotionally and physically. You just want to sleep. Your mother sighs, standing up from the bed to scoop the baby from your arms, gracefully into hers, bouncing him gently, cooing softly until he stops crying, pink gums on full display as he smiles, babbling adorably up at her. 

“He’s so cute !” Your friend exclaims when his tiny hand wraps around your mother’s finger. “I’m getting baby fever.”

“Fuck babies.” You slump down next to your friend on the bed, groaning softly at the cramp you get seconds later. “I can’t do this.”

“You can.” She reassures you, pulling your face into the crook of her shoulder for a hug, “You got this, there’s nothing you haven’t done that you couldn’t accomplish.”

“Yeah…but, this is a child. A human baby with a life, heartbeat, and mind of its own to do whatever it wants. I have to raise this child for years to come. I’m not ready…” 

The atmosphere shifts into a more depressing one, your mother frowning as she’s still bouncing the baby, humming softly to distract it, your friend petting her hand down the length of your arm, an action succeeding to comfort you. 

“It could be worse though, right?” She squeezes at your side and you jump a little. “At least you know who the father is.”

“Yeah, my mortal enemy is who he is.” 

Your mother stills, looking up from the baby to you. “Mortal enemy?” 

You lift your head up from your friends shoulder, muttering an apology for getting tear stains onto her shoulder. She waves off your concern with a grin. “Yeah, mom. My mortal enemy. Ran? Remember that guy from the playground all those years ago?”

“You had unprotected sex with a guy you hate?”

“Ah, well—” Your mouth opens to defend yourself, only to slam it shut when you realise you didn’t have anything to defend yourself with. “Yeah…”

“Is he at least going to be involved?” 

Your friend looks over at you, interested and nosy, propping a hand on her knee to grin in your direction. You push her head away from you and shrug your shoulders.

“I’m not sure.”

It’s like you can see your mother go through the five stages of grief right there, her mouth opening to accomodate her dropping jaw, closing it shut along with her eyes, taking a deep breath before nodding her head softly, finally accepting the circumstance. “Who’s this Ran boy anyway? I can try talk to his parents—”

“No, mom. Please don’t do anything, say anything, think of anything to do with that family. I want nothing to do with them.”

In other words, you don’t want Ran to see you might need his help afterall. It’s been two months since you’d walked out from his house, not seeing a single trace of him since then. It’s annoying how when you desperately don’t want him around, he’s always showing up, either at parties, parks, shopping centres, always there with that fucking grin on his face. The second you actually need him around, he’s ghost. 

M.I fucking A. 

Nothing expected from someone like him. A delinquent, nothing else. He’s no good to you, your family, or your future child. 

“Why can’t I find his family? They’re technically apart of ours now. It’ll be nice to meet my future son in la—”

“I just told you he’s my mortal enemy. There will be no meeting, unless it’s for child support, ‘cause hell if I’m raising this thing all on my own.”

“Hey, I can talk to Ran if you want—” Your friend cuts into the conversation, doing her best to stay silent and let the two of you talk out your frustrations. You tip your head to the side, and your mother puts the baby back down in the cot. 

“You have contact with him?”

She nods her head. “I’m friends with Rindou, so I can easily talk to Ran —”

“Rindou?” Your mother questions, voice uncertain.

“His brother, mom.”

“Oh!” She claps her hands together, ecstatic, excited there’s a possibility for her future grandchild to have a stable ish family, one where the mother and father aren’t trying to rip their throats. “That’s great, please contact him, dear. Tell him I want to see him and have a proper discussion with him.”

The sixth groan today leaves you at the thought of seeing his face so soon. You’d been enjoying these two months Ran free, enjoying not seeing his face literally everywhere, like his presence has vanished. Vaguely, you think back to that argument you had with him, how you dropped the news to his parents on the way back from their grocery trip. Sure it was a little petty, do you feel bad? Nope. Will you do it again? Definitely. How did the parents react? From down the street when you’d disappeared after dropping the bomb, you could hear yelling coming from the house, expected coming from the circumstance; your own mother nearly had a heart attack upon hearing the news at fisrt.

Maybe his parents sent Ran away to a different country, forced to live a better, moral filled, life? Doubt it. Even if they did, who’s to say Ran would’ve even listened to begin with. That man was stubborn.

That was probably why you both clashed so much. You were both stubborn in your beliefs. Ran got an urge out of irritating you, even made it his life purpose to wipe that scowl upside down in bed with you. 

Still to this day, you don’t know why you slept with him. Not once, but twice. The worst thing is, you know if the pregnancy wasn’t an inconvenience, you would sleep with him again if he tried.

Why?

Why him out of everyone on this planet? 

That’s a question your brain fails to provide the answer for.

It’s fairly easy to contact Ran. Your friend hung out with Rindou, asked how Ran was doing. The usual, he’d responded, whatever the fuck that meant. He didn’t disappear off the face of the planet, to your disappointment. 

You made your dissatisfaction known to him across the table, glaring at him with narrowed eyes as he shuffled awkwardly in his seat. His mother and your own completely unaware of your heated glare, too busy discussing plans for how this child will be raised.

“If it isn’t a bother to you, dear, I could take the child in when they’re born? Hopefully you can finish your education before you take them back?” Mrs Haitani proposed, taking a sip of her champagne. 

Your mother nudges you under the table to grab your attention away from Ran elsewhere. “Huh? Oh! Yeah, that would be great if you could take her off my arms for a little bit.” You smile, lifting your cup of water to your lips.

“Her?” Your mother and Mrs. Haitani ask at the same time, and it’s almost amusing how in sync the two are.

“Oh, I dunno. I just got a feeling it’s a girl.” You rub your belly, the first genuine smile appearing out of nowhere for what felt like months now. Having a baby girl would be amazing, you could raise her to be a mini you, instead of a disaster like Ran.

“Well, I have a feeling it’s a boy.” The biggest mistake of your life speaks up, stabbing his fork into his food with a scowl on his face.

You blink at him, blink at the sheer audacity of this guy right here, fists clenching underneath the table. “I’m sorry, are you carrying her in your stomach right now?”

Your mother clears her throat, easing the table of the tension before it arises to a temperature not even firefighters could cool down. Ran slumps down in his chair, arms crossed over his chest and his mother has to remind him to sit up and act right in public.

“Sorry about him, he’s a little…moody lately.” She claps a heavy hand onto his shoulder, and you don’t miss the harsh way she squeezes at it, a warning. 

“When isn’t he moody?” Your murmur, purposefully, under your breath, chugging down your water to cool the heat rising in your body. 

“Me? I’m the moody one? You’re the one that had a stick up your fuckin’ ass since I met you all those years ago.”

“I’m only moody to people I hate, Haitani.” 

“Hate me that much, yeah? Explain that, then.” He gestures to your semi-big belly, and your lips press tight against your face. You have restraint. 

“It was a mistake and you know it, Ran.”

Your mother shares a glance over to his own mother, who’s casually sipping at her champagne freely now, no longer bothered to dilute the situation anymore. 

“Mistake is a one time thing. Two times? Not so sure about that.”

“Hold on, hold on—” Your mother cuts in, blinking at you. “You slept with him, twice?”

“I—well, no—but—”

“Yeah, she did.” He grins so deviously, the scowl is replaced by his usual lazy smug look. “‘Nd she loved it too.”

You stand up from the table abruptly, chair scraping across the tiled floor loud enough for the restaurant to catch a glance over. “I’m going home.”

“I’ll walk her home.” Ran’s standing alongside you, and if you weren’t pregnant and in public, you would’ve body slammed him to the floor and told him to go fuck off. 

“I don’t need your help to walk home. I have fucking legs.”

He ignores your remark in favour of reaching inside his pocket, tossing some bills onto the table. “That’s for the food.” 

You storm out of the restaurant, digging inside your pockets for your headphones, ignoring the presence of Ran walking behind you. He’s keeping a safe enough distance, far enough not to irritate you but close enough to keep an eye on you. 

“I don’t need a babysitter.” You don’t bother looking at him, focusing on the road in front of you. 

“Never that.” He comments, grinning when he sees your fists clench, feet moving a bit faster in an attempt to speed walk. 

You reach your house in no time, keys opening the door and about to slam it in his face before a foot slots itself between. 

“Why won’t you leave me alone?!” You grit out, eyes narrowed as he steps into your apartment, eyeing the decor, the family photos on the wall. “I’m talking to you!”

“Nice place you got here.” He’s about to walk further before you’re dragging him backwards by his sleeve. 

“Please leave, Ran. I just want a peaceful quiet night—”

“Can we talk?” He cuts you off abruptly, shoving his hands into his pockets. You subconsiouly mimic the action before shrugging your shoulders.

“Talk about what?”

“Us? The damn thing in your stomach? The silent treatment was funny at first but this is —”

You inhale sharply, mentally choosing between being petty with him, or sitting down to have an actual mature conversation. Part of you wants to take the first route, ignore him for two months, give him the same treatment he gave you…but a sudden realisation hit you. In 7 months time, whether you like it or not, you’re going to be a mother. You’re going to have to look after a whole child, a new born, one that cries, shits, pukes…

“Fine, let’s talk.” You guide him to your living room, seating yourself at a reasonable distance from him. “So what are you tryna talk about?”

“For starters, we needa get along.” You roll your eyes. “That means not rolling your eyes at everything I say—” you scoff dramatically, “—or scoffing at what I say either.”

“You expect me to be able to do that?”

“It’s not that hard to do.” He shrugs his shoulders, shifting his body to lean against the back of the couch.

“Not that hard—Ran, do you know how annoyingly insufferable you are sometimes?”

He lazily scratches at his chin for a couple seconds, face twisting in a manner some might call confusion. 

“You’re so out of touch with yourself, holyfuck—” You scoff in disbelief, before sighing for what felt like the tenth time in the last hour. “For her sake,” you gesture to your stomach, “I’ll deal with you. All I need is money, anyway.”

“Money’s good. I can hook you up with that.”

“Good. Now leave my house.”

He laughs, tongue licking his bottom lip before shifting forward on the couch. “What if I don’t wanna go?”

Your eyebrows raise up. “Then stay? But I’m leaving.” His hand grabs your elbow before you could fully stand, and you glare down at him. Your stare wavers when he pulls you back down to the couch, gently, your back softly hitting the back of the couch. “Ran—”

“Why do you still hate me?” He repeats the same question he’d asked you all those months ago, still waiting for a genuine response from you. 

“I already told you tha—” 

You shiver when his head drops down to your shoulder, slowly nuzzling his forehead against your skin. “Wasn’t a proper answer…” Your breathing almost stops when his lips brush against your skin, placating soft, gentle, kisses along the line of your shoulder.

It’s almost ticklish, the feel of his lips barely pressing onto your skin, yet you could feel the heavy emotion behind each kiss. 

“I just—” You have to swallow when his kisses reach your neck, forcing the lump in your throat down in order for the words to come out clearly. “—I dunno, I guess I just feel jealous sometimes.”

“Jealous?” He hums, intrigued, pressing a longer, wetter kiss to the surface of your throat, heart jumping inside his chest when you didn’t shove him away yet.

“Yeah. When I’m near you I just feel jealous.”

“Jealous of what?” He pulls away, and you frown slightly, the loss of his face and hair around your neck makes your entire body feel cold. 

You look down at your hands, fiddling them in your lap before shrugging your shoulders. It’s hard to bring yourself to look at him, your pride at full capacity, not liking the way you almost craved his touch more.

“You don’t have to be jealous, you know I’m right here.” His hand grabs at yours, grinning when you don’t push him away, letting him intertwine your fingers together. 

You finally look at him, your nose brushing against his cheek from how close he is. He squeezes your hand twice, thumb brushing against the back of your palms before leaning forward, capturing your mouth with his. 

Your eyes instantly squeeze shut, slowly losing yourself as you kiss him back without hesitation, untangling your hands together to place it at the back of his head, holding him still. 

He shifts forward, backing you against the arm of the couch, bracing his arms on either side of your face, pulling away when you giggle something into his mouth. 

“What was that?” He asks, pressing another kiss to your cheek.

“I said, if you wanted to sleep with me, you shoulda just said so.”

His brow arches. “You’re telling me it’s that easy?” His arched brow falls when you nod your head, biting at your bottom lip. “I wanna fuck you then.”

You shrug your shoulders. “Okay then.”

“Okay.”

The two of you fall into silence.

“Are you gonna do something about it?” You ask.

“Do you want me to?” 

Your face falls flat. “Ran, stop playing games and—”

“I’m kidding, relax—” His hand drags down your body, finding your hand and lifting it up to his lips, placing soft kisses on the tips of your fingers. 

You frown a little. “Why’re you being so nice to me?”

“Why are you letting me?”

You drop your hand and sigh. “Because I’m…horny.” You admit, defeated, biting into your lip when you watch his eyes shift downwards, lingering on your chest before lifting them back to your face. 

The second kiss was better than the first, both of you having established your thirst for each other made the kiss spicier, his hand sliding along your thighs, partially cupping your pussy with a huge hand till you moan in his mouth, tongue slipping into his mouth playfully as his hands slide back up to your breasts.

You break the kiss to remove your shirt, keeping your eyes on him the entire time, gut clenching when you recognise the intense gaze of his eyes on your face, scanning your features erotically. 

His hands cup your breasts, lips sliding along the skin of your chest, sucking and biting carnally. Your fingers run through his hair, gently scooping the long strands away from his eyeline, carding your fingers through his soft hair as he kisses your chest.

“You feelin’ okay?” He pats your belly twice, a loving gesture that has your heartbeat pulse three times at the tips of your fingers. 

“I’m good, yeah.” You force out the words breathlessly, watching him slide down your body, showering your stomach with soft kisses with a side of his tongue, sucking below your pelvis just above your pants. 

“Wanna know a secret?” His tongue lapping at your thighs, pausing momentarily as he asks this, looking up at you patiently.

“It better be important, Ran.” 

He’s chuckling, nose brushing your inner thigh as his finger tugs at your panties. “I’ve liked you since we were younger.” 

You stiffen, and he closes his eyes, running his tongue along your clothed slit, sucking your clit through the thin material. 

He…what? Your brain goes numb, amplified tenfold when he hums, tickling your clit with his tongue, grips on your thigh slowly increasing every passing second. 

“You—”  It takes a moment, a brief second to swallow to allow your words to pass, “—you what?”

“Liked you since I was younger.” He says absentmindedly, finally stripping your panties from your legs, throwing them across the room. “That’s why I came up to you that one day.” He moans when he licks up your slit, happily burying himself between your thighs. 

You clench them involuntarily, and he opens licks into your deeper, flicking your clit with his tongue faster. “But I thought you—oh nn fuck— thought you wanted a drink?”

“Was an excuse to talk to you alone.” He flicks his eyes up at you. “I was thirsty, but I just wanted to get a drink from you that day. I dunno, what younger me was thinking actually.”

You chuckle softly, missing the way his eyes soften at the genuine laugh he’d manage to pull from you. “Yeah, you were dumb back then too.”

“Not too much on younger me, alright?”

“It’s true, and you know it.” 

Ran hums, the sound vibrating across your body, moaning softly as your fingers find way back to his head, holding him in place as he eats you out slowly. He pulls away, two fingers spreading your folds open, lapping at the slick there. “Fuck, you’re so wet, you hear that?” 

There’s a wet squelch when he slips a finger in, relishing in the way your thighs tense and clench around his head, the desperate choked moan that leaves your lips as he curls his finger against your spot.

“Tight fucking pussy.” He leans forward, sucking your clit into his mouth. 

“Ran—ohmygo—”  You throw your head back as he’s pumping two fingers inside you, curling and twisting them as he pleases. 

“You’re doing so good for me—”  he mumbles, tongue swirling a lazy circle along your folds before squeezing in alongside his fingers. 

It’s torture feeling him slowly pick you apart and piece you back together with his tongue alone, thighs tensing and shaking as you reach your peak. You have to slap a hand over your mouth to hide your yelp and the inevitable orgasm makes you bite a chunk of your palm. 

“So hot,” he murmurs, slipping his fingers out and licking at the juices running down the length of his hand, slurping them away as he rises to kiss you. “You’re so hot,” he sucks your bottom lip into your mouth. 

You tangle shaky fingers in his hair, greedily kissing him back. He just about melts when you nip at his lips, humming sweetly into his mouth. 

“You don’t think you’ll have twins if I cum in you, right?” 

You break the kiss to stare at him, unimpressed. “Are you serious?”

“What?”

“No, like is that a genuine question?”

Ran shifts on the couch, dragging you up onto his lap. “Biology was never my strong suit, babe.”

“Neither is common sense, apparently—” 

He slots his mouth against yours again, tasting the words in your mouth, your desperation when your attitude drops to wrap your arms around his shoulders once more, pulling him closer to you. A cold, firm palm presses against the curve of your back, and you flinch at the temperature, back arching in a way that sends Ran into a frenzy as your breasts push into his chest.

“Imagine that though,” he starts, resting his forehead against yours, “popping twins out for me.”

You can’t help the scoff you make, looking up at him through your lashes. “What do you need two babies for? I’d rather die than do that.”

“Don’t say that…” The hand on your back slides down to your ass, spreading your cheeks with a steady palm. “Need you alive and well, okay?” He’s kissing the side of your face, and you shift till your lips are touching, breathing heavily into his mouth as he kisses you back with fervour. “Till death do us part, baby.”

“We aren’t married, Ran.”

“Yet.”

You punch his shoulder, playfully, trying not to overshow your emotions right now. “You’re annoying.”

“You love it though—”

“I tolerate it. Now are you gonna fuck me or not?”

“Hm…” He buys time stripping himself down, slowly unbuttoning his shirt, slowly sliding the sleeves off each arm, watching your face go from annoyed to unamused, to irritated and impatient. “You got a condom?”

“Does that really matter?” You gesture to your stomach and he cackles, shutting you up as his hand palms at your tit, fingers running themselves along your nipples until they’re peak and aching for more. “Ran—please, c’mon—”

“I wanna take my time.” His mouth, hot and wet, attaches to your nipple, cheeks hollow, jaw sharpened as he sucks rhythmically.

“We don’t have time.” You briefly think back to your mother at the restaurant, wondering just how long it’ll take before she comes back home. The worst thing she needs right now is to know you’re still having sex at a time like this, but you have nowhere else to go. “Ran—”

“My name sounds good when you say it,” he mutters, sucking harder, one hand skimming up to your neck to gently squeeze it, watching your mouth fall open, breathless pants escaping your lips. “You’re so sexy, you know that?”

“I’ve heard.”

He squeezes tighter and you moan, a sound  that you almost instantly regret when his pupils widen for a split moment. “Oh, you like gettin’ choked?”

“Ran. Fuck me, or I’ll go upstairs and do it myself.”

He licks his lips, arms stretching out over the back of the couch, leaning back and watching you with a hungry look in his eye, watching the way your eyes dart down to his chest momentarily. “No you wouldn’t.”

Daring, you cross your arms over your chest, glaring down at him. “Yes I would.”

“Do it then.” He nods his head towards the door, watching your audacious nature break down, halting to a stop. “What are you waiting for?”

“Ran, please.” It’s embarrassing how desperate you sound right now, voice soft, on the verge of pleading, internally irritated at yourself because you know if he asked you to beg for it nicely you would, you so would. 

A sigh of relief passes through you when his hands move to his belt. You watch, mouth wet, biting at your lips as he shimmies his pants down, cock springing upwards, standing tall in the air, making yourself wetter as you eye it hungily. 

“C’mon,” he gestures, and you sit up so instantly you almost feel dizzy. He strokes up and down the shaft a couple times, circling the head with his thumb, exhaling softly as your pussy rubs against the tip. 

You reach down, cock thick in your hand, positioning it directly at your entrance before sinking down. It’s almost painful, the stretch of your walls trying to accommodate his girth, spreading you apart painfully slow, the tight grip on your hips as your walls squeeze the length of his cock. 

“Almost there, wait—” You wind your arms around him, grabbing desperately at his shoulders, trying to stablise yourself with every inch that presses into you. It’s almost uncomfortable, and you can’t help but wonder if this is a good idea or not, your insides still mushy and sensitive from the pregnancy, but the thought vanishes the second he bottoms out inside you, groaning sweet praises by your ear.

“You’re doing so good baby, fuck—” He’s doting kissses along your jaw, down your neck and chest, sucking a breast into his mouth. “So good.”

Your eyes squeeze shut as you let yourself adjust to the uncomfortable stretch. The pinching feeling of his fingers digging into your ass has you shifting upwards, sitting up straight to back him up against the couch. 

Rolling your hips in an awkward circle to get used to the feeling rips a greedy cry from your mouth, a desperate one that has pleasure rippling through Ran’s body, fingers digging possessively at your hips and sides, filling the hunger inside him, the desire to want to touch you. 

“Doing okay?” He presses another wet kiss to your chest, licking the line separating both breasts, sucking down the length of it. 

“Y-yeah, ‘m okay—” You cling to his hair, using it to lift his face up to you, bending forward to kiss him fervently. 

He kisses you back, hands sliding down to spank you, grinning against your lips when you squeal into his mouth, arching your back further. 

“Drive me fuckin’ crazy, I swear—” He knows he’s close, knows he’s a couple seconds away from combusting, drowning himself in pleasure as the scent of your perfume and shampoo invade his nostrils, making him close his eyes and lust for you harder.

“You close, huh?” He asks this knowing the answer fully, the tight stretch of your walls making it almost impossible to bounce the way you truly want, hands holding onto his hair so tight he swears you might rip them from the roots if you tried. 

“I’m close, so close—” The blazing heat inside your body builds by the second. It’s overwhelming, your shaky moans, your scorching vision, blurring whenever his cock reaches that spot inside you. “Kiss me please.” You whimper, mouth hanging open breathlessly, fingers digging into his shoulders possessivly. 

The kiss is what sets you both over the edge, both of your minds mush as you can’t even fathom a proper kiss, lips barely touching as his hips fuck deeper into you, reaching a spot that has your vision seeing stars. 

“I can feel you cumming— damn, you’re so—” 

Another thrust upwards and you’re tipping over the edge, dripping all over his cock as you cry out his name. Ran lifts your hips a little higher, drawing his cock out before fucking back into you. “Gonna cu—I’m gonna fuckin cum in you—”

“Please—” You breathe, teary eyed and desperate. “Cum inside me, lemme fee—”

He slams you onto his cock with a groan, hips surging upwards to shoot his cum inside you. 

“Fuck.” You would normally care about your voice crack, but not when you’re still drunk on the feeling of your orgasm, his body pressed close up against yours has his scent mixed with the sweat from you both amplified. 

“Yeah,” he agrees, panting as he flops backwards on the couch. His eyes flutter shut, smiling as you kiss along his jaw, moving upwards to his lips, hovering over them. A hand reaches for the back of your head, pushing you down and closing the distance, humming into your mouth when you hold him tighter. “You sure you’re doin’ okay?”

“I feel fine, yeah.” You smile at his concern, shifting off his body to stand up tall, twisting your back in a well needed stretch, relishing in the crack it lets out. “I’m tired though.”

“Go to bed. I’ll come see you tommrow, ‘kay?”

For the first time in your life, you almost feel sad he’s leaving, digging your fingers into your shirt as you scoop it off the floor, holding it by your side. “Stay with me tonight?”

If he looks shocked, it’s because he is. You don’t miss it. The slow rise of his brows when he realises your words, and suddenly the confession from earlier comes racing through your mind at full speed.

I’ve liked you since we were younger.

“I mean, if you don’t want to stay then you don’t. It’s not an obligation, I was just wondering if you wanted to, doesn’t mean you should thoug—”

You’re so busy rambling that you don’t see him stand up, not until he’s slapping a hand over your mouth to  silence you. “You talk way  too much.” You freeze, staring up at him with wide eyes. “‘Course I’ll stay with you tonight.”

[steviewashere]

The Sound of Silence

Rating: General CW: Internalized Ableism, Quick Mention of the 'R' Word (It's Not Written, Quite Literally as 'R' Word)Tags: Post-Canon, Post-Season 4, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Selectively Mute Steve Harrington, Negative Self Talk, Miscommunication, Mean Eddie Munson (For a Split Second It's Part of the Miscommunication and the Plot), Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Neurodivergent Steve Harrington (Implied), Pre-Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson Calls Steve Harrington Sweetheart

I should say before this that a lot of Steve's thinking here, a lot of the metaphors and such used, are from personal experience. They are things I think about myself when I'm mute. So be civil and kind about this piece.

💛—————💛

Steve Harrington is a man of few words on most days. He does talk, he loves talking sometimes, has so many things to share. But on a lot of occasions, Steve can’t muster the strength to say hello. Can only make sounds, hums and gasps and subtle clicks. And often times, he hides away when he gets to that point. He’s been like this for as long as he can remember. Though, the first time it happened, he’s not sure what really caused it. Just that something was too much, or he was too little and then it all began. There had been therapists and specialists and urgent care doctors. A lot of conversations between him and his parents that often ended in him being yelled at. Something about him too far left of ‘normal’. And he knew, when the bad stuff came, that part of him may just be this way.

Now, years later, he can put some recognition to what silences him. Sometimes it’s the lack of comfortable sleep the night before. Or it’s the social energy completely drained out of him. Or it’s a particular jab that somebody makes. The raised voice that pushes him over the edge. A nightmare so harsh it rips him of not only the ability to mutter whole sentences, but also the ability to crawl out of bed.

He’s only clarified this with a select handful of people. The people in his life that were closest to him or that would understand. Robin was the second. Words written on a steno pad in the middle of the night, three days in a row where he hadn’t been sleeping properly, nightmares of a cold bunker and rough hands. Notes passed in quiet lulls, pencil scratches the only sound. She only looked at him with a sort of empathy he’s never been privy to. Her eyebrows scrunched in concentration as she focused solely on conversation in written text. He didn’t have to beg with her, which he thanked whatever god gave him her presence in the first place. Then, it was Nancy before their breakup. She could just tell. Her notes accommodated him. Space he took up was always welcoming. And her voice carried softly to his ears, gossip and pet names and gentle praise. Even if she broke his heart some time later, he would always remember her better than alcohol stained and too tipsy to make sense. Max was most recent. She, surprisingly, didn’t tease him for it. Didn’t make him feel bad. More sad than anything. Her voice was raspy in her hospital bed, “I’ll be your voice, Steve. You can be my eyes.” He could see the white, nearly iridescent glaze that permanently altered the blue color underneath. There were no words exchanged after that, but he placed his hand in hers and squeezed.

The others either didn’t notice or were too intimidating to tell. It’s not that they’re scary. But they can be harsh about certain things. And he just wasn’t ready. His voice, the absence of his words, have always been a soft, insecure, and vulnerable part to him. Laying out his cards face up on the table was too much.

But he probably should’ve considered Eddie to be one of those people that he can trust. Especially since Steve lets him move in, take up space in a spare bedroom, rummage through his cupboards. Maybe because they’re roommates. Maybe because they’re friends. Maybe because Steve wants more.

———— It was a bad night. An even worse day.

The images flashed under his eyelids every time he blinked. Blood and loose skin and wet muscles. Echoing screeches of those creatures that ruined his nearly blank torso. That sadness rippling from Dustin. His wobbling lip, wet eyes, the snotty nose, and strained yells for help. Steve’s stomach turns with every subtle movement of his body. Every single time he stretches, the scars moving with him. 

In retrospect, he shouldn’t have gone to work. Not when he woke up, throat scratchy and the seizing of his chest overwhelmingly intense with every sobbing gasp. Or when he realized, the energy somewhere else, that mustering words was the heaviest burden to bear. He shouldn’t have gone to work, where he gets yelled at for not communicating. For not counting out the change. For not selling the new movies. Where he’s called things he’s heard since he was a little boy, ‘Dumb’ and ‘Stupid’ and the infamous ‘R’ word.

He’s out of it by the time he’s able to sit down in the driver’s seat of the car. Part of him wants to bang the softest parts of his palms on the harsh, stiff leather of the steering wheel. Another piece of him wants to lean down into those same hands, pressed into the sockets of his eyes hard enough to speckle his sight with black spots, and cry until there’s nothing else to do but go home. There’s the encroaching need to scream, to hum behind his lips, wiggle his arms until they’re too tired to move, too heavy to lift, a worse burden than speaking. But he knows that it’s too open to break down in Family Video’s parking lot. So his drive home is ninety percent heaving breaths and squeezing the steering wheel to remind him he’s nearly back to his bed; his safety away from the world, somewhere where he can recharge, power through this, get back on track.

Though, he’s drained when he goes home. Exhausted. Beaten down to just a bag of meat and blood and bones. The Beemer is parked in the driveway. And he jiggles his keys in the door. And slips his shoes off, hangs up his jacket, places his wallet in the little dish in the foyer. Each step of shedding his work skin like tiptoeing on a bed of nails. Barely even makes it two steps before he’s bombarded by Eddie’s constant, erratic, and chaotic nature.

“Hey, Stevie!” he crows. “I made dinner while you were on your way back. It’s on the stovetop, covered it in foil so that it retains the heat. Oh, and I did the laundry, cleaned up our bathrooms a little bit. Made progress with the physical therapist on my bad leg and I—“

Steve sighs heavily through his nose, blinks sluggishly, and places his palm out to stop Eddie. He tries to say anything, something. But all he does is open his mouth, squeak in the back of his throat, promptly close back up, and sag. Shakes his head, sidesteps, and clambers to his bedroom.

Undressing himself like wrestling with bears. Climbing under his covers as if his comforter is a taut iron sheet. He can already sense it, the shift from charismatic Steve Harrington to odd Steve Harrington. Can’t even suppress the aching, sizzling pang that shoots through. Naked skin to his cold bedsheets. Blanket heavy. The darkness of his bedroom will coddle and consume him, he’s sure. 

Tomorrow is another day to try again. And maybe he’ll finally be able to explain himself.

But of course it’s not that simple. Of course his eyes are crusted over and burning like he spent the entire night crying. His whole body aches. And, unsurprisingly, there’s no way to conjure words from deep in his chest. Just whistled little breaths. Coming short and strained from his nose. He stays in bed for the rest of the day. Blearily, he wonders how Eddie’s doing. If the dinner from last night made it to the fridge. Wonders if the phone has rung at all, because he should be going to work.

He tries it. Tries speaking to the lonely, cold, inky blackness of his room. As if seeking for a light. The sounds strain and garble. Like his emotions are honey and he’s gargling. Choking on it. It hurts. He wonders if speaking should be like death, like a demobat tail wrapped around his tender skin, squeezing with razor blade spikes, tugging on him as stiff and thick ropes. Wonders if Eddie can hear him struggling.

Wonders if Eddie can sense him as a shadow in his own darkness, half of a man, barely a person. Thinks that there’s a million ways to explain himself, the words on paper as he did with Robin, or if Eddie will pick him up like dead star fragments and piece him back together as Nancy did, if he’ll just have to wait this out and whisper it in the fragile, sterile, fluorescent light of his childhood home—it’s a hospital in a way, maybe Eddie can perform the role of Max. Steve would offer his legs to take over for Eddie’s bad one, if he’ll be the boisterous noise that should be croaking from him any moment.

Futile, however much he wants it to work. Steve curls himself tighter in his blanket and goes back to sleep. 

Tomorrow will be another day. And he’ll be a full person again, tomorrow.

Some day, surely, he thinks on day three.

And the same on day four.

And when he can smell his skin like molded vegetables in the drawer of his fridge, only then does he stand on doe like legs, awkwardly ambling to the shower. He is twenty years old, mute as the day he was born—breathless and making noise if only to mark his presence; he thinks of himself as the stain on his bedspread, that is his presence, he’s sure. Twenty years old, moving like the toddler his mother was worried about. Crawling backwards. Unable to lift his head on his own for too long. He wonders a lot in the silence of his own existence. It doesn’t end now, in the shower with steam clearing his nasal passages. Ponders, Will I always be this way?

Surely.

The dirt swirls in invisible tornadoes down the drain. Those are his words. Still gone. Through the pipes and out to the sewer. He stands on the plush rug protecting the warm soles of his feet from the cold tile. An overly used towel, threadbare and rough, wrapped around his waist. He slips into pajamas easily enough. Hair sopping and wilted into his eyes.

Tentative creaks down the stairs. Shuffling if only to take up space. Frozen to his spot in the kitchen doorway. There, in the kitchen, shrouded in amber light with a warm mug of what appears to be hot chocolate, is Eddie. He looks up from the pale brown liquid in his cup. His eyes are richer than that of what he drinks. And Steve is startled by how sad, though ferociously angry they are.

“I know this is your house and you’re allowed to do whatever the fuck you want, but you can’t just be a piece of shit to me,” Eddie rasps. His voice is nearly hollow. Penetrated by shrapnel between his teeth. And Steve also wonders if that’s what he’ll sound like after this. This limbo he can’t control. “Seriously, Steve. I thought you were, like, changed or something. Thought you were supposed to be this good guy now. Not a douchebag, remember?”

‘Douchebag’ spits from him like acid. Steve is burning. He is sizzling. Can’t help the trembling in his hands. Or the subtle, missed by Eddie, flinch that forces him back a step.

He looks away from those molten eyes of Eddie’s. Towards the floor. At his bare feet. Going cold against the hardwood. Wants to throw it all up. The explanation. His thoughts. Every little other thing about him that’s always made him some sort of spectacle in his parent’s marriage. Am I the cold, he asks to nobody in particular, or am I the body drowning in it?

Eddie sniffles. Clears his throat. Sighs disappointingly.

Steve is five years old. His dad is sitting at the table. He is being scolded for not speaking up. Steve is eight years old, covered in mud and pink lines from being scuffed on the concrete. He is being scolded for not speaking up. Steve is eighteen years old, bloodied, beaten blue, sweaty, and soot on his new shoes. He is being scolded for not speaking up.

He is traumatized. And he is tired. And he can’t explain, no matter how much he wants.

“Maybe I should’ve expected this,” Eddie mutters, “being friends with Steve Harrington was always a sort of fantasy anyway, right? Who could like a freak?”

It’s not loud, though it disrupts the quiet Steve thought could never be broken again. He sobs. Wretched and screeching. The tears like a flash flood. His chest caving in. All the sounds escaping him, garbled and messy and drowning. He is drowning. He is different. He’s a freak. And Eddie must know, but not like Nancy does. Or he must have found something, the steno pad. Must’ve talked to Max, something.

He collapses into one of the dining chairs. A heaping mess of blood and skin and bones and meat. Just this. He is this with nothing to explain for it. 

Out of the corner of his eye, though blurry, he sees Eddie stand from his chair. Making some sort of aborted movement. And, without much thinking, Steve scrambles his hands forward, wrapping them tight on Eddie’s forearms, tugging him in too close. Forcing him to stumble into his knobby knees. Fingers still squeezing, fingernails biting into Eddie’s soft skin.

“Hey, whoa, whoa,” Eddie’s whispering, “Stevie, hey.” He crouches down, arms encased in Steve’s terrible hold. It’s almost hard to picture, the space and positions between them. Eddie’s wobbling on his own feet, probably sore and aching on his bad leg. Though, there’s a palm warm on Steve’s cheek. Wiping away at the tears. Trying to, at least; more keep streaming. Fingers carefully scooting into his hairline. Massaging on his scalp, pruning with the cold water in his hair. “Steve,” he murmurs, “hey, it’s okay. I’m sorry. That was—I’m sorry, Steve. I really am. That wasn’t okay.”

He doesn’t know what comes from him next to cause Eddie’s eyes to widen in both surprise and horror, but it must be something awful. A scream. Loud and piercing and high pitched. Shooting from him like a bullet, shattering everything between them. Shrapnel from between his teeth.

Eddie frees from Steve’s grasp, wrapping his arms around his shaking back, bringing him in gently. Rocking him from side to side until he’s only whimpering. Petting down Steve’s hiccuping back. “You’ll be okay,” he whispers against Steve’s ear. “I was being mean. I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m sorry.”

Eventually, he pulls back some. Putting a small amount of space between their bodies. Steve is shaking from it all. Unable to do much. Eddie soothes a hand down his left arm. “Tell me what’s going on? How come you’ve been pulling away?”

Steve shakes his head. Placing a tired and limp hand on his throat.

“You lose your voice? Are you sick?” Again, Steve shakes his head. And Eddie goes quiet for a few slow moments. Until, a lightbulb seems to shine bright and shatter over his hair, amber light still causing him to glow, despite it all. He scrambles up off the floor. Squeezes Steve’s shoulders. Lightly says, “Stay here, okay? I’m gonna go find a pen and some paper. Be right back.”

When he’s back at Steve’s chair, the both of them significantly calmer, a brand new steno pad is in his hands. He hands it off with a chewed up ballpoint pen. “Tell me by writing it down.”

And so Steve does. Gives it back. Lets Eddie read his chicken scratch scrawl.

‘I don’t know what’s wrong with me,’ is the first thing. Followed by, ‘I’ve been like this since I was a little kid. When things get bad or I just don’t have the energy, it’s like my body forgets how to talk.’

“Oh,” Eddie whispers. He blinks at the paper and looks up to Steve. A sad little smile flashes on his face. “Okay, Steve. I—I think I get it. Kind of like when my day gets really busy and then when I go home, I just shut myself in my room and listen to music until I fall asleep. Kinda like that?”

Steve shrugs and reaches for the paper again. Writing, ‘Sort of. But it’s for a long time. Like…You know now. Sometimes I don’t talk for weeks. Sometimes it’s a few hours. But I get like this a lot.’ When he’s finished and Eddie goes to speak again, Steve immediately writes some more. Eddie’s mouth shuts with the soft click of his teeth.

‘Am I really a freak?’ Is what Eddie reads next.

His head shoots up from the paper. Eyes impossibly wider than they’ve ever been. Startled and desperate and unbearably sad. “No,” he murmurs quickly. “No, Steve, you’re not a freak. What makes you think that?”

The pad trembles in Steve’s grasp. He doesn’t want to write it, wouldn’t even want to speak it. But still, he sketches, ’You asked me, “Who could like a freak?”’ He tilts his head at his own words. Ducks back in, his hands shaking too much and his eyes moist. ‘It’s okay if you think so. I’m kind of used to it.’

Eddie snatches the paper from Steve’s offered grip. He swallows heavily and locks eyes with him, they’re still so sad. He wonders if that’s what Eddie’s seeing, too. “Stevie, no,” he whispers. “No, I was talking about myself. I thought you were mad at me. Thought you didn’t like me. I don’t think of you that way.”

Steve nods, sagging with relief. And with it a few tears spring loose from his eyes. A hand softly cups his jaw, thumbing at his fat hot tears. He closes his eyes and sighs. “Not mad,” he forces, his voice like raw, out of the box grits. It hurts, but he swallows. “You are my friend,” he musters before falling silent again.

A soft, sad hum emanates from Eddie. His hand tenses on Steve’s skin, but it holds to him gently, like he never wants to let go. “You’re mine, too, you know that? I’m genuinely sorry for what I said,” Eddie says. The apology sweet and drenching. “That wasn’t okay of me. I’m sorry.”

There’s no words Steve can press from within him. He lays his hand over Eddie’s and squeezes. Eyes now open and darting between Eddie’s own. He pushes their joined hands further into his cheek, sighing with it. Boneless in his chair.

“Okay,” Eddie mutters, “I understand, sweetheart. I get you now.” His thumb soothes more. Petting—caressing Steve in a way that makes his stomach flutter. “We’ll get you through this,” he promises, “I won’t go anywhere.”

💛—————💛

[coulsons-fullmetal-cellist]

Dieter and the Pea

(Dieter x horror loving female)

Words: 678

Summary: a trip to the mattress stores brings up some insecurities

Warnings: some swearing, slight suggestions to sauciness because it’s Dieter, lots of fluff

Check out masterlist here

“That’s a lot of mattresses.”

“Well it is a mattress store.”

“Could we pile them up so…?”

“I don’t think the store would like it if we did that.”

“I forgot to bring a pea anyways.”

“We already know you’re a princess Dieter.”

You were put in charge of remodelling Dieter’s house, well now yours and Dieter’s house. He was leaving everything in your hands, spare no expense. You would never buy Patagonian Toothfish and call it Chilean Seabass, somehow causing an outbreak of dinosaurs, so you put in your research for various reasonable pieces of furniture.

You kept the living room in its mid-century theme but had trouble finding a big enough couch until Dieter went and got one custom made with stain resistant fabric which he thoroughly tested out, sometimes involving you.

The big dining table was replaced with one smaller so it could be closer to the kitchen. “We only used the dining table once and it wasn’t for eating,” you told him in your defence. “You weren’t eating, but I was feasting,” was his counter argument.

Now you were focusing on the bedroom; you were going for a French provincial style which to Dieter meant furniture from Beauty and the Beast without it coming to life and talking to you. You found a lovely four poster bed which Dieter went and bought without hearing about any other options. You were feeling bad about spending all of Dieter’s money even if he stated that wasn’t an issue with him.

Now you brought him along to try out mattresses. Dieter’s method of trying them out was doing his best impression of a tree and falling on to them. He gestured you over when he found one that felt suitable, and he made a good choice, but he caught you looking at the price.

“You have that look.”

“What look?”

“The one where you’re stuck in your head.”

You lay back on the mattress next to him, “It’s just…well you don’t ask any rent from me and you’re buying all the furniture, I feel like I’m not contributing anything.”

“You contribute heaps,” he took your hand to reaffirm his statement, “You should’ve seen the place before it got it’s magazine makeover, it was a dump.” You raised your eyebrows for him to continue, “I only lived out of one room, the lumpy mattress lived on the floor, I had a beanbag as a couch, and I didn’t even have a TV.”

“What?”

“Yeah, it was a dump. I grew up in a trailer home, then an artists commune and I never really properly lived with anyone before, I was always couch-surfing or living out of motels once I struck out on my own. I never knew what I’d like in my own home. And I never had anyone live with me, well, we slept in separate rooms, so it didn’t really count…” you squeezed his hand, drawing him out of his dark memories, “Now it actually feels like a home with you here, and you seem to know what I like, which helps because I don’t know.”

“We have similar styles, I feel.”

“Well it’s a nice feeling. I never liked going home because it was always lonely, but now I love coming home. And the place smells like cookies which is amazing,” you both smiled, “Your cookies were the second thing about you that I feel in love with.”

“What was the first thing?”

“You. Sorry, that was cheesy.”

“I love cheese.”

“I know you do,” you giggled as he kissed you, “You’re thinking about cheese now, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am. And about dinner.”

Dieter laid back on the mattress, “So you like this one?”

You wiggled around a bit, “I do, do you like it?”

He joined you in the wiggling, “Yeah, it should keep up with our nighttime activities.”

“You mean sleeping?”

“That too.”

“We can always return it.”

“Not after one night with us we can’t.”

“That’s why we have towels, we need to buy more of them by the way.”

Films referenced: Jurassic Park (1993), Beauty and the Beast (1991)

Lovingly tagging @boliv-jenta @simpingcowboy @ellenmunn @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @brilliantopposite187 @chaithetics @myloveistoolittle @cevans-is-classic @glshmbl

[thehistoriangirl]

These Heavy Legacies

Sooo... When I said I wanted to write for Mel... I wasn’t joking HJSJHSJHD 😳 😳 

Mel x gn!Reader---1.2K---SFW

Summary: Nightmares always haunted Mel’s dreams. But today it’s different, because you’re there for her—for good or for worse.

Tags: Angst and Fluff| Reader is one of Mel’s personal guards| Childhood Sweethearts| Mentions of Nightmares, Blood, and War because Noxus| Self-Guilt| Reader was also casted away jshjdhjd| I think that’s all

Her dreams were not always drenched in blood, but every time they were, it was only normal for Mel to wake up in the middle of the night soaked in sweat, bedsheets tossed away on the floor like ghosts coming to haunt her.

Death was as restless as war, she supposed.

The window over her bedroom barely illuminated her way into finding the nightgown neatly folded over the bedside table. She usually would sleep dressed, but today was an exception because she knew you wouldn’t be too far away.

With that thought in mind, Mel tiptoed into the hallway that spread into the living room, white walls reflecting the dancing orange flames of the hearth, a soft essence of burned laurel made her stomach drop.

Even when she was sure no major noise was caused, bare feet barely echoing against the cold rock, you got your eyes darting from the fire to her silhouette half-drowned in the shadows.

You didn’t say anything as the flames ate up a letter from her mother, eyes settling into them drained of energy.

“You’re back early," she commented, striding gracefully until she could sit on the first couch.

You were made of a mere group of shadows playing against the tall marble walls, looking more like a shadow monster than a human figure.

“There weren’t many impediments.” Mel could identify the dry, isolated tone in your voice from the past. Those also haunted her in dreams filled with twin fortresses’ towers surrounding one another like amorph circles, a monumental bastion looming on the horizon, its shadow casting more than darkness. "You can't sleep?"

Mel shifted on the couch, a cold wind sneaking from the balcony into the heart of the residence, goosebumps covering her skin when she remembered vaguely. "And I suppose the unsophistication made it worse, isn’t it?” She didn’t want to reveal herself so quickly, howbeit you could read her just fine.

“It always is no matter what,” you commented, lost inside the labyrinth of your mind. “Hopelessness only makes it worse. So, nightmares?” Because it couldn’t be something else. Because you didn’t want to talk about your problems either—your whole purpose of existence. Mel barely nodded, her hair waving slightly with the movement. It was strange seeing her hair down hueing like a dark cloud. “I suppose that’s something I can’t protect you against.”

“Do you have them, too?”

The air inside was beginning to clear, the laurel essence traveling away with the night, but not so the crimson-stained fingers that were shyly hurdling in fists against the cozy fabric of the couch. Despite the flicking light, Mel could see it, she could smell it. And yet, her first instinct wasn’t to look away, to run into her bedroom because the smell was the very same that haunted her nightmares. She was a Noxii after all, a Medarda, even if her own family doubted it; she used to meet death in the eye since she could recall in every memory locked carefully while the sun was up when other people were looking.

But she did feel rage because the power she struck to have over the years couldn’t spare you from this grim destiny.

You still lingered within the power of those househeads pulling the string from Noxus.

“Yes, but it’s alright. They help to remind me of the cost of strength, don't they say so?”

Mel bit her thumb, how many times her mother could have told you that? She could only imagine, but it didn’t make it any better. “It shouldn’t be the price for our happiness— for your happiness. I never wanted this for you.” No. You were always happier helping to sort out letters and old leather books, laughing quietly over the library’s corners. With each swing of your blades, every hour wasted on the training grounds, Mel could see you longed for something more.

But then she was cast away, and Mel lose sight of you. Until now… and, sadly, you were completely different from the sweet person she used to meet around the Medarda’s gardens after your lessons were both finished.

“I won’t commit the same mistake, Mel. I couldn’t save your brother, I’m not going to fail you, too.” The flames made your trapped tears noticeable, like magma trying to keep down from spilling, from the core of your heart. But they remained in the corner of your eyes.

Trapped, like you. Caught in a cumbersome spiderweb that spread its threads further Noxus.

She wanted to wipe them down, her hands remaining tucked in her lap instead. Mel wouldn’t stand to think about you shoving her away.

“It was impossible to know what would happen next. You were obeying following orders—”

Your laugh was dry, more a weeping sound than mocking. Heavy-lidded eyes focused on the city at your feet, windows reflecting the flaming hearth. “Sometimes, I wonder why your mother sent me,” you muttered, lips barely moving. “I thought it was some punishment. Seeing you every day and recalling the moment I failed your family. A reminder too, of what I could lose if I ever slack off again.” You looked at her now, a sad smile with a lonely tear sliding down your cheek.

Piltover was still sleeping, and the shining buildings were now pale and grim, the shade of gray reminiscing to Noxus. Though you knew, in some building someone would find your deed and scream, sooner or later. Would you be able to hear it?

Your fingers traced the leather stitches of the couch, and Mel couldn’t help but follow the patterns. “But no. I’m just a message sent to you.” Turning to face her, your eyes reflected the flames like sparkles of gunpowder before they exploded into a searing fire. Mel could see them enthralled for hours. She did so, years ago, after all. “That no matter what cost, you have to always honor your family.”

Mel smiled sadly, reaching one of her hands to touch the strands of hair that were covering part of your face, fingers lingering over your cheekbone, drying the rebel tear off.

“Perhaps we can forget about who we are supposed to be and begin to be who we want instead. Just for tonight.” Please. “When you’re here, the nightmares disappear.”

She wanted to revive the past, a cost too high she was willing to confront when the sunrise again when you would have to keep on being Mel Medarda’s guard and one the fearsome Medarda’s lieutenants.

You nodded, cheek resting against the fleeting touch of her fingertips. Now, you were just you, with no names, no legacy, and no ghosts behind. The time was frozen, reversed. It came back to the past years of political and intellectual discussions in a lonely library, laying behind some rosebushes, backs less stiffen than they were now. "Yes, I think we can."

She stood up and took your hand, guiding you towards her bedroom. The flames in the hearth were dying, only ashes would remain of the letter Ambessa sent you to complete a mission.

Tomorrow seemed far away, and both were used to use the shadows like sanctuaries from the monstrosities you had to strive for in the name of prosperity and security—no place for power or glory, those were for the too reckless ones, the ones who didn’t have something precious to lose.

Albeit the long shadows you both cast over the horizon, over the past, present, and future. There were still flicking moments in which they didn’t exist.

Laying on the comfy bed, you held onto her as she cradled you with the same care, eyes shining into a twin, silent promise as you fell asleep.

I will do everything to keep you safe.

[eunchancorner]

No one asked, I delivered. Part two

(Implied Lers Edd and Tom and lees Tord and Matt)

Warning: cussing

Word count: 1041

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”Drunk off your ass and hangry at 3 o’clock in the morning in the middle of nowhere?! Check out Casey’s General Store in Galena, Illinois, they have-”

The loud video blared in Edd’s headphones as he was kept awake by his next-door neighbors. The only problem with the new living arrangements was the fact that his room, right where his bed frame was, was pressed right up against Tom’s room on the other side, meaning he could hear every activity him and his ginger boyfriend got up to. Granted, they were his friends, so it was easy to forgive them, but this late at night he wanted to go over there and blare the loudest song he could find until they got the hint.

Thankfully tonight it was only Matt’s squealing laughter that was seeping into his room, sparing him from unholy imagery that could have possibly entered his mind, but at the same time, he knew this mean it’d be hours before they stopped, with Matt’s stamina and the possibility of him fighting back, resulting in the two stubborn men locked in a tickle fight that could keep Edd awake until morning.

He sighed as the video ended all too quickly, bringing him back to the loud squeals filling his bedroom and forcing him to stay awake. He had half a mind to ask to switch with Tord, but he couldn’t subject him to this so soon after letting him stay.

Finally, he got up, quietly walking out into the living room for at least a while, until the two quieted down, moving slowly and carefully not to wake Tord. However, to his surprise, that was unneeded as the smaller was awake as well.

“Tord?”

“Oh, Edd, I didn’t think you’d be awake, still…” The man on the couch sat up as the brunette entered the room.

“Tom and Matt are keeping me awake. What about you? You never seemed like a night owl to me.”

“Ah, you know, it’s hard sleeping in a new place… especially after learning about what happened…”

“Yeah, I get it. I mean, I wouldn’t be able to sleep either. I mean, hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if all this is helping to keep me awake.”

“Yeah, it almost seems unreal, in a way. Like it’s just a dream. It’s so hard to believe…”

“How do you think I feel? With you returning after I was so sure the real you had been… well, awful, and then killed in the explosion-”

“Wait, I thought you said I caused the explosion?” Tord interrupted him.

“Uh, different explosion, Tom shot the giant robot with a harpoon.”

“Where the hell did he get harpoons from?”

“He sold the couch to buy them.”

“I… I don’t even know what to say to that…”

“Just don’t say ‘Classic stupid Tom’, because that’s what the Tord clone said, and I can’t promise I can save you from Tom.”

“Ah, flashbacks?”

“Well, that and we’re all a little on the fence about trusting you… n-no offense or anything but-”

“No no, I get it. I’d be hesitant to trust me, too. After all, you were all so sure I’d turned to the dark side or something and had a massive bounty on my head. I just wish there was something, something to definitively prove I’m the real me and the other was just a clone…”

“Well…” Edd began, trailing off and trying to get his thoughts together before continuing, “You do seem more… Tord, than that other Tord. Your hair is messier, you sound more like yourself. And you just have this kind of… I don’t know… Tordly vibe?”

“Pft- ‘Tordly vibe’?” the smaller snorted at the wording, bursting into a giggle fit.

“Listen, I couldn't think of anything better to say!” Edd defended, poking at him, making him just barely squeak and flinch away.

“Ohokay, I get it! Jeez, English is my second language, how am I better at it than you?”

“Hey! Just. Because. I’m. A. Little. Slow. Doesn’t. Mean. You. Can. Make. Fun. Of. Me!” Edd warned, punctuating each word with a poke that made his poor friend’s giggles raise in pitch.

“Ehedd, cuhut it ouhuhut!” he whined, batting at the brunette’s hands, which did nothing to dissuade him.

“You know, there’s one more thing you and the clone couldn’t possibly have in common, Tord. And I think we both know what that is~”

“Don’t even think about it!” Tord warned with a smile, standing and backing away.

“C’mere, Tord!” Edd leapt for him, just barely missing as he ran. “Don’t think you can escape, the apartment’s smaller than you think!”

~~

Tom held Matt close as the tallest’s bright giggles slowly died down, listening closely to his next door neighbors. He was mainly listening for anything suspicious, like Tord rummaging through Edd’s things or possibly a low, maniacal plot. Strangely enough (to him, at least), he only heard the sounds of running footsteps, panicked, giddy laughter and Edd’s teasiest ‘ler’ voice.

As much as he wanted to agree that this was probably the real Tord and the other was some imposter clone, for some reason that story didn’t sit right with him. Maybe it was the absurdity of it all, but why would that be a problem when he’s killed his own clones? Maybe he just wanted to believe Tord could never be a halfway decent person.

The truth was, his and Tord’s rivalry, though violent, was always friendly. He saw Tord as as much of a friend as he did Edd. No matter how many times they’d hurt each other, tried to kill each other, insulted each other, at the end of the day they were still friends. If conflict rose up against them both, they’d fight side-by-side, just like he would with Edd. Maybe he just couldn’t handle that Tord was still like that to him. Maybe he didn’t want to admit that all those claims of him not being friends with Tord, or any of the others, really, was just him pushing that brotherly care back.

He looked down at Matt, gently hugging him close. Whatever, he could figure it out later on, when he wasn’t tired.

Right now, all he needed was his giggly redhead.

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

This is series is going to be such ass. Oh well.

[azuramarigold]

We Overcome What We're Thrown

Apollo wakes up one day with an ailment that causes him to think his life is over. How can he live his life doing what he loves holds him back? Luckily, he has his friends and family to help him overcome what life has yet again thrown at him.

Day 1 for the AU-Gust 2023 Writing Challenge - "Sightless"

AO3

First prompt for AU-gust Writing Challenge! Day 1: Sightless Main Character: Apollo Justice

Legit immediately thought of Apollo and how drastic his life would change as his sight is so heavily important in the games due to his perception. * Note - this version of Apollo and Phoenix has nothing to do with "The Found Turnabout"*

He honestly didn’t know what happened – there were no signs, no symptoms… nothing.

            One day he was working perfectly fine in his office at Justice Law Offices in Khura’in, filing papers, putting case files away, and getting ready for his next set of cases for the next few weeks against Nahyuta. The next… there was nothing.

            Pitch blackness.

            He had gone to bed like normal, settling into his thin bamboo sheets, and scrolled through his emails on his phone. His beloved cat, Mikeko, had snuggled up to his side like usual and purred lovingly that helped lull him to sleep.

            When he had awoken, he thought it was still the middle of the night as everything was still dark. However, as a few minutes went by Apollo had noticed his eyes were not adjusting to the darkness as they should have. Panicked gripped his chest as he stumbled out of bed, his hand fumbling for anything he could try to grasp.

            His hands were grasping at the air, slamming against his nightstand, knocking over his glass of water, and his phone had cluttered to the wooden floorboard. Apollo felt the hot tears stream down his face. He had never felt this helpless in his life.

            Especially with his eyesight.

            His eyes were what made him special as an attorney – his high level of perception was what gave him the edge for his clients.

            Oh God… how was he going to be a Defense Attorney if he couldn’t see the evidence!?

            Apollo slumped to the floor in defeat, feeling the sobs racking through him. His career – his life – was over. He had moved back across the world to help the country fix their legal system like he had always wanted since he was a little boy.

            What good was a dragon without their claws? Their fangs? Their fire?

            This dragon has no sight.

            There was a knock from the main office door downstairs. Apollo couldn’t even muster his Chords of Steel to answer from his living quarters upstairs.

            A soft click of the door unlocking informed Apollo that someone had unlocked it with the spare key – it could’ve been Datz or even Nahyuta – and the door was shut quietly. Soft footsteps padded downstairs and made their way to the stairs.

            “Apollo?” the voice called, revealing it to be who had considered his brother – Nahyuta. Once the Regent made his way to the living quarters, he got to Apollo’s bedroom door and gave it a soft knock. “Apollo… you didn’t answer the door… is everything alright?” he then asked.

            Apollo, desperate trying to get up and find his footing, only stumbled, and crashed into his nightstand. Hearing the crash, the bedroom door opened, and the Prosecuting Regent entered.

            “Are you al… right…?” the Prosecutor went to ask, but his voice trailed off when he finally got to look at the state at the Defense Attorney he called his younger brother. “Apollo… what happened?”

            “I… I can’t see…” Apollo cried, his voice tight, he could feel the tears burning his eyes, but he couldn’t see the blurriness of vision as all he saw was pitch black.

            “Your eyes… are tinted a gray…?” Nahyuta commented with concern. Everyone who had ever met Apollo Justice always commented on how the young man’s eyes reminded them of chocolate – to see them such an odd gray at this moment was staggering. He then grasped Apollo’s hands to begin to lead him. “We need to get you to the Palace Physician immediately…!”

            Getting Apollo to the Palace was a difficult task. Nahyuta had to cover his brother’s eyes with a cloth to make sure the sun’s harmful rays didn’t damage his eyes further. The carriage that brought Nahyuta there made its way to the Place quickly, but at a pace that wasn’t too concerning so it didn’t alarm the citizens.

            Once they had arrived, they were greeted by Princess Rayfa, who was stubbornly waiting for the two as Nahyuta was fetching Apollo in the first place.

            “There you are, Braid Head!” the young girl chastised. “It’s about time you brought Horn Head! And why does he have that over his eyes…?”

            “I’m sorry, Your Benevolence,” her older brother apologized quickly. “Right now, Apollo needs to see the physician immediately.”

            Rayfa gave her elder brother a worried look, but firmly nodded. She ordered the guards in Khura’inese to assist Nahyuta to get Apollo to the physician as quickly as possible. From what Apollo could hear, she sounded worried herself. Queen Amara, after hearing some commotion, made an appearance just in time to see the cloth tied over Apollo’s eyes as he was escorted, a small gasp escaping her.

            The Royal Family of Khura’in stayed in a small area, patiently waiting for the physician to look over Apollo. Despite Her Mercifulness and Her Benevolence have not known Apollo as long as Nahyuta had, they had grown to love him as though the American boy was their family. Rayfa had begun pacing in the room, her small hand wringing at her robes; more than once Nahyuta scolded her and told her to sit down as she was the future Queen and needed to be patient.

            “Do you think he is okay, Nahyuta?” Rayfa asked gently, using a rare occasion of using her brother’s actual name. “Do you think Apollo is okay…?” she repeated, her voice softer spoken.

            Nahyuta had to believe that Apollo would be okay. Apollo’s eyesight was extremely important – it was his whole thing that he took pride in. Apollo was always proud of the fact that he was always able to see some details that others could not, and that he was able to call out lies and see a tell.

            After a couple of hours, the physician finally entered back into the room, his face slightly grim. “I’m afraid there is terrible news…” he said sadly, taking off his small reading glasses. “From my examination, Mr. Apollo Justice has suffered double non-arteritic ischemic optic neuropathy…”

            “And what is that!?” Rayfa demanded angrily, her springing from her seat. The small princess rushed to the physician, her hands balled up to her sides, her teal-green eyes brimmed with tears. “I demand answers!”

            The physician gave a small sigh. “To put it lightly, Your Benevolence… in simple terms, he had suffered strokes in the blood vessels and/or arteries for his optic nerves…” he explained.

            The Queen gasped, “You mean… he had a stroke…!?”

            The physician waved his arms. “No, Your Mercifulness!” he exclaimed quickly. “It’s like a stroke – but only for the eyes! Normally, it’s just one eye. To have both…”

            Rayfa stomped her foot. “How soon will Horn Head be back up in running!?” she shouted, her voice high and almost squeaky.

            The physician tapped his chin. “Well… with learning how to use a walking cane… Braille…” he began but was immediately cut off.

            “HOLD IT!” Nahyuta shouted in shock. This time it was his turn to immediately jump up. “What did you mean by that!?”

            The physician gave the Royal Regent a sad look. “Because of the condition… Mr. Apollo Justice is blind…”

            Rayfa made a strangled choking sound, her hands clutched to her chest. “Were… were there any signs that we should have watched for!?” she asked demanded a little too harshly, her voice going high.

            Amara put a gently hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “I know you’re upset, but please, the physician is doing his job for us…” she told her.

            “Yes, Mother…” Rayfa replied, her head low.

            The physician adjusted his glasses. “There… was honestly no way you could have known… or Mr. Justice,” he explained gently. “At this time there is no known cause for NAION, and unfortunately there is no treatment. In his case it’s extremely rare that he had suffered a double NAION in the first place… at least if it was one eye, we could preserve vision in the other.”

            Amara gave a nod. “Thank you very kindly for this,” she thanked, gratitude in her voice. “Is it alright for us to visit him now?”

            “Of course, Your Mercifulness.”

            The three royals then entered the small room that was considered a small hospital wing – it only had four beds, and Apollo was occupying one of them.

            The young man had always been on the smaller side, Amara had taken notice, as Apollo was noticeably shorter than Nahyuta by almost half a foot. When the other American lawyer, Phoenix Wright, was in Khura’in, Apollo looked almost like a child in height comparison.

            Now, in this stark white bed, Apollo looked like a helpless child. His eyes were no longer that chocolate brown, but tinged gray and unfocused in front of him. The brown hair he always kept so meticulously groomed was now messy, his horns drooped uncharacteristically in front of his eyes to the point where he looked almost identical to his biological father. His hands were gripped tightly to the white bed sheets, and as soon as he had heard the door opening from the royal family entering, his head had whipped toward them, his eyes wide and wildly darting in a panic.

            “Apollo…” was all Nahyuta could say.

            “I… I can’t see…” Apollo sobbed, the tears begging to stream down his cheeks again. “I’ll… never see again… how am I going to keep doing my job…? H-How-?!”

            “We will figure it out, Apollo,” Amara interrupted gently, her going to his bed and gently sitting on the edge. Apollo noticed the weight and flinched involuntarily. “I’m going to take your hand now, okay?” The young man nodded as he released his left hand from the sheet and Amara grasped it gently with both her hands. “There are many amazing people out in the world who do amazing things even with disabilities – it makes them stronger. This will make you stronger.”

            Rayfa then piped up, her voice still slightly wavering, “Horn Head, we’ll make sure to get you the items you need! Doesn’t America have special items that will help?”

            Nahyuta nodded to his sister. “They do, Your Benevolence,” he assured her. “Braille books, computers with Braille on the keys with talk-to-text programs, and of course many other items that I’m sure we can get over here to Khura’in.”

            Apollo lowered his head. “But… my perception… how am I supposed to know-?”

            “You adapt and learn a new ability,” Nahyuta interrupted. “That orange-haired lawyer can hear very well, yes?”

            “Athena…?” Apollo offered softly. “Yeah… she has very good hearing…”

            Amara patted Apollo’s hand reassuringly. “Apollo, you are part of this family… Dhurke made sure of that…” she told the young man. “We will get you back to America so you can get the aid you need so when you come back here you can get back to your trials even better than before.”

            Apollo, for the first time since losing his sight, gave a small smile as he looked at Amara. “Thank you, Your Mercifulness…” he whispered. “That… means a lot…”

**

Within the week calls were made back home to America for things to be arranged with new programs for Apollo.

            At first Phoenix and the rest of the agency thought it was Apollo and Nahyuta’s poor thought of pulling a joke as the two were notorious for being overly serious. However, Trucy had burst into tears when she saw in the videochat screen Apollo’s eyes – how unfocused and gray they were. Phoenix was speechless – him putting a hand to his head and offered meekly all the assistance that the office can help with when Apollo came back.

            When Apollo came back to America, Athena and Trucy were the first two to pull him into a large hug and sob. Apollo couldn’t help but sob along with them as he wrapped his arms around them as well. Nahyuta had accompanied Apollo back home to America to assist him on the plane and when he was around town, he felt awkward at the situation but nonetheless had ended up being pulled into the group hug by Trucy.

            The first thing that was done was that Apollo had many appointments with doctors. They made sure the muscles in his eyes were still healthy and other aspects, which were perfectly healthy. He was given a pair of special glasses that had more UV protection than regular sunglasses to protect his eyes; when asked what color lenses he wanted Apollo laughed asking why it mattered since he couldn’t see it.

            He chose red lenses.

            Learning how to use a walking cane and the different tools for the end took him quite some time. Apollo had to learn the tapping motions, how to use the rolling ball attachment for when he was walking the streets mainly to detect cracks in the pavement and know when there is a crosswalk, the classic pencil tip for probing, and the marshmallow tip that was like the pencil tip but didn’t get stuck in cracks as easily.

            What was the most difficult for Apollo to learn was Braille. The idea of tracing his fingertips over dots was odd – Why couldn’t they just make the letters be risen for him to feel? What was wrong with a 3D “A”?

            “They have Braille because it’s universal, Apollo…” Nahyuta explained for what felt like the twentieth time. “It would be too much to make every letter in every language be risen!”

            “But dots!?” Apollo had argued. 

            Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth was even kind enough to purchase Apollo the special laptop with Braille on the keys with the programs to talk to guide what was on the screen. Apollo tried to explain that there was no way he could afford to pay the prosecutor back, but the man had insisted on it.

            Once he learned Braille, the next thing he learned was taking lessons from Athena on how to really listen. Although Apollo would never have hearing like Athena’s to be hearing discord in someone’s heart, he should be able to learn when someone was lying by their voice.

            “This is hopeless!” Apollo cried out one day, completely frustrated by everything thrown at him.

            Athena gave a sigh. “You are learning very well, Apollo…” He could hear the slight twinge in her voice – she was just being polite. Athena had been trying to help Apollo with the same thing multiple times for over two weeks.

            But then he felt it.

            That familiar tightening of his wrist.

            My bracelet… is reacting…?

            “Are you okay, Apollo?” Athena asked gently.

            He glanced over in her direction, and he felt his jaw drop.

            It was like he saw a shadowed version of Athena before him – the red and purple distortion he was familiar with when he had to hyperfocus on someone with his perception.

            “Athena…” Apollo gently whispered. “Can… you repeat what you had said before?”

            “Um… are you okay…?” she offered.

            “No…! Before that!”

            “You are learning very well, Apollo?” she offered again.

            He hissed in pain from the tightening of his wrist. But the twinge in her voice, and her shadow became slightly more clear. Her hand was petting through her hair, something she did on occasion when nervous.

            Or in this case lying.

            “You’re lying to me…!” Apollo laughed, a large smile on his face. “You’re petting through your hair!”

            “!” Athena took a step back, her hands immediately dropping. “Wait… how did you know I was doing that…?”

            “My bracelet reacted…!” Apollo raised his left wrist. “And… it was helping me ‘see’ you!”

            “WHAAAAAAAAAT!?” Athena shouted as she gripped his shoulders and started shaking him. “HOLY SHIT, APOLLO, DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS!?!?”

            “OW! STOP SHAKING ME!”

            Phoenix had then come into the office, hearing the commotion from the reception area. “Hey, hey! Athena, the kid is already blind, don’t let his brain go loose too!” he told her.

            “BOSS!” Athena shouted in excitement. “There is a new discovery here! If only Ema was here… she would love it!”

            Apollo groaned, “Oh good God, please don’t let me be a subject of her mad scientist brain!”

            Phoenix calmly asked, “Okay… what is going on…?”

            “Apollo’s bracelet still helps him with his perception!” Athena explained quickly, her jumping up and down, her not realizing she ended up pushing Apollo onto the couch. He fell onto the old red couch with a loud yelp before Phoenix or Athena could even grab him.

            Apollo explained to Phoenix and Athena what he “saw” when he glanced over to Athena. Phoenix was impressed with this new evolution to Apollo’s perception ability and decided to take it for a test spin at a smaller trial the next day.

            Although extremely nervous as a co-counsel for Phoenix for the first time in what seemed like forever, being in the familiar court was odd as so many people kept asking him questions.

            “What happened?” “Oh my God, so you really are blind?” “How many fingers am I holding up?” “That has to be so terrible! How are you going to continue your job?”

            Apollo had to ignore them as he adjusted his glasses. He was wearing his normal red attire suit – Trucy had arranged all his clothing for him with labels in Braille to tell him which clothing was what. Apollo found it very amusing her small “side notes”.

            “Polly, this is the better of your vests that makes Prosecutor Gavin stare at you a lot more!” “Polly, these pants are too long… don’t wear them you’ll trip… why do we have them here?” “Polly, this is more teal looking tie, not the turquoise tie.” “Polly, these are the pants I heard Ema say that make your butt look cute – I think that’s weird, but you need help with your game, Bro.”

            The trial that Phoenix had taken Apollo to was a simple murder case – because of course it was – where their client was accused of killing their roommate for rent issues. Apollo managed to hear the testimonies very well and when the third roommate came to stand their shadowy silhouette popped up immediately.

            As their testimony went on, their figure became clearer, as though the bracelet was helping fill in the colors and gaps of vision – even if it was temporary in this situation - his hyperfocus led him to see that his roommate was tugging at their earlobe about not being at the apartment.

            The familiar “GOTCHA!” ripped through his throat as he pointed that out, stating that the roommate had to have been in the apartment the day of the murder. That was when Phoenix pulled out the evidence of the cellphone found and ads to find a new roommate that were found and dated for that day.

            The third roommate had killed the one and tried to frame the other – simple shut and close case.

**

Being back in Khura’in after staying in America for almost half a year was once again a culture shock.

            Apollo didn’t have Trucy to label all his clothes and arrange everything anymore – although she made sure to leave specific instructions with color codes with the hangers, tags on the clothes, and the labels in Braille for when Apollo had to take dry cleaning somewhere in Khura’in all his clothing would be in proper order.

            Datz and Ahlbi assisted him more in his office – even Datz becoming more of a “legal assistant” to Apollo during investigations and trials so that Apollo knew what the evidence looked like. Slowly, he was becoming accustomed to his new life, his cases were still being performed well and he was getting the people the proper defense that they deserved without death hanging over their heads.

            Lamiroir had one day dropped by the Justice Law Office – it was a surprise to many people. Phoenix and Trucy were with her as well for this surprise visit.

            “Uh… as much as like 'seeing' you guys visit…” Apollo began nervously. “Ms. Lamiroir… what are you doing here?”

            He could hear her breath catching in her throat as suddenly he felt arms thrown around him.

            “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…!” he heard the woman sob. “I should’ve said something before this happened…!”

            “I… beg your pardon…?” Apollo managed to gasp, trying to release himself from her deathly hug. In a way it felt very nice… and oddly familiar.

            Phoenix gave a small cough. “I’m… I’m afraid this is way long overdue…” he managed, his voice wavering. “Don’t you agree… Thalassa?”

            Apollo felt his blood run cold. “W-Wait… what?”

            “Thalassa…?” Trucy gasped in shock. “As in… Mommy…? Thalassa Gramarye?”

            Apollo suddenly felt a small hand grasp his, which he recognized was Trucy’s. He felt like he couldn’t breathe.

            Trucy’s mom was alive the entire time? She knew about this girl at Machi’s trial and didn’t say a damn thing!?

            “Before you say anything rash, Apollo,” Phoenix warned, sensing the anger. “When you three met during Machi’s trial… she had no memory at all… and she was very much blind.”

            “What the hell are you getting at, Mr. Wright?” Apollo growled.

            Lamirior – no Thalassa – took in a deep breath and breathed out. “I… was shot in that rehearsal accident… I was sent to Borginia where I had no memory, and I was blind…” she verified. “I didn’t have any memory of my sweet little girl who loved magic and wanted to perform with her family… and I didn’t have the memory of the baby boy that I thought I lost…”

            Apollo blinked, his heart pounding. “What do you mean by ‘baby boy’?” he pressed, his voice soft for one of the very few times in his life.

            “Apollo…” Thalassa whispered softly. She then pressed something into his free hand, which caused Trucy to gasp in surprise.

            Apollo thumbed over what was put into his hand. It was metal and circular, like a bracelet. It was eerily like his own… it was the same thickness… it had the same groves and indentations…

            But Apollo knew it wasn’t his bracelet – he could still feel his on his wrist.

            “You know what that is… right?” Thalassa asked softly, her voice cracking.

            Trucy exclaimed, “Th-That’s the same bracelet as Polly’s…!” Apollo felt her hand gripping his more tightly.

            “A-Are you implying…?” Apollo tried to ask, but his question died in his throat.

            “I’m your mother… yes…” Thalassa told him.

            There was no tightness of his bracelet. He didn’t hear a waver in her voice. She was telling the truth.

            “When…?” was all Apollo said.

            “Apollo…” Phoenix then tried to say.

            “No, Mr. Wright…!” Apollo cut him off. “You obviously knew about this whole thing! So, when, Thalassa, did you ‘miraculously’ get your memory back?”

            “And your sight…?” Trucy added, her voice wavering, ready to cry.

            “It was when Phoenix here had encouraged me to get the surgery to fix my eyesight that… when it was done, I regained my memories…” Thalassa stated.

            “That didn’t answer my question,” Apollo lowly said as though he was pressing a witness on the stand.

            “I had the surgery after Machi’s trial and most of my memories came back during Vera Misham's trial.”

            Apollo felt as though he was going to collapse, and Trucy sensed it, as she guided him to the couch to help him sit. He took off his glasses to set them aside, ignoring the soft gasp from Thalassa at the sight of his eye color no longer being brown like before.

            “Why then…?” he asked, his hand gripping her bracelet. “Why was I left here after Jove died?”

            Thalassa slowly approached. “Because I didn’t know you were alive, Apollo…” she told him. “Your father took you with him as it was a request personally by Dhurke – I didn’t know he was the Queen’s husband until Phoenix here explained it all on the plane ride here.”

            “It was about fourteen hours…” the blue-clad attorney muttered.

            “Apparently Dhurke and Jove had met at a bar – why Jove brought you with him I have no idea… I was eighteen and he was twenty-one, we were both young, dumb, and first-time parents, so he probably didn’t even think about it,” Thalassa continued, her voice tired and she sounded much older than Apollo remembered.

            “That’s where the kid got it from then…” Phoenix mumbled.

            Thalassa and Apollo ignored him. “I think the reason you were taken to the Palace was because Dhurke had mentioned he had a son too…?” she said, her voice ending more of a question.

            “Nahyuta,” Apollo clarified. “I consider him my brother…”

            “When the Palace had that arson attack… anyone that was not part of the Royal Guard, or the Royal Family was not allowed near there…” Thalassa explained softly. “Especially Americans… I begged… literally begged, because even if you were dead, I at least would’ve wanted to bring you home… They told me to leave or be executed on sight… sometimes I think about that I should’ve just stayed for that…” Her voice sounded distant with that last line, and that really hit Apollo.

            He set her bracelet aside and held out his hand in waiting. It seemed Thalassa got the hint and she gently put her hand in his and he squeezed it. If Thalassa would’ve disobeyed that day, she would’ve been killed – that meant there would’ve been no Trucy, whom Apollo had always thought of as his little sister.

            “Then why… after you regained everything… why didn’t you mention anything to us…?” Trucy then asked. “You’ve sent me flowers for my shows… and you’ve sent Apollo cards congratulating him on trials…!”

            Apollo whipped his head in his newly discovered sister’s direction. “I got cards? How come I’ve never seen them!?” he hissed at her angrily.

            “Oh, I opened your mail and just forgot to give them to you,” Trucy admitted sheepishly.

            Thalassa then pulled them two in hug, and this time Apollo didn’t feel the need to resist. “I felt like I couldn’t… you two had such wonderful lives… Trucy has such an amazing man as a father now that took care of her and made sure she became an amazing magician, and the little boy that I thought I lost had become an intelligent young man that no matter what is thrown at him – he overcomes.”

            Apollo felt tears sting his eyes. He could hear the small smile in Thalassa’s voice, and he imagined that it would be a lot like Trucy’s smile.

            The three stayed like that for what felt like hours – Phoenix still standing by the doorway, just happy for once that he didn’t end up getting harmed in some way or another.

**

The rest of the year had gone by – Apollo’s trials had only improved as he learned to overcome what many people – and early on, himself – thought was going to ruin everything he had ever worked hard for.

            He video chatted with everyone back in America quite frequently, giving them updates on the trials he was doing. Trucy and Thalassa, and along with Phoenix and Athena, had made special trips to Khura’in to spend time with Apollo and make sure all his mobility aids were up to date.

            Trucy had made sure all his clothing that was added was properly labelled – including all her notes that he found to be humorous. Phoenix had made sure he had brought new books that were updated in law that were written in Braille so that Apollo could be on top of everything. Athena had told Apollo that she and Simon had investigated Widget more to possibly reverse engineer it to make something for Apollo to help him more.

            The Khura’in Royal family made sure his life in the country was made easier as well. After Princess Rayfa investigated some of the towns, she discovered there were many people that had disabilities and needed help. The young princess was shocked that Ga’ran when she was Queen had never made it a point to help these citizens.

            The roads were immediately worked on to help improve the quality of life of the blind and those that were using crutches and wheelchairs. The people who were blind but had no mobility aids were given the tools and the help to learn how to use them and to learn to read Braille.

            It had been just over a year now since Apollo awoke and couldn’t see anymore. He had thought he had lost more than his sight – he had thought he had lost his passion to continue to be who he was. If it weren’t for the people around him that he considered his family, how long would he have stayed in the dark?

            Would he have remained sightless forever?

            Apollo smiles to himself, his fingers grazing over a letter that was sent to him from Thalassa and Trucy – the two traveling abroad together for performances since the girl had turned eighteen and wanted to expand her career.

            He was glad he had everyone he had ever met – as it was true what Thalassa had said to him:

            No matter what was thrown at him – he had overcome it.

            But he wasn’t alone, he had his family with him the entire time to keep the sight of the future beaming ahead of them.

[sakurachan7734]

My new family

Human AU

⚠️Tw: mentions of @bu$e!!⚠️

Chapter 1: are we safe now?

February 2 9:34 pm

Jackson(14) pov

I never thought we get out of there but here we are in a very bright colored room in a place called “raccoon orphanage” I don’t know why it’s called about the mascots is really creepy but we were taken to the hospital first where I found out that I have a collapsed lung and a few broken ribs max(7) has a broken arm and is blind in one eye thankfully Sarah doesn’t have anything broken which I’m surprised cause she’s only like two months old what is a good thing because she won’t remember any of this but I don’t think me and max can ever let any of this go no matter how many times I try to forget all the things my parents did to me and all the gross things my dad did to me and made me do the lady who watches over us is nice but I don’t trust anybody here, but hopefully somebody will love us or that gets just my little siblings because older kids never really get adopted 

Max: Jackson?

Jackson: yes?

Max: I’m hungry and I feel sick

Jackson: probably because mom and dad never fed us but the lady said that she is getting us sandwich’s

Max: but that’s taking forever

Jackson: well they have to make the food and they gave us crackers

Max: but we already finished those and they tasted dry 

Jackson: well I’m sure they will be done soon and they will bring Sarah her bottle

Jane:* opens the door* here you three go you should get some sleep when you are done eating

Jackson:….ok….

Jackson pov

We ate our sandwiches, which were ham cheese and mayonnaise I gave Sarah her bottle and put her to bed max went to sleep pretty fast but I don’t want to go to sleep I am scared that someone here will come in here and do something gross to me, Max or Sarah I want to lock the door but the lady said to not lock the door in case of an emergency so I won’t the bed is really comfortable All we had was a mattress on the floor in the old house that all three of us were sleep on and my parents got a really nice bedroom with a nice bed. They only spent money on themselves and not us. My mom claimed she loved us in front of her friends but then when they were gone she pushed us aside like we were nothing but garbage to her and I don’t even wanna think about my dad I hate that man!! I hate him!!

Two months later while with lanky and Lawrence

Lawrence: hay lanky?

Lanky: yes dear?

Lawrence: what do you think about kids? Do you like them?

Lanky: I love kids I would love to have them one day but since we’re both men we can’t have any unless we adopt 

Lawrence: well do you remember that news story when the police rated a house and they were like three kids locked up in a bedroom? 

Lanky: yes I remember I felt so bad for all of them

Lawrence: well I heard they are now being houses at the raccoon orphanage and I have been thinking of asking you if you wanted to adopt

Lanky: I would love to! Why didn’t you say anything sooner? We have been married for seven years

Lawrence: I know but we never talked about kids

Lanky: I know but yes I’d love to adopt kids and treat them as our own

Lawrence: great then we will go to the orphanage sometime this week

Two days later Lawrence and lanky went to the orphanage to go see Jackson, Max and Sarah

Jane: so you are interested in adopting these three?

Lawrence: yes we are

Jane: ok so we could do all the paperwork stuff we’re gonna have somebody come over to your house and see if it’s safe and you have everything you need to take care of a kid and just letting you know that Max and Jackson may be scared of you guys

Lanky: do they think we’re gonna hurt them?

Jane: yes they possibly have PTSD from what happened in there bio parents house and this must be stressful for both of them and Jackson may not let you touch him

Lanky: understandable 

Lawrence: I guess after this we’re gonna have to clean the house and get those three spare bedroom set up

Lanky: yes we should

Jane: all right here’s the room

Lanky and Lawrence enter the room and Jackson immediately hides underneath his blanket and Max runs to the corner of the room

Jane: hay don’t be scared the people behind me aren’t gonna hurt you They are looking to adopt over of you

Jackson: all of us?

Lawrence: yes we want to give you a good and loving home

Max: really?

Lanky: yes and what happened to your eye? 

Max: my mom pushed me and my eye hit the corner of a table

Lanky: oh no is your eye any better?

Max: it doesn’t hurt anymore but I am blind in my right eye

Jackson:* pokes his head out from the covers* why are you so pale? Why is your hair white? And why are your eyes purple looking? And who is the guy next to you? And what is your name!

Lanky: oh my name is lanky! I have a rare condition called albinism which means I don’t have any pigment in my skin or any hair on my body 

Lawrence: my name is Lawrence and I am his husband

Max: husband? Men can marry other men?

Lawrence: yes we have been married for 7 years

Jackson:* comes out from under the covers* What is that necklace you are wearing?

Lawrence: these are my dog tags from the military

Jackson: what’s that?

Lawrence: armed forces we fight in wars with different ranks before I quit I was a corporal 

Jackson: are you still in?

Lawrence: no I left a year ago

Jackson: why?

Lawrence: something happened that made me lose two of my finger on my right hand and this weird scar you see my face 

Jackson: what fingers did you lose?

Lawrence: my ring finger and pinky

Lanky: since you guys have a bunch of questions do you want us to tell you stories that answer your questions? 

Jackson: yes

Lanky and Lawrence sit down next to Jackson and max sits on the floor

Max: so you said that you are married to each other?

Lanky: well I was still in college when I met him

Lawrence: I was on vacation in Canada when I saw him in a park working on something

Jackson: were you still in the military when you met?

Lawrence: yes I was

Max pov

I like these people I like hearing their stories I could tell Jackson was a bit nervous around these people but it was nice to know that there were some people out There are willing to adopt all three of us and not just me and Sarah leaving Jackson here

A few hours pass

Lanky: we have to leave now

Jackson: why?

Lawrence: we have to go back home we have something happy tomorrow so we may not be able to come visit

Max: ok

Lawrence and lanky leave 

Lawrence: so what do you think? Do you want to adopt those three? Or do you want to keep looking?

Lanky: I want to adopt those three I want to give those three a happy home that they deserved 

Lawrence: alright I will make a call when we get home saying that we want those kids

Jackson pov

I like Mr lanky and Mr Lawrence they were both nice to us even though I think Mr. Lawrence is kind of scary mostly because of how strong he looks and how rough and low his voices i think Max likes them too i liked hearing the stories they told I really hope they come back

End of chapter 







[pogueszn]

love’s gonna get you killed (1)

gif credit: @toesure gif set: here

summary: It’s been years since Y/n Routledge realized her feelings for JJ, she’s been offering him love on a silver platter but it’s no use. Waiting for JJ would leave her a hollow shell of a girl she used to be, she can’t do it any longer.

word count: 4.9k 

pairing: JJ Maybank x Routledge!reader, Routledge!reader x oc

warning(s): angst?, underage drinking, pls let me know if i missed something!

a/n: aahh look at me! back in the G game baby! let me know what you all think! i hope to have part two out as quickly as possible! also let me know if you would like to be added to my regular taglist! a very special thanks to @obx-snippets and @samwlscns​ for helping me!

Y/n was thirteen when she realized she had feelings for JJ. 

The change had been swift. One second he had been nothing more than one of her best friends, then the next she was noticing the way the sun spared golden specks to shine in his light hair and the way it would dance across his skin. The way his eyes would glow when he laughed, how his eyebrows would furrow when he truly smiled. His arm around her shoulders was no longer purely friendly, it was the source of the everlasting butterflies that inhabited her stomach. She stopped being so annoyed when he’d push her off of the HMS Pogue and into the marsh. Because at least she got to feel his fingertips grace her skin, even if it was brief, even if it was just for a second. 

JJ had always been an anomaly to her, she had been a moth to his flame the second her brother brought him up to her in the third grade. JJ was safe, to her, he was constant. An eternal sense of familiarity that never dissipated no matter the cause. After her father got lost at sea and was presumed dead, with tension running high with John B and herself, JJ was the one to offer her a hand when she felt she’d lost her way. He was the one to pull her from her hopelessness and show her the good things life still had to offer. 

Even in darkness, it had always been JJ. 

Which is why after they all returned to the Chateau after the last kegger of the summer, and the rest of the pogues went to sleep while JJ and Y/n stayed up, swaying on the hammock -- far too zestful to think about sleeping. The moon rippled over the water, a hot breeze blew through the leaves, moving the moss that hung off the tree limbs. They spoke animatedly about anything that passed through their mind, content in their safe space, neither of them tip-toed around any thought they spoke on. 

A particular joke JJ had told made her laugh, her head thrown back over the side of the hammock, one hand tossed over her stomach as the other cradled JJ’s wrist. It wasn’t long before Y/n noticed she was the only one who was laughing. She dwindled into silence as she turned to him. Their eyes locked immediately — he had already been looking at her. The glint in his eyes was unwavering, it sent the immortal butterflies in her stomach into somersaults. 

“What?” she had muttered. 

He reached, the tips of his fingers skimmed her temple as he moved a piece of her hair away from her face and behind her ear. His hand flipped, his scarred knuckled brushing along her cheekbone. “You look really beautiful tonight,” he said. And kissed the corner of her mouth. After years of waiting for, daydreaming about a moment like this, Y/n couldn’t let it slip through her fingers. She shoved her nerves down to the bottom of her stomach and spoke. 

 “you missed,” 

The moonlight bounced off of his face one last time before he leaned in and kissed her. 

Her heart rattled against her chest, goosebumps erupted on her skin as his hands cupped her jaw. The kiss was more than she had imagined it would be, it was perfect. From the moon casting shadows upon them to his soft breath she felt under her nose. It had been perfect. 

They spent the night together in her bedroom, underneath her covers, and wrapped in each other’s arms as they spoke to each other in whispers between shared breaths. Fingers adventuring up sides and arms, caressing down legs. They fell asleep with their foreheads pressed together and their legs intertwined. 

Y/n prided herself in understanding how the world worked. In no way was she naive. But when day broke, she woke to an empty bed, the fact that if you spend a night on cloud 9, you had to come back crashed down on her. Hard. 

JJ had taken her to the shed outside while her brother and the rest of their friends prepared breakfast and told her that the last night had been a mistake. That “his head just wasn’t screwed on right,” that things would just be too difficult. With the no pogue on pogue macking rule, with her being his best friend’s sister. Wanting to rather have him in her life as a friend than not have him at all, she played cool. Pretended it was no big deal, nothing but water off of a duck’s back. That she had thought the exact same, like she wasn’t worried she had fallen in love with him — like even if she had she could get over him in a heartbeat. 

Still drowning in her feelings for him, Y/n watched JJ flirt with countless tourons unable to do a thing to appease her aching heart. 

JJ was all wandering hands and flirting remarks, reeking of cautionary tales your mother would tell you as a child. JJ was enigmatic. She couldn’t stay away from him if she tried. And she did. But that proved to be quite difficult when JJ occupying John B’s old room more often than not. Moments where Y/n wasn’t smothered by the fact that she was head over heels for her best friend who didn’t see her as anything more than his best friend’s sister, were fleeting. 

But today she had lucked out. 

It was the first Saturday of summer break, and while JJ, Pope, Kie, and John B, were out catching the best mid-morning waves before they prepared for tonight’s kegger, Y/n chose to stay home for some well deserved alone time.  Well, alone time plus Sarah. 

“What do you mean you’re not gonna go?” Sarah questioned, placing her empty bowl of yogurt on Y/n’s nightstand from her spot on the bed, “it’s the first kegger of the summer! I thought it was like pogue tradition to go?” 

Y/n chuckled, continuing to stuff her clean clothes into her dresser drawers, 

“I mean I wouldn’t say it’s a tradition per se, some people think it’s more important than the other keggers but they’re all the same. Drunk people everywhere, someone’s gonna end up fighting, someone will call cops and we all scatter like roaches. It’s all the same.” 

Sarah sighed, plopping back onto the pillows behind her, 

“But if you don’t go, who am I supposed to hang out with?” 

“Gee, I don’t know,” Y/n replied, “you’re boyfriend, maybe? Besides, Kie will be there if you finally realize how stupid my brother is.” 

Although the jab at her boyfriend made her laugh, Sarah still looked displeased at the idea of Y/n skipping out of the party. 

“It’s not gonna be as fun if you’re not there,” Sarah whined, “ever since John B and I started dating you’ve always been there for me — don’t get me wrong, everyone seems to be fine with me now, but you’ve always been super sweet to me and you’re like one of my closest friends now and...I like spending time with you.” 

Y/n’s resolve had softened. She knows it must have been hard for Sarah to adjust to the fact that most of the people she used to call her friends now avoided her like the plague since she started dating John B and hanging around the likes of them. She still felt a bit out of place in the ‘pogue world’ and Y/n tried to be a breath of fresh air whenever Sarah needed it. And though the pogue exclusive kegger could prove to be difficult for Sarah to feel completely comfortable, she wasn’t sure how much more she could take of watching JJ flirt with people that weren’t her. 

“Come on, Y/n/n! Please? You never know! You could meet someone!”

Y/n groaned dramatically, her head lulling backward. She had never told Sarah about her feelings for JJ, but Y/n assumed she knew from the suggestive glances she used to throw at her when she first started hanging around the group when she’d catch Y/n staring at him, and now her new found want to find her a boyfriend. 

“I’m just saying!” Sarah said, her hands raised in surrender with a smile pulling at her mouth, “you’re super hot, you’re funny, and you’re caring! I mean honestly, I’ve got no clue how you’re still single.” 

“I am pretty annoying.” Y/n joked. 

Sarah laughed and shook her head as she stood from the bed and walked to stand by her door, 

“Your brother is pretty annoying and he’s got me!”

“Well, you aren’t exactly the brightest bulb in the tanning bed.” 

Sarah gasped, her eyes wide with amusement as she dipped her hand into Y/n’s hamper and picked up a pair of balled-up socks and threw it at her, 

“You bitch!” she exclaimed. 

Had you told Y/n Routledge a few years back that her brother would be dating Kook Princess, Sarah Cameron and she would genuinely enjoy the time they spent together, she would have laughed in your face and asked where you were getting your shit from. But now, she would fight tooth and nail for her if she ever needed to. Y/n felt honored to be considered one of her closest friends because she was one of hers too. 

“I would go, but I haven’t even thought of an outfit — and like all of my cute clothes are dirty.” 

“You can wear some of mine!” Sarah offered, “so it’s final! You’re going to this kegger, we’re gonna find you a super sexy outfit, and you’re gonna bag a total hottie.” 

Y/N FELT LIKE A WOLF in sheep’s clothing in Sarah’s clothes. A black mini skirt and a deep-cut shirt that showed just as much as it covered had never felt more expensive — even the pristine white high-tops that were laced tightly around her ankles felt foreign. 

“Seriously, Y/n, relax! You’re fine!” Sarah laughed, giving Y/n’s shoulder a light shove. 

“But what if your clothes get dirty?” 

Sarah stopped, her shoes scuffing against the pavement as she deadpanned, 

“There’s a thing called a washing machine,” she replied, “it cleans your clothes if they get dirty. Now, come on! We’re already late!” 

The Boneyard was already full by the time they made it, with basically the entire student body, countless tourons, and a handful of Kooks that had shown up that would inevitably be involved in some sort of heated dispute, it would be hard to find anyone in this crowd. Y/n watched as Sarah pushed up on her toes and craned her neck to try and spot another familiar face but eventually come up short. Y/n nudged Sarah with her elbow before offering an arm, 

“Come on, let’s go find everyone, I’m sure John B has his panties in a twist because you aren’t there yet.” 

The girls made their way through the sea of people, occasionally stepping on toes or bumping into someone’s shoulder and having to throw a fast ‘sorry’ over their shoulder before continuing with their trek. The sun had set hours ago but the air was still hot, the numerous amount of bodies emitting their own warmth was starting to make Y/n feel clammy. Your first few minutes at a kegger were always the worst. No matter the time you arrived, there was a hefty chance you’d be pushing through groups of people for a while. 

“Y/n! Sarah!” Kiara called, nearly losing her footing on the large piece of driftwood she stood on to gain their attention, “Where have y’all been? You’re late!”

Kiara handed them both a red solo cup filled to the brim with lukewarm beer, it swished over the side, barely missing the rubber of Y/n’s borrowed shoes. She took a quick drink to avoid any more spilling and cringed as swallowed down the sharp liquid, nodding along to a conversation she had no clue what they were speaking about. 

JJ always invoked involuntary reactions from Y/n. His laugh would force her own tumbling out of her mouth, his smile made her lips quirk upward, the sound of his voice calling her name had her heart squeezing. He could be anywhere in the room and he would still get her eyes. Even when he was three yards away from her, flirting with a girl from their Geography class. 

His hip was pressed against hers, their elbows bumping together as he stared at her with eyes that could make just about anyone weak in the knees, a smirk on his face. He switched his cup to his left hand and reached out, the tips of his fingers dragging over her temple as he pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. 

Y/n molars clashed as she clenched her jaw, her eyes snapping away from them as she swiped at her nose. She didn’t know why she assumed that the night on the hammock was anything more than what he said it was. A mistake. Something that happened because he wasn’t thinking right. The fingers that swept across her temple as he brushed a piece of hair behind her ear that night before he let his knuckles caress her cheek had been nothing more than a trick he used. Nothing else, nothing more. That night had meant nothing to him. 

The grip on her cup tightened before she lifted it to her mouth and chugged the contents. The group watched her with wide questioning eyes as she lowered the cup and wiped her cheek free of drops of beer that managed to leak out of the sides.

“I’m getting another drink,” she stated, ignoring their confused looks and John B, who had emerged from behind her as she turned on her heel to find the keg. 

“What are you wearing?” John B called after her before looking back to the group, “what is she wearing?” 

“Relax, John B,” Sarah chortled, placing a hand on his shoulder, “she’s fine.” 

“Is she though?” Pope interjected, “cause I haven’t seen her down a beer like that in a long time.” 

John B’s eyebrows puckered in contemplation on whether to stop and question her or let her be as he had done for the past ten months. He sighed through his nose, hand carding through his hair as he plopped down on the log next to Sarah. Her hand grazed his back in comfort as she continued conversing with Kiara, not seeing as John B’s eyes strayed about the kegger. 

He knew deep down he should have followed after his sister, pushed her to tell him what was wrong. Maybe act like how a brother should for once but they stopped being the type of siblings who spoke fearlessly to each other and had inside jokes only they understood. It used to be unheard of for them to feel so distant but he supposed he did that to himself when their father disappeared. He should have noticed when she looked at him for some sort of compassion for the loss of their father but he was selfish, turning to his friends for company rather than his sister. He should have noticed when she started acting out, notice how she was loud around every pogue except JJ. How she’d look away when he mentioned getting laid the other night, quickly starting a new conversation to cover up her broken expression. 

They may not have been the closest twins could be anymore but it was still obvious — to him at least — that his sister had feelings for JJ. It was in the way she would freeze when he came into the perimeter; the way she swallowed down a quick breath before asking if he had eaten and if he hadn’t she’d offer to make him something. The way she chose to sit next to him even when there were a thousand open seats. How she would lace his shoes up when they came undone to keep him from tripping. And the way she would stay up far after everyone else had gone to bed to wait for him when she knew he was going back to his father’s house. 

She gives him love in every way she knows how but his eyes are shut, leaving her feelings for him to linger in the air while she sits around and waits for him to take it. 

Even now as he looked at her awkwardly swerving around other teens, eyes briefly looking back over her shoulder to catch a glance of JJ. He shook his head, teeth bending the plastic rim of his cup. He followed her gaze for a split second and had to do a double-take. Guilt slipped from his chest down to the bottom of his stomach — he really was the worst brother for not reading her mood earlier. JJ and the girl he engaged in conversation with forty minutes prior now grinding to whatever shitty pop song was playing over someone else’s speaker. John B averted his eyes and looked at his shoes tucked in the sand. Seeing JJ like this was painful to watch. He felt for his sister. But he knew that it wouldn’t be long before she noticed waiting around for JJ to realize what he had in front of him would do her more harm than good. She was smart, much smarter than John B. He shouldn’t be worried. There wasn’t a thing she couldn’t do. 

Y/N COULD NOT TAP A KEG. She never learned how, no one had offered to show her so she never asked. John B and JJ had always taken the honors of opening it first, mostly so they could waste half of it spraying each other and run around the beach instead of helping the rest of them set up. She picked up the beer pump, twisting it over as if the secret of how to use it was inscribed somewhere she just couldn’t see. She weighed her options. She could either try and open the keg herself and risk ruining the whole thing or have to sit and watch JJ try and get laid completely sober. 

“Do you need some help?” 

Y/n whipped around at the sound of an unfamiliar voice behind her, the heels of her feet knocking into the keg behind her. As the rapid beat of her heart began to slow, she finally caught a glimpse at who the voice belonged to. A boy with warm ivory skin who stood at around six feet tall; His hair was growing in from what seemed to be a buzz cut, it was dark, akin to his chocolate brown eyes. 

“Um, yeah, that would be great, thank you,” Y/n replied, opening her hand to release the pump to him. 

He takes one stride and is already close enough to take it from her, his fingertips graze the inside of her palm, and Y/n can’t help but notice how his hands nearly doubled her own in size.  The golden chain that adorned his neck fell forward as he leaned over the keg, letting out short huffs of breath. 

“So, you’re definitely not from around here,” she started, digging her feet in the sand. 

The boy chuckled, glancing up at her before looking back down at what he was doing. 

“What gave it away?” his voice was like silk, perfectly pitched -- very clearly English. 

He straightened, one hand on the nozzle and his other held out in her direction, the navy blue shirt unbuttoned to just above his sternum hanging loosely on his shoulders. His eyebrows popped up towards his hairline when she didn’t move, a smirk tugging at his lips as he noticed her eyes were stuck on him. Embarrassed from having been caught staring, Y/n passed him the cup without making eye contact. She knows John B would be just about bursting a blood vessel to keep from laughing at her. Y/n wasn’t used to being so flustered — she was very capable of holding her own. He had caught her off guard. That was all. 

“So what’s your name?” he questioned as he filled her cup for her, “or should I just call you bashful?” 

Y/n scoffed despite the smile on her face, 

“Y/n.”

The boy leaned over the keg slightly, trading Y/n her cup for his right hand, 

“Eli.” 

JJ’S DIRT BIKE RUMBLED BENEATH him, his hair tickling his forehead as the wind blew through his blonde tresses. Not a cloud in the blue sky as the warm fresh air filled his lungs, JJ let his eyes slip closed for a second, basking in the comforting heat of the sun. He felt refreshed today. He always slept better on Kook mattresses than the lumpy one back at the chateau. 

JJ was supposed to be back to the house by 10:00 for their day on the marsh, but the girl whose bed JJ had taken the liberty of warming refused to let him leave. The only option was to tire her out and wait for her to fall back asleep before he snuck out of the window, consequently causing him to be almost an hour late. He had tried to make it on time, waking up an hour before he needed to be there but what was he supposed to do? Ignore a hot girl’s advances? They should be happy he even showed up in the first place. 

“Well look who the cat dragged in!” Pope said, grabbing a large blue cooler off of the ground to pass it to John B.

JJ chuckled and shook his head, kicking the stand of his dirt bike out, 

“Yeah, Yeah, I know,” he sighed, “I’m late, I know, but I’m here now so let’s get this baby out on the marsh!” 

Sarah made a noise from her place on the patio, objecting as much as she could with her cheeks filled with pancakes as she stood from the couch,

“Y/n isn’t back yet,” she said. 

“And Sarah is still eating,” Kiara joked, swerving to avoid Sarah’s half-attempt at swatting her arm. 

JJ’s eyebrows stitched together at the news, his forehead creasing as he moved to help John B unload the beer into the cooler, 

“Where did Y/n go?” he asked. 

John B did spare him another glance as moved the bottles of beer around to fit more inside of the cooler and still have space for anything else they might think to bring, 

“Picking up some touron she’s been seeing for the past few weeks.” 

JJ doesn’t know why his heart picks up or why his tongue slips out of his mouth to lick his lips in a nervous habit. He doesn’t know why he has to put extra effort to get the air to reach the bottom of his lungs, why a pit began to form in his stomach. 

Why hadn’t he heard about this touron Y/n was seeing? Since when? Everyone else seemed to know about this mystery touron, why hadn’t he? He was just as much her best friend as everyone else here was. Since when did she start keeping things from him? 

“She’s seeing someone?” he questioned, passing John B another bottle, “you just letting her date tourons now, JB?” 

John B sighed heavily through his nose, his mop of messy brown hair swaying as he shook his head, 

“He’s not even here yet and you’re already jealous?” 

JJ sputtered, scoffs falling out of his mouth as his shoulders popped, 

“I’m not jealous,” he stated, “I’m just worried about her! You know how some tourons are, they only want one thing, man. She deserves more than that.” 

John B hummed as he stood to his full height and moved around JJ to get something — he assumed, JJ hadn’t really been paying attention to what he said if he was going to be completely honest. He leaned back in the aged seat as he turned to Pope, 

“So, uh, what do we know about this guy,” he asked, “what’s he look like?” 

Pope side-eyed him and shrugged, his hand raising to point behind JJ as he nodded in the same direction, 

“You can find out for yourself.” 

Almost if it were on cue, Y/n’s voice traveled through the air, capturing their scattered attention. 

“Sorry, we’re late!”  she spoke, “someone was set on breakfast.” 

The guy was trailing after her like a lost dog, clad in tacky Hawaiian-themed swim trunks and a bucket hat. If JJ had met him first he probably would have pickpocketed him, maybe even scammed him out of an extra 30 -- no 50 bucks by selling him shitty weed that was all stems and seeds. This was the guy she was seeing? 

“Hey, I’m Pope,” JJ watched as Pope smiled brightly at the touron and stood to greet him. 

“Nice to meet you,” the guy replied, “I’m Eli,” 

His accent was obnoxious. JJ wasn’t sure how much he could take of it as the pogues took turns introducing themselves. JJ didn’t utter a word as he watched Eli like a hawk, his eyes were glued to his hand as he rubbed up and down Y/n’s back before settling on the top of her spine, his thumb swiping where her shoulder met her neck. JJ was so preoccupied with glaring holes into him that he hadn’t even noticed they all had stopped talking. 

“JJ,” he said. 

“Yeah, I assumed,” Eli chuckled, “blonde hair, rough around the edges. Y/n mentioned you a lot.” 

JJ folded his arms across his chest, 

“I bet she does,” 

“Alright!” John B spoke, clapping his hands together as he sent JJ a warning look, “let’s get this girl on the water, we’re behind schedule enough as it is.” 

TODAY HAD BEEN A BEAUTIFUL DAY. The sun was shining, the water was warm — it was the perfect day to be out on the water. The pogues were laughing until their stomachs ached, retelling their favorite old stories, and splashing in the water without a single care in the world. All while JJ mopped on the side of the boat he claimed as his own, his bad mood manifesting in a black cloud that lingered over him the entire day. Eli stuck to Y/n like white on rice all day, constantly touching her or whispering in her ear, making her smile into her bottle. If Y/n was only going to pay attention to her touron toy, she could have stayed at the Chateau. Even Sarah and John B weren’t this bad. 

He was only another giggle away from swimming back home when they decided to go back for the day. JJ, still bone dry, rejoiced. He was burning up.

“Well, you could have just gone swimming,” Kie laughed, “that would have solved your problem.” 

“Yeah, well maybe I didn’t want to go swimming, Kiara, did you think of that?” 

“Whoa, who shit in your breakfast today?” 

“Whatever,” JJ groaned, “can we just leave now? Please? Fuck.” 

John B stifled a laugh as he took his place at the steering wheel, 

“Aye aye, colonel.” 

Y/n sat across from JJ on the bow, slithering back under Eli’s arm. Her y/e/c eyes were half-lidded, her sun-kissed cheek smooshed against his chest. Eli’s hand lifted from around her waist and grabbed the bucket hat he abandoned when they went for a swim and placed it on her head. JJ chewed at the inside of his cheek as his knee bounced relentlessly, annoying half of the group but no one had the energy to argue with JJ to get him to stop. 

He needed off of this boat immediately.

Y/n fell asleep on the way back, her lips slightly agape, her hand on Eli’s chest as he drew lazy shapes on her back. He steadily lifted his hand and adjusted the bucket hat on Y/n’s head to keep the sun from shining in her eyes. He scanned her sleeping figure with a small smile on his face, the hand that fixed his hat twitched like he was refraining from reaching out and touching her again.

 And then his eyes met JJ’s. Eli’s gaze was just as sharp as JJ’s was, his dark brows curved downwards, meeting in the middle of his forehead. JJ’s head quirked to the side, as he rolled his shoulders. This wasn’t a challenge he would be backing down from. And it looked like Eli had thought the same thing until Y/n stirred and his eyes snapped down to her. Her eyes flickered open and she smiled sleepily before she stretched her neck and placed a chaste kiss on Eli’s awaiting lips then settled back to her previous state. Eli gave him one last glance at JJ before he shifted downwards to lay flat and closed his eyes, a victorious smirk beginning to form on his mouth as his hand came to rest on Y/n’s hip. 

The pit in JJ’s stomach grew wider the longer he watched them but he just couldn’t look away. His muscles were tensed, his jaw clenched so tight his teeth were starting to hurt. He was absolutely furious, he was practically seething. But he didn’t understand why. He had no reason to be this fucking angry. And that was what worried him the most. 

taglist: @obx-snippets​ @samwlscns​ @reawritesthings​ @pogueslandia​ @s-u-t​ 

[sinner-as-saint]

Yours To Wield - 4.

Mob!Bucky x Reader

Series Masterlist

Run-through: With the enemy threatening to obliterate your family, you’re left with no choice but to take the hit just so he would spare your loved ones. Belonging to a mafia family requires sacrifices to be made at every step, and in order to save your family you make the ultimate one - you offer yourself up to the enemy. Bucky Barnes isn’t a man one negotiates with, he owns this city and whatever he says is considered law. But when you come to him with an irresistible offer, he bends his own rules for you. What starts out as an agreement becomes so much more, and the two of you find love where it wasn’t supposed to be. But rare are the love stories which don’t include some sort of war. 

Themes throughout the series: mob!bucky, smut, angst, language, (mild) soft dom/sub dynamic, fluff

“Still nothing?” 

You asked, entering Bucky’s office past midnight. He was sitting in his large, leather seat at his desk, his stormy blue eyes tired and running low on sleep and his hair a little messy.

Bucky looked up from all the screens and paperwork in front of him, and sent you a soft smile. “No, that should be a good thing. But something tells me this much inactivity and silence from your brothers isn’t actually good.” He said casually, as if it wasn’t too important. 

It had been almost a week and a half since the day Peter blew up one of Bucky’s warehouses. A week and a half since you and Bucky had that misunderstanding but made up. A week and a half since Bucky told you the truth about what happened the night he lost his arm. 

Surprisingly, it had been a peaceful week and a half - which was suspicious. Peter and Harley not causing any trouble for days on end was something one should worry about. 

You smiled at Bucky faintly as you took a seat across from him at his desk as well. You reached out and placed your open palm down on the large wooden desk, and immediately after, Bucky placed his hand in yours. You squeezed his hand reassuringly. 

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, unable to do anything else. You were truly sorry for everything that happened to him. For the way your brothers were acting right now. 

Bucky sighed and shook his head, dropping the file he was holding on the table as he reached out and held your hand in his tight grasp. He leaned in and kissed your knuckles as they wrapped around his large hands. 

“You have nothing to apologize for, little pearl.” He whispered, looking deep into your eyes. “It’s gonna be okay. We’re gonna handle this.” He reassured you like he had been for the past week and a half. 

You smiled at him. So much had changed since the other night when you came to explain yourself regarding the conversation you had with Peter, which Bucky heard about. Since then, you two had only been to the club twice because most nights you spend in Bucky’s bedroom - which you shared now. The feelings you had for one another were solidifying more and more each day and you were falling for him so fast that it scared you sometimes. If only your family would stop playing this sick game. 

You didn’t hate them; your dad and your brothers. They were your only family and you loved them to bits, which was also why this whole conflict hurt so much because your heart was being torn in two. On one side you had your family whom you loved, and on the other - the broken man you were indefinitely falling for. 

There would come a day when you’d have to choose between them. But you weren’t ready for that yet. 

You looked into Bucky’s pretty eyes and you whispered, “Come to bed.” 

The look in his eyes gave away that he wanted to, more than anything but he couldn’t right now. Downstairs in his own office, you knew Steve would be working all night as well - like he had been ever since he’s been back from dealing with the blown up warehouse. 

“I can’t, little pearl. I’ve got some stuff to do. You go ahead, it’s late.” He said and gently let go of your hand as he got back to work. 

You frowned, not wanting to leave him. “Fine then, I’ll just hang out here until you get sleepy and then we’ll go to bed together.” You said, crossing your arms over your chest and making yourself comfortable in the seat. 

“Alright,” Bucky replied smiling, knowing you wouldn’t be able to sit still for long, “Suit yourself.” 

The next few minutes passed by in complete silence, other than the occasional loud sighs of boredom from you. Bucky fought back a smirk when he felt you staring at him. Your stare was intense and burning and it prevented him from working. 

Bucky exhaled loudly and placed the file he was currently studying down and lifted his head up to look at you, “You’re staring.” He said, raising an eyebrow at you. 

You placed both your elbows upon the desk and cupped your own face, facing him with a cheesy smile. “Can’t help it, you’re pretty to look at.” 

That made him chuckle. “Go to sleep.” 

“Nope.”

He rolled his eyes playfully, “You’re just gonna sit here and annoy me?” 

You nodded and leaned back into your seat. “What about it?” 

He sighed, “Little pearl, I’ve got quite some work to do and I-,” before he could finish his sentence, you abruptly took your shirt off, turned it into a makeshift ball and threw it right at his face. Bucky looked down at his lap where your shirt had fallen, then he looked back at you in just your shorts and bra. And a daring look in your eyes. “What are you doing?” He asked softly as he noticed you already taking off your shorts. 

“Trying to get you to play with me.” You said, smirking as you threw your shorts at his head as well. Bucky just sighed and chuckled as you stood there in front of him in your underwear. 

He looked at you, a dangerous smirk on his lips. “Come here.” He gestured to his lap. Normally you’d climb onto his lap immediately, but not today. 

You shook your head and bit down on your lip as you unhooked your bra and threw that at his face as well. It landed perfectly on his head, making you giggle uncontrollably. 

“Little pearl,” He warned you, almost growling, “Come here.” He ordered again but you just stood there in front of him, challenging him as you cupped your breasts. 

You shook your head again. “Come to bed, then we can play.” You said rather seductively. As a reaction, the bulge in Bucky’s pants grew even more.  

Bucky clenched his jaw. “You don’t make the rules here, baby. I do.” He said, his voice deeper than usual with lust. 

You almost shivered at the tone he used. Then, just for the hell of it, you smirked and sassed, “Do you?” And oh did it hit him right where you wanted it to. Bucky was up from his seat and walking towards you in less than a few seconds. 

He walked over to where you stood leisurely, taking his time and eyeing your body from head to toe. His eyes lingered to your chest, where you cupped your breasts; a weak and useless attempt to hide them from him. “What did you just say to me?” He asked as he stopped and stood right in front of you. 

You looked up at him and only saw the playful look in his eyes. You fought back a smirk. “Oh, nothing.” You played it off. 

Bucky reached out and caressed your cheek lazily. “Really? Because for a moment there it felt like you questioned my authority?” He asked as he dragged his fingers down to your neck until he wrapped his hand firmly around your throat. Not squeezing yet, just holding you there. 

You trembled under his touch. Your nipples hardened beneath your palms. You did want to rile him up a little, just to get him to take a break from working all day and all night but now it seemed you’d be punished for it. And you were excited already. 

Bucky chuckled out of nowhere. “I can feel your pulse. Your heart’s racing, little pearl.” He commented, making your wetness flow out of you even quicker as he pulled you closer to him, guiding you forward by the gentle grip on your throat. 

You couldn’t take it, you simply leaned in and pressed your mouth to his. Bucky growled against your lips before he kissed you hungrily. His tongue slipped past your lips, stroking the top of your mouth. Bucky kissed your open mouth with ardor. He kept one of his hands wrapped around your throat as the metal one reached up to remove your hand from one of your breasts to replace it with his hand. He caressed your warm skin with his cold hand; fondling your breast and leaving goose bumps wherever his fingers touched your skin as he urged you both to move backwards. 

A few steps later, you felt the edge of his desk pressing against your butt. He pushed you onto it until you were seated properly atop his desk. You giggled into the heated kiss. “Are you going to fuck me right here?” You asked, breathlessly. 

He smirked against your mouth and whispered, “I’ll fuck you wherever I want. You belong to me.” He pulled away to look into your eyes with that irresistible and dangerous smirk on his lips. “You understand?” He questioned as his metal fingers pinched your nipple, making your jump. You nodded at his question. “Good.” He replied, then added, “Now spread your legs for me.” 

You did as you watched him push the two seats aside and kneel down in between your parted legs. Your whole body felt like it was on fire when he looked up at you. Your legs dangled at the edge of the table as he took your underwear off. He smirked when he saw that you were dripping wet. He picked one of your legs up and pressed his lips to your skin, leaving a trail of kisses from your ankle up till your inner thighs. His stubble felt slightly rough against your skin.

You gasped when he kissed all over your inner thighs. His wet, warm mouth kissed you everywhere except for where you needed him the most; teasing you and making you whine in need and desperation.

You tangled your fingers into his hair and gently guided his face to your dripping core. He looked up at you and smirked again as he grabbed your right leg and hooked it over his shoulder. The moment his mouth touched you, you let out a quiet moan. His lips moved along your wet folds as his tongue teased your entrance. His facial hair scratched your sensitive skin, as your arousal spread all over his mouth and chin.

He secured your leg over his shoulder and he ate you out passionately, closing his eyes and savoring your taste. He made you forget about the rest of the world, like nothing else mattered other than the two of you. He kept teasing your core with his mouth and soon, you were nothing but a wet, moaning mess under his touch. He lifted his mouth off of you as he felt your orgasm building. He pushed his two fingers past your entrance and pumped them in and out of you rapidly. He felt your walls clench around his fingers as you moaned louder and louder with each stroke of his fingers against your walls.

“That’s right, moan for me.” He mumbled against your skin as he quickened his pace. “Louder, let me hear you.” 

Your moans escaped your lips incessantly. A few more strokes from his fingers and you could no longer hold back the pressure anymore, so you let go and came violently around his fingers. You moaned out loud as you came, and Bucky placed his mouth on your wet core once again. He licked each and every drop of your cum as it spilled out of you.

You leaned back against his desk, holding yourself up on your elbows; your body still trembling on his desk as he stood up and undid his pants just enough to let his cock out. He chuckled as you wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer. “I want you. Now.” You whispered, looking up at him. 

He smiled down at you before spreading your legs further apart and stepping closer to your dripping cunt. He stroked his cock lazily as he looked deep into your eyes. “Say please.” He teased, smirking at the visible desperation on your face.

You whined, “Please Buck, please… I need you.” You pleaded some more and Bucky smiled in satisfaction as he leaned down and his mouth latched on to one of your nipples. He sucked on it gently as his teeth teased the bud and your back bowed in pleasure as you whined. 

He kissed his way up to your neck once again as he aligned his cock to your core. You could feel his tip, leaking with precum, slightly pressing against your clit. Slowly, he slipped inside of you, groaning at how tight you were. You felt his length stretching you out entirely. 

Bucky looked down because he loved the way his cock slowly disappeared into your body. Smirking, pleased, he started rocking in and out of you slowly, gradually building up his pace. You moaned out loud, feeling all of him; stretching you, filling you up, moving rapidly in and out of you to the point where the only thing you could focus on was his body moving against you. 

“You feel so good, baby…” he whispered, pounding into you, as he bent down to kiss your open mouth, swallowing all your moans and mewls in the process. You whined upon hearing the wet, slapping sounds your bodies made when they came in contact with one another. Mixed with the growls leaving his mouth, it was all too good to be true.

“You’re all mine, you hear me?” he asked, driven by his lust, love and passion for you. He stared down at you with his ocean blue eyes. You could only nod, unable to form coherent sentences while he pounded into you like he owned you. He leaned in again, kissing you hungrily. “Say it, baby. Tell me you’re mine.” he whispered against your lips.

“I’m yours…” you whispered, shuddering under him. He smirked and sped up into you again, relishing the feeling of you wrapped around him, all warm and wet. That only encouraged him to thrust deeper into you, he wanted to feel all of you and he wanted you to feel all of him. He was relentless. He growled right in your ear as his body moved perfectly against yours. 

You whined; feeling a thin layer of sweat covering both your bodies as your walls milked him perfectly. A tear fell from your eye, out of pleasure. He was quick to wipe it away. He bent down and kissed your lips, pounding into you rapidly like his life depended on it.

Bucky felt you clench and tighten around him, “You want to cum for me, little pearl? Beg for it.” He whispered, his voice strained and raspy. Your mind was foggy by now, and it took your brain a few seconds to register and process his words.

Your walls clenched violently around him as you begged. Please… please…please… “Please… May I please come?” 

He chuckled against your mouth. “Such a good girl for me.” His warm breath mingled with yours. “Go on, come all over my cock.” 

You whined as you came around him. Not even a few moments later, you felt him twitch inside of you; his cock throbbing against your walls. He came with a growl, gripping your hips. Moans and gasps flowing out of your mouth as you felt his cum dripping out of you as he slowly slipped out of you. 

“You are perfect.” He whispered into your ear. 

You kept your eyes shut for a moment, feeling his kisses all over your face. You smiled in delight. 

“Let’s get you showered and in bed now, little pearl.” 

---

The next couple of days were suspiciously peaceful and quiet. Yet, you could see the way Steve and Bucky were both on the edge, walking on thin ice, both of them always on high alert. They would try to hide it but you saw the panic in their eyes each time their phones rang. 

You wished there was something you could do to put an end to this. 

You tried your best to cheer Bucky up. You asked him to take you to the club two nights in a row and it did lighten up his mood for a while. Yet you felt him toss and turn in bed beside you at night, each night. 

You could swear that he was more relaxed on the day when your brothers actually blew up his warehouse. It was this uncertainty, this silence which was bothering him. 

But as expected, the silence didn’t last for long. 

On the day which marked your one-month stay at Bucky’s mansion, you received a call from your brothers. You were with Bucky at the time, in his study and straddling his lap. When your phone vibrated on his desk, you both froze for a moment at the caller ID; it was Harley. You felt a strange pain inside your chest as you suddenly realized how much you missed his annoying face and his over dramatic manner. 

“Pick it up.” He said, sitting up straighter and securing you in his lap. “It’s okay, little pearl. Just pick it up.” He must’ve noticed the look of fear and nervousness on your face. “I’m right here.”

You answered the call, put it on loud speaker and said, “Hello.” You kept your voice steady. 

You heard your brother sighing on the other end. “Fucking hell, did you forget you have a family on the other side of the city? Can’t you at least call to let us know you’re doing alright in the enemy’s den?” His voice was surprisingly soft, almost like he was more upset than angry. His tone was almost caring. 

“I thought you were all too busy planning to blow shit up to care.” You answered sourly and earned a smirk out of Bucky. 

Your brother sighed again. “Please, none of this would happen if you’d just-,”

Another voice cut him off, and you rolled your eyes. Peter. Nothing in this world could make you stop loving your brother, but he was being excruciatingly annoying regarding this whole thing when he could’ve made everyone’s life so much easier by just not doing anything. 

“Give me the phone.” Was all he said and a moment of pin drop silence later you heard his voice louder and clearer. “I’m gonna need you to come home tonight itself.” He said, and it sounded like an order. 

And Bucky was not a fan of that tone. “You don’t get to order her around like that.” He spoke, before you even responded. 

Peter said angrily. “And you do?”

You sat there quietly as Bucky responded, “Not at all. She came to me, remember? She chose me all on her own.” He boasted. 

Your brother spat back immediately, “Shut the fuck up and send my sister home.” He demanded. 

Bucky chuckled. “It’s all up to her. She does as she pleases.” 

Peter raised his voice. “Are you listening to me, Y/N? Come home.” He ordered again. 

You scoffed and said, “No. Try again in a month.” You couldn’t believe that your brother, the one you grew up with, was one of the men who tried to end Bucky’s life all those years ago, without even giving him a chance to explain himself. Without even questioning him. Although, Bucky would argue that they had every right to do so, and that he would act the same, but since you were quickly falling for him you were naturally biased and protective. 

Bucky shook his head at you and pulled you closer. You both could hear Peter muttering swear words on the other end. “Don’t be so rude.” Bucky mouthed as a joke. You rolled your eyes at him. 

“Fine then.” The calm tone of Peter’s voice sent chills down your back - bad ones. “Just remember, this one’s on you.” Those were his last words as he ended the call. 

You and Bucky stared at the phone on top of his desk for another whole minute. His words replayed over and over again in your minds. “This can’t be good.” You whispered, turning your head to look at Bucky. “He… he will-,”

Bucky cut you off by gently grabbing your face in his hands. “Shh, baby. It’s okay. Steve and I will deal with this.” He promised you. 

But neither of you had any idea of what was about to happen. Sure, they’d deal with it. But what would they deal with if they didn’t even know what to expect?

---

Apparently Steve and Bucky, and all their men had underestimated your brothers it seemed. Because when you woke up the next day, you found a bunch of worried and angry men downstairs. Guards, heads of security, Steve, Bucky and some of their closest allies and friends were all pacing around on their phones, furiously barking orders at others. 

It was chaos. 

“What happened?” You asked once you stepped off the staircase. Most of the men turned to look at you. Some in pity, others in annoyance, a few in anger even. But none of them dared to say a word to you. You searched the small crowd for a pair of familiar blue eyes which calms you down no matter what. And a few seconds later, you saw him walking towards you as the rest of the men went back to what they were doing. 

“Hey, little pearl.” Bucky walked up to you and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Come with me.” He grabbed your hand and walked you till the kitchen. “Sit.” He said, pointing to one of the stools at the breakfast bar. “Let’s get you some coffee.” 

You frowned as you sat and waited. You tried to gauge his reaction but you couldn’t read him, not this morning. A few moments later, Steve walked in and he tried to give you his signature dazzling smile but he failed. 

“What’s happening? What did they do now?” You asked again. Steve took a seat at the breakfast bar as well, throwing down his notepad and phone carelessly on the counter. He kept quiet, waited for Bucky to respond. “Bucky?” You called out again, getting anxious. 

Bucky turned around and placed three mugs on the counter, filling them with coffee as he took a seat as well. “Your brother called this morning.” 

You froze. “And?” 

Steve spoke up, “Last night, about ten of our men were out patrolling as they’re used to. But then, they didn’t return. We sent a team to go look for them and they came back this morning empty handed. I searched the security camera footage and found nothing. Then we received a call from your brothers. Peter has them.” 

You couldn’t believe this. “He kidnapped them?” 

The two nodded. Steve spoke up, “We were expecting him to blow up another warehouse or something, but he had other ideas apparently. It must have been a last minute plan since our spies don’t know any of it. They don’t know how it went down. We all know Lowtown doesn’t have enough men to withstand a war, but my guess is that the few that they do have are really good at this game.” 

“Fuck.” You spat. “What did he demand as ransom?” You asked, even though you already knew. 

“You.” Bucky said, a look of desolation on his face. “He said he wants you home by dinner time tonight.” 

The three of you sat in silence for another few minutes. The murmur of voices from the foyer and large living room had died down. Something told you the men had either left or they were silently trying their best to figure a way to deal with this. 

“We don’t even know where he’s keeping them. Our spies can’t ask too many questions either. All we can do is wait and…” Steve’s voice trailed off. 

“He’ll kill them.” You stated. “If I don’t go back tonight, men will die. And like he said, it’ll be on me.” 

Bucky was quiet, looking down at his mug. He lifted his head and looked into your eyes. He was tired, but he wasn’t going to give up. “Who’s to say he won’t kill them even if you do go back? We don’t know what he’s thinking, or where he kept them, or-,” 

“I know.” You cut him off and they both turned to look at you, surprise and hope in their eyes. “I have a hunch but something tells me he’s not keeping them in my father’s basement, that would be too predictable and easy. So there’s only one place he could have put so many people without worrying about them fighting their way out.” You pieced it together in your head. 

Steve reached out and placed his hand on yours. “You do realize that if you tell us their secrets then… that means you made your choice, right?” He asked. “You will be one of us now.” 

The fact that he asked you this instead of pressuring you to give him the location made you want to hug him really really tight. The soft look in his blue eyes made you want to tear up. How could people think these men were monsters? 

You nodded as you looked between him and Bucky, “I do.” You kept your eyes on Bucky for a moment and he gave you a small smile. “I guess I already made that choice the night I first drove all the way here.” 

Bucky smiled. He didn’t have any doubts regarding his feelings for you, but if ever there was any, it all faded away at this very moment. “Tell us everything, baby.” 

You gently let go of Steve’s hand and grabbed the notepad and pen he had brought along earlier. You flipped to a fresh page and began drawing a makeshift map of Lowtown. The two men leaned over the counter to get a better look. 

You began, “When Pete, Harley and I were younger, we used to sneak out of the house when dad was away for work and we would go explore Lowtown. We made sure the guards never followed us though, and we would always end up getting lost in alleys.” You continued as you drew roads and a large square on the paper, “Then one day, in the abandoned part of our side of the city we found this rundown, old and decaying warehouse. It was completely in shambles and left there to rot, but it was our secret spot. We would spend hours there.” You drew a cross over the large square, tapping on it. “Then dad found out, years later when we were just teenagers and we got in trouble so we stopped sneaking out to go there, we didn’t want anyone finding out about our secret warehouse.” 

You paused, your eyes watering as the memories came flooding back in. But you quickly recovered, not letting yourself get too carried away by emotions, not right now. 

You continued, “We even forgot about it for quite a while. Then on his eighteenth birthday Pete asked dad if he could have the warehouse. He wanted to rebuild it and keep it as a souvenir of our childhood memories. Dad agreed and let him have it. Pete worked for years on it, and we all thought that it would just be a regular warehouse. But then I overheard Pete one night on the phone and apparently, there’s a whole other underground system in there.” Steve sat up straighter once he heard this. Bucky just frowned in concentration. “It’s like a maze and it’s really hard to get out of, from what I heard. I saw the map of it once and I didn’t think much of it since Pete’s always been a little extravagant but I never thought that there might be a possibility that he would use it for something like this.” You winced in disgust. 

You pushed the paper towards Steve and Bucky, and as they studied it you said, “Peter still doesn’t know that he’s not the only one who knows about this warehouse’s underground system. Even Harley doesn’t know. It’s Peter’s favorite secret and I bet,” you tapped on the paper, where the warehouse is situated according to your map, “that this is where he’s keeping them. Anywhere else in Lowtown is too easily accessible.” 

Steve smirked like he had just won his favorite game. “What do you say, boss?” He asked Bucky.

Bucky turned to you. “You’ll have a part to play in this if we are to rescue the men. Will you do that for us?” His eyes studied your face intently. 

You took a deep breath. This is the moment you knew was a long time coming. If you play your part in this, it would mean that from now on, you’d be on Bucky’s side. “I will.” You answered, firmly. “I won’t let people die on my account because of my brother’s foolishness.” 

Steve got off the stool and grabbed his phone. “Alright, we need a plan.” 

---

About three hours later, you had a plan. 

You would go to your father’s house while Steve and Bucky would lead their men towards Peter’s warehouse. They would get the men out while you’d keep your family distracted. A simple plan, but you all had to be very careful. 

For the entirety of the day, Bucky and Steve were busy with meetings with their teams and you spent your time calming yourself down. Perhaps Peter would see this as a betrayal the moment he finds out, but something told you your father would somehow understand. Sure, he had given more or less all the control over to Peter, saying he was getting too old to handle everything on his own, but he was still known as the ruler of Lowtown. He still had power. All you had to do was to get him to put an end to Peter’s recklessness. 

As for Harley, he wavered a lot. Sometimes he sided with Peter, sometimes he didn’t. But you were sure your father would get why you did this. This rivalry was between your family and Bucky. It had started that night and they had hidden it from you for years. 

And as of now; Peter wanted to end what he started that night. He wanted Bucky dead. Bucky wanted you. You wanted to stay here with Bucky but your brothers wouldn’t let that happen. Your father had been suspiciously quiet about this whole thing which made it all the more messier. 

Jeez. This was a lot. 

-

Eventually, time came for you to get on the move. 

“Whatever you do,” Bucky instructed you as he secured your earpiece to your ear, “Don’t let Peter check his phone.” He looked into your eyes. “Okay?” 

You looked up at him and nodded. “Okay.” 

Bucky leaned in and kissed you deeply. “You look beautiful.” He mumbled, pulling away to admire you in your red dress, one he got you recently as a present. 

You looked into his eyes and smiled. With all his holsters and bullet proof jacket and sheaths for his blades, he indeed looked like a mean soldier ready for war. “Please be safe out there.” 

He smiled down at you. “Don’t worry about me.” He looked around the living room where you all currently assembled before moving out. “We got this. Come, it’s time to go.” 

The plan was to move out using different routes. You would drive straight to your father’s house. Meanwhile Bucky and his men would use the underground tunnels - which haven’t been used in decades - to get to the other side of the city. You’d communicate through the earpieces and once the men would be out and on their way back home, you’d get out of there, and drive back to Hightown. 

-

Your breath shuddered as you approached your father’s gates. Bucky must’ve heard as he spoke through the earpiece. 

“Hey baby, you okay?” He asked, his voice seemed so far away. But it calmed you down immediately. 

You closed your eyes and exhaled loudly, “Yeah, I’m okay. We got this. Stay safe you guys.” You said back to him before entering the gates. 

Alright. Playtime. 

-

A wave of nostalgia hit you as you entered your father’s home. It had been a month since you’ve been gone and it felt like forever. The familiar scent of the house wrapped around you and you almost cried. Then you realized why you were here, because your family had been acting foolishly. They’ve done terrible things, as well as almost killed the man you loved years ago. 

Focus. 

Your father and brothers were already at the dining table. And you entered the room escorted by guards, as if they expected you to just whip out a gun and shoot somebody. 

“There she is.” Peter smirked into his wine glass. Harley looked nervous while your dad seemed relieved as he stood up and walked over to you. 

“Come here,” He wrapped his arms around you. “I’ve missed you.” He said as he held you close to his chest. 

Your eyes watered again. “I’ve missed you too, dad.” You whispered. Your heart pounded as you pulled away and held his hands in yours. These same hands comforted you through nightmares and yet, they once tried to end the man you were in love with. You were again being torn in two. 

A voice whispered through the earpiece. It was Steve saying, “We’re here. We’re going in.”

They had found the warehouse. Your heart raced. 

You noticed someone standing behind your dad. You moved to the side expecting Harley, but it was Peter. With his arms open, “Do I get a hug?” He asked, already walking towards you. 

You leaned in and wrapped your arms around him. You cracked a little smile at the smell of his signature cologne. “You’ve been causing a lot of trouble.” You whispered so only he could hear. 

He chuckled, looking suddenly relaxed. “All because you found yourself on the wrong side of the city. I just wanted my baby sister home. Safe with her family.” 

You pulled away and stared at your brother. The same brother who wanted the man you love dead. Somewhere between getting out of the orphanage and now, your brother had turned into a ruthless monster and you never saw it until now. Protecting you and Harley went from being a duty to an obsession. You just wanted your brother back. 

“So now that I’m home, what do you plan on blowing up next? Another warehouse?” You couldn’t help but ask. Through the earpiece you could hear the Bucky and Steve mumbling orders to the rest of the men. 

Peter gave you a boyish, borderline innocent smile as he ignored you. “Come, let’s eat.” 

You took a seat at the table, facing Peter. Harley sat next to him and you still couldn’t understand the look on his face, and your dad at the head of the table. This was very familiar. You actually thought that there might be a chance of this going smoothly. 

Until Peter opened his mouth. “So, how’s Hightown?” He asked. 

Your father sighed loudly. You sipped your water quietly. Thinking. Oh, so this is how it’s gonna go? Alright then. 

“Better than the rest of this city, actually.” You answered, and you noticed the way his grip tightened around his glass. 

Your father spoke up, “Can we drop this? My daughter came home after a month, Pete. I won’t let you ruin this.” 

Peter scoffed. “Me? Oh no, she ruined it.” Well there goes his brief kindness. “Tell me,” Peter said, leaning on the edge of the table just a little, “Are you his little spy now? Hmm? Will you give away our secrets and have him destroy us?” He asked. 

You froze. Bucky must’ve heard because he immediately spoke through the earpiece, “He doesn’t know. It’s okay, he’s just being an ass. There aren’t many guards here, we’ll be in and out quickly. Keep him distracted.” 

Keep him distracted. Keep him distracted. There was one way to distract Peter, to get him mad. 

Your demeanor changed as you smirked and leaned back into your seat, picking up your wine glass and lifting it towards him as a mocking toast. “Secrets, huh? What about the ones you all have been keeping from me? Regarding Bucky?” 

Your questions annoyed all three of them. 

“Is it absolutely necessary to talk about this right now?” Your father asked. “Can’t we just-,” 

You cut him off. “Yes it is absolutely necessary.” You turned to Peter. “Go on Pete, tell me all about how you almost killed an innocent man? God knows how many others you have succeeded with.” 

Peter chuckled darkly. “Innocent? Is that what you think? He found his way to our home that night. He came here to hurt you.” 

You were quick to add, “But he didn’t. He couldn’t do it because unlike you, he has a heart. It’s a little dark and damaged but he has one. He didn’t hurt me that night, he didn’t even lay one finger on me and yet,” You turned to your dad, “You three almost killed him right at our doorstep without even hearing him out.” 

“He was the enemy and that was all we knew and needed.” Harley spoke up, for the first time tonight. 

You sent him a glare. Through the earpiece you could hear a couple of gunshots but they sounded so faint. You forced yourself to remain calm and collected. You turned to face your dad. “You know that was wrong of you, right?” You asked. 

His face said it all. “I just wanted to keep you safe.” He mumbled after a while. 

“By almost killing him? He had lost his father that day. He was mourning, he was in pain and you-,” 

Peter cut you off. “Don’t you dare take his side! He’s the enemy, you tend to forget that a lot I’ve noticed.” 

You glared at him. Through the earpiece, Steve spoke. “Y/N, we’re in. You were right, this place is like a maze from hell. Buy us some more time.” 

Then you said to Peter, “At least he’s not a liar. At least he’s not heartless like you people.” 

That earned you a disgusted look from all three men. Harley said, “Us people? What now, we're not even your family?” 

Your heart broke at the sound of his voice. “I thought we were better than this.” You said. You turned to your father and said, “What if he had died that night? Would you have buried him somewhere in our backyard and pretend like it never happened?” 

Before your father answered, Peter said, “We were trying to keep you safe!” 

You raised your voice. “Not provoking the enemy would keep me safe all right but here we are.” 

Peter calmed down and smirked, “Did he get to your head? Did he manipulate you into choosing him over us? What did he promise you, love?” Peter spat.  

You remained quiet. Through the earpiece you heard Bucky’s voice, “Don’t listen to him.” You almost smiled at the sound of his defensive tone. You said to Peter, “What’s it to you?” 

That seemed to anger him even more. “I will not sit here and watch my sister give herself away to a man like him.” He said. 

You smirked. Sorry Pete. “He’s more of a man than you’ll ever be. At least he faces his rivals fearlessly, he doesn’t hide behind an army of men or blow up warehouses like an angry little boy.” 

That did it. Peter stood up so rapidly that his phone slipped from the tablecloth and fell to the floor. Perfect. “Fine. Choose right now, us or him?” 

You rolled your eyes at him and remained seated just to piss him off more. “What the hell, Pete?” You asked. 

His face was red as he spoke, “If you choose him, then leave right now and don’t bother coming back here again.” 

“What?” Harley’s reaction gave away that this was not planned at all. 

“Pete, sit down and we can talk-,” Your dad started but Peter cut him off. 

“No!” Peter bellowed. “She doesn’t get to just come and go whenever she wishes. This is our home, but if you choose to be the enemy then so be it. Leave.” 

You stood up, picked up your wine glass and splashed the contents of your glass all over his shirt. The red wine dripped down onto the table. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.” You hissed. You turned to look at your dad, “This is why you wanted me home tonight? Not because you missed me but because you wanted to kick me out for good for choosing Bucky?” 

Your dad tried to refuse but you didn’t let him. You had to keep Peter angry so that the guys could get the men out. 

“Fine then.” You stepped away from the dining table. You could hear Steve and Bucky talk through the earpiece but you couldn’t hear them too well. Perhaps they had made it to the underground systems of the warehouse. “Goodbye.” You turned to walk out of the dining room but your dad held your hand gently. 

“Honey please. Don’t leave.” He pleaded. 

You turned to him again. “We could’ve put an end to this stupid rivalry. You could’ve been better than your father and his father before him. We could’ve had peace in this city instead of-,” 

“Stop it!” Peter yelled. “Did you forget all dad told us about Bucky? All that his family did to our side of the city for years?” 

You scoffed. “No, I remember perfectly well. But I don’t remember any of them shooting at us then leaving us to bleed to death at their doorstep! This eye for an eye mentality will get you killed Peter! We didn’t start this fight between the families decades ago, but we could end it. Peacefully. We could if you’d just stop being such a pain in everyone’s ass!” You were beginning to get heated too. 

Peter stared at you, his anger bubbling. “I see. You had your mind already made up before you even came here, didn’t you?” He asked, his words dripping with venom. “Why? Why would you choose a man like him? Someone who has caused nothing but nuisance for your family? Someone who acts like he owns this city even though we rule it too? Someone who-,”

You cut him off, yelling the actual truth and the answer to all those questions louder than he was. “Because I love him!” 

Silence. Pin drop silence. All you could hear was your racing heart. 

Then a heartbeat later, Bucky’s voice spoke into your ear. “We made it. We got the guys, they’re all okay and we’re already in the tunnels on our way back. Good job baby,” He said, then chuckled and said, “I love you too.” You could hear the triumph in his voice. “Now hurry up, come home.” 

You finally let out a sigh of relief, trying not to let it show just how relieved you were. Peter was fuming by your dramatic declaration of love. Harley was still processing it and your dad seemed guilty of the past. He seemed disappointed in himself. 

“Get out.” Peter said. 

You smirked at him. “Gladly.” You turned to leave. 

But Peter still wasn’t done yet. “And tell your little boyfriend that I’ll send his men back.” He added sinisterly, “In body bags.” 

You heard Steve chuckling through the earpiece as you slowly turned back to face Peter. Your triumphant smirk had him confused. “Nice try, Pete. But if you go down to your secret lair beneath the warehouse, you’ll find it empty. Because the men you kidnapped have just been rescued while you’ve been here acting like you’ve got everything under control. And they’re all on their way back to Hightown right now.” 

Peter’s face fell. You saw a hint of pride in your father’s eyes and surprise in Harley’s. 

“You’re not the only one who’s good at this game, Pete. I love you, you’re my brother but I’d suggest you give up now. Because if you start a war, know that there’s no way you’re winning it.” You paused for drama, then turned to your dad and added, “Dad, you better put your son in check because I won’t let any of you win. Nor will I let any of you hurt Bucky ever again.” 

With that, you turned and walked out of your father’s house. You didn’t say bye, nor did you let them see how your heart broke as you walked out of the home you grew up in. You got in the car and somehow managed not to cry as you drove all the way to Hightown. 

You thanked whatever God was listening from up there the moment you drove past Bucky’s gates; thankful that this worked. You parked carelessly outside the mansion and rushed inside. It was surprisingly quiet. The rescued men must’ve been returned to their homes. You peaked down the hallway and saw light coming from beneath Steve’s office’s closed door. So he must be in there, enforcing security around the city. 

You rushed up the stairs and went running into Bucky’s bedroom. You found him there, in the middle of the room, taking off his multiple holsters and dropping them on the ground. At the sight of his face, all the emotions hit you all at once like a tidal wave. 

He was safe and sound. He turned to look at you with a smile on his face. He opened his mouth to say something but before he could, you slammed the door shut behind you and ran towards him and crashed into his body, wrapping your arms tightly around him, wetting his shirt with your tears. 

The warmth of his body only made you cry harder. He wrapped his own arms around you and held you tightly. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m here.” You sobbed like a child so he gently walked the two of you over to the edge of the bed and sat down, pulling you onto his lap. He settled you upon his thigh and looked at your teary face. You couldn’t bear looking at him yet, so you just pushed your face into his neck. “It’s alright baby, it’s gonna be okay.” He whispered. 

You let it all out for another minute or two. So many thoughts racing through your head, you couldn’t take it. You calmed down a little, with Bucky’s help. He kept whispering sweet nothings in your ear, rubbing his hand up and down your back. 

“Look at me.” He said after a while. 

You sniffled and pulled away from his neck to look at him. He reached out and wiped all the tear stains away from your cheeks. “I… I left them.” You mumbled. 

He shook his head. “They’re your family. No one’s leaving. Once this mess is over, it’ll all be fine. Trust me.” 

You chuckled through the tears. “They want you dead. At least Peter does, now that he knows I chose you over them.” You wiped your own fresh tears. “I won’t let him touch you.” You said, determined to stand in between these two. 

Bucky smiled and hugged you closer. “Of course, my fierce hero.” He joked and poked your nose. You smiled at him. 

“He won’t let this go.” You said. 

Bucky nodded. “I know. We caught some of his guys tonight, Steve and I will… interrogate them tomorrow and we’ll get all the information we need.” He said. You should’ve been relieved at the sound of that but somehow you cried even more. Bucky sighed and kissed your wet lips. Pulling away he asked, “Why are you crying?” 

“Because he’ll keep fighting. And you keep saying you’ll fight back but Bucky, you’ll get tired. Blowing up your warehouses, kidnapping your men, it won’t end. You’re gonna get tired one day and you’ll just… send me back.” 

Bucky opened his mouth to tell you that your overthinking was getting to you and that it’s been a long night and you should get some sleep but you spoke up again, “Then I’ll lose. I’ll lose you.” Fresh tears threatened to fall out of the corners of your eyes. 

Bucky cupped your face and leaned in to press his lips to yours again. He kissed you through the tears. “That’s where you’re wrong, my little pearl.” He whispered and set you down on the bed. He leaned in and pressed his lips to yours, kissing you deeply and passionately. His hands reached up to cup your face and he tilted his head to deepen the kiss while he gently pushed you down on the bed, climbing on top of you again. 

He kissed you deeper again and then pulled away to look into your eyes. His body above yours and he admired you for a moment, with a soft smile on his face. “You won’t lose me, ever. I promise you. I won’t give you up, so stop worrying about that.” 

“But-,”

He cut you off immediately, “Shh, you trust me, don’t you?” He asked, and you nodded quickly. “Then trust me when I tell you everything will be alright.” His hand slowly slipped under your dress and dragged your underwear down your legs, you kicked it off and he threw it around somewhere behind him as he placed his fingers in between your legs. You stared up into his eyes as your fingers found their way into his hair. “I promise you, baby. I won’t let you go.” 

Bucky leaned down and pressed his lips to yours as his fingers slipped past your folds and into your entrance. He stroked your walls gently as you moaned into his mouth. His thumb slowly circled around your clit and he earned another moan out of you. You felt even warmer and tingly as his mouth moved against yours. 

“I love you,” He murmured against your mouth as he made your thighs shake around his hand. “I love you so much, little pearl.” He pulled away and looked down at you and you saw pure hunger in his eyes. And he saw the need in yours. So he gave you his all, picking up his pace. He had you squirming, moaning; a complete mess under him in no time.

He pulled his hand away, undid his pants and replaced his fingers with his cock right before you could come undone, making you arch your back and moan under him. He slid carefully into you. Your walls welcomed him perfectly and he moaned under his breath as he filled you up entirely.

He laced your fingers together and pinned both your hands above your head as he sped up just a little into you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head once he started rocking in and out of you. He leaned in and kissed your lips again, groaning and panting against your lips as he fucked you slowly. “I said I love you, did you hear me?” 

You whined and nodded quickly, 

“Good girl. Remember that.” He mumbled against your mouth. 

His movements were gentle, passionate and loving. His hips moved against your body perfectly, and his body weight pressing down gently on you was comforting. His grip around your hand tightened each time you’d moan his name out loud; he bloody loved it. 

He came to a slow stop at some point and let go of your hands and pulled away from you momentarily. He kept his cock buried deep in you while his hands lowered the straps of your dress, pulling the material down to reveal your breasts. He leaned in to kiss your skin from your collar bones to down your chest. And you gasped when he lowered your bra carelessly and took one of your sensitive nipples into his mouth and teased it with his tongue. You lowered your eyes to look at where his mouth latched on to your body. Just that was enough to make you throw your head back and moan again. 

When he had his fill, he kissed his way back up to your mouth again, “You’re all mine.” He whispered against your lips, and leaned in to kiss you deeply as he started moving his hips again; rocking in and out of you again.

Bucky pulled away stared deep into your eyes as he sped up into you. You couldn’t help but whisper, “I love you, Buck.” 

That was his undoing. He gave you a lovesick smile and lifted your legs up so you wrapped them around his waist before he pounded into you. “I love you too, baby.” He mumbled. You felt his cock hit all the right spots each time he moved against you, and his lips parted and he groaned the moment your walls started clenching around him. You felt the pressure building in between your hips. Bucky’s hands reached down and grabbed your hips gently and kept you in place as he sped up into you; his cock slipping in and out of you rapidly. 

He held you as close to him as he could, leaning over and nuzzling your neck as he made you cum around him with a few more strokes of his cock; you came undone, gushing out all over him. That triggered his own orgasm, and he moaned against your lips as he came right after you. 

Bucky fell beside you, panting and heart racing like your own. You immediately turned to him and snuggled to his side. He wrapped his arm around you. “We’re gonna be okay, little pearl. Tonight was our first win. I promise you there will be more.” 

Bucky’s mind kept drifting back to where he had kept Peter’s men. He’d use them and make sure that from now on, he’s a few steps ahead of Peter. 

“I love you.” You mumbled, bringing him back to you. 

He turned to you and said, “I love you too.” He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Your brother is a real pain in the ass though.” He stated. 

You chuckled. “I know,” you looked into his eyes and said, “I threw my wine at him tonight.” 

Bucky’s whole body shook as he laughed. And suddenly, the dark clouds disappeared. With you by his side, he knew he’d fight anyone. But the last thing he would do is allow you to get caught in the crossfire. 

As he looked down at you, while you animatedly told him all about the argument that went down at your father’s place, Bucky realized that he would do anything to keep you out of trouble just as fiercely as he would fight for you. 

He was aware that there would be decisions of his in the near future that you would not agree with. But they would be necessary to keep you safe and away from the bullets which would be raining down soon. After all, although this wasn’t officially declared - it was now war nonetheless.

---

a/n: ooohhh... 

[osakiharu]

PEEK A BOO !! : haruchiyo sanzu

✶ maybe going to the extreme to feed your obsession would uncover the one thing you wanted to know most !!

content : gender neutral reader, dark content !! (i think), mentions of guns, mentions of sanzu's katana lmao, stalking, taking photos without consent, obsessive feelings towards someone, intruding, textbook definition of a rushed ending lmao, tell me if i missed anything, little dialogue because i just couldn't add much in with the plot so whoops :(, not proofread

wc : 1k

notes : i can‘t tell if i hate this or not?? it's probably because it has little dialogue but at the same time i really like how this turned out idk..

neighbours are not people you become obsessed with.

they aren’t meant to cause a pang of excitement to strike in your chest when you finally see them. they aren’t people you think you see everywhere because you can’t rid them from your thoughts and daydreams. they’re not really people who you know the full name of and can describe their appearance in such a detailed manner anyone would think you lived together; from something obvious like hair colour to the things you have to look closer for from afar like the pretty hues of their eyes. you’re not meant to know what their regular routine is, what time they wake up, who their friends are, what their favourite colour might be (though at this point you don’t think he cares enough to have one.) you shouldn’t know all this from nothing but a collection of observations and from spending a prolonged amount of time on their social media.

you knew all of that and more. so much. too much, and you knew he wouldn’t want you to know. you weren’t even sure if he knew your name in return, and that made your chest sting a little. did he not want to know your name? probably not, considering how he’d never really attempted to speak to you, spare the rare occasion that your package gets delivered to his house instead of yours. did he not want to study the pretty hues of your eyes that could only sparkle so brightly in his presence? was sanzu, not so interested, so intrigued, so obsessed with you that he didn't even want to start with learning your name? it made your heart sink to think about it. it’s not like that would prevent you from continuing on with your watching and observations, though, which is why you stood in your current position.

in sanzu’s bedroom.

you had repulsed all normal and rational alternatives to retrieve what you wanted, the efforts of the little angel on your shoulder spurned. were you stupid? probably, considering how his car was still in the driveway. the black car that he almost never parked in the same place and position, with the funny little blue and purple jellyfish figurine on the dashboard. there was no sign of him in the house, though, which you found odd considering you never miss him leaving the house opposite yours. you had expected to find him in his room sleeping or perhaps typing away at his work, but the house kept itself devoid of his presence.

but now you realise you never should’ve entered in the first place.

not because of the gun placed on the kitchen table, clearly done in a lackadaisical manner, a few others hidden in draws or under furniture. the katana in his bedroom that held many memories of his and carried the weight of many lives didn’t perturb you in the slightest. the odd box here and there, filled with objects no regular civilian should come into contact with had been ignored.

it was the photos that sat in a pile on his desk. after studying his clothes and reading all his little scrapped notes scattered around the room (half of them saying, “call rindou”), you found the grainy photos of people you didn’t recognise scattered on his desk, some crossed out, some not. you didn’t know any of them until you gently moved your fingers through the pile. “oh…” you could say nothing more as you stared at a plethora of little photos of you. you couldn’t tell what the shaking in your legs or the tears welling in your eyes were from, but the further you frantically looked through them your breathing only became more erratic. in many of the photos you were alone, walking down the street or standing outside your house. in others you were in your room, taken at the exact same angle every time; his bedroom window was directly opposite yours. you feel as though he’s probably seen more than just the things you’re doing in the photos when it comes to your bedroom. maybe it wasn’t your daydreams and you really had seen him everywhere. you couldn’t push aside that theory as you looked through teary eyes at all the little polaroids and printed pictures of you laughing with your friends, or you walking home from meeting with them.

your glassy eyes were wiped on the sleeve of sanzu’s large sweater as you looked up out of his window, but your efforts were futile at the view that was presented to you. though sanzu may possess bubblegum pink hair and a love for brightly coloured suits, his presence in the room held a tenebrosity that seemed to stretch beyond his figure. his figure that stood in your bedroom. you had to be hallucinating, you were sure of it! you rubbed your slightly puffy eyes and shook your head but to no avail, he really was there. the rosy pink strands cascading over his shoulders and down his back, the top ruffled like someone had run their fingers through it. his lean but strong arms reached out to touch or pick your belongings up, studying them with such a caution that anyone would assume they were the most valuable items in the world. “don’t turn around, don't turn around-” you mumbled into his sleeve, and as if on command, he did. sanzu turned to peer into his own bedroom window out of yours to see your figure staring back at him, like a deer caught in headlights.

as an almost sweet smile crept into his scarred face and his hand raised into a mocking wave, your heart began to warm. the reason he wasn’t home was because he was at your house! instead of doing his stupid, boring job, he was making time for you! how kind is he? sanzu’s chest jumped with a chuckle, as did yours with a giggle. you could see the way his bright eyes sparkled, as if he’d finally found a piece of treasure he’d been longing to discover as he noticed his sweater hanging off your body, far too big for you. he always knew you’d look so cute in his clothing! as he turned to take his leave, you decided against attempting to go back home and hide, he'd only catch you anyway.

besides, why would you want to when you don't have to pretend anymore?

reblogs appreciated <3

[clouds-rambles]

Hi there! Can i request xiao, childe,zhongli where reader gets injured bad one time that they go into like a comatose or something? And at the end they wake up, thank you!! 🤗

Hi bestie! And ask and ye shall sufficiently be fed. I kept rambling on these so I hope you don’t mind <3

Pairings; (Separate) Xiao, Childe, Zhongli x reader

Warning(s); hurt/comfort, cursing, slight wound description

Keep reading under the cut!

Xiao

You didn’t actually plan to take on the Oceanid but you were in the area and you knew a friend needed a cleansing heart or two so why not?

The why not is the fact that the dumb water birds were ripping the shit out of you

Sufficiently happy that the Oceanid has given you a lesson enough, they disappear, leaving you pretty much in a heaped, shivering, bloody pile.

The yaksha hears his name being spoken with such a level of hurt, Xiao is moving before you’re able to mutter his name a second time

Despite his quick speeds and quicker panic, he hears your voice slowly lose breath. And as much as he doesn’t want to he has started preparing himself for the worst.

Maybe it’s his fault for loving a fleeting mortal?

When he reaches you, you’re unconscious. But breathing. Laboured, likely due to some broken ribs, but breathing none the less. A less panicked and worried Xiao would chastise him for holding onto something that could disappear.

Xiao isn’t going to let you die, not on his hands.

He takes your limp body back to the Wangshu Inn and within the hour there’s 3 doctors all bandaging your body and making sure your stable

Comatose isn’t a word that Xiao has much experience with. But to him it manifests into the worst weeks of his life

Where he isn’t sat beside you, he’s pacing in your room. And when he isn’t doing that he’s throwing himself so deep in slaying demons and once the supply of demons ran dry he started clearing out random hilichurl camps

He knows that things are starting to get better when you start muttering random things in your sleep, and reacting to whatever books Xiao reads to you

Nobody at the Inn says anything outwardly about how unusually soft Xiao is, but everyone’s notices. If you were awake Xiao could imagine you teasing him about it and giving him a kiss

Four weeks almost to the day you wake up. Xiao is sat in his normal place beside you, book in his hand reading to you

“I like that book, its my favourite” you tell the yaksha who hasn’t noticed your waking. Your voice struggles to make words, like when you talk first thing in the morning.

Xiao jumps a little at your voice, he was so engrossed in the book and barely noticed your gaze. 

Grinning is an understatement, Xiao smiles so wide and out of character that you almost jest about Xiao being a doppelganger 

But the moment he hugs you, careful of your bindings, the jest fizzles away

“I almost lost you” he tells you his face sufficiently buried in your neck to try and hide the growing tears that he’s been pushing back through the weeks 

“You can’t get rid of me that easily cutie” you reassure the yaksha as you embrace him as tight as your bandaged body can

-

Childe

The two of you love to expend your energy with random friendly fights be it wrestling around the house or finding the highest plains and having a great all out battle. You both find its a great way to release stress too

“I was thinking about eating out for dinner” you tell Childe as you parry his arrow

“That sounds like an idea. Loser pays” Childe responds with a grin

The fight is great, and dare you say it you’re winning

Until, by no joke, the biggest gust of wind pushes you off of the cliff and sends you flying

It would be funny if you couldn’t feel your bones breaking as you fall

Childe dives off the cliff the as soon as he can attempting to catch you

He does. But he’s a little too late to catch you conscious. You feel like a limp bag of potatoes. Your heartbeat being the only thing that’s currently grounding him and keeping him from committing various crimes

He doesn’t have the time to overthink until you’re safe and laying in your shared room

The three days that you’re unconscious Childe spends almost every waking moment sat on a chair beside your bed, laying on the bed beside you and actively avoiding as much work as he physically can. Even to the point a fatui agent comes to the house and lectures him about how he mustn’t keep avoiding his obligations.

He leaves for half a day on the third day and sits beside you the moment he gets back. He’s lazily telling you about his boring half day of work after he finishes he drops his head onto the bead

“I guess I’ll have to buy dinner though” you tell Childe your hand petting his hair 

You’ve never seen Childe sit up so fast and bury his head into your chest where you continue to pet his hair 

“Though you might have to go and get it, my bones hurt” you jest 

“You fell off a fucking cliff [name] I’m sure your bones do more than hurt” he smiles kissing your nose

You smile at the man and embrace him again “I’m sure you caught me though”

“Without hesitation” he grins, Childes worry's and the days before overthinking flutter away for the time being

-

Zhongli

Being the adventurer spirit that you are going to the reaches of Liyue and you’ve made it your personal goal of exploring every crevice of the country

On your way back to the Harbour after a month and a half being away. Though on the final stretch of your journey a mitachurl decided that you were a personal punching bag and threw you across the road

  Though in much pain from the fall you some how managed to make it back home and into the arms of your spouse

“I’ve got a present fo-” you pass out mid sentence, obviously your adrenaline from the mitachurl had finally ran out

Zhongli takes your sudden excess of deadweight and quickly lays you down onto your shared bed and checks you for any wounds

He quickly finds a large bruise from the mitachurl earlier. Zhongli changes you into some comfortable clothing while you’re already half undressed under his concerned gaze

Despite his quick thinking and generally unfazed expression the archon feels a unsettling pit at the bottom of his stomach

Baizhu is inside the house within the half hour and within the hour he has a diagnosis. A coma with no end date. 

Being acquainted with comas but thanks to his previous lifetimes Zhongli has never been so close to someone with such an ailment

Another month and a half Zhongli finds himself away from his spouse. Although trying to keep his schedule as consistent as possible his morning walks are changed to sitting at the bedside and dinner time was often spent sat to the table that was in the bedroom, but now moved closer to your bedside

Although very used to being alone for extended periods of time thanks for your love of exploration, he has never felt so far away from you despite you being so close to him

When you awoke it was actually close to midnight. Your brain takes a few moments to catch up with the world. You take into account that you’re in bed, and notably, your spouse was not

You feel the distinct pain of the hit you had taken, although you note that it doesn’t hurt nearly as much as it did when you came home

You sit on the edge of your bed and stand, a little wobbly at first, and you move about your home looking for your absent spouse

That’s until you find him asleep in the spare bedroom. Why is he there? You don’t remember having an explosive argument or kicking out of bed.

You enter the room and touch your spouses arm and you call his name. He wakes with a start almost surprised

“You’re awake” he informs you which causes you to chuckle at him

“You’re going to have to catch me up my love” you stroke his hair after he sits up in bed and urges you to sit atop his lap

“In the morning my dear, just for a moment let me be in your presence”

“Anything for you my love” you smile at him before pausing “Though I would love something to eat”

[admiringlove]

hurtful things

+synopsis: genshin boys and the hurtful things they said.

+genre: angst; headcanons.

+characters: kaeya; diluc; childe; zhongli.

+warnings: swearing; crying; implied panic attack.

+order: hey bubs! i saw you doing requests and i HAD to ask for genshin angst :) spare me some tears pls <//3 preferably w kaeya or diluc or childe :) [submitted by @crackheadsara​]

+author’s note: okay so i included zhongli bc he’s the love of my life, also i needed comfort from him after writing such hurtful things :D

+navigation: main menu, genshin menu.

— KAEYA.

“i’m better off without you.”

you know from the way your door was knocked in the middle of the night on a weekday after months, that it’s kaeya. you rub your eyes sleepily, trudging towards the door as anger and doubt fuse into a nasty green in your mind. 

you unlock the door, pulling it open to see the man with the eyepatch tapping his foot on the deck of your home impatiently. he smirks when his eye lands on you, attempting to walk in but stopping himself when he realizes you're standing at the door, unmoving. 

"kaeya, it's three in the morning. and it's monday. i have to report to jean in three hours," you mumble tiredly as you look up at him. the lamp grass by your windowsill outside and the moonlit night accentuated his cerulean eyes and contrasting coffee-colored skin. he frowns, peering down at you as he asks, "may i come in?"

you shrug, opening the door wide as you let the man in. he places his sword on the table and proceeds to walk into the bedroom when you ask, "where have you been for the past two weeks?"

"work," his reply is the same. you let out a sigh in impatience as you retort, "that's the same excuse as always."

he was tired and wanted to sleep off the fatigue from his latest mission. but when he hears you say that, something in him snaps and he turns around, his jaw clenched and a fixed glare making you a little agitated. he raises an eyebrow as he says, "well, unlike you, i am an actual important member of the knights of favonius."

"kaeya, all i meant was that you're always gone. you never write a letter back even if i send you one, and you somehow manage to come back every single time, expecting that it doesn't hurt me. what am i supposed to do?" your voice is small as you look down, hair drooping towards the ground. you're not even yelling at him, you're just worried. he always leaves you alone(sometimes you tag along, but you couldn't tell why nowadays he'd leave you alone without some sort of warning).

"does it ever occur to you that you're just a hindrance?" he bites back, thinking that you're trying to put up a front. you flinch at his words, causing him to force a jeer before he starts again, "you always come along, so maybe i wanted to be away from you for a bit. that's why i leave without a warning so i don't have to tend to your yapping all day. because i'm better off without you."

you gasp as you look up to his figure, now retreating to your shared bedroom. you hear him fall onto the bed with a content sigh as you stand there, wiping at your tears incessantly as hiccups escape your lips. you bit your tongue to stop yourself from crying, pressing a hand on your mouth to muffle the sounds so you don't disturb kaeya. you get a quick peek in, eyes widening when you see him sound asleep and tucked in. 

so that's how it was, you think. 

the next morning, kaeya wakes up to a cold bed as his arm reaches out to an empty space. his eyes immediately pry open as he wakes up, to see that you weren't here. 

ah, he ponders to himself, you must've gone to tend to your duties. 

he stretches, letting out a yawn before walking out to the kitchen. he smiles when he sees a plate of food left for him on the countertop with a note from you. but somehow, something felt very wrong about this whole ordeal. this had happened before—he had come back from insanely long missions to you before, so what felt different?

and then it hits him. the things he said last night. he frantically looks around, his azure eyes completely drowned in horror as he notices small changes in your shared household. a few picture frames are missing on the living room walls, your keychain isn't on the bookshelf anymore, and worst of all, when he runs into the closet, half of your clothes are gone. 

did you really feel that bad about what he said?

in panic, he runs out and keeps going till he reaches the headquarters of the knights. he barges in this time, not returning the greetings of the guards upfront as he walks into jean's office. 

"where are they?" he pants, "i-i messed up, do you know where they are?"

jean's eyes widen as she says, "our associates were having a hard time handling with the fatui in liyue harbor so they volunteered to go there for sometime."

"how long has it been?"

"they left long ago, it's about to be around ten hours since," she says. kaeya's heart shatters as he hears those words. he hadn't expected you to outright leave like that, but if you had said the same things to him, he definitely would've stormed out. his voice cracks as he looks at the ground in shame, "h-how long until they'll be back?"

"i.. don't know."

he regrets everything he's said. he truly does because he doesn't even notice that tears are streaming down his cheeks until jean comes to his aid. he hates himself for all of it—he hates that he has to live in a home where traces of you are visible everywhere; worst of all, he hates how he knows he lost you for good. even if you come back, he knows you wouldn’t run and melt into his arms like you did before. you’re gone now, fading into the darkness and away from him. 

maybe it was for the best.

— DILUC.

“you’re nothing but a burden.”

after taking on a few abyss mages and mitachurls, diluc lets a grunt out in pain before you see the slash on his right arm. you gasp, pulling him to the side of the lake as you pull out a bandage and cotton from your bag to clean his wounds. he's reluctant to it at first, but he sits there quietly and broods as you clean the blood with cotton and some type of healing ointment. 

you tie the bandage on his arm, a tiny bit of vermillion liquid seeping through the white cloth before sitting down next to him, finally catching a breath. sighing, you look up at him and say, "that was reckless."

"no, what you did was reckless. who told you to come along with me to dadaupa gorge? you knew what you were getting into when you came along, so don't put this on me," he grumbled, frowning as you look at him with narrowed eyes and furrowed brows. you are sort of hurt, but you know he's only saying this in faux indignation, so it's okay. you chuckle out, beginning, "diluc, i was-"

"i don't know why i even bother with you at this point," he exasperates, looking into the distance behind you. he curses slightly under his breath, his rouge eyes filled to the brim with anger as it finally overflows, "you're nothing but a burden."

your eyes suddenly flick to gape at him in disbelief. you stand up, your voice hitching in your throat as you ask, "diluc, you mean that?"

and it all simmers down into ashes when he mumbles "of course i do" under his breath. your vision is blurry as you walk away from the red-haired man, your body trembling as you almost give away that you're crying your eyes out. you walk back in the direction the two of you came from, leaving your broken heart in the hands of diluc, who sat by the lake not muttering a word after. 

he knows he's said things he doesn't mean; he does that all the time, but you probably knew that. he figures you're leaving to catch a breath of fresh air—to be away from the tension-filled environment for a bit, you had a habit of doing that at home. he sighs as he ponders over his words for a bit. he knew it was wrong to display such harshness to you, but you probably knew he didn't mean anything by it. he always bubbled over rash things when he was frustrated. 

the sun sets in front of him, painting hues of aubergine and peach as it flows down. he wonders where you are, getting up from his spot by the lake to venture towards the path you walked off. 

only when he can't find you, is when he thinks that you might've actually taken offense to his words. although he cares about you sincerely, he finishes his mission first, getting a lead on the abyss order—because protecting monstadt was his first priority. you lingered in his mind every second of every day till he finally got back home. and when he didn't find you there, he asks adelinde about it, who only shakes her head and tells him, "i'm sorry, master diluc, but i haven't seen them come back. i thought they were with you."

it all pieces together in his mind now, how a small gasp had escaped your lips when he had called you a burden. the way you nodded begrudgingly, getting up and walking away from his presence as your shoulders trembled. the way he could hear you choke back a sob, but still ignored it, thinking you had overreacted in the situation. 

he searches the whole city for you. he searches every nook and corner, and even walks into the headquarters of the knights of favonius(he ignores kaeya's teases instead of biting back this time). and when he finally sees you, he holds himself back. his hand is suspended awkwardly in the air as he reaches out for you, your back turned towards him. 

maybe this was better—maybe it was a good thing that you had walked away from him. this way, the abyss order won't be able to harm you. this way, he won't be able to harm you. this way, you'll be safe and sound, away from the storm known as diluc ragnvindr.

— CHILDE.

“it’s not like you mean anything to me.”

it's not often you see childe. he's always in liyue, and you're here, stuck in monstadt or snezhnaya. it's cold today(as it always is) in snezhnaya, the snow covered almost everything outside as you looked out of your window, sipping on hot coffee as you sigh at the wilting roses on the sill. they'd wilted when you had gone to monstadt and you didn't have the heart to plant new ones.

just thinking about the blue-eyed childish man would make your heart bloom and cheeks flustered. you longed to spend more time with him, really. if only he wasn't affiliated with the fatui, he'd be able to spend more time with you. it had been months since you had seen him, and you longed to be in his arms once again, but who knows when that'll happen again? whenever he comes home, he chooses to spend a night with you and then head back. he'd laugh alongside you, tell you about his adventures, and give small reactions when you told him about yours. and the next morning, you'd wake up to an empty bed with a small note by the table, saying how he has to leave for work.  

a knock at your door snaps you out of your entranced state. as you open the lock and look out, you see childe, standing there with a tired grin and disheveled hair as he walks in without a word. he hands you a small paper bag, saying, "i brought you back something from liyue this time."

the same excuse, you think. it's always the same. he brings back small mementos and souvenirs as a pretense for staying, and by the time you think you can forgive him, he's gone. he plops down onto the sofa, stretching his arm out so you could join him. the thought of confronting him crosses your mind, but you shake it off—since he had only just gotten back. 

the night is the same as always. talking about each others' adventures, eating dinner by the fireplace, laughing alongside one another until you hit the bed. it's quiet now as you watch over his sleeping figure, his lapis-colored eyes now hidden. you sigh as you lay there for hours on end, twiddling with his brown hair as you wait for him to wake up(so this time you can actually say goodbye). 

when his eyes flutter open, he's a little taken aback when he looks over at you to see you wide awake. his brows furrow just a smidge as he says, "you're up."

"well, i wanted to say goodbye this time," you chuckle dryly, "you always leave without waking me up."

"i don't like the way you said that," he says, getting up from his position on the bed. you look away from him, your eyes displaying hurt as you murmur, "i don't like the way you leave."

"well, it's my job. it's not like i'm an adventurer like you, wasting my time around. i'm a harbinger and i have responsibilities," he says. his voice is neither too soft and nor too prickly, and you can tell that he's a little worked up by the way he lightly nips on the skin of his bottom lip as his gaze bores into you. 

"i didn't say you don't. all i said was that you could maybe sometimes stay for more than one night. it feels like you're using me, and when you're bored, you leave."

"oh?" he cocks an eyebrow as he stands up, "i'm using you, huh?"

you grimace at the tone of his voice, and when you look at him, you notice the sheer annoyance he puts up towards you. your voice is small when you ask him if he loves you—because you don't know anymore. seeing him once in a few months for the past few years has sure hurt you more than anything, and if you don't tell him now, then you might never get a chance. 

"what if i say i don't?" he smirks, walking up to you, "it's not like you mean anything to me. what if i agree that i am using you to make myself happy until i'm bored, so i can then throw you away?"

he doesn't like what he's saying either. his mind is screaming at him to stop, but he's worked up. he's irritated by the way you jabbed at him first thing in the morning, even though he knows you're right. his heart almost stops when he looks at the expression on your face after he says those words, and as he reaches out his hand for you, you turn away. 

your voice cracks, and he's sure his heart did as well when you mumble, "i-i'd like you to leave, please."

"wait, i didn't mean-"

"tartaglia," your eyes look into his, perhaps for the last time, as you give him a sad smile, "you don't have to come back to me anymore."

it hurts him as he leaves your home that morning. it hurts him when he comes back months later to see that your home is now empty. it hurts him because he tarnished the you that was once his. 

it hurts him, but he thinks it's for the best if you stay away from him if all he does is bring you pain.

— ZHONGLI.

“i’d like you to leave me alone.”

zhongli was never one to pick fights. he was peaceful; his thoughts were positive(most of the time), and he almost always preferred to talk about his problem rather than fighting about it—he believes that fighting will only bring pain, so why not confide in one another about our problems instead?

he's quiet. he's not shy(it's quite the opposite, actually), but he's one to prefer to only talk when absolutely necessary. he's the type to listen rather than speak, saying something like, "we have two ears and one mouth. speak less than you listen."

he smiles when his mind goes back to the time when he said that to you while having a cup of tea together, and you'd replied, "my mother used to tell me that when i was a child."

because it's true; every child in liyue harbor has heard those words at least once in their lives. the quality of listening is appreciated more than the quality of speaking—and zhongli, for one, was a listener. 

you, on the other hand, were a speaker. you always woke him up every morning with a smile as bright and everlasting as the sun, babbling about breakfast and tea as he got up from the bed. you were the one that carried conversations on your shoulders on morning walks, you were the one that intertwined your fingers with his as the two of you walked amongst flowers, adoring them as you talked about the contrasting colors of silk flowers and glaze lilies. he loved you for that. he loved you because you were a speaker. he loved you because you were a perfect balance, the only one who could soften his hardened heart. the only one whom he'd chosen to wake up next to in the mornings, the only one whom he'd let ruffle his hair without asking(because he secretly liked it). 

so why had he reversed the roles tonight? why was he the one to bubble out his frustrations to you, speaking in a cold and stern manner instead of the loving tone that was only reserved for you? why was he the one to speak tonight, and why were you the one to listen?

it's not like he was actually frustrated—he was only thinking about something else as you asked him what he wanted for dinner. it surely wasn't your fault when he had poured over turbulent words to you. and he knows that the ones that hurt the most probably were, "i'd like you to leave me alone."

he looks up at the stars, a heavy sigh escaping his lips as he walks back into his shared home with you. he looks around, and when there's no sign of you, he feels himself break apart even more. 

had you actually left? he wants to run to you and tell you he hadn't meant any of those words because he hadn't. he wants to touch you, to caress you, to please you, to make you smile—and he wants to admit he was wrong. he wants to make it right, but he doesn't know where you are. 

he walks into the empty bedroom, sitting on the cold mattress as his eyes sting. he doesn't understand what's happening, or why there are small drops of water falling from his eyes. he doesn't understand why everything feels heavy all of a sudden—his heart, his throat his lungs, everything. he doesn't understand why he feels like he's trapped in a box, and the water seems to be filling up more quickly than he'd prefer. he wants to reach for air, but he can't.

he couldn't breathe without you. 

he hears the door close and immediately gets up in haste to walk to the living room where he sees you take off your boots. you turn around to see him, his disheveled hair and frantic eyes finally calming as he walks over to you and engulfs you in a warm embrace. his throat cleared up, and so did his heart and lungs as he mumbles against your ear, "i'm so sorry."

you smile smally, looking up at him as you cup his cheeks and wipe a stray tear, and mutter, "it's okay, zhongli. stress gets to the best of us."

god, how he loves you. he places a small peck on the top of your forehead as he feels his lips turn upward at your touch and the scent of glaze lilies lingering over you tells him that you'd been to the flower garden. he sleeps with your fingers weaved with his that night and pulls you even closer if you untangle with him in sleep. 

he makes a promise to himself saying he'd never hurt you like that again, and he keeps it.

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